As nature in the colours with which her beautifying hand has adorned
the creation, for the glory of God, and the delight of his creatures,
has far excelled in richness, and brightness, and variety of hues, all
that the art of man can produce, merely leaving to his vain efforts
the task of falsely imitating her; so does she, in the real course of
events, far exceed in the marvellous and extraordinary, anything that
imagination can conceive. The boundless springs of human passions and
prejudices; the endless variety of human character; the infinite
combinations which man and circumstances may afford, are every day
offering more wonderful and striking scenes than the boldest poet
would venture to display. There is not a house in the land but has its
tragedy to tell; there is not a chamber that has not been stained by
bitter and passionate tears; there is hardly one human heart that has
not within itself its own tale of romance. But as it is the object of
this history, but to depict events very ordinary in the days to which
it relates--and as it is, indeed, the object of its author in all his
works, to keep to calm and quiet probabilities, in order, if possible,
to cure his fellow countrymen of that longing for over excitement,
that moral gin-drinking which has become a vice amongst us, and teach
them that there may be both pleasure and health in less stimulating
beverages; he is anxious to explain every event as it took place, and
to leave nothing to the charge of the marvellous.
The reader has already inquired, how happened it, that Helen de la
Tremblade, after taking the firm resolution of doing that which,
though bitterly painful to her own feelings, she considered a duty to
those who had shown her kindness and tenderness in her moment of
distress, did not present herself before her uncle, on the first night
of his solitary watching by the corpse of the old commander, De
Liancourt;--and, had I been reading the work, instead of writing it, I
should have asked the same question too. The answer is very simple,
but it requires some detail.
On the day following the battle of Ivry, hasty preparations were made
for conveying the body of the dead leader to Marzay. All those sad and
solemn preparations which are required by custom in consigning the
mortal dust to the earth from which it came: the coffin, the bier, and
the shroud, were to be made ready; and, whatever diligence was
employed, it was known that all this could not be complete before
evening. The soldiers who had followed the old leader to the field,
determined to take their turns in carrying him back to his last home;
and Helen, as has been said, resolved to accompany them; but still,
during the day, she showed some signs, as it seemed to Estoc, of
irresolution and doubt, and the good old warrior determined to speak a
word to her, for the purpose of removing her hesitation. She had not
quitted for more than a few brief moments the chamber of the dead man,
and the attachment which she displayed to even the inanimate remains
of his dead friend, deeply touched the heart of one who, for years,
had evinced towards the good old knight, that strong and pertinacious
love, so often found in the one-affectioned dog, so rarely in
many-motived man. Even had he not promised, he would still have been a
father to the poor girl, on account of her devotion to one who had
been a father to him; and, as he entered the chamber where she sat, he
strove to smooth his somewhat rough tone, in order to speak to her
tenderly.
"Come, young lady," he said, "you had better really go into the hall
and take some refreshment. We must all die, old and young; and, as the
gamblers say, every year that goes makes the odds stronger against us;
so there is no use sitting here, pining by yourself, and I hope we
shall be able to march in a couple of hours."
"So soon!" asked Helen.
"Ay," answered Estoc, "the sooner it is all over, the better, my dear.
I know it is painful to you to fulfil your promise, but I don't think
you will shrink from it."
"Oh! it is not that," cried Helen de la Tremblade; "my mind is made
up; and if it kill me, I will do it. But I did not want to go just
yet, for the first person who was kind to me, and took compassion upon
me, promised to come or send after the battle was over. He will think
me ungrateful if I go, without waiting to see him; and yet who can
tell whether he be dead or alive? I am sure he is not a man to shrink
from any danger, but rather to seek it; for the kindest-hearted are
always the bravest."
"That's very true," exclaimed Estoc. "I have marked that through a
struggle of fifty-four years with this good world.--But what is his
name, young lady? We have had accounts this morning of all the great
men killed and the wounded; so I can tell you if he be amongst them."
"Oh, he is a man of no great rank," answered Helen. "A very poor
French gentleman, he told me: his name is Chasseron."
"Oh, he is quite safe and well," answered Estoc, with a smile; "I know
him a little, too. But Monsieur de Chasseron is a very busy man, and
has many things upon his hands, just now. He is at Mantes with the
King, or at Rosni, some say. I wish to heaven I could see him myself,"
he continued, "for I think if he heard that Monsieur de Montigni and
Mademoiselle Rose had been taken by the enemy, he might give us some
help."
"Can I not go to him at Mantes?" cried Helen; "I could tell him all,
and be back very soon."
