It was about two o'clock in the day, when the party of the Duke of
Nemours entered the little town of Maintenon; for that Prince hurried
along his prisoners at a rapid rate, although he was aware that, the
main body of fugitives from the field of Ivry having taken a different
direction, he was less likely to be pursued than if he had followed
the same course towards Mantes. As he approached Maintenon, indeed, he
somewhat slackened his speed, and gave orders for putting his men into
better order; and before he reached the gates he brought his own
horse, and those of the rest, to a walk, as if quietly marching
through the country.
All appearance of flight and apprehension was banished; and De
Montigni heard one of the soldiers, speaking to a citizen as they
entered, declare, that they had had a skirmish at Ivry, in which the
King had been defeated and driven back. A somewhat bitter smile curled
his lip; but he made no observation; and the good townsman shaking his
head with a doubtful look, replied.
"Ay, it may be so; but different tidings are about the place; and if
you have won a battle, why are you marching away from the field?"
"Why, Coquin?" replied the soldier readily, "because we are carrying
the tidings to Chartres, with orders to the governor to send out his
people and cut off the fugitives from Alençon."
Still the man looked unconvinced; but the soldier rode on after his
troop; and the Duke stopped in the town two hours to refresh his
horses. While there, he sent for the officer commanding in the place,
and held a long, private conversation with him, which afforded an
opportunity to De Montigni and Rose d'Albret to speak together
unnoticed, for the first time since their capture. The Duke had
ordered dinner to be prepared, and had courteously invited them to
partake of it, leaving them alone in the dining hall of the inn, while
he held his communication with the governor without. But though it was
a solace and a comfort to both of them, to be enabled to pour their
griefs and anxieties into each other's bosom, yet their conference was
a sad and fruitless one; for they could arrange no plan of action for
the future, they could extract no hope from the painful situation in
which they were placed. All they could do was to promise and repromise
faith and constancy to each other, and to wait for coming events, in
the hope of ultimate deliverance. De Montigni found no difficulty in
binding Rose to fly with him whenever the opportunity should offer;
and each vowed to the other to look upon their engagement as complete
and inviolable, whatever means might be employed to break it.
"Let us regard ourselves as wedded, dearest Rose," said De Montigni;
"and fear not for the result. The King is each day gaining advantages
over his enemy. This faction must soon be crushed, notwithstanding the
assistance it receives from Spain; my ransom will soon be agreed upon;
and should they attempt to detain my bride, I will deliver her, should
need be, with the strong hand. If bloodshed be the result, let Chazeul
answer for it. The fault is his, not mine."
"Oh! no, no!" cried Rose; "do nothing rashly, Louis. I am yours, will
be ever yours. Better to wait for months--ay, even for years, than dip
your hands in kindred blood.--But I will trust that there is no need
for such terrible deeds. When once the King's authority is at all
established, Monsieur de Liancourt will soon yield to it. He is not
one of those who will hold out to the last, in favour of a failing
cause. But, at all events," she added, as the door opened, "be the
time long or short, be the trial hard or light, I am yours for ever."
She knew not how hard that trial was to be.
As she spoke, the Duke of Nemours, with one or two of the gentlemen
attached to him, entered the room; and the meal which he had ordered
was soon after served. The irritation under which he had laboured, on
account of the loss of the battle, when first De Montigni and his fair
companion had fallen into his hands, had passed away; and towards Rose
d'Albret, at least, he had resumed all that courtesy for which he was
renowned. To De Montigni his demeanour was varying and uncertain;
never, indeed, returning to the harsh rudeness which he had at first
displayed, but sometimes cold and icy, sometimes gay and almost kind.
He was a Prince who had acquired, without much cause, a high
reputation throughout Europe, and De Montigni knew him by report to be
brave to a fault, generous to prodigality, and affecting a chivalrous
tone in his conduct and manners; but he was not aware of the faults,
which afterwards developed themselves so remarkably and caused the
Duke's ruin and his death,--selfishness, ambition, tyrannical
severity, and a wild vanity, that led him to overestimate in all
things his own abilities, and his own importance.
