The small evils of life, against which, in the narrowness of our
views, and the idleness of our heart, we so often pray, as if they
were as hideous as unmasked sin, how often do they work for us the
greatest benefits in ways we never dreamt of!--how often do they even
forward us in the very course they seemed likely to obstruct! There is
not a hair of our head that is not numbered; there is not a sparrow
falls to the ground unmarked; so we were told by Him who is Truth; and
surely there is not an act or incident of our life that has not its
end and object in the great scheme of our being, and in the greater
scheme of universal nature. Pleasant is it, and sweet to contemplate,
for the eye of faith, that all is ruled and directed to its fixed
purpose by Almighty wisdom, and infinite goodness.
"He is gone!" whispered De Montigni to Rose d'Albret, as Chazeul
strode away. "You see it is fortunate, dear girl, that we did not find
the sally port open, or we should have been passing just at the moment
he was upon the walls above. He could not have stayed us, it is true,
for we have a large party in the castle; but it might have occasioned
strife, and that I would fain avoid."
"Oh yes, yes!" said Rose. "God grant that we may escape that,--but
hark! it is raining, Louis."
"That is unlucky," replied De Montigni. Yet, in truth, it was far from
unfortunate for the success of their scheme. The large drops which
began to descend in a heavy shower, soon changed the purpose of
Nicholas de Chazeul, who was lightly clothed, and somewhat careful of
his own person; and instead of seeking Estoc, as he had intended, he
hurried back to his own chamber, cast off his wet clothes, and retired
to bed, keeping his indignation for the following morning.
In the meanwhile Louis de Montigni and Rose d'Albret, remained for
some minutes longer under the archway; and, although apprehension and
anxiety had a large share in the fair Lady's feelings, it must not be
denied, that there were sweet and happy sensations too. With her arm
twined through that of her lover, with her hand clasped in his, she
felt all the joy, the thrilling and inexpressible joy of loving,
trusting, confiding; and she felt it too for the first time. All the
freshness of the young heart was there; that freshness which in all
things is the point of perfection,--the moment of expansion to the
flower; the hour of ripeness to the fruit, when colour, and beauty,
and scent, and flavour, and delight, are all at their full before one
petal has fallen or withered, before one tint has faded, before the
bloom has been brushed off, before the enjoyment has palled, or the
fine edge of sensation has been blunted. There are feelings in the
human heart, and they are the brightest of those which have any
reference to earth, which are like those small delicate flies, that
live but an hour in their beauty, and then pass away, unable to
sustain even the weight of the common air; and with Rose d'Albret that
was the moment of their existence. She had never before known what it
was to give the whole heart, to cling to another, as if in him she had
a second life; to look to him for all her future joy; to trust in him
for aid, protection and support; to fear for him more than for
herself; to believe, her best gift, was to render him happy. The world
in which she had lived, was a cold and dreary one; there had been no
heart which had sympathies with hers; no voice to reciprocate kind
words; no mind with which to exchange the thoughts that were busy in
her own. All who surrounded her were different from her in years, in
ideas, in feelings, in objects. It was a dark and shadowy state of
being, whose only light had been memory, memory of him who now stood
beside her till he himself had returned, like her morning star, and
the day of love had dawned upon her heart, driving the shades away,
and gilding even the clouds, that still hung over the sky.
Thus, though dread and apprehension still had some share in her
feelings, poor Rose d'Albret was not now without a bright portion of
happiness; and the gentle pressure of the hand, the mute caress, the
word of tenderness and comfort from her lover's lips, produced
sensations in her bosom which he did not know, which, perhaps man
never fully knows, in his dealings with woman.
At length there came a hurried tread, as if more than one person were
approaching, and De Montigni took a step forward before his fair
companion, and loosened his sword in the scabbard. The rain was
falling heavily; the night had become doubly dark; and he could only
distinguish the forms of two men advancing quickly along the
_coulisse_, without being able to discover who they were. One he
thought indeed was Estoc, but he was not sure, till at length the man
on the right hand paused opposite the sally port, and appeared to
unlock the door, while the other came on towards the spot where he
stood.
"It is Estoc, dear Rose," he said; "it is Estoc with the keys."