Estoc paused, and thought. "Not before we set out," he replied. "It's
along way to Mantes, my dear. If you do, you must join us by the way.
But how am I to get you thither, and back again?"
"Oh, I am a poor friendless creature," cried Helen de la Tremblade,
"it matters not what becomes of me. I do not think any one would
injure me, but that cruel woman; and she is far away."
"No, you are not friendless," exclaimed Estoc warmly; "and never shall
be while I live. No, I cannot let you go alone; but I can send two of
my old fellows with you, who will take care that no one does you
wrong. Perhaps there may be some bands too going down, and if I could
find any stout old leader whom I know, he would take care of you. I
will go up to the village and see; for it would be a great thing,
indeed, if you could let Monsieur de Chasseron know all that has
happened.--He might help us--he might help us, though I don't know if
he has the power."
"I am sure he will if he can," cried Helen; "for he has a kind and
generous heart, as I have good cause to say."
"Well, I will go, I will go," replied Estoc. "At all events, you shall
have two men to go with you. Old Jaunaye and Longeau, they shall be
the men. They are of the good old stuff, out of which we used to make
soldiers in my young days; none of the coxcombs that we have at
present. But, you get ready to go, and I will be back in half an hour.
My horse is saddled at the door."
Thus saying, he departed, and, in less time than he had mentioned,
returned, with an eager air, exclaiming, "Quick, quick, Mademoiselle
Helen; here is the band of the old Count de Ligones, just marching
this moment, and you can easily come up with them. I saw him and told
him, and he says he will take care of you. But you shall have Jaunaye
and the Longeau, to bring you across to us to-morrow. You can easily
catch us up, either at Tremblaye, or Châteauneuf, for we must needs go
slow. The men are ready."
"And so am I," answered Helen, "but how am I to find Monsieur de
Chasseron in all the bustle and confusion of the court?"
"True," said Estoc, thoughtfully; "you may have some trouble. I will
tell you what," he continued; "here, write down upon a piece of paper
the gentleman's name, and send it into Monsieur de Biron. He is an old
friend of Chasseron's, I think, and will bring him to you."
Pen and ink were soon procured, the name written down, and Helen
de la Tremblade covering herself with the thick veil which Rose
d'Albret had left behind--for she herself had been driven forth all
unprepared--went out, and with the assistance of Estoc, mounted a
pillion behind one of the men. After riding for about three miles,
they overtook the band of the Count de Ligones, an old soldier of near
seventy years of age. He was hearty and gay, however, and would fain
have entertained his fair companion for the rest of the way, with many
a jest, and many a tale; but Helen, as the reader may suppose,
remained grave and sad, answering his questions by a monosyllable, and
listening to his jokes without reply.
"You seem very silent, Mademoiselle," said the old gentleman, at
length; "I am afraid some misfortune has happened to you."
"I have lost a kind and generous friend in this last battle," cried
Helen de la Tremblade, "and have no heart to speak."
"Ah! poor thing," said the old man. "You are not a soldier to bear
these things lightly. We learn to weep for a friend one half hour, and
to laugh the next. When a man holds life by the tenure of a straw, he
soon gets to look upon the loss of it by others, as a matter of little
moment. Yet here I am, have reached seventy years of age, and have
been in twelve stricken battles, with at least a skirmish every week
for this last thirty years, and never got but one scratch upon the
face: yet I have seen many a blooming boy swept away in his very first
fight."
Thus he continued talking on, during the whole way, till they reached
the woods, which, at that time, skirted the banks of the Seine; and,
giving his men orders to halt at one of the neighbouring villages, he
rode on with Helen and her two companions, followed by a small party
of his own attendants, towards the Château of Rosni, in which they
found that the King had taken up his abode.
It was the bustle of a camp, rather than that of a court, that Helen
now found. Tents were pitched in the meadows; baggage-waggons
encumbered the ground, bodies of soldiers were moving here and there,
and parties of armed men with their steel caps laid aside, were seen
supping on the damp ground under the trees, by the light of the fires
which they kindled to keep off the exhalations of the night, now
drawing in around them. The great doors of the château were wide open,
the hall filled with people, and though the Count de Ligones acted as
her spokesman, and inquired of several whom they met, if they could
tell where Monsieur de Chasseron was to be found, whether in the
château, or in the village, she could get no satisfactory answer of
any kind; and, indeed, so busy did every one seem with his own
thoughts, or his own business, that very often no reply was returned
at all.
