The curiosity of Martin Grille was greatly excited. The curiosity of
Martin Grille could not rest. He had no idea of a master having a
secret from a valet. What were valets made for? he asked himself. What
could they do in the world if there was any such thing as a secret
from them? He determined he would find out that of his master, and he
used every effort, trusting to Jean Charost's inexperience to lead him
into any admission--into any slip of the tongue--which would give one
simple fact regarding the stranger whom they had met at Pithiviers,
relying on his own ingenuity to combine it with what he had already
observed, so as to make some progress on the way to knowledge. But
Jean Charost foiled all his efforts, and afforded him not the
slightest hint of any kind, greatly raising his intellect in the
opinion of his worthy valet, but irritating Martin's curiosity still
further.
"If there be not some important secret," thought the man, "why should
he be so anxious to conceal it?" and he set to work to bring Armand
Chauvin into a league and confederacy for the purpose of discovering
the hidden treasure.
Armand, however, not only rejected all his overtures, but reproved him
for his curiosity. "I know not what is the business of valets, Master
Martin," he said; "but I know my own business. The _chevaucheur_
should be himself as secret as the grave. Should know nothing, see
nothing, hear nothing, except what he is told in the way of his
business. If a secret message is given him to convey, he should forget
it altogether till he sees the person to whom it is to be delivered,
and then forget it again as soon as it is given. Take my advice,
Master Martin, and do not meddle with your master's secrets. Many a
man finds his own too heavy to bear, and many a man has been hanged
for having those of other people."
Martin Grille did not at all like the idea of being hanged, and the
warning quieted him from Orleans, where it was given, to the good
town, of Blois; but still he resolved to watch narrowly in after days,
and to see whether, by putting piece and piece together, he could not
pluck out the heart of Jean Charost's mystery.
The three horsemen rode into the town of Blois at eventide, just as
the sun was setting; and, according to the directions he had received,
Jean Charost proceeded straight to the ancient château, which, when
somewhat altered from its then existing form, was destined to be the
scene of many tragic events in French history.
Though the face of the world has remained the same, though mountain
and valley stand where valley and mountain stood, though towns and
fortresses are still to be found where towns and fortresses then
existed, the changes of society have been so great, the relations
between man and man, and between man and all external things, have
been so much altered, that it is with difficulty we bring our mind to
comprehend how certain things, all positive facts, existed in other
days, and to perceive the various relations--to us all strange and
anomalous--which thus arose. It is probable that the Duke of Orleans
did not possess a foot of land in the town of Blois besides the old
château, and that he did not hold that in pure possession. But, either
as appanage or fief, he held great territories in the central and
southwestern parts of France, which yielded him considerable revenue
in the shape of dues, tolls, and taxes, gave him the command of many
important towns, and placed in his hands, during life, a number of
magnificent residences, kept up almost entirely by services of vassals
or other feudal inferiors. Shortly before this time, the Duchy of
Aquitaine had been thus conceded to him, and Orleans, Blois, and a
number of small cities had been long in his possession. Thus the
château of Blois was at this time held by him, if not in pure
property, yet in full possession, and afforded a quiet retreat, if not
exactly a happy residence, to a wife whom he sincerely loved, without
passion, and esteemed, even while he neglected.
Removed from the scenes of contention which were daily taking place
near the capital--contention often dignified by the name of war, but
more deserving that of anarchy--the town of Blois had enjoyed for many
years a peaceful and even sluggish calm, for the disorders of many
other parts of France, of course, put a stop to peaceful enterprise in
any direction, either mental or physical. There seemed no energy in
the place; and the little court there held by the Duchess of Orleans,
as well as the number of persons who usually resided in the town as a
place of security, afforded the only inducements to active industry.
As Jean Charost rode along through the streets, there were shops which
might be considered gay, as the world then went; there were persons of
good means and bright clothing, and a number of the inferior class
taking an hour's exercise before the close of day. But there was none
of the eager bustle of a busy, thrifty city, and the amusement-loving
people of France seemed solely occupied with amusement in the town of
Blois.
At the gates of the old castle, the draw-bridge was found down, the
portcullis raised, two lazy guards were pitching pieces of stone into
a hole dug in the middle of the way, and wrangling with each other
about their game. Both started up, however, as the three horsemen came
slowly over the bridge, and one thrust himself in the way with an air
of military fierceness as he saw the face of a stranger in the leader
of the party. The next moment, however, he exclaimed, "Ah! pardie:
Chauvin is that you? Who is this young gentleman?"
"I am secretary to his highness the Duke of Orleans," replied Jean
Charost; "and I bear a letter to the duchess to deliver into her own
hands."
Admission was not difficult to obtain; and Jean Charost was passed
from hand to hand till he found himself in the interior of that gloomy
building, which always seems to the visitor of modern times redolent
of bloody and mysterious deeds.
