When within a few miles of the château of Beauté, Armand Chauvin was
sent forward to announce the near approach of the duchess; and she
herself, though the weather was still intensely cold, notwithstanding
the brightness of the sunshine, ordered the curtains of the litter to
be looped up, in order that she might see the castle before she
actually reached it. Her anxiety evidently increased as they came
nearer and nearer the dwelling of her husband. And who is there, after
being long absent from those they love, who does not, on approaching
the place of their abode, feel a strange, thrilling anxiety in regard
to all that time may have done? It is at that moment that the
uncertainty of human fate, the hourly peril of every happiness, the
dark possibilities of every moment of existence seem to rush upon the
mind at once. I have often thought that, if man could but know the
giddy pinnacle upon which his fortunes ever stand, the precipices that
surround him on every side; the perils above, below, around, life
would be intolerable. But he is placed in the midst of friendly mists,
that conceal the abysses from his eye, and is led on by a hand--in
those mists equally unseen--which guides his steps aright, and brings
him home at length. It is only the intense anxiety of affection for
those we love that ever wafts the vapors away, even for a moment, and
gives us a brief sight of the dangers that surround our mortal being,
while the hand of the Almighty Guide remains concealed, and but too
often untrusted.
While still at some miles' distance from the castle, the towers and
pinnacles were seen peeping over the shoulder of a wooded hill, and
then they were lost again, and seen, and lost once more. The duchess
then beckoned up Jean Charost to the side of her litter, conversed
with him some time, and asked him many questions: how long he had been
with the duke, who commended him to her husband's service, what was
his family and his native place. She asked, too, more particularly
regarding her husband's health, whether his illness had been sudden,
or announced by any previous symptoms of declining health; but she
asked not one question regarding his conduct, his habits, or any of
his acts. She did not need to ask, indeed; but, even if she had not
known too well, still she would have abstained.
At length the hill was climbed, the wood was passed, the gate of the
château of Beauté was in view, with attendants already marshaled on
each side of the draw-bridge, to honor the duchess's reception. As
soon as the head of her little escort appeared upon the road, a page
ran into the ward-room of the great tower, and the next instant
another figure came forth with that of the boy, and advanced along the
bridge. Greatly to Jean Charost's joy and satisfaction, he recognized
the figure of the duke, and when he looked toward the duchess, he saw
a bright and grateful drop sparkling in her eyes, which, in spite of a
struggle to repress it, rolled over and moistened her cheek. Another
moment, and the duke stood beside the litter; the mules stopped, and,
bending forward, he cast his arms around his wife. She leaned her head
upon his shoulder, and there must have shed tears; but they were soon
banished, and all parties bore a look of joy. Jean Charost could not
help remarking, however, that the duke was very pale, and looked older
by some years than when he had last seen him. But still, there was one
thing very satisfactory in his aspect to the eyes of the young man.
There was a gladness, a lightness of expression, an affectionate
earnestness in his greeting of the duchess which, from all he had
heard and knew, he had not expected. There was great satisfaction,
too, on the faces of all the elder attendants. Lomelini looked quite
radiant, and even Monsieur Blaize forgot his ancient formality, and
suffered his face to overrun with well-pleased smiles. He laid a
friendly grasp, too, upon Jean Charost's arm, as the duke and duchess
passed into the château, and walked on with him across the court,
saying, in a low voice, "You have done a good service, my young
friend, in bringing that lady back to this house, which might well
atone for a great number of faults. She has not been here for four
years."
"I hope I have not accumulated many faults to atone for, good sir,"
answered Jean Charost, smiling. "If I have, I am unconscious of them."
"Oh, of course, that is between you and your own conscience," answered
Monsieur Blaize, in an off-hand kind of way. "It is no business of
mine."
"I am glad to hear, at least, that it is not you I have offended,"
answered Jean Charost. "You were my first friend in the household,
Monsieur Blaize, and I should be very sorry to give you any cause for
reproach."
"Oh, no--no!" answered the old _écuyer_. "You have done nothing
against me at all. But as to the duchess--how has she passed the
journey? Did she meet with any difficulty or misadventure by the way?"
"None whatever," answered the young secretary. "None were apprehended,
I presume." And then, judging Monsieur Blaize more clear-sightedly
than might have been expected in so young a man, he added, "Had there
been any danger, of course the duke would have sent yourself or some
gentleman of military experience."
Monsieur Blaize was evidently well satisfied with the reply; but still
he rejoined, "Perhaps I could not well be spared from this place
during his highness's illness. We were in great consternation here, I
can tell you, my young friend."
"Has he been very ill, then?" asked the secretary.