As every one seemed at liberty to come and go, however, the old Count,
more accustomed to such scenes than she, led her up the great
staircase into the corridor at the top. But, as they were turning to
the right, more at a venture than by choice, a guard placed himself
before them, saying,--"You cannot pass, Sir, without an order. These
are the King's apartments."
"Call a valet or an equerry," said Monsieur de Ligones.
The man obeyed; and, in a moment after, out came a tall good-looking
man, in military attire, who exclaimed at once, "Ah! Ligones, is that
you? You are to quarter your men at the farther end of the village.
There are two houses marked for you; but, good faith, you must make
them sleep as close as pigs in a sty. We only give them house room at
all, because we know that there is not a man under seventy amongst
them, and so take care of their old bones."
"Thanks, Aubigné, thanks," replied the Count; "but I want to see the
King, and--"
"You cannot see him just now," answered Aubigné, "for he has got D' O
and other vermin with him, and has for once lost his patience. I heard
him swearing like a Reiter, with all the language of Babylon come back
upon him in full force. I believe he will frighten them into
disgorging something; but whether or not sufficient to carry us to
Paris, I doubt. However, if you will wait half an hour, the fit of
blasphemy and finance, will have left him. May I ask what are your
commands, Madam? If your business be with the King, I must report it;
for he is always much more accessible to ladies than to gentlemen."
"No, Sir," said Helen, "I have not the honour of knowing his Majesty;
but I would fain speak for a moment with Monsieur de Chasseron."
"He is not here, that I know of," replied Aubigné. "I have not seen
him for some time."
"If you would give that paper to Marshal Biron," answered the young
lady, "and ask him to condescend to put down where Monsieur de
Chasseron is to be found, you would greatly oblige me."
"That I will do with pleasure," replied the equerry. "Let this lady
and gentleman pass," he continued, speaking to the guard; and then
adding, "I will keep you in the passage for a moment," he left them,
entering a room at the very farther end of the corridor. Within that
was another chamber, the door of which Aubigné opened gently; and
then stretching in his hand to a gentleman who sat nearest the end of
a long table, surrounded by a number of persons, he gave him the paper
he had received, saying, "Will you have the goodness to hand that up
to Monsieur de Biron, and ask him to put down for a young lady who
waits without, where that gentleman is to be found. You may tell the
King, if you like," he added, in a whisper; "that she is prodigiously
handsome."
He paused a moment, while the paper passed from hand to hand. Some who
received it, smiled; some passed it on in silence; but Henri Quatre
who sat at the head of the table, remarked what was taking place, and
exclaimed, "What is that?--What have you got there? Pardi, send it
up."
The command was immediately obeyed; and, at the same moment, Henri
nodding his head to Aubigné a little gravely, as if to reprove him for
the curiosity he seemed to evince, said, "You may go, companion."
The equerry retreated, and closed the door, without, however, quitting
the adjacent room; and Helen and Monsieur de Ligones remained standing
in the corridor for nearly a quarter of an hour, while numerous
attendants and officers passed them every minute. At the end of that
time, Aubigné again appeared; and, after informing the Count that he
could now speak with the King if he would go into the room at the end
of the passage, he turned to Helen, saying, "Follow me, Mademoiselle.
Monsieur de Chasseron is expected very soon; and you can wait for
him."
Helen thanked the old Count warmly for his courteous protection on the
road, and then prepared to accompany Aubigné; but Monsieur de Ligones
whispered with kind intentions in her ear, "I will tell your two men
to wait for you in the hall; and, as soon as your conference is over,
you had better ride away to Rolleboise or Bonnières, for this is not
the best place for a young creature like you. There are too many men
here, and too few women."
The blood came up into the poor girl's face; but she understood that
the old nobleman's meaning was good, and replying, "I will!" she
followed her conductor to a small cabinet but scantily furnished,
where Aubigné left her, and closed the door.
Seating herself by the table, Helen remained in anxious meditation for
more than half an hour, at the end of which time a number of steps
were heard in the corridor, and a tall stout man opened the door and
looked in. He withdrew again, immediately; and some ten minutes more
passed without anything occurring to disturb her reverie. Then,
however, the door again opened; and, to her infinite satisfaction, the
figure of Chasseron himself, in his worn doublet and heavy boots,
appeared, turning round his bead as he entered, and saying to some one
without, "Wait, here! I will return directly."
