All great events are made up of small incidents. The world is composed
of atoms, and so is Fate. A man pulling a small bit of iron under a
gun performs an act, abstractedly of not much greater importance than
a lady when she pins her dress; but let this small incident be
combined with three other facts: that of there being a cartridge in
the gun; that of twenty thousand men all pulling their triggers at the
same moment; that of there being twenty thousand men opposite, and you
have the glorious event of a great battle, with its long sequence of
misery and joy, glory and shame, affecting the world, perhaps, to the
end of time.
Two little incidents occurred at the château of Beauté during the day,
the commencement of which we have just noticed, not apparently very
much worthy of remark, but which, nevertheless, must be noted down in
this very accurate piece of chronology. The first was the arrival of a
courier, whose face Jean Charost knew, though it was some time before
he could fix it to the neck and shoulders of a man whom he had seen at
Pithiviers, not in the colors of the house of Burgundy, but in those
of fair Madame de Giac. The letter he bore was addressed to the Duke
of Orleans, and it evidently troubled him--threw him into a fit of
musing--occupied his thoughts for some moments--and made the duchess
somewhat anxious lest evil news had reached her lord.
He did not tell her the contents of the note, however, nor return any
answer at the time, but sent the man away with largesse, saying he
would write.
The next incident was another arrival, that of a party of three or
four gentlemen from Paris who were invited to stay at the château of
Beauté that night, and who supped with the duke and duchess in the
great hall. The duke's face was exceedingly cheerful, and his health
was evidently-improved since the morning, when some secret cause
seemed to have moved and depressed him a great deal.
The conversation principally turned upon the events which had lately
taken place in Paris. They were generally of little moment; but one
piece of intelligence the strangers brought was evidently, to the duke
at least, of greater importance than the rest. The guests reported
confidently that the unhappy king, Charles the Sixth, had shown
decided symptoms of one of those periodical returns to reason which
checkered with occasional bright gleams his dark and melancholy
career. The duke seemed greatly pleased, mused upon the tidings,
questioned his informant closely, but uttered not his own thoughts,
whatever they might be, and retired to rest at an early hour.
During the whole of that day, without absenting himself for any length
of time from his own apartments, Jean Charost wandered a good deal
about the castle, and, to say sooth, looked somewhat impatiently for
Juvenel de Royans in every place where he was likely to be met with.
He did not find him any where, however; and, on asking Signor Lomelini
where he should find the young gentleman, he was informed, dryly, that
Monsieur De Royans was particularly engaged in some affairs of the
duke's, and would not like to be disturbed.
The evening passed somewhat dully for Jean Charost, for he confined
himself almost altogether to his own apartments, expecting every
moment that the prince would send for him; but in this he was
disappointed. He did not venture to retire to rest till nearly
midnight; but then he slept as soundly as in life's happiest days; and
he was only awakened in the morning by the sound of a trumpet,
announcing, as he rightly judged, the departure of the preceding
evening's guests.
He was dressing himself slowly and quietly, when Martin Grille bustled
into the room, exclaiming, "Quick, sir, quick! or you will have no
breakfast. Have you not heard the news? The duke sets out in half an
hour for Paris, and you will be wanted, of course. Half the household
stays here with the duchess. We go with twenty lances and the lay
brethren, of which class--praised be God for all things!--you and I
may consider ourselves."
"I have had no commands," replied Jean Charost; "but I will be ready,
at all events."
Not many minutes elapsed, however, ere a notification reached him that
he would be required to accompany the prince to the capital. All speed
was made, and breakfast hastily eaten; but haste was unnecessary, for
an hour or two elapsed before the cavalcade set out, and it did not
reach Paris till toward the close of the day. The duke looked
fatigued; and, as he dismounted in the court-yard of his hotel, he
called Lomelini to him, saying, "Let me have some refreshment in my
own chamber, Lomelini. Send to the prior of the Celestins, saying that
I wish to see him to-morrow at noon. There will be a banquet, too, at
night. Twelve persons will be invited, of high degree. De Brecy, I
have something to say to you."
He then walked on up the steps into the house, Jean Charost following
close; and after a moment or two, he turned, saying in a low voice,
"Come to me as the clock strikes nine--come privately--by the
toilet-chamber door. Enter at once, without knocking."
Several of the other attendants were following at some distance; but
the duke spoke almost in a whisper, and his words were not heard. Jean
Charost bowed, and fell back; but Lomelini, who had now become
exceedingly affectionate again to the young secretary, said in his
ear, "Come and sup in my room in half an hour. They will fare but ill
in the hall to-night; for nothing is prepared here; but we will
contrive to do better."
A few minutes afterward, the duke having been conducted to his chamber
door, the attendants separated, and Jean Charost betook himself to his
own rooms, where Martin Grille was already busily engaged in arranging
his apparel in the large fixed coffers with which each chamber was
furnished. There was a sort of nervous anxiety in the good man's
manner, which struck his master the moment he entered; but laying his
sword on the table, and seating himself by it, Jean Charost fell into
a quiet, and somewhat pleasing fit of musing, just sufficiently awake
to external things to remark that ever and anon Martin stopped his
work and gave a quick glance at his face. At length the young
gentleman rose, made some change in his apparel, removed the traces of
travel from his person, and buckled on his sword again.
"Pray, sit," said Martin Grille, in a tone of fear and trepidation.
"pray, sir, don't go through the little hall; for that boisterous,
good-for-nothing bully, Juvenel de Royans, is there all alone,
watching for you, I am sure. He was freed from his arrest this
morning, and he would have fallen upon you on the road, I dare say, if
there had not been so many persons round."
"His arrest?" said Jean Charost. "How came he in arrest?"