"Be sure, be sure!" whispered Rose, laying hand upon his arm; but the
next instant Estoc himself stood before them, saying, "Quick, Louis!
quick! there are more people stirring in the château than we wot of."
"Chazeul was on the walls but a moment ago," replied De Montigni, "but
the sentinel would not let him pass."
"I know, I know," replied Estoc. "I heard it all, but the rain has
driven him in, the white-livered knave.--You will get sadly wet, sweet
lady, I fear."
"Oh, I mind not a little rain," replied Rose d'Albret. "How often have
you seen me drenched in hunting! Estoc; and it will not hurt me more
now, that I am being hunted,--but what was the cause of the delay?"
"They had given the man the wrong key," replied Estoc, "and he knew
not how to get the right one, without betraying that there was
something secret going on,--the door is open now, however. Let us be
quick.--Hark! there is two!--Moments are precious."
"I am quite ready," said Rose; but De Montigni, before he suffered her
to issue forth into the rain, covered her as well as he could with his
cloak, though the short mantles of those days, afforded but a very
inefficient protection against a heavy shower. They then crossed the
passage, and gliding along under the wall, found the door of the sally
port open, and the guard holding it back.
"Ged bless you, Lady! God bless you, Sir," said the man as they
passed. And the prayer of a plain and honest heart for our welfare,
has always its effect in comforting, and reassuring.
Estoc led the way, along the stone-faced court, under the earthen
mound, which there defended the wall, across a little bridge over the
ditch, and through the gate beyond, which he unlocked to let them
pass. Beneath the shadow of the gate, and three or four old trees,
which grew beside it, stood a party of seven or eight men, with their
hands upon their horses' bridles, ready to mount in a moment. Two
other saddled horses were amongst them, and while De Montigni lifted
Rose d'Albret lightly from the ground, and mounted her securely, old
Estoc said, in a low voice, "It is your own limousin, Mademoiselle, so
you know his mouth, and he knows your hand."
"Thank you, thank you for your kindness, Estoc," replied the lady;
"these are moments never to be forgotten."
De Montigni pressed the old soldier in his arms; and then saying, "We
shall meet again soon, Estoc, I hope in the King's camp," he sprang
upon his horse's back, and laying his hand upon Rose's rein, to lead
her forward through the darkness, set out upon the road to Dreux.
Estoc turned back into the castle, closed the gates behind him, made a
turn upon the ramparts, listened for a few minutes till he could hear
no more the retreating sound of horses' feet, and then retiring to the
guard-room, under the principal gate, dried himself by the blazing
logs upon the hearth. In a few minutes, however, he gave some orders
to one of the soldiers, who was sitting near, and then stretching
himself upon a camp bedstead in the corner, was soon sound asleep.
Everything remained quiet in the château during the night. Unconscious
of what had taken place, those whose cunning schemes had been
frustrated, remained in the tranquil slumber of imaginary success,
dreaming of the coming day, and of seeing the seal put upon their
intrigues by the voluntary renunciation of De Montigni's right,
through which, not only the much coveted estates of Liancourt, but the
hand of Rose d'Albret, and the inheritance which that hand conveyed,
were, they thought, to be lost to him, for whom they were originally
intended.
The only person who slept but little, was the old commander De
Liancourt, who, partly on account of the pain of his wounds, and
partly from anxiety for his nephew's safety and success, lay tossing
on his bed till within an hour of morning, wondering if all had gone
right, and repeating, a thousand and a thousand times, "All is quiet!
They must have got off; otherwise, I should have heard something."
With the first dawn of day, some of the inferior servants began to
stir in the house. The scullions proceeded to their abhorred task of
scouring the brazen pots and kettles in the kitchen; the turnspit dog
waddled slowly from the hearth, the scene of his daily toil, where he
found warmth and repose during the night, to hide himself in some
corner from the eyes of the persecuting cook; and various other
drudges, well called _femmes de peine_, went through the different
halls and chambers, clearing off that dust which rise from the decay
of every earthly thing, and falls every hour--a memento, if we would
but see it, of the perishable nature of all here below--upon the
polish and the gilding with which we seek to cover all the coarse
materials from our eyes.