A grave and respectable-looking man at length showed Jean Charost into
a handsomely-furnished room in one of the towers which looked out in
the direction of Tours; and, seating himself upon a large window-seat,
forming a coffer for firewood, he gazed out upon the scene below and
saw the sun set over the world of trees beneath him. Darkness came on
rapidly, but still he was suffered to remain alone, and silence
brooded over the whole place, unbroken even by a passing footfall. All
was so still that he could have fancied that some one was dead in the
place, and the rest were silent mourners.
At length a slow, quiet footfall in the distance met his ear, coming
along with easy, almost drowsy pace, till the same old man appeared,
and conducted him through a length of passages and vacant rooms to the
presence of the Duchess of Orleans.
She was seated in a large arm-chair, with a table by her side, and was
dressed almost altogether in black; but to the eyes of Jean Charost
she seemed exceedingly beautiful, with finely-shaped features, bright
eyes, and an expression of melancholy which suited well the peculiar
cast of her countenance. She gazed earnestly at Jean Charost as he
advanced toward her, and said, as soon as she thought him near enough,
"You come from his highness, I am told. How is my dear husband?"
"Not so well as I could wish, madam," replied Jean Charost; "but this
letter which I have the honor to present will tell you more."
The duchess held out her fair hand for the epistle, but it trembled
greatly as she took it; and the young secretary would not venture to
look in her face as she was reading, for he knew that she would be
greatly agitated. She was so, indeed; but she recovered herself
speedily, and, speaking still with a slight foreign accent, demanded
further details.
"He says only that he is ill," she exclaimed. "Tell me, sir--tell me
how he really is. Did you see him? Yes, you must have seen him, for he
says you are his secretary. Has he concealed any thing in this letter?
Is it necessary that I should set out this night? I am quite ready. He
must be very ill," she added, in a low and melancholy tone, "or he
would not have sent for me."
"His highness is ill, madam," replied Jean Charost, "seriously ill, I
fear; but I trust not dangerously so. The contentions in which he has
lately been engaged with the Duke of Burgundy, but which are now
happily over--"
"Oh, that house of Burgundy! that house of Burgundy!" said the
duchess, in a low, sad tone.
"These, and many other anxieties," continued Jean Charost, "together
with much fatigue, have produced, what I should suppose, some sort of
fever, and a great depression of mind--a melancholy--which probably
makes his highness imagine his illness even greater than it is. I
should think, however, madam, that by setting out this night you would
not greatly accelerate your journey. The roads are difficult and
somewhat dangerous--"
"Nevertheless, I will go," replied the duchess; and putting her hand
before her eyes, she seemed to fall into thought for a few moments.
Jean Charost saw some tear-drops trickle through her fingers, and the
young man, inexperienced as he was, felt how many emotions might
mingle with those tears. He withdrew his eyes, and fixed them on the
ground, and at length the duchess said, "Will you call my attendants,
sir, from the ante-room? I must make preparation."
She pointed, as she spoke, to a different door to that by which the
young gentleman had been introduced, and Jean Charost walked toward
it, bowing to the princess, as if taking leave. She stopped him,
however, to bid him return in a few minutes, saying, with a sad smile,
"My thoughts are too busy, Monsieur De Brecy, to attend to courtesy;
but I beseech you, take care of yourself as if you were an inmate of
the house. My husband seems to have much confidence in you, and
desires that you should accompany me. If you are too much fatigued to
do so to-night, you can follow me to-morrow, and will doubtless
overtake me in time."
"Not too much fatigued myself, madam," replied Jean Charost; "but I
fear my horses could not go far. If there be time, I will provide
others."
"Oh, that will be easily managed," she answered. "There are always
horses enough here. I will see that you are mounted."
The young gentleman then proceeded to the ante-room, where he found a
bevy of young girls, each seated demurely at her embroidery frame,
under the eye of an elder lady. Gay glances were shot at him from
every side, but he contented himself with simply announcing the
duchess's commands, and then proceeded in search of his companions of
the road. He found that Armand Chauvin was completely at home in the
château of Blois, and had made Martin Grille quite familiar with the
place already; nor did the young gentleman himself feel any of that
shy timidity which he had experienced when, as a stranger, unknown to
all around him, he had first taken up his abode in the Hôtel
d'Orleans. There was a subdued and quiet tone, too, about the court of
the duchess, very different from the gay and somewhat insolent
demeanor of her husband's younger attendants; and the young secretary,
now known as such, was treated with all courtesy, and obtained every
thing he could desire for the refreshment of himself and his horses.
Gradually, however, the bustle of preparation spread from the
apartments of the duchess through the rest of the house, accompanied
by the report of her being about to set out that very night to join
her husband at Beauté. All were eager to know the cause and the
particulars, and an old major-domo ventured to come into the hall
where Jean Charost was seated with some wine and meat before him, to
extract every information that he could upon the subject. He received
very cautious answers, however, and ere he had carried his questions
far, he was interrupted by the entrance of the _chevaucheur_, in some
haste and apparent alarm.
"They tell me, Monsieur De Brecy," he said in his abrupt manner, "that
the duchess sets forth to-night."
Jean Charost nodded his head.