"For two days after you were gone," replied Monsieur Blaize, "no one
thought to see him rise from his bed again; and he himself evidently
thought his last hours were coming. He sent for notaries, made his
will, and was driven at length to get a leech from Paris--a very
skillful man indeed. He consulted the moon, and the aspect of the
stars; chose the auspicious moment, gave him benzoin and honey,
besides a fever drink, and some drops, of which he would not tell the
secret, but which we all believed to be potable gold. It is wonderful,
the effect they had. He announced boldly that, at the change of the
moon, on the third day, the duke would be better; and so it proved.
His highness watched anxiously for the minute, and immediately the
clock struck he declared that he felt relieved, to our very great joy.
Since that time, he has continued to improve: but he can not be called
well yet. And now, if you will take my advice, you will go and order
yourself something to eat at the buttery, and then lie down and rest;
for you look as haggard and worn as an old courtier. It was too heavy
a task to put upon a boy like you."
Jean Charost, during the whole of this conversation, had been carrying
on in his own mind, as we so continually do, a separate train or
undercurrent of thought, as to what could be the faults which good
Monsieur Blaize seemed to impute to him; and he came to conclusions
very naturally which proved not far from the truth. There was but one
point in his whole history in regard to which there was any thing like
mystery, and he judged rightly that, if men were inclined to attribute
to him any evil act, they must fix upon that point as a basis. He was
determined to learn more, if possible, however; and, in reply to
Monsieur Blaize's advice to get food and rest, he said, laughingly,
"Oh no, Monsieur Blaize, before I either eat or sleep, I must go down
to the hamlet, to see my baby."
"Well, you speak of it coolly enough," replied Monsieur Blaize.
"Why should I not?" answered Jean Charost, quickly. But the old
gentleman suddenly turned away and left him; and Jean Charost was at
once convinced that some calumny had been circulated among the
household in regard to the child which had been so strangely thrown
upon his hands. By early misfortunes and difficulties he had been
taught to decide rapidly and energetically, and his mind was soon made
up on the present occasion, to seek the first opportunity of telling
his own story to the Duke of Orleans, and explaining every thing, as
far as it was in his power to explain. In the mean while, however, as
soon as he had given some directions to Martin Grille, he strolled
down to the hamlet and sought out the house of Madame Moulinet. He
knocked first with his hand, and there being no answer, though he
thought he heard the voices of persons within, he opened the door and
entered at once into the kitchen. Madame Moulinet was seated there,
with the child upon her knee; but the door on the opposite side of the
room was closing just as Jean Charost went in, and he caught a glance
of a black velvet mantle, before it was actually shut.
"How thrives the child, Madame Moulinet?" asked Jean Charost, looking
down upon the infant with a glance of interest, but with none of that
peculiar admiration which grown women feel and grown men often affect
for a very young baby.
The good woman assured him that the child was doing marvelously, and
Jean Charost then proceeded to inquire whether any one, during his
absence, had been to visit or inquire after it.
"Oh, a quantity of people from the castle, sir," answered the good
dame; "that saucy young fellow De Royans among the rest, and old
Monsieur Blaize, and the chaplain, and the fool, God wot! But beside
that--" and she dropped her voice to a lower tone--"one evening, just
as we were going to bed, there came a strange, wild-looking gentleman,
with long gray hair, who seemed so mad he frightened both me and my
husband. He asked a number of questions. Then he stared at the child
for full five minutes, and cried out at length, 'Ah! she doubtless
looked once like that,' and then he threw down a purse upon the table
with fifty gold crowns in it. So the little maid has got her little
fortune already."
"Did you not know him?" asked Jean Charost.
"I never saw him in my life before," replied the woman; "and, in
truth, I did not know how to answer any one when they asked me about
the child, as you were gone, and had not told me what to say; so all I
could tell them was that you had brought her here, had paid well for
nursing her, and had commanded me to take good care of her in the name
of my good father's old lord."
"And was that wild-looking man not your father's old lord?" asked Jean
Charost, in a tone of much surprise.
"Lord bless your heart, no sir," replied Madame Moulinet. "A hand's
breadth taller, and not half so stout--quite a different sort of man
altogether."
Jean Charost mused in silence; but he asked no further questions, and
shortly after returned to the château.
In passing through the court-yard, the first person the young
gentleman encountered was Seigneur André the fool, who at once began
upon the subject of the child with a good deal of malevolence. "Ah,
ha! Mr. Secretary," he said, "I want to roam the forests with you, and
find out the baby-tree that bears living acorns. On my faith, the duke
ought to knight you with his own hand, being the guide of ladies, and
the protector of orphans, the defender of women and children."