Soon the higher functionaries began to appear upon the scene; cooks,
and grooms of the chambers, and all the officers and attendants who,
in those days, thronged the house of a French nobleman; and then the
masters themselves. First, came father Walter, in his black garments,
pacing up and down the hall, and gazing, from time to time, out of the
high windows at the rainy sky. He was soon joined by Monsieur de
Chazeul, followed, shortly after, by the Count de Liancourt. These
three continued, stretching their limbs by a walk up and down the wide
pavement, for near half an hour, conversing over all that had taken
place the day before, and speculating upon the coming event. Chazeul
related to his two companions the intelligence he had received from
Blanchette on the preceding night, and the application which De
Montigni had made for another interview with Rose d'Albret.
"That was not right," said Monsieur de Liancourt. "One interview was
all he asked; that was granted, and he ought not to have sought more."
How boldly do we judge of what is right and wrong in the conduct of
others! how boldly do we censure and condemn, very often when we are
doing them the bitterest injustice! Monsieur de Liancourt totally
forgot, when he talked of right, that Louis de Montigni was really
entitled, not only to one interview with Rose d'Albret, but to every
hour of her time, to her hand, to her heart, to her fortune,--he
totally forgot it, I say, and thought that the schemes which he had so
long nurtured, the ideas which he had so long indulged, formed the
only standard by which to measure the conduct and the rights of
others. Do not let the reader suppose this unnatural. Let him look
around, he will find the same perversion of views in every country, in
every house, in every family; let him look within, he will find it
more or less in his own heart, whenever his own interests, wishes,
prejudices, or passions, are placed in opposition to the rights of
others.
At length, when about half an hour had passed, the Count began to
think it strange that his fair ward, who was always an early riser,
had not yet appeared, and asked if the others had seen anything of
her.
"No," replied Chazeul. "I suppose, as she cannot take her favourite
walk this rainy day, she keeps her own chamber, to be out of the way
of De Montigni."
The priest looked down and mused, for he entertained some doubts as to
Rose's feelings being exactly those which Chazeul's vanity led him to
suppose, though, it must be remarked, he had not the slightest
suspicion of the event which had just taken place.
"Have you seen Blanchette this morning?" inquired the Count.
"No," replied Chazeul; "but I will send my knave, Alphonso, to see
after her. It will but be courteous to inquire for her mistress's
health."
He was turning towards the door, when his mother entered, and asked at
once, "Where is Rose?"
"She has not appeared yet," replied Chazeul. "I am just going to
inquire after her, most noble dame."
"See, see yourself, Nicholas," cried the Marchioness, sharply. "One of
my girls tells me, that, passing by her door just now, she heard a
knocking, as if carpenters were at work. Is De Montigni absent, too?
Why, it is near the hour of mass!"
Chazeul left the room instantly, by the door which led direct along
the corridor, to the apartments of Rose d'Albret. All was still,
however; the noise which his mother mentioned had ceased; and it was
not till he came close to the ante-chamber that he thought he heard a
sound of moaning, as if some one was giving way to the expression of
pain or grief. He instantly knocked at the door, and called to
Blanchette, who demanded, in a voice half-drowned by tears, "Who is
there?"
"It is I," replied the Marquis. "What is the matter, Blanchette? Open
the door; let me in."
"I cannot," replied Blanchette; "the door is locked, and I can't get
out."
"How is your mistress?" asked Chazeul.
"I do not know," replied the girl.
"Well, go in and see, then," said the Marquis.
"I cannot," rejoined Blanchette again; "that door is fastened too."
A sudden suspicion of the truth flashed through the mind of Chazeul,
and he stood for a moment, stupified with surprise and anger. Then,
hastening back to the hall, he exclaimed, "Something is wrong! The
girl Blanchette is locked into her room.--We must force the door."
"To the window! to the window!" replied the Marchioness; and, hurrying
out to the flying bridge, they descended the stone steps into the
_coulisse_, Monsieur de Liancourt exclaiming,
"Quick! some one bring a ladder."
"There is no ladder needed, my wise brother," said Madame de Chazeul,
the moment after, pointing with her hand to the spot where, underneath
the window of Rose's chamber, might still be seen the instrument used
in her escape. "You will find one ready. Those who like to go on in
the rain, and see the nest of the flown bird, may go, I shall return
to the hall." And thus saying, she ascended the steps, while the rest
of the party hurried on.