"Have you told her," asked Chauvin, "that the Duke of Burgundy is on
the road between this and the Seine?"
"No," answered Jean Charost, starting up, his mind seizing at once the
vague idea of danger. "Surely he would not--"
"Humph!" said Armand Chauvin. "There is no knowing what he would not."
"Indeed, there is not," said the old major-domo; "and methinks the
duchess should send out a party of _piqueurs_ to bring him in, or
clear the way of him."
"I had better tell her," said Jean Charost thoughtfully. "If there be
danger, she will judge of it better than I can."
"I will show you the way, sir--I will show you the way," said the old
major-domo, with officious civility. "This way, if you please--this
way."
When again admitted to the presence of the duchess, the young
secretary informed her that he had met with the Duke of Burgundy at
Pithiviers, but excused his not having mentioned the fact before on
the ground of not apprehending any danger in consequence of the recent
reconciliation of the houses of Burgundy and Orleans. It soon became
evident to him, however, that all the friends and attendants of the
Duke of Orleans, although he himself had seemed perfectly confident of
his cousin's good faith, looked upon the late reconciliation as but a
hollow deceit, which would be set at naught by the Duke of Burgundy as
soon as it suited his convenience. The duchess evidently shared in
this general feeling; but still she determined to pursue her first
intention, and merely took the precaution of ordering her escort to be
doubled.
"I believe," she said, "that there is not a man goes with me who will
not shed the last drop of his blood in my defense and you, too,
Monsieur De Brecy, will do the same out of love for my dear husband."
"Right willingly, madam," replied Jean Charost: "but I trust you may
escape all peril."
The duchess soon dismissed him again, telling him that there would be
ample time for him to take some repose; that their preparations would
not be complete till nearly midnight; but Jean Charost contented
himself with a short sleep in a large arm-chair in the hall, and then
started up from the blessed, dreamless slumber of youth, refreshed and
ready for new exertion. About an hour after, the midnight march began.
The litter of the princess, containing herself and her youngest son,
was drawn by four white mules; but in advance were eight or ten
men-at-arms, cased in plate armor, and lance in hand. A large body
followed the litter; and on either side of it rode several of the
noble retainers of the house of Orleans more lightly armed, among whom
was Jean Charost. The moon shone out brightly; and as her pale rays
fell upon the duchess's litter with its white curtains, and upon
another, containing some of her female attendants, which followed, and
glistened upon the steel casques and corselets of the men-at-arms as
they wound in and out along the banks of the river, the whole formed a
scene strangely exciting to the imagination of Jean Charost, who had
seen little, for many years, of any thing like military display. The
march passed quietly enough, and for the first three or four days no
incident of any kind occurred which is worthy of detail. On many
occasions the young secretary had the opportunity of conversing with
the duchess; and her quiet gentleness, the strong, unshaken,
uncomplaining affection which she showed toward her husband with all
his faults, together with native graces unhardened, and personal
beauty hardly touched by time, made Jean Charost marvel greatly at the
wayward heart of man, and ask himself, with doubt and almost fear, if
ever he himself could be brought to sport with or neglect the
affections of a being such as that.
In the neighborhood of Pithiviers, it was ascertained that the Duke of
Burgundy had retired from that part of the country two days before,
turning his steps toward Paris; and the Duchess of Orleans, freed from
all apprehensions, sent back the military part of her escort to Blois,
remarking, with a smile, to Jean Charost, "I must not, except in case
of need, go to my husband with such a body of armed men, as if I came
to take his castle by storm."
"I can assure you, madam," replied the young secretary, laying some
emphasis on the words, "you will find that it is surrendered to you at
discretion."
At the next halting-place the litter stopped, about an hour before
sunset. There were few attendants around; the old major domo was
somewhat slow in dismounting, and Jean Charost, who was sooner on
foot, drew back the curtains to permit the duchess to alight. She had
hardly set her foot to the ground, however, when a hard, powerful hand
was laid upon the young secretary's shoulder, and a hollow voice said,
aloud, "Young man, God will bless you. I find you are faithful and
true amid the false and the deceitful."
Both the duchess and Jean Charost turned suddenly to look at the
speaker. The latter recognized him at once as the stranger whom he had
seen at Pithiviers, and on one occasion before; but the duchess drew a
little back, murmuring, with a look of alarm, "Who is that person?"
"Strange to say, madam," replied the young secretary, "I can not tell
your highness. I have seen him once or twice in somewhat singular
circumstances; but his name I do not know."
As soon as the stranger had uttered the words above mentioned, he had
crossed his arms upon his breast and moved away, hardly noticed by the
attendants in the bustle of arrival; but the duchess followed him
still with her eyes; and then, as she walked on, she repeated twice
the stranger's words, "You are faithful and true amid the false and
the deceitful;" and then, looking earnestly in Jean Charost's face,
she added, "Will you be faithful and true to me also, young
gentleman?"
"I am sure he will, mother," said her young son, who was holding her
hand; and Jean Charost replied, "To all who trust me, I will be so,
madam. When I am not, I pray God that I may die."