"My good friend," replied Jean Charost, "I think he ought to promote
you also. I have heard of a good many gentlemen of your profession;
but all the rest are mere pretenders to you. The others only call
themselves fools; you are one in reality;" and with these tart words,
excited as much, perhaps, by some new feeling of doubt and perplexity
in his own mind, as by the jester's evident ill will toward him, he
walked on and sought his own chamber.
The rest of the day passed without any incident worthy of notice,
except some little annoyance which the young secretary had to endure
from a very general feeling of ill will toward him among those who had
been longer in the service of the Duke of Orleans than himself. He was
unconscious, indeed, of deserving it, but one of the sad lessons of
the world was being learned: that success and favor create bitter
enemies; and he had already made some progress in the study. He took
no notice, therefore, of hints, jests, and insinuations, but sought
his own room as soon as supper was over, and remained reading for
nearly an hour. At the end of that time, one of the duke's menial
attendants entered, saying briefly, "Monsieur De Brecy, his highness
has asked to see you in his toilet chamber."
Jean Charost followed immediately, and found the duke seated in his
furred dressing-gown, as if prepared to retire to rest. His face was
grave, and there was a certain degree of sternness about it which Jean
Charost had never remarked there before. He spoke kindly, however, and
bade the young gentleman be seated.
"I hear from the duchess, my friend," he said, "that you have well and
earnestly executed the task I gave you to perform, and I thank you. I
wish, however, to hear some more particular account of your journey
from your own lips. You arrived, it seems, at Blois sooner than I
imagined you could have accomplished the journey. You must have ridden
hard."
"I lost no time, your highness," answered Jean Charost; "but an event
happened on the road which made me ride one whole night without
stopping, although the horses were very tired. It is absolutely
necessary, when you have leisure, that I should relate to your
highness all the particulars of that night's adventure, as they may be
of importance, the extent of which I can not judge."
The duke smiled with a well-pleased look. "Tell me all about it now,"
he said. "I shall not go to bed for an hour; so we shall have time
enough."
Succinctly, but as clearly and minutely as possible, Jean Charost then
related to the prince all that had occurred between himself and the
Duke of Burgundy, and took especial care to mention his visit to the
house of the astrologer, and his having been guided by a stranger on
the way to Blois. The duke listened with a countenance varying a good
deal, sometimes assuming an expression of deep grave thought, and at
others of gay, almost sarcastic merriment. At length he laughed
outright.
"See what handles," he said, "men will make of very little things! But
truth and honesty will put down all. I am glad you have frankly told
me all this, De Brecy."
Then he paused again for a moment or two, and added, abruptly, "My
good cousin of Burgundy--he was always the most curious and
inquisitive of men. I do believe this was all curiosity, my friend. I
do not think he meant you any evil, or me either. He wanted to know
all; for he is a very suspicious man."
"I think, sir, he is one of the most disagreeable men I ever saw,"
replied Jean Charost. "Even his condescension has something scornful
in it."
"And yet, De Brecy," replied the duke, "out of this very simple affair
of your meeting with John of Burgundy, there be people who would have
fain manufactured a charge against you."
Jean Charost gazed in the duke's race with some surprise, never having
dreamed that the intelligence of what had occurred on the road could
have reached him so soon. "I am surprised that Armand should attribute
any evil to me, sir," he said; "for he must have seen how eager I was
to escape."
"Acquit poor Armand," said the duke. "He had naught to do with the
affair; but you have enemies in this house, De Brecy, who will find
that their master understands courts and courtiers, and will never
shake my good opinion of you, so long as you are honest and frank with
me. They set on that malicious fool, André, to pick out some mischief
from Armand Chauvin. He got him to relate all that had happened, and
then, when I sent for the fool to divert me for half an hour, he told
me, with his wise air, that you had had a secret interview with the
Duke of Burgundy, which lasted several hours. It is strange how near
half a truth sometimes comes to a whole lie! They have not been
wanting in their friendship for you during your absence. Nevertheless,
I doubt not you could explain all their tales as easily as you have
done this--even if you have committed some slight indiscretion, I have
no right to tax you. Well, well--good-night. Some day I will say
something more, as your friend--as one who has more experience--as one
who has suffered, if he has sinned."
"I thank your highness," replied Jean Charost, "and will not presume
to intrude upon you further to-night; but there is one matter of much
importance to myself--of none to your highness--which I would fain
communicate to you for counsel and direction in my inexperience, when
you can give me a few minutes' audience."
"Ha!" said the duke; but as he spoke the clock of the castle struck
eleven, and saying, "To-morrow morning--to-morrow morning I will send
for you," he suffered the young secretary to retire.