By the ladder easy access was obtained to the room of Mademoiselle
d'Albret; and it is not necessary to detail the state in which it was
found. Rose, as the reader is aware, was no longer there; and all that
remained for those that sought her, was to liberate Blanchette, and
inquire when, how, and why, her mistress had fled.
The girl, however, could tell them nothing of the truth; and, though
she made up for the deficiency by telling plenty of falsehoods,
endeavouring, in the fear and agitation of the moment, to screen
herself from suspicions which were never directed towards her, yet her
information, of having heard her mistress move in her chamber about
three o'clock in the morning, without thinking anything of it, of
having visited her the last thing before she went to bed herself, and
seeing her soundly asleep in bed, together with sundry other fanciful
pieces of intelligence, proved not in the least satisfactory to the
hearers.
After much wonder, and some consideration, and a good deal of
examination in the apartments of Mademoiselle d'Albret, the party were
obliged to make their egress by the window again, the outer door being
locked and the key gone.
They found Madame de Chazeul in the hall, with an angry spot upon her
cheek, and her brow knit, while the old commander, dressed as if for a
journey, with his sword by his side, and the cross of his order round
his neck, sat upon a bench at one side of the hall, tapping his leg
deliberately with his staff.
"I am glad you are come, Count," said the Marchioness; "here is our
brother Michael evidently knows all about this infamous abduction; but
he will make no answer to my inquiries."
"Why, I told you I would not, Jacqueline, till Liancourt came,"
replied the Commander. "Now he is come, I will tell you all I know,
and also perform the task I took upon me yesterday."
"Well, Sir, well, be quick," replied the Count. "I have borne your
humours too long; and I will endure no tricks and treachery, depend
upon it."
The old soldier's cheek grew warm. "No tricks but your own, Sir," he
replied. "But we all know you are a tool in the hands of others, and
therefore to be forgiven, like all weak men, who make themselves the
instruments of knaves. Ay, you may stare, Jacqueline; but be good
enough to remember, I was never afraid of those black eyes, even when
the cheeks were round and soft, and am not more timid now, when they
are shrivelled and skinny. The simple matter of fact is this, Anthony,
you have all laid your heads together to deprive Louis de Montigni,
the son of our poor sister Louise, of the inheritance which I
renounced in her favour, and in favour of her children. I did not
renounce it in your favour, Madame Jacqueline; for you were always
able to take care of yourself, though Louise was mild and gentle, and
consequently continually kept down, and deprived of just estimation."
"And may I ask, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, with a cold, and
haughty air, "what business it was of yours, if Monsieur de Montigni
choose to renounce also?"
"I don't know that," replied the old Commander; "he cannot renounce
without my returning to my rights. However, I would have made no noise
about that, if he had done so willingly, and with his eyes open. But I
did not choose to have him deceived, and so I was resolved he should
know all. The priest there, like an honest man, told him, that he had
some right to the estates, and I told him what."
The Marchioness turned a fierce look upon father Walter, who met it
with a calm and tranquil air, apparently in no degree taken by
surprise or annoyed.
"But I told him, moreover, my good brother," continued the Commander,
"that if he gave up the estates, he gave up his claim and right to the
hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret,--to our sweet Rose. It is right that
every one should know how he stands, and what he does, brother
Anthony; and as you did not tell him, I did. I told him the contract
was in his favour, not in that of yonder gentleman in ruffs and
ear-rings, inasmuch as it engaged for the marriage of the young lady
to the heir of Liancourt, which he is by my renunciation; and if he
had given up his claim, I would have married her myself; for then I
should be heir of Liancourt again. But as I am old, and somewhat
battered in the wars, and should limp a little in following a bride
through a ballroom, he thought fit to save me the trouble, and
consequently determined to hold his own."
"My son, my son, this is no jesting matter," said father Walter in a
grave tone; "I beseech you, what you have to speak, speak seriously."
