THE AMOROUS JAILER
Diane de Castro received Lord Wentworth with the calm and modest dignity
which lent an irresistible potency and charm to her angelic expression
and her lovely features. Beneath her apparent calmness there was,
however, much anguish of mind; and the poor girl trembled inwardly as
she acknowledged the governor's salutation, and with a queenly gesture
motioned him to take his seat on a couch a few paces away from her.
Then she signed to the two maids, who were apparently preparing to
withdraw, to remain in the room; and as Lord Wentworth, lost in
admiration, said nothing, she determined to break the silence herself.
"It is to Lord Wentworth, governor of Calais, that I am speaking, I
believe?" said she.
"Lord Wentworth, Madame, your obedient servant, awaits your commands."
"My commands!" She repeated his words bitterly. "Oh, my Lord, do not say
so, or I must think that you mock me! If my prayers and my
supplications, in no sense commands, had been listened to, I should not
be here. You know who I am, my Lord, and of what family?"
"I know, Madame, that you are Madame de Castro, the beloved daughter of
King Henri II."
"Why, then, have I been made a prisoner?" asked Diane, whose voice
faltered rather than became stronger as she put the question.
"For the very reason that you were a king's daughter, Madame," Wentworth
replied; "because by the terms of the capitulation agreed to by Admiral
de Coligny, it was stipulated that fifty prisoners should be placed in
the hands of the victors, to be selected by them from all ranks, and of
any age or either sex, and because they very naturally chose the most
illustrious, the most dangerous, and if you will permit me to say so,
those who could afford to pay the heaviest ransom."
"But how was it known," Diane rejoined, "that I was in hiding at St.
Quentin under the name and in the garb of a Benedictine nun? Besides the
superior of the convent, only one person in the whole town knew my
secret."
"Very well! then it must have been that person who betrayed you,--that's
all," said Lord Wentworth.
"Oh, no, indeed; I am sure it was not!" cried Diane, with such earnest
conviction that Lord Wentworth felt stung to the heart by jealousy, and
could find nothing to say in reply.
"It was the day after the capitulation of St. Quentin," continued Diane,
with renewed animation. "I had fled for refuge, trembling and afraid, to
the inmost corner of my cell. Some one in the parlor asked for Sister
Bénie, which was my name as a novice, my Lord. It was an English
soldier who inquired for me. I dreaded some misfortune, some terrible
news. Nevertheless, I went down to the parlor, a prey to that dreadful
curiosity which makes us even in our suffering so anxious to ascertain
what causes our tears to flow. The archer, whom I had never seen before,
announced that I was his prisoner. I was indignant and resisted; but
what could I do against force? There were three of them; yes, my Lord,
three soldiers to arrest one poor woman. I ask your pardon if this hurts
you; but I am simply telling you what happened. These men seized me, and
called upon me to confess that I was Diane de Castro, daughter of the
King of France. I denied it at first; but as they were dragging me away,
despite my denials, I asked to be taken to Monsieur l'Amiral de Coligny;
and as the admiral did not know Sister Bénie, I avowed that I was she
whom they named. Perhaps you believe, my Lord, that upon my avowal they
yielded to my prayer and granted me the very simple favor of being taken
to Monsieur l'Amiral, who would have recognized me and demanded my
freedom! By no means! They simply exulted over their capture, pushed and
dragged me along more quickly, and put me, or rather threw me, weeping
and in despair, into a closed litter; and when, almost suffocated with
sobs, and utterly overcome with grief, I nevertheless made an effort to
learn whither I was being taken, I had already left St. Quentin and was
on the road to Calais. Then Lord Grey, who, I was told, was in command
of the escort, refused to listen to me; and I learned from a common
soldier that I was his master's prisoner, and was being taken to Calais
pending the payment of my ransom. Without any further information than
that, I was brought here, my Lord."
"Unfortunately I can add nothing more, Madame," responded Lord
Wentworth, thoughtfully.
"Nothing, my Lord!" continued Diane. "You cannot tell me why I was not
allowed to speak to the superior of the Benedictines, nor to Monsieur
l'Amiral! You cannot tell me for what purpose I am wanted, pray, when I
was not allowed to go near those who might have announced my captivity
to the king, and have sent the amount of the ransom you demand from
Paris! Why this sort of secret abduction! Why was I not allowed even to
see Lord Grey, who gave orders for all this, as I was informed?"
"You did see Lord Grey, Madame, a short time ago, when you passed us. It
was he with whom I was talking, and who saluted you when I did."
"Pardon me, my Lord; I knew not in whose presence I was," said Diane.
"But since you have talked with Lord Grey, who is your kinsman, so this
maid informs me, he must have informed you of his intentions toward me."
"In fact, Madame, before taking ship for England, he did explain them to
me,--indeed, he was just doing so when you were being escorted to this
house. He informed me that you had been mentioned to him at St. Quentin
as being the king's daughter; and that having three prisoners allotted
to him for his share, he had eagerly seized upon so valuable a prize
without notifying a soul, thus avoiding all dispute. His simple object
was to get the largest possible ransom for you, Madame; and I was
jokingly applauding my covetous brother-in-law when you passed through
the room where we were talking. I saw you, Madame; and I at once
realized that if you were the king's daughter by right of birth, you
were a very queen by right of loveliness. From that moment, to my shame
be it said, I entirely changed my opinion as to Lord Grey's plans for
the future at least, if not as to what he had already done. Yes; and I
no longer approved his design of holding you to ransom. I urged upon him
that we might hope for much greater things,--that England and France
being at war, you might be very useful as an exchange for some important
prisoner, and that you might even be worth a town. In short, I at last
persuaded him not to abandon so rich a prize for a few paltry crowns.
