There are dull pauses in human life when the mind, however anxious it
may be to speed forward upon its active career, is forced by
circumstances to halt and deal with minor things; as a traveller on
foot, however eager he may be to hasten forward upon his way, is
sometimes obliged to stop and take a small stone out of his shoe, lest
it should impede the whole after part of his journey: and thus, though
we would willingly go on with those in whom we are more interested, we
must linger for a moment or two with the priest and Madame de Chazeul,
in order to proceed more rapidly when we have related some things
which, though not very entertaining, are absolutely necessary to the
right understanding of this history.
The lady led the way to her own chamber, with a step she intended to
be perfectly calm and tranquil, but which, by its occasional
irregularity and sharp jerking movement, betrayed the agitated and
angry feelings which she struggled to conceal. The priest followed,
with his still, even pace, his large dark eyes as usual bent down, and
not a trace of any emotion upon his countenance. He seemed, indeed,
like a moving statue, to the countenance of which the sculptor had
successfully endeavoured to give an expression of great thought, of
mind, and equanimity, but not of feeling or emotion.
When they reached the lady's chamber, the Marchioness de Chazeul took
a seat, and pointed to another, with a somewhat haughty wave of the
hand; but father Walter sat down deliberately, and crossing one foot
over the other, remained in an easy attitude waiting for Madame de
Chazeul to begin, as if totally unconscious that there were any angry
feelings in her bosom towards himself. He made no inquiry, even by a
look, in regard to the nature of the communication which he was about
to receive, but calmly bent his head a little forward as if to listen,
and waited for her to begin.
"Well, Monsieur de la Tremblade," said the lady at length, "so you
have thought fit to commence this system of sweet candour towards
Monsieur de Montigni, and to tell him that he has a right to the
estates."
"I always advocated candour, Madam," replied the priest; "and if my
advice had been followed, and the exact state of the case had been
told him in Italy, with a request that he would remove all obstacles,
he would have remained where he was, and you would not have been in
such an unpleasant situation at present."
"And therefore, I suppose, because people judged differently from
yourself," said the Marchioness, "you thought fit to spoil their
plans, when yours were not adopted."
"Not exactly," answered father Walter, perfectly unmoved; "I only
acted as was right and fitting on the occasion, I betrayed no secrets,
lady; I gave no further information than was merely necessary to
induce this young gentleman to do what was required of him. The very
act of renunciation itself bore upon its face, the acknowledgment that
he had rights; and I did not in any degree define them, but merely
said, that it was necessary he should sign the papers, to guard
against any legal contest hereafter."
"Pshaw!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "do you think I do not see your
motives, Walter de la Tremblade? You would fain have so managed, that
the greater part of the benefices, if not the whole, should fall into
your hands. You were not content with the Abbey of Chizay--not you!
You must have more: and now a fine business you have made of it, for
you have lost all to yourself and to us too."
The slightest possible glow passed over the cheek of Walter de la
Tremblade; but he replied, without the least alteration of tone, "You
are wrong in your suspicions, daughter; and they are unworthy of you
or me."
"Quite worthy of me," replied the Marchioness, "for I like to see to
the bottom of men's hearts. Now, I will answer for it, you persuaded
him that it was very improper for laymen to hold the property of the
church; you showed him, that he could not conscientiously keep these
benefices, if he got them, without taking the gown. Ha! have I touched
you? can you deny it, Sir?"
"Entirely," replied father Walter. "He stated such objections himself;
and it was not for me to argue against my conscience. I told him,
however, that it was a constant practice in France for men, not
ecclesiastics, to hold such benefices. The objections were his, not
mine, though how you came to learn they were ever made, I know not, as
his conduct turned upon very different feelings."
"How I came to learn!" exclaimed the Marchioness, with a scornful
smile; "because I know you both right well--by no other means, good
father. Oh! I understand the whole. Think you I have lived for fifty
years, with my eyes open, in this busy world, and do not know how a
calm, quiet priest, by a few soft, half-whispered words, can instil
doubts, and insinuate his own views into the mind of a weak-hearted
youth; how by a look, or even a faint denial of that which he seeks
most strongly to impress, he can produce the effect desired, when
seeming to oppose it."
"Madam, you are very learned in such arts," replied father Walter,
with a slight sarcastic curl of the lip.
"I am," answered the Marchioness, boldly, "and I know that father
Walter can make use of them as well as others. But there is such a
thing as overreaching one's self, Sir; and methinks you have done so
in this instance."
"Not in the least, daughter," replied the Priest. "I am quite
contented, if you are."
"But I am not!" cried the Marchioness, vehemently, "and I will have no
more of this. You think the game is lost; and, therefore, with the
cunning of your cloth, you bear it tranquilly. I know that it is not
so hopeless as you imagine; and for that reason I take the trouble of
telling you, that if I recover the false steps taken, I will not be
frustrated by you."