As they sat together at the table, for a time, the fairer points of
the Duke's character were alone exhibited to his prisoners. He
addressed De Montigni more than once, pressed Rose to partake of the
meal before them, spoke of the events of the battle, and even lauded
highly the skill and character of the King.--The young Baron deceived
himself into the belief that these external signs of a high and noble
nature, might be the genuine indications of the heart; and he resolved
to cast himself upon his generosity, to explain to him the
circumstances in which he stood, and to beseech him to refrain, at
least for a short period, from placing Mademoiselle d'Albret in the
power of those who were but too likely to misuse the opportunity. As
if to check him in such purposes, almost the next moment, Nemours
resumed towards him his haughty and overbearing manner; and thus he
went on from time to time; at one moment appearing to forget that De
Montigni was an adversary and a prisoner, and the next treating him
almost as if he were a condemned criminal.
After the space of repose I have mentioned, the march towards Chartres
was resumed, but the pace at which they proceeded was now slow; and
before they reached that fair old town, the sun set in cloudless
splendor, and the stars looked out in the sky. Weary, silent, anxious,
and distressed, Rose d'Albret rode on, replying to the frequent
attentions of Nemours with but a monosyllable, till at length they
reached the gates, where they where detained during a few minutes; for
the news of the defeat of Ivry had already reached the city, and all
was anxious precaution to guard against surprise. At length the party
was admitted; torches were procured at the Corps de Garde; and by
their red and gloomy light, flashing upon the tall houses with their
manifold small windows, the cavalcade wound on, through the narrow
streets, towards the castle.
Intelligence of the arrival of the Duke of Nemours, had been sent on
to the governor from the gates; and the outer court of the citadel was
filled with gentlemen and officers when the party entered. Nemours
dismounted from his horse as soon as he had given the word to halt;
and, advancing to a stern-looking, middle-aged man, who seemed to be
the chief of those present, he embraced him, saying,
"Well, Monsieur de la Bourdasières, I have come to you sooner than I
expected. We have been badly served at Ivry; and the foreign troops
have once more betrayed our confidence. However, I bring two prisoners
with me--or at least one," he added, "for the lady is not a prisoner,
and of her I will speak to you by and by, if you will have the
goodness now to place her for the time under the protection of Madame
de la Bourdasières."
The governor seemed to ask a question, which De Montigni did not hear;
but Nemours replied, immediately, "Oh, yes, of the highest. It is
Mademoiselle d'Albret, the daughter of the late Count de Marennes."
"Right willingly," replied the governor. "We will give her what poor
entertainment we can;" and advancing with Nemours to the side of
Rose's jennet, he assisted her to dismount, saying, "my wife will be
most happy to entertain you, Mademoiselle d'Albret."
Rose turned an anxious look towards De Montigni, who sprang from his
horse, and approaching her before any one could interfere, took her
hand, saying, "I am rejoiced to find you placed under such protection,
dearest Rose."
The governor turned a grave and inquiring look towards him; but De
Montigni added, loud enough for all to hear, "Do not fear. The
contract for our marriage, between your father and my uncle, cannot be
broken, let them do what they will."
"Come, come, enough of this, Sir!" said the Duke of Nemours; and the
governor, taking Rose by the hand, led her away into the castle.
"Monsieur de Nemours," said the young nobleman, as soon as she was
gone, "I am your prisoner; and I cannot blame you for seizing the
momentary advantage you had obtained, to make me so. I know the
reputation of the Duke of Nemours too well to suppose, that he will
show any want of courtesy toward one placed in such a situation; I,
therefore, demand to be put to ransom, and that without farther delay,
according to the common customs and usages of war."
Nemours gazed at him, for an instant, from head to foot, and then,
turning on his heel, replied, "I will consider of it, Sir."