Helen sprang up to meet him with that look of gladness and confidence,
which is hard to resist; and, taking her hand, he exclaimed with a
good-humoured smile, "Ah! my little protégée!--Now, I warrant you
thought the grey beard had forgotten you; but such was not the case,
and you must have passed one of my men on the road. I have been so
busy I could not send before. But every one who cares for poor King
Henry, must be busy now; for no sooner does he gain one advantage than
his own people help the enemy to deprive him of the fruits of it.
Well, what news from St. André? Were the people with whom I left you
kind?"
"Oh! most kind," answered Helen de la Tremblade; "Mademoiselle
d'Albret is an old and generous friend--better alas! than I deserve;
but it is for her sake I have come hither, not my own."
"Ha! How is that?" asked Chasseron; "has anything happened? Are they
not married?--Pardi. I thought they would lose no time. Yet I saw the
young Baron in the field. He may have been wounded? He is not in the
list of killed."
He spoke so rapidly, that Helen had not time to answer anything he
said, before something new was uttered. When he paused, however, she
replied, "No! Oh, no! He is not killed; but he is a prisoner which
is--or may be worse."
"Parbleu! that is unfortunate!" cried her companion. "He was one of
those, I suppose, who ventured too rashly forward in the town of Ivry.
Yet I saw him not there; and I was not far behind myself."
"It was not there he was taken," answered Helen; and, as briefly as
possible--for she saw that Chasseron, though wishing to show her every
kindness, was in haste--she recapitulated all that had occurred on the
banks of Eure, since she had been placed in the farm-house.
The stout soldier shut his teeth, which were as white as snow, upon
his grizzled moustache; and then murmured, "They are unlucky folks!
Poor things! To Chartres, did you say? Ventre Saint Gris! something
must be done for them.--Well, well, that may be set to rights."
These words seemed more the out-pourings of what was passing in his
own mind, than addressed to his fair companion; but the moment after,
he turned to her, saying, "I have some small influence here; and I
will not fail to use it for Monsieur de Montigni. He once came to my
aid, fair lady, when life or death hung upon the event of a moment. He
has since served the King to the best of his ability, and the King
should show himself grateful. Doubtless he will, and he shall not fail
to know the facts. Then it will not be impossible to exchange, against
Monsieur de Montigni, some prisoner in his hands."
"But they fear the Duke of Nemours will send back Mademoiselle
d'Albret to Marzay," said Helen; "and then--and then--"
"What then?" asked Chasseron, quickly. "Oh! I see," he continued;
"They will force her into a wedding with Nicholas de Chazeul; as
dishonest a rogue as ever used the pretence of religion to cover base
designs. He shall not have her!--Pardi, he shall not have her if I
have any say in the matter."
Helen turned pale, and trembled, but she replied not; and her
companion added, after a moment's thought, "Well! that shall be cared
for, too, as far as I am able.--What was it you said about our good
old friend the Commander? Dead, did you say? Why, he fell not on the
field!"
"No," answered Helen in a subdued tone, "He died last night of his
wounds."
"God have his soul in guard!" cried the stout soldier. "He was a good
old man!--But now, my poor young lady, to tell truth--though I am
right glad to see you--yet your coming puzzles me not a little. I know
not what to do with you here. They say, pity is akin to love, but--"
He saw that Helen's cheek turned pale; and, he added quickly, "Nay, do
not fear; There's honour amongst thieves; and I am not one to take
advantage of misfortune--What I would say is simply, that I know not
how or where to lodge you here in honesty or safety. Then, too, where
the King goes I must go; and--"
"Nay, Sir," replied Helen, "Do not embarrass yourself, for me or my
fate. Deeply grateful am I for kindness to one who, when you found me,
was outcast, hopeless, and unfriended; but I am now no longer without
protection and support. Good Monsieur Estoc, whom I think you know,
sent me hither to tell you all that had occurred, hoping that your
influence with the King, or his ministers, might enable you to aid
Monsieur de Montigni and Mademoiselle d'Albret; but Monsieur Estoc
will protect me. He has promised to do so, and I am sure he will
perform it."
"Ay, good faith, that he will!" answered Chasseron, "and it is better
that he should than that I should. As to influence, Heaven knows, the
King, good man, can rarely be got to do what he ought; and, with his
ministers, I have none, alas! But what I can do, I will; and, in the
mean time, tell old Estoc, that you have seen Chasseron; and mayhap he
will be with him, with a score of lances, for a day's sport. Let him
give me speedy news of what is going on. I am here for a day or two,
it seems, and cannot get away, for my movements depend on greater men
than myself.--But to return to your own business--What do you do
next?"
