It was with a quick and agitated step that the girl Blanchette
returned to the room which served as her own bed-chamber and as the
ante-room to that of her mistress. It was the sort of pace that, had
she stopped for one moment, it must have been to stamp with rage; and,
when she reached a seat, she cast herself into it, and burst forth
into a violent fit of tears--passionate, not penitent; full of
virulent anger, not of sorrow or remorse. The same feelings were in
her heart, with which Macbeth exclaimed "For Banquo's issue have I
'filed my mind,"--feelings which lead to fresh crimes, rather than to
atonement for those that are gone.
"I shall be discharged, shall I?" asked the girl, "and all for doing
what she told me. I have heard of her ways. Fool that I was not to
believe it. I might have known, if I had not been as stupid as an owl,
that what she does to others, she would do to me. Oh that I could but
match her!--Well, I may perhaps--Now if I could get Mademoiselle out
of the château? But she will watch me.--Well, let her; I will watch
her.--The old hag is cunning enough, but there may be others as
shrewd;" and she dried her tears, and laughed at the thought of the
bitter sweet potion of revenge.
"I know her now," she continued, sometimes speaking to herself in low
murmurs, sometimes meditating in silence; "I know her now. Oh she can
feign and speak sweet, and promise all kinds of things. But she shall
not take me in any more. I can see well enough. Her game is nearly
played. If she wants any more help, she will be as smooth as oil; and
then, when all is done, I shall be kicked off to die on a dunghill,
for what she cares. But I have taken care of that. I have got as many
crowns as promises, and I will be caught by none of the latter any
more. Oh yes, she will soon come, and be very civil doubtless, if she
has anything for me to do; and tell me she was obliged to speak so
before her brother, but that it meant nothing. She shall see that I am
affronted, however; but not too much--no, not too much, for then she
might not trust me any farther, and I should miss my opportunity; for
vengeance I will have, one way or another."
With such sweet and innocent thoughts Blanchette entertained herself
for some time, till at length the door swung open, and Madame de
Chazeul walked in, with no signs of plausibility in her countenance.
The girl was sitting, with the handkerchief which had lately wiped
away her tears, upon her lap; and her whole face showed that she had
undergone no light emotions. The Marchioness did not stay to inquire,
of what sort they were, but jumped at the conclusion, that the dread
of losing her place, was the cause of the girl's agitation; and,
believing that, by that fear, she could rule her as she thought fit,
she was only careful to prevent her from thinking the post of
soubrette to the future Marchioness de Chazeul irretrievably gone.
"Why do you not rise, girl, when you see me?" she demanded in a
haughty tone.
"Why, I have done so much wrong, Madam," said the maid with a sullen
face, "in doing what I thought was your will and pleasure, that I am
sure I know not what to do, to give satisfaction."
"You must do better than you have done, if you would long keep your
place," replied the Marchioness; "but if you really thought you were
pleasing me, that makes a difference. An error may be forgiven;
disobedience not. Your mistress is up, I dare say."
"Oh yes, hours ago," answered Blanchette. "Shall I tell her you are
here, Madam?"
"No!" replied Madame de Chazeul, advancing towards the opposite door,
"we will have no farther ceremonies;" and, without giving any sign of
her approach, she walked straight in.
Rose d'Albret was seated as before, near the window: the favourite
spot of the prisoner, where he can see some part, if it be but a
glimpse of that free world which is no longer his; but when the
Marchioness entered, she started and rose. Madame de Chazeul had
gathered her face into a frown; and Rose, who felt in her heart a
deeper degree of indignation at the events of the last night, than at
all the injuries, deceits, and harshness which had been practised on
her before, gazed at her with a swelling heart and a firm
determination to tell her what she thought of all her conduct.
The Marchioness did not clearly understand that look; and it somewhat
puzzled her as to her course; but after a moments pause, she said, "I
have come, Mademoiselle d'Albret, to tell you, that at eleven the
contract is to be signed in the great hall; and, immediately after,
the marriage will take place in the chapel."
"Madam, you have already had my answer," replied Rose, "and I have
only to beg, that you will not insult me, even by naming your son's
name in my hearing. I have long disliked and despised him. I now abhor
and scorn him; and I would sooner give my hand to a beggar on the
road, than to one so utterly base and degraded."
"I should have thought," answered the Marchioness, with a bitter
sneer, "that, after what passed last night, your reluctance would have
quite vanished, and that Nicholas de Chazeul would have found in Rose
d'Albret a very willing--nay, perhaps, an over-willing bride;" and she
pointed, smiling sarcastically, to a man's glove that lay upon the
table.
"I had not remarked it," replied Rose, advancing to the table and
taking it up with a look of disgust.
"No, I suppose not," answered Madame de Chazeul. "Such little
oversights will occur in such circumstances, Mademoiselle."
"It was no oversight on his part, at least," said Rose, turning to the
open window; "the low-minded villain who left it here, knew well in
that respect, at least, what he was doing; but I treat it, and him,
and all his arts, with the same contempt," and she threw it out into
the court below.
"Weak, foolish, guilty girl!" cried the Marchioness. "Do not think to
escape thus.--Your fate is sealed; and within three hours you are his
wife, however unworthy to be so. For your own sake, for your own
reputation's sake, it must be so. However little care you yourself
take of your own fame, there are others bound to be more thoughtful,
and to use any or all means of saving you from the disgrace which
would fall upon you but for them."
"Madam, my reputation is in no danger," replied Rose; "happily,
neither you nor your son can affect that."
"Indeed!" said Madame de Chazeul, with an incredulous smile. "Perhaps
your high purity is not aware, that Monsieur de Chazeul was seen last
night, by two trustworthy persons, entering your chamber at one
o'clock, and quitting it somewhat after three; perhaps you are not
aware, that your maid has confessed she gave him admission to it."