A sharp reply was springing to De Montigni's lips; but he repressed
it, recollecting how much the fate of himself and one most dear to
him, might depend upon the man to whom he was speaking. The colour
came in his cheek, however; and he bit his lip to keep down the anger
which could scarcely be suppressed, while Nemours, calling one of his
gentlemen to him, gave some directions in a low tone.
"Take a parole from his servant," he said aloud, in conclusion, "and
let him have free ingress and egress to wait upon his master. As to
the chamber, speak with some of the people of Monsieur de la
Bourdasières about it;" and then, turning round to De Montigni again,
he added, "we shall meet to-morrow, Sir; in the mean time, good
night."
Thus saying, he walked away and entered the castle, marshalled by some
of the officers of the governor. De Montigni remained for a moment or
two, while the followers of Nemours and the people assembled in the
court conversed together round about him, in regard to the events of
the day, and many an anxious inquiry was addressed to those who had
shared in the battle, as to the course which it had taken, and the
results which it was likely to produce. Each man answered according to
his particular character and disposition. Some made light of it;
asserted that it could scarcely be called a battle lost; that Mayenne
was at the head of nearly as many men as ever; and that, though the
enemy did possess the field, they had paid dearly for it. Others, more
sincere, or more alarmed, acknowledged, that at last it had been a
complete rout, that each had fled as best he could, and that the King
was pursuing Mayenne, sword in hand, towards Mantes. Others contented
themselves with a significant shrug of the shoulders, or a simple
exclamation of anger and mortification; but, upon the whole, the
governor's officers easily divined that a great victory had been won
by the Royalists,--a terrible defeat sustained by their own party.
At length, the gentleman to whom Nemours had last spoken, and who had
been conversing with another man at some distance, advanced towards De
Montigni, saying, "Now, Monsieur le Baron, if you will follow me and
Monsieur de la Haye, we will show you to your chamber.--Come hither,"
he continued, beckoning to De Montigni's servant who had been taken
with him; "you can wait upon your master till he is ransomed, so you
will see where he lodges;" and, leading the way with the officer to
whom he had been speaking, he conducted the young nobleman into the
castle. Following the walls which in those days were extensive, he
approached a small detached building, which seemed to be used as a
house of refreshment for the soldiery, or what we should, in the
present day, call the canteen.
The lower story was thronged with men drinking and talking; but,
walking through the passage, they reached a narrow and ill-constructed
stairs, which led to some rooms above. In one of these was found a
bed, a table, and a chair, all of the homeliest description. The
casements were not in the best state of repair, and no curtains were
there to keep out the glare of day or the winds of night. The walls
were in the rough primeval state in which the hands of the mason had
left them, and everything bore an aspect of misery and discomfort, not
very consoling to the eyes of the captive.
This, he was informed, was to be his abode while he remained in the
city of the Druids: and, well knowing that remonstrance was in vain,
he seated himself in the solitary chair, while the officer of Nemours
took the parole of his servant, and then, making a cold bow to the
prisoner, retired.
De Montigni remained in silence, with his head resting on his hand,
for a moment or two, while his follower gazed on him with a
disconsolate countenance; but, at length, the man ventured to
interrupt his master's reverie by saying, "This is a strange place to
put you in, Sir. Not very civil, _pardie_, though you be a prisoner."
"The place matters little, my good friend," answered the young
nobleman. "We slept in the Alps in worse abodes than this. It is the
being a prisoner that makes the lodging bad--and at such a time too!"
he added, with a bitter sigh, "when happiness was within my grasp;
when the cause of the King was victorious; when another minute would
have saved us both."
"'Twas unlucky indeed, Sir," said the servant. "They say fortune
changes every seven years; God forbid that ours should last as long,
for we have made a sad beginning in France. But, at all events, I will
try to render the place somewhat more comfortable for you, Sir. Money
will do anything in Chartres, as well as elsewhere."