She spoke angrily and haughtily; and then, as if feeling that she had
given too much way to passion, she rose, went to the window, gazed out
for a moment, and played with the embroidery on her dress. Father
Walter in the meanwhile remained calm and silent: not that
thought--ay, and even passion, were less busy in his own bosom than in
hers; but he was more habituated to command his own sensations, and to
keep them, like those undercurrents of the sea which carry ships far
astray without producing a ripple on the surface, from showing, by any
outward sign, the course in which they were bent.
At length, the Marchioness returned, with a smoother brow and more
placable look. "Come, father Walter," she said, "we must not quarrel;
we are needful to each other. Let us act together, and, depend upon
it, the interests of both will be better served by so doing, than if
each pursued a course apart."
"I deny that I have ever acted otherwise, daughter," replied the
Priest. "I am glad to hear you have hopes of retrieving what has gone
wrong; and I will aid you to the very utmost of my power, not only to
wrest from Monsieur de Montigni the estates of Liancourt, but also to
unite Mademoiselle d'Albret to your son. There are a few things that I
would not undertake to accomplish this; but not from the motives you
imagine,--from very, very different reasons."
"What may they be?" inquired the Marchioness; "if you promote my
views, boldly and unhesitatingly, and I can aid yours, I will, without
scruple. What may they be, good father?"
"Listen, then, daughter," replied the Priest. "To an ecclesiastic of
the Holy Roman Catholic Church, there are objects far higher, far
nearer to his heart than any interests of his own. Indeed, rightly
speaking, we should have no interest but one, though human weakness
will occasionally have its share. When we enter into that body to
which I belong, we lose our identity, we become but part of a great
whole, we merge all our own passions, hopes, wishes, desires, all our
personal feelings and views, in those of the church, and for her
interests, as the highest object at which we can aim, we are justified
in taking means, and performing acts, which we should consider
culpable, were they undertaken for any individual end."
"Well, father," said the Marchioness, as he paused, "to what does this
tend?"
"To a very important point, daughter," replied the Priest. "This young
man, this De Montigni, boldly and straightforwardly acknowledges the
heretic, Henry de Bourbon, as King of France. 'Tis but the day before
yesterday, that, for the deliverance of the heretic named Chasseron, a
man who, I hear, made himself bitterly obnoxious during what is called
the Lover's War, he charged and put to death several good Catholics of
the League. One of them was brought in here severely wounded, and I
confessed him last night before his death. The youth is, even now,
gone to join his heretic monarch, excommunicated by the head of the
Christian church, and deprived by him of all right and title to the
allegiance of any but heretics like himself. Think you, lady, that a
priest of the true religion would willingly see estates and power in
the hands of such a one? No, daughter, no; and I believe that any
scheme would be justifiable to deprive him of the means of injuring
the church, of upholding heretics and infidels, and of overthrowing
all true religion in this realm. It is with great difficulty I have
kept your brother--whose wavering weakness in such things I need not
tell you--from acknowledging Henry of Bourbon; and, if his heir goes
over to that side, all my pains are lost. It has been for these causes
that I have joined heart and hand in endeavouring to bring about the
marriage between Mademoiselle d'Albret and Monsieur de Chazeul, one of
the brightest ornaments of the Holy Catholic Union; and you have done
me great wrong in supposing that any private interest, whatsoever,
would induce me to risk, even by a word, the great object I have in
view."
"Perhaps I have," replied the Marchioness; "but yet, father, it was
imprudent to let this youth know that he had any rights."
"Not at all," replied the Priest, somewhat sternly. "That fact could
not be concealed. The very papers showed it, and the attempt to keep
it back naturally produced suspicion and inquiry. If others had played
their part as well as I did, and had watched carefully to prevent all
communication between your brother Michael and his nephew, till De
Montigni had signed, no harm would have arisen; but my advice was ill
followed; they were suffered to meet in private--how, and when, I know
not; but five minutes was sufficient to do all the mischief. And now
it is necessary that I should know what you are about to do--what are
your hopes of retrieving this affair--and what scheme is to be
followed for the future."
"What would you advise yourself, father?" inquired the lady, willing
to test his sincerity.
"Methinks," answered the Priest, "there is but one course to be taken.
Lose not a moment longer in vain deliberation, surprise, and
recrimination, but raise all the men of Liancourt, and send them out
to overtake this runaway ward. A thousand things may occur to stop
her. Dispatch messengers to Mayenne, Nemours, Aumale, with information
of the circumstances. Tell them to cut her off from the King's camp
and send her back. Once here, we will find means to deal with her.
This is your only chance; but a clue to her course may be gained by
the road which the old Commander follows. Be you sure that he is going
to join them; and it is even not improbable, that they are waiting for
him, at no great distance."
"Give me your hand, father Walter," cried the Marchioness. "All that
you propose is already ordered; and, if we succeed by your assistance,
not only Chizay, but another abbey, richer still, shall show our
gratitude--"
The priest waved his hand, and she added, with a smile, "to enable you
to promote the true interests of the Roman Catholic religion."
Father Walter was about to reply; but at that moment one of the
Marchioness's women entered the room, saying, "Madam, here are
Theodore and one of the men you sent back to Chazeul, who wish to
speak with you directly."
Her mistress made her a sign to be silent, and father Walter,
observing her gesture, took his leave and retired.