"If I speak seriously, sir priest," replied the old soldier, "I may
have to say things not very palatable to many here present. But if it
must be, so it shall be. In a word, then, brother, he found that he
had been deceived, kept in ignorance, cajoled to part with rights
concealed from him. Had it been but the estates, he would have given
them up at a word, as I did; but he would not give up her he loved,
except at her own request. In this, too, he discovered, he had been
cheated. Instead of finding that she had freely and willingly promised
her hand to a man who possessed her heart, he learned that she too had
been misled into the belief that she was contracted to yonder
gentleman, and that she was about, unwillingly, to yield to what she
thought duty--poor thing!--without either loving, or having promised
at all."
"But she did promise," exclaimed Chazeul. "I call upon all here to
witness it."
"That's a lie!" answered the Commander sternly; "nor the first, good
nephew, by many! She never promised; for only two days ago I heard her
ask a short time to consider. You cannot deny it, priest."
"I cannot," said father Walter.
"Well then," continued the old officer, "he asked to see her alone, to
learn her own mind--"
"We did not know that he was going thus treacherously--" cried
Chazeul.
"To tell her the truth," interrupted the Commander; "or you would have
taken care to prevent it. But when he had enlightened her on those
subjects, and found that she very much preferred himself to you, he
suggested to her that, to save needless trouble, and dispute, it would
be better for her to take her departure at once with the husband of
her father's choice, and, placing themselves under the protection of
the King, demand his sanction to their immediate marriage. Ay, _the
King!_ nephew,--the King, father Walter--Henry the Fourth, King of
France and Navarre, who is so, and will be so whether it pleases you
or not!--But I forgot," he added, "the boy left a letter with me for
you brother Anthony. Ho! Estoc there, get me that letter, pray."
While this delectable conversation had been proceeding, Madame de
Chazeul had seated herself in the chair usually occupied by the Count,
and, leaning her head upon her hand, had seemed more busied with her
own thoughts than with anything that was going on around; but at the
mention of the letter, she raised her head, with a bitter sneer upon
her lip, asking, "Pray whose manufacture is the epistle? Is it an
extract from Cæsar's Commentaries by the Commander de Liancourt, or a
parody upon Ovid's Art of Love by Monsieur de Montigni?"
"Neither, Jacqueline," replied her brother, "but a good honest letter,
from a youth whom you have not been able to cheat, with all your
cunning. The letter,--the letter, Estoc," he continued, as his old
comrade put his head into the hall--Where is Louis's letter? You had
it.
"Oh ay! of course he had it," cried Chazeul, as the good soldier
advanced with a paper in his hand; and then turning round, the Marquis
whispered for an instant to the Count, who, after taking the letter
from the hands of Estoc, made him a sign to stay.
"You know of all this affair, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, fixing
his eyes upon him, "and gave aid and encouragement."
"I saw them at the last moment," replied Estoc at once, "and had they
wanted encouragement would have given it to them; but they did not;
and as to aiding them, I had no commands to stop any one quitting the
castle."
"It was your duty, Sir, to stop any fugitives from authority," replied
the Count; "and I have a great mind to punish you."
"To do that you have no power, Sir," answered Estoc; "you forget I am
not your servant, Count of Liancourt, but a gentleman and a soldier,
though a poor one. I have, at the desire of my good old commander
here, aided you voluntarily to keep your château in these troublous
times; but I have taken no wage nor pay from you or yours; and, let me
tell you, he is a bold man that talks of punishing a French gentleman
that has done no wrong."
"Come, come, Anthony," cried the Commander, "no folly, if you please.
Estoc is my _guidon_; you have nought to do with him. If there be
fault, it is mine. I aided, I encouraged them; I told them to go, and
helped them to do it; and whoever says I had not a right to do so,
lies in his teeth!--But read the letter, brother o'mine; for you may
have something to say to it; and I am away this morning. My litter and
my men are ready in the court."
"And the sooner you go, Michael, the better," said Madame de Chazeul.
"Not at your bidding, Jacqueline," replied the Commander, while his
brother opened the letter and read it. "Ay, here comes your creature,
Blanchette. On my life, this has been a pretty honest scheme from the
beginning."
"What does he say?" inquired the Marchioness, as the Count read.