"Would to Heaven it would get me out of it!" replied De Montigni. "He
will never dare refuse to put me to ransom, surely?"
"I do not know, Sir," rejoined the man. "I have heard that, in these
civil wars, they have done strange things; but, if he do, you must
make your escape, Sir; and, as I was saying just now, money can do
everything."
De Montigni shook his head, but he suffered the man to proceed as he
thought fit to give the chamber an air of greater comfort. A sconce
was brought up from below, to replace the solitary lamp which had been
left by the officer; a piece of tapestry was obtained from some other
quarter to cover the window; a bundle of rushes were found to strew
the floor; a white sheet was spread over the bed, to cover the
somewhat dirty furniture with which it had been previously decorated;
and, thanks to the proximity of the canteen, wine and provisions of
various kinds soon ornamented the table, which was covered with one of
those fine white cloths for which, Le Grand assures us, France was at
that time famous.
But, when the door opened and closed, De Montigni saw the figure of a
soldier, either passing to and fro, or leaning on his partizan; and he
felt bitterly that he was a prisoner, without power to alter the
course of events which were taking place around him, to the
destruction of all his hopes, to the frustration of those dreams of
joy in which he had indulged but a few hours before. With the usual
course of bitter and unavailing regret in a young and inexperienced
mind, he reproached himself for not having done every act that might
have averted the misfortune which had fallen upon him. He blamed
himself for having joined the battle, when he had no occasion to do
so; he forgot all the inducements and arguments to which his mind had
yielded when he left Rose in the farm at Mainville, in order to share
in the glories and the dangers of the field of Ivry. He next regretted
that, anxious to bear her the first tidings of success, he had hurried
back as soon as he saw the fight irretrievably turned against the
Leaguers, and acknowledged that he ought to have gone on with the King
in pursuit of the enemy.
He who knows by frequent trial the fallibility of human judgment, and
how often the best calculations are proved false by the unexpected
turns of fate, judges as surely as he can by the light of reason, acts
resolutely when his decision is formed, and leaves the rest to the
will of God, thanking Him who alone gives success, if his efforts
prove effectual, bowing, without self-condemnation, if disappointment
follows. But the young cannot do this; for it is the invariable fault
of youth to attribute too much to human powers. We only discover their
feebleness when we have tried them; and this is one of the first
lessons of earthly existence, the great school wherein we learn, or,
at least, may acquire, the knowledge that fits us for a higher state
of being. The world is a school, and we are but school-boys, and all
that we obtain is destined for another scene.
The night which De Montigni first passed as a prisoner, was without
repose, as it well might be. Had his busy thoughts permitted sleep to
visit his eyelids during the first five hours of the night, the noises
which rose up from below would have effectually banished the gentle
guest; but those sounds were hardly heard by the captive, and, long
after his servant had left him, he sat and mused; now reviewing the
past; now forming airy schemes for the future, destroyed as soon as
raised; now pondering over the bitter present with unavailing anger
and regret. Shortly after daylight, he was up and dressed; and, when
his servant again appeared, he sent him at once to the Duke of Nemours
to know when he would fix his ransom, according to the custom of the
day. The answer was cold and formal, "That Monsieur de Nemours would
see the Baron de Montigni in the course of the morning, and would then
inform him of his intentions."
This was all that the man had been able to obtain; and, for many
another impatient hour, De Montigni paced his narrow chamber, giving
way to every dark and painful imagination, till, at length, a step,
different from that of the guard at the door, was heard without, about
an hour after noon, and the voice of the Duke of Nemours was instantly
recognized by the prisoner, telling the soldier he might retire to the
room below.
They were words of good augury to the young nobleman, who mentally
said, "He comes to name my ransom;" and the impression was farther
confirmed by the cheerful and courteous countenance of the Duke, who
entered the moment after, more with the air of an old acquaintance
than a captor.
"Well, Monsieur de Montigni," he said, "how have you passed the night?