You are at Calais,--a town that belongs to us, and is impregnable; we
must therefore keep you in our hands and wait."
"What!" exclaimed Diane. "You gave Lord Grey such advice as that, and
boast about it to my face! Oh, my Lord, why did you thus set yourself
against my being set at liberty? What had I ever done to you? You had
seen me only for a moment. Did you hate me, pray?"
"I had seen you for but one moment, and I loved you, Madame," said Lord
Wentworth, desperately.
Diane recoiled, shuddering and turning pale.
"Jane! Mary!" she cried, calling the two attendants, who were standing
apart in the embrasure of a window.
But Wentworth made an imperious sign to them, and they did not stir.
Then he continued, sighing sadly,--
"Be not alarmed, Madame. I am a gentleman; and it is not you, but I, who
should fear and tremble. Yes, I love you, and could no longer refrain
from telling you so; yes, when I saw you pass, so sweet and lovely, and
so like a goddess, my whole heart went out to you. Yes, besides, you are
in my power here; and I have but to raise my hand to be obeyed. But
never mind; fear nothing, for I am more in your power, alas! than you
are in mine; and of the two, you are not the real prisoner. You are the
queen, Madame, and I your faithful slave. Command, and I obey."
"Then, Monsieur," said Diane, with palpitating heart, "send me back to
Paris, whence I will send you such sum by way of ransom as you choose to
name."
Lord Wentworth hesitated a moment before he replied,--
"Anything but that, Madame: for I feel that sacrifice is beyond my
strength. I tell you that one glance from your eyes has bound my life to
yours forever! Here, in this place of banishment where I am caged up, it
is long since my ardent heart has entertained a passion worthy of
itself. As soon as I saw you, so beautiful and noble and proud, I felt
that all the stored-up energy of ray soul had henceforth an object and
an end. I have loved you for but two hours; but if you knew me, you
would know that it is as if I had loved you ten years."
"But in Heaven's name, what is your wish, my Lord?" said Diane. "What do
you hope for? What do you expect? What is your purpose?"
"I wish to see you, Madame, and to revel in your lovely and fascinating
presence,--that is all. Do not for a moment suspect me of designs
unworthy a gentleman. But it is my right, my blessed right, to keep you
near me; and I profit by it."
"And do you suppose, my Lord," said Madame de Castro, "that such
violence will drive my heart into responding to yours?"
"I do not suppose so," said Lord Wentworth, gently; "but when you see
from day to day how submissive I am, and how respectful, and how eagerly
I come to learn of your welfare, and to be able to feast my eyes upon
you for a moment, perhaps you will be touched by the resignation of one
who begs where he might command."
"And then the daughter of France, moved to pity, would become the
mistress of Lord Wentworth?" was Diane's rejoinder, with a contemptuous
smile.
"Then," responded the governor, "Lord Wentworth, the last scion of one
of the wealthiest and most illustrious families in England, on his knees
will offer his name and his life to Madame de Castro. My passion, you
see, is as honorable as it is sincere."
"Is he ambitious, I wonder?" thought Diane.
"Listen, my Lord," she rejoined aloud, trying to force a smile. "I
advise you to let me go, and send me to my father the king; and I will
not consider myself out of your debt by the mere payment of a ransom.
When the war between the two countries is at an end, as it must be
sooner or later, if I cannot give you myself, I will at least obtain for
you,--I give you my word,--as many, yes, more and greater, honors and
dignities than you could hope for if you were my husband. Be generous,
my Lord, and my gratitude shall be yours."
"I divine your thoughts, Madame," said Wentworth, bitterly; "but I am
more disinterested than you think, and more ambitious as well. Of all
the treasures in the whole universe, I hope only for you."
"One word more, then, my Lord, which you will perhaps understand
better," said Diane, embarrassed but proud at the same time. "I am
beloved by another, my Lord."
"And do you suppose I am going to deliver you to this rival by letting
you go?" cried Wentworth, fairly beside himself. "No! he shall at least
be as wretched as I,--more wretched, indeed, for he cannot see you,
Madame. From this day only three events can deliver you: either my
death,--and I am still young and vigorous; or peace between France and
England,--but wars between those countries usually last a hundred years,
as you know; or the taking of Calais,--but Calais is impregnable. In
default of the occurrence of one of these three almost hopeless events,
I fancy you will be my prisoner for a long time; for I have purchased
all Lord Grey's rights over you, and I would not receive a ransom for
you, even though it were an empire! As for flight, it will be better for
you not to think of it; for I shall watch you, and you will see what a
careful and cautious jailer a man makes who is in love."
With these words Lord Wentworth bowed low and withdrew, leaving Diane a
prey to bitter despair.
Her only consolation, and that but a slight one, lay in the reflection
that death was a sure refuge, which was always open for the unfortunate
when danger was at its height.