"To this chamber; not to mine, Madam," answered Rose, with a look of
calm scorn. "Your admirable plan has failed, lady; and you cannot
drive me into an union with one so despicable as to take part in it,
even by the fear of calumny."
Madame de Chazeul gazed at her with rage struggling with surprise.
"You are wonderfully tranquil," she said, at length; "but still all
your calmness will not disprove to the good busy world what several
persons, independent of each other, know: that Monsieur de Chazeul
passed more than one hour in your chamber last night, and that your
maid admits the fact."
"I have better witnesses than my calmness, Madam," replied Rose
d'Albret, "who will be quite credible against your servants, planted
on purpose on the stairs, and my maid, bribed long ago to betray and
deceive her mistress; and they will prove that, warned of the base
scheme contrived against me, informed of all its particulars, I slept
undisturbed in another chamber; and that, if your son thought fit to
pass his time in this place, he passed it here alone."
"It is the priest!" muttered Madame de Chazeul. "I have not spoken
with him, since my return hither," said Rose, who caught the words not
intended for her ear.
"Who are your witnesses, then, girl?" exclaimed Madame de Chazeul. "I
do not believe you! The whole tale is false, invented but to screen
your own dishonour."
"My witnesses I will produce when need may be," answered Rose, "but
not to Madame de Chazeul alone; and, for the rest, you know right
well, which tale is false, and which is true. It is needless to argue
with one so well informed already. Moreover, remember, that no force
shall ever make me wed your son. My hand is promised by myself to him,
for whom my father destined it; and the well-devised story of his
death has failed, as well as the artful scheme that followed it. I now
know him to be living, as well, or, rather, better than you do; and
you may find that he is so when you least expect to see him."
The Marchioness turned red, and then pale, even through the paint upon
her face; but, for several moments, she made no reply, turning rapidly
in her mind every chance in the wide range of circumstances that could
have given to Rose the information she possessed. Be it remarked,
however, that she never doubted the truth of what that Lady said; for,
though the deceitful are ever suspicious, there is something in the
plain, straightforward simplicity of truth, which raises it, in
general, above doubt. Men may affect to disbelieve it, when it
militates against them, but in their heart they recognize it for what
it is.
"If the priest had not told her, who had?" Madame de Chazeul asked
herself. "Could it be the maid?" But then Blanchette had not been
informed of the whole plan. "Could it be one of the servants?" None
knew more than a part. "Could Chazeul have betrayed the secret to some
of his own people, who again had communicated it to Rose?" It was most
improbable. "Could De Montigni himself have returned, and made his way
into the château unperceived?" It might be so; but still her scheme
was unknown to him. She was in a maze, which, with all her quick wit,
she could not thread; and all that she could decide upon doing, was to
pursue her plan boldly, to exercise all her influence over her
brother's mind, to blind his eyes and overrule the better feelings of
his heart, and to watch warily for every accident, to guard against
any event, which might frustrate her design.
"It is all very well, Mademoiselle d'Albret," she said at length, in a
calmer but not less stern tone than she had hitherto employed, "to set
your simple assertions against facts unfortunately too well and widely
known. I shall be happy to hear, when you are my son's wife, the
proofs that you say you can give, that you did not commit the
imprudence, to call it no worse, of admitting him to your chamber in
secrecy and silence, at an hour past midnight. It will be a great
satisfaction to me, and I will take care that those who witnessed the
scene, and may otherwise spread the scandal abroad in the world, shall
be present to hear your exculpation.--But it must be as my son's wife,
for your guardian and myself have consulted, and have determined, that
it is absolutely necessary for your fame and respectability that you
should be united to him without delay. My brother, indeed, has sworn a
dreadful oath, that he will compel you to obey before noon; and you
well know when he has sworn--"
"Oh no, no!" cried Rose, now greatly agitated, "not sworn.--He would
never swear!"
"Ay, but he has!" answered Madame de Chazeul; "he has sworn by all he
holds sacred,--he has called down the vengeance of heaven on his
head,--he has taken the name of his God and his Saviour to witness,
that he will force you to follow his will, and relieve your name of
the stain that hangs upon it, by your marriage with Nicholas de
Chazeul."
Poor Rose d'Albret covered her eyes with her hands in terror and in
grief; for she well knew that Monsieur de Liancourt was one who would
consider such an oath, however rashly and intemperately spoken, as
full justification for violating every dictate of propriety, right,
and justice. Madame de Chazeul saw her agony, and enjoyed it; for
anger and wounded pride had their share in the bitter determination
which she had formed, to force the poor girl into the arms of her son;
and amongst the many images which a quick fancy brought before her
mind of future triumphs, was the prospect of mingling misery and care
with Rose's married life, and taking vengeance, for what she called
the disdain of the haughty girl, upon the unwilling bride. She sat
silent, then, and Rose remained with her fair face covered, hiding the
tears that would burst forth, and striving to smother the sobs that
struggled for free course.
Neither uttered a word for several minutes. The house, and the chamber
remained quite still; and then came a sound as of a key turning in a
door, and next a gentle tap close to the chair where Madame de Chazeul
was seated. Both Rose and the Marchioness started up, though with very
different feeling; Rose with terror and alarm, lest Helen should
discover herself; and the Marchioness with surprise, which did not at
all deprive her of her prompt decision, and ready wit. Ere
Mademoiselle d'Albret could utter a word, however, in the wild
confusion into which her thoughts had been thrown, her fierce
companion judging in a moment that the secret was about to be
disclosed, said in a low, but quick tone. "Come in!" The door from the
priest's room opened, and Helen de la Tremblade stood before them,
with a face calm and placid when she first appeared, but which became
glowing and agitated, as soon as she beheld her enemy.