By heaven, they have assigned you but a paltry lodging here. 'Tis none
of my doings this. La Bourdasière should have known better."
"The lodging matters little, my Lord," answered De Montigni, "it is
the imprisonment that is painful;" and, resolved to follow the
determination he had formed the day before, and cast himself and Rose
upon the generosity of the Duke, he added. "Nor is it my own captivity
that is the most grievous to me. It is the imprisonment of the lady
you found with me."
"But she is not a prisoner, Monsieur de Montigni," replied Nemours;
"therein you have made a mistake."
"She is worse than a prisoner, my Lord Duke," said the young nobleman,
"if you send her back to the Château of Marzay.--Nay, hear me out, my
Lord. I have ever heard that the Duke of Nemours is the flower of the
French nobility for chivalrous generosity. His name has reached me
even in Italy, where I have so long sojourned, and if when I entered
France I had been asked on whom I would soonest rely for aid and
protection in any honourable enterprise, I should have answered, 'on
Monsieur de Nemours.' Now, my Lord, I will tell you the plain truth
regarding the situation of myself and Mademoiselle d'Albret, and if
your own heart will suffer you to send her back to the captivity in
which she is held at Marzay, I am much mistaken."
He then proceeded to relate the circumstances in which he had found
Rose on his return from Italy; the arts that had been employed to
deceive them both; and the recourse which they had had to flight as
the only means of delivering the lady from the position in which they
had placed her. Nemours listened with a varying countenance, but
without any interruption. At one moment De Montigni thought he was
touched; at another, a heavy frown came upon his brow; at another, a
look of impatience passed over his face, as if he were tired of the
tale; and when the young nobleman had ended, he replied in an
indifferent tone--"All very lamentable, Monsieur de Montigni; but
still, unless you were prepared to subscribe to the Holy Catholic
Union, I should not be justified in retaining Mademoiselle d'Albret
from her guardian. Even if you were, indeed, it would still be a
consideration whether the long services of Monsieur de Chazeul would
not require us to bestow the hand of the lady upon him, rather than
upon a fresh and uncertain convert."
"What!" exclaimed De Montigni, hastily, "the contract with her father,
her own inclination, and my undoubted right to count for nothing!"
"I am no lawyer," answered Nemours coldly; "I know no thing of
contracts. If you think yourself injured in regard to that matter, the
courts are open to you."
"Nay, nay, Monsieur de Nemours," cried De Montigni. "Do not, for your
own good name's sake, treat the matter in such a tone! Do not
sanction, by the approval of the Duke of Nemours, a line of conduct
which you must feel has been most base and dishonourable!"
The Duke coloured. "Well, Sir," he answered, "I will not sanction it.
If all the circumstances be as you say, wrong has been done. But I am
very sorry, I cannot help it now. A different statement of the affairs
has been made to me in letters from Chazeul; and, to end all in one
word, the lady is already far on her way towards Marzay."
De Montigni started and gazed on him with a stern and angry brow. "And
you have really done this thing?" he asked.
"I have," replied Nemours, returning his glance with one of equal
fire.
"Then, probably," said De Montigni, in a tone of bitter calmness,
"Monsieur de Nemours is prepared still farther to favour his friend's
honest and honourable proceedings by retaining the lady's affianced
husband in prison, and refusing to put him to ransom, as is customary
amongst gentleman in honourable warfare? Pray let me know my fate at
once."
"No, Sir," answered the Duke, "I do not intend to do any such thing. I
propose to set you free as soon as possible, either by exchange or
ransom, for the very purpose of suffering you to pursue your claims to
this lady's hand as you may think fit. There is one little
preliminary, indeed, but that is a trifle which will be soon
arranged."
"That is like the Duke of Nemours again," exclaimed De Montigni,
warmly. "What is the amount of ransom you demand?"
"Name it yourself, Monsieur de Montigni," replied Nemours.