"Oh, hear it, hear it!" answered Monsieur de Liancourt: "you will then
see, how grateful he is for all the care and kindness I have bestowed
upon his youth;" and he proceeded to read as follows:
"Sir, my Uncle,
"Before this reaches your hands, I shall be far distant, feeling
myself compelled to take a step, which nothing but the desire of
avoiding that strife and contention which must ensue, were I to stay
and urge my rights in your house, would induce me to adopt. At the
same time it is necessary, for my own justification, that I should
give some explanation of my conduct. You were pleased on my arrival,
to ask for my signature to certain papers, which, on examination of
the documents themselves, and consultation with my uncle, the
Commander, and others, I found implied a renunciation of my clear
right to the estates of Liancourt, and the acceptance of certain
benefices as an equivalent. Had that been the only question, I would
not have scrupled to consent; but I found that by a contract between
you and the late Count de Marennes, made while I was considered
certain heir to those estates, the hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret was
promised to the person inheriting them. You had given me to understand
that the lady's inclination led her to an union with my cousin De
Chazeul; and had it been so, my love for her is too sincere, not to
have induced me at once to remove every obstacle that my prior claim
produced. But certain circumstances led me to believe that in this
there was an error; and I therefore required an interview with
Mademoiselle d'Albret, that both she and I, might know our real
situation, which, by your pardon, let me say, had been concealed from
both. I found, during that interview, that she had been deceived into
the belief that, in giving her hand to Monsieur de Chazeul, she was
only fulfilling her father's contract. When the truth, however, was
explained to her, I found that, far from desiring such an alliance, it
was most repugnant to her, and that, on the contrary, she was willing
to give her hand to him for whom it had been truly destined. We both
saw, that to urge my rights in person here, would necessarily produce
strife--nay, perhaps bloodshed; and we were well aware that it might
be unsafe for her to remain after I was gone, as there are too many
instances, in these days, of contracts forcibly violated, and
compulsion used to produce alliances neither prompted by inclination
nor justified by law. The course which had been pursued towards us for
the last five years, led us to apprehend that such might be the case
now; and to avoid such a result, Mademoiselle d'Albret consented to
accompany me to the court of his Majesty; where, under his sanction
and authority, I trust soon to fulfil with her the engagement between
her father and yourself. As soon as that is accomplished, being in
this matter moved by no sordid considerations, you will not find me
indisposed, in gratitude for the care and protection which you
bestowed on my early youth, to fulfil your wishes, whatever they may
be, in regard to the disposal of your property, even to the sacrifice
of what may be my own contingent rights. May God keep you in his holy
guard!
"Your nephew,
"Louis de Montigni."
The latter part of the letter was but little attended to by Madame de
Chazeul or her son, who were busily talking together in tones so low,
that but a word or two only was distinguishable even by the quick ears
of the priest, who stood near them.
"Impossible!" said Chazeul, in reply to something which his mother
appeared to have suggested: "we have not men enough. He has fifteen of
his own old soldiers here; and a number of the men of Liancourt would
take his part. I have but seven in the castle.--No, it is impossible."
The Countess muttered something in return, and then added, "Stay,
Chazeul: a better plan!" She then whispered a word or two, which
escaped all ears but those of her son, adding, "You see to it: bid him
come back at full speed when he has seen them housed. Send notice to
Nemours, too, and Mayenne; so you will have them in a net. In the
meantime, stop this farce as soon as possible. I have a word or two to
say to another personage:--Good father, I would fain speak with you,"
she continued aloud, addressing Walter de la Tremblade, "either before
or after mass."
"Which you please, daughter," replied Walter de la Tremblade; "we have
still half an hour."
"That will be enough," answered the Marchioness, rising: "and so,
good-day, good brother Michael. Like all fools who meddle with what
does not concern them, you will one day rue the mischief that you have
now made."
"Never, Jacqueline," replied the Commander. "I am not so famous for
scheming as you are; but, be you sure that, whatever you may be now
plotting, I will find means to put it out of joint with plain honesty
and truth, as I have done to-day. Farewell, brother Anthony," he
continued; "let us not part bad friends; for what I have done, has
been as much to save your honour as anything else."
He held out his hand as he spoke; but the Count put his behind his
back, saying, "My honour can take care of itself, Michael; and I do
not thank you for this insolent meddling."
"Poor man," said the Commander; and, turning abruptly away, he strode
out of the hall, followed by Estoc.