"To-morrow I am to join Monsieur Estoc," replied Helen, "and go with
him to Marzay. They think," she added in a hesitating tone, "that I
maybe of service there to Mademoiselle d'Albret. To-night I propose to
go with the two men who came with me, to Rolleboise or Bonnières."
"Right! right!" replied Chasseron; "yet they are full of our
people.--Well, I will send some one with you, to secure you
protection.--And now," he continued in a lower and a gentler tone,
"when I first found you, I think you were but poorly supplied with
that, to which we are all, both great and small, obliged to bow our
heads, though it be an idol: I mean money. I am, it is true, very
poor; but--"
Helen waved her hand, bending her eyes to the ground, and colouring
deeply. Why she did so, the reader must ask of his own heart; but, as
her companion spoke, the words he had just before used, that "pity is
akin to love," rung in her ears again.
"I have enough," she said, "more than enough, thanks to the generosity
of poor Monsieur de Liancourt. Accept, Sir, my deepest, my most
heartfelt thanks. Had it not been for you, I should not have been, at
this hour, alive; and now I will keep you no longer, for I know you
are in haste."
"Yet stay a moment," said Chasseron. "I must send some one with you.
He shall be here directly. Now farewell."
He gazed on her for a moment--seemed to hesitate; and then, taking her
hand in his, raised it to his lips, kissed it, not warmly, though
tenderly, and, repeating the word "Farewell," turned to the door. When
his fingers were upon the latch, however, he looked round saying,
"Wait till somebody comes from me--He shall not be long;" and then,
opening the door, he left her once more alone.
Ere ten minutes were over, Helen was joined by an elderly man, in a
riding dress, who bowing low, said, "I have come from Monsieur de
Chasseron, Mademoiselle, and am to accompany you to Rolleboise."
Helen expressed her readiness to set out; and following her new guide
through the corridor and down the stairs, found the two old soldiers
who had accompanied her, waiting with some impatience and anxiety in
the hall. The whole party were soon on horseback; and, riding slowly
through the darkness, with the bright Seine glistening on their right,
reached Rolleboise in about three quarters of an hour. The little inn,
however, which, at that time, stood wedged in between the high banks
and the river, was filled to the doors; but at Bonnières, about two
miles farther, they found all quiet and tranquil; and the
accommodation which they wanted, was easily procured. Helen retired to
rest at once; and rising early the next morning to pursue her way,
found the man who had guided her from Rosni, waiting to see her
depart.
Nothing more occurred on her journey worthy of the reader's attention,
and I shall only therefore notice, that, at Châteauneuf, she found
that Estoc and the funeral procession of the old Commander had already
passed on towards Marzay. She was here obliged again to pause for the
night, and did not reach the village of Marzay, which lay at the
distance of about half a league from the château, till sunset on the
following day. She found Estoc waiting her arrival, full of anxiety on
many accounts; for some communication had naturally established
itself, between the people of the château and their old companions,
and many of the events which have been recorded in the preceding pages
had become known to the old soldier.
The news she brought him of her interview with Chasseron seemed to
interest him much. Its first effect, however, was to throw him into a
fit of meditation, and he made little or no comment, but by the words,
"He can do it if he will;--and yet I love not this rumour of the boy's
death. He is hot and quick; and there may be truth in it, though, I
think it is but one of their lies after all."
"Whose death?" cried Helen de la Tremblade, turning as pale as death,
"not Monsieur de Montigni's?"
"Ay, so they have spread abroad the report," replied Estoc, "but 'tis
a falsehood I believe, to drive poor Rose to do what they want. I
trust in heaven she will not believe it."
"And if she does," exclaimed Helen, "she will sooner die than take the
fate they offer her. Oh, no! it is one of that terrible woman's
frauds. But Rose will never consent."
"I trust not," answered Estoc in a doubtful tone. "But a report has
reached me, that they intend to force this marriage upon her to-morrow
morning, and our best hope of preventing it lies with you,
Mademoiselle Helen."
"I will go directly," said Helen, in a tone wonderfully calm. "I am
ready now."
"No, no," replied the old soldier, "not so, my dear; you must wait
till all the world's asleep, but your uncle. He watches all night in
the chapel. You too have need of rest and refreshment; and an hour
before midnight we will set out."
Helen took some food, and then lay down in the cottage, where a
chamber had been prepared for her; but sleep visited not her eyelids;
and her own thoughts were more wearisome than any corporeal exertion
could have been.