"Will twenty thousand livres suffice?" asked the young Baron.
"Fully!" said Nemours.
"Then they shall be yours with as much speed as can be used," replied
De Montigni. "You will give me a messenger to my intendant at
Montigni, who has more than enough in his hands to discharge the sum
at once."
"Nay, I will do more," said Nemours, "I will set you free, to seek it
yourself, and send it when you can.--Your time may be valuable to you
just now; and heaven forbid that I should detain you."
"Now you are generous indeed, my Lord," answered De Montigni, "and my
best thanks and gratitude are yours for ever."
"There is, however, one little preliminary," continued Nemours, in a
somewhat dry tone; "which we must settle before you go."
"I suppose you mean a bond or engagement to pay the ransom?" said De
Montigni.
"Not so, my young friend," answered Nemours with a bitter smile. "You
will have the kindness to recollect, that yesterday on the pleasant
banks of the Eure, at a place I believe called the ford of Mainville,
you thought fit to charge me with want of courtesy towards a lady. Now
such charges should not be made lightly, and you have, moreover, by
your conduct since--though not exactly in the same words--implied that
you sustained that charge. The Duke of Nemours, Sir, lies under
imputation from no man living; and, therefore, waving the privileges
of his rank, as a Prince of a Sovereign house, he is ready to wipe it
out in your blood without farther delay."
"Ah, Monsieur de Nemours," said De Montigni, "can you so tarnish the
bright generosity you displayed just now, by--"
But Nemours waved his hand. "No more, Sir," he said, "no more!
Arguments on such subjects are vain. The man who submits to insult, is
a coward. You have heard what I have said. I pray you give me an
answer."
"Assuredly, my Lord," replied De Montigni, "I am happy that I have
some privileges too to wave, in order in some degree to put me on a
level with so high a Prince."
"Indeed, Sir!" said Nemours, in a tone of some surprise; "may I
inquire what they are?"
"Those of a prisoner, my Lord," answered the young Baron, calmly. "It
is an old law of honour and arms, that no prisoner or person under
ransom, can receive a challenge from any man, much less from his
captor. Nor is he bound to take the slightest notice of such an
invitation, the shame, if there be any insult or provocation given,
resting upon the giver." Nemours coloured; but De Montigni proceeded:
"This, my Lord Duke, is the privilege that I now wave, to gratify you;
but it is upon condition, that I name the terms and circumstances of
our combat."
"Assuredly," replied Nemours, "that you have a right to demand. What
are the terms?"
"Somewhat numerous, my Lord," replied De Montigni. After a moment's
thought, "First, that we fight without the town; next that our combat
be restricted to one pistol shot on each side; next, which is
absolutely necessary, my time being precious as you justly said but
now, that we be without seconds; for, as perhaps you are aware, I have
no friends in this town.[2] Moreover, taking you at your word, I will
request you in all courtesy to give me under your hand a passport to
come and go, in return for which, I will give you a bond for the
amount of the ransom, and by your permission, will send my servant,
who is with me, to bring it at once from Montigni."
"Agreed, agreed," cried Nemours, with a well-pleased air. "But you
have forgotten to name the time, Monsieur de Montigni. I am at your
disposal to-morrow, the next day, the day after,--the day following
that I must quit Chartres."
De Montigni smiled: "I hope to quit it to-day, Monsieur de Nemours,"
he replied. "It may take half-an-hour to have the ransom bond drawn;
as long, perhaps, for me to buy a pistol, for you know that I was
unarmed when you made me prisoner. Say half-an-hour more for any other
unexpected impediment; and then I am at your service."
De Nemours embraced him as if he had done him the greatest favour, for
such was the spirit of those times; and then calling to the guard from
below, he discharged him from his task, bidding him bring materials
for writing, as speedily as possible. "I will save you the trouble of
purchasing pistols, Monsieur de Montigni," he continued; "you shall
have one of mine; and there are no better in all France."
"You do me honour, Sir," replied De Montigni, "and I accept your offer
with gratitude; but you must name our place of meeting, as I am
unacquainted with this locality."
"There is a stone cross," said Nemours, "little more than a quarter of
a league from the Porte Drouaise: it is so far on your way; and there
is a convenient field hard by, where we can have room to turn our
horses. Yours is somewhat weary I fear from yesterday's exertions, but
mine is not less so, so that there will be no inequality."
Everything was soon arranged. The pistols were sent for, the ransom
bond drawn up, the passport given, the signature of La Bourdasière
obtained to it; and, as nearly three-quarters of an hour yet remained
of the appointed time, to which the Duke determined to be very
punctual, he ordered refreshments to be brought up into the chamber of
De Montigni, and there, talking gaily over a thousand indifferent
subjects, passed half-an-hour as if he were occupied by no thoughts
but those of peace and pleasure. De Montigni on his part did his best
to maintain the same tone, and played his part as well as might be;
but he was less accustomed to such transactions than his companion;
and his thoughts would revert from time to time to Rose d'Albret, and
a cloud of care would settle on his brow.
As time wore by, and the appointed hour approached, the Duke called to
the people below, and ordered his horse to be brought from the stables
of the castle. Then turning to De Montigni he added, "I think, as you
are not acquainted with the spot, it may be as well if I conduct you
thither myself; but in the first place, dispatch your servant on his
errand. I will take care that none of mine follow us; and your horse
can be brought round, after he is gone."
De Montigni made no objection, and the plan proposed was pursued.
Nemours left his young companion for a few minutes, to make the
arrangements necessary to guard against interruption; and, during the
time that he was thus left alone, De Montigni wrote a few hasty lines
to Rose d'Albret, telling her of the circumstances in which he was
placed, and bidding her farewell, if he should fall. The letter was
hardly sealed, when Nemours returned; and now that it was arranged
they were to go forth for the purpose of taking each others' lives in
deadly combat, he was all courtesy and urbanity, according to the
customs of the day; and, to have heard his words, or to have witnessed
his demeanour, one would have supposed that De Montigni was a dear and
intimate friend, or perhaps a younger brother. Each charged the pistol
of the other, each opened his pourpoint, to show that he had no
secret, or coat of mail beneath; and then, after some ceremonies as to
who should first descend the stairs, the Duke of Nemours led the way.
Mounting their horses, which they found, held by some of the soldiers,
at the door, they rode together towards the gates of the citadel.
Several of the gentlemen attached to the Duke of Nemours were
assembled near the bridge, and De Montigni thought that there were
somewhat grave and even angry looks upon their countenances, which
might indicate, that they were not quite so ignorant of the object of
his companion and himself, as they affected to be. A little further
on, at the outer gate, Monsieur de la Bourdasière came out of the
guard house, and approaching the horse of the Duke of Nemours, spoke
to him for a moment, in a low tone.
"Not if you value the friendship of Nemours," replied the Duke
sternly. "The man who interferes in the slightest degree, is my enemy
from that hour."
Thus saying he rode on; and passing the gates of Chartres, they
advanced for some way along the road to Dreux, till at length the
stone cross which the Duke had mentioned appeared in sight, and
dismounting from their horses they knelt before it, and prayed for
some moments in silence. Then mounting again, they took their way
across the plain, till they had lost sight of the cross, it being
considered, in those days, improper to commit murder in the
neighbourhood of that symbol of salvation, although, with the heart
full of every passion and every purpose condemned by Christ, they
would kneel and pray, as they passed under the cross of him, who died
to bring peace upon earth, good-will amongst men. Then choosing an
open field by the bank of the river, the Duke made his companion a low
bow, and wheeled his horse, saying, "Here, Monsieur de Montigni, we
shall have space enough. We fire as we pass; and mind your aim be
good!"
De Montigni bowed in return, and took his ground at the opposite side
of the field.