"On account of his quarrel with you yesterday morning. Monsieur De
Brecy," replied Martin Grille. "Did you not know it? All the household
heard of it."
"I have been deceived," answered Jean Charost. "Signor Lomelini told
me he was engaged when I inquired for him. But you are mistaken,
Martin: a few sharp words do not make exactly a quarrel, and there was
no need of placing De Royans under arrest. It was a very useless
precaution; so much so, indeed, that I think you must be mistaken. He
must have given some offense to the duke: he gave none to me that
could not easily be settled."
He then paused for a moment or two in thought, and added, "Wait here
till I return, and if De Royans should come, tell him I am supping
with Signor Lomelini, but will be back soon. Do as I order you, and
make no remonstrance, if you please."
Thus saying, he left the room, and bent his steps at once toward
the little hall, leaving at some distance on the right the great
dining-hall, from which loud sounds of merriment were breaking forth.
He hardly expected to find Juvenel de Royans still in the place where
Martin Grille had seen him; for the sound of gay voices was ever ready
to lead him away. On opening the door, however, the faint light in the
room showed him a figure at the other end, beyond the table, moodily
pacing to and fro from one side of the room to the other; and Jean
Charost needed no second glance to tell him who it was. He advanced
directly toward him, taking a diagonal line across the hall, so that
De Royans could not suppose he was merely passing through.
The young man instantly halted, and faced him; but Jean Charost spoke
first, saying, "My varlet told me, Monsieur De Royans, that you were
here alone, and as I could not find you yesterday, when I sought for
you, I am glad of the opportunity of speaking a few words with you."
"Sought for me!" cried De Royans. "Methinks no one ought to have known
better where I was than yourself."
"You are mistaken," replied Jean Charost. "I asked Signor Lomelini
where I could find you, and he told me you would be occupied all day
in some business of the duke's."
"The lying old pander!" exclaimed De Royans, bitterly. "But our
business may be soon settled, De Brecy. If you are inclined to risk a
thrust here, I am ready for you. No place makes any difference in my
eyes."
"In mine it does," replied Jean Charost, very quietly.
"You are not a coward, I suppose," cried the young man, impetuously.
"I believe not," replied Jean Charost; "and there are few things that
I should be less afraid of than risking a thrust with you, Monsieur de
Royans, in any proper place and circumstances. Here, in a royal house,
you ought to be well aware we should subject ourselves, by broiling,
to disgraceful punishment, and we can well afford to wait for a more
fitting opportunity, which I will not fail to give you, if you desire
it."
"Of course I do," replied Juvenel de Royans.
"I do not see the of course," replied Jean Charost. "I have never
injured you in any thing, never insulted you in any way, have borne,
perhaps too patiently, injury and insult from you, and have certainly
the most cause to complain."
"Well, I am ready to satisfy you," exclaimed De Royans, with a laugh,
"on horseback or on foot, with lance and shield, or sword and dagger.
Do not let us spoil a good quarrel with silly explanations. We are
both of one mind, it seems; let us settle preliminaries at once."
"I have not time to settle all preliminaries now," replied Jean
Charost; "for I am expected in another place; but so far we can
arrange our plan. The day after to-morrow I will ask the duke's
permission to go for three days to Mantes. I will return at once to
Meudon. You can easily get out of Paris for an hour or two, and join
me there at the _auberge_. Then a ten minutes' walk will place us
where we can settle our dispute without risk to the survivor."
"On my life, this is gallant!" cried De Royans, with a considerable
change of expression. "You are a lad of spirit after all, De Brecy."
"You have insulted my father's memory by supposing otherwise," replied
Jean Charost. "But do not let us add bitterness to our quarrel. We
understand each other. Whenever you hear I am gone to Mantes, remember
you will find me the next day at Meudon--and so good-night."
Thus saying, he left him, and hurried to the eating-room of Lomelini,
who would fain have extracted from him what the duke had said to him
as they passed into the house; but Jean Charost was upon his guard,
and, as soon as supper was over, returned to his own chamber.
Martin Grille, though he had quick eyes, could discover no trace of
emotion on his young master's countenance; and desperately tired of
his solitary watch, he gladly received his dismissal for the night. A
few minutes after, Jean Charost issued from his room again, and walked
with a silent step to the door of the duke's toilet-chamber. No
attendants were in waiting, as was usual, and following the directions
he had received, he opened the door and entered. He was surprised to
find the prince dressed in mantle and hood, as if ready to go out; but
upon the table before him was lying a perfumed note, open, and another
fastened, with rose-colored silk, and sealed.
"Welcome, De Brecy," said the duke, with a gay and smiling air; "I
wish you to render me a service, my friend. You must take this note
for me to-night to the house of Madame De Giac, give it into her own
hand, hear what she says, and bring me her answer. I shall be at the
queen's palace, near the Porte Barbette."
The blood rushed up into Jean Charost's face, covering it over with a
woman-like blush. It was the most painful moment he had ever as yet
experienced in existence. His mind instantly rushed to a conclusion
from premises that he could hardly define to his own mind, much less
explain to the Duke of Orleans. He fancied himself employed in the
basest of services--used for the most disgraceful of purposes; and yet
nothing had been said which could justify him in refusing to obey.
Whether he would or not, however, and before he could consider, the
words "Oh, sir!" burst from his lips, and his face spoke the rest
plainly enough.
The Duke of Orleans gazed at him with a frowning brow and a flashing
eye, and then demanded, in a loud, stern tone, "What is it you mean,
sir?"
Jean Charost was silent for an instant, and then replied, with painful
embarrassment, "I hardly know what I mean, your highness--I may be
wrong, and doubtless am wrong--but I feared that the errand on which
your highness sends me might be one unbecoming me to execute, and
which your highness might afterward regret to have given." He had gone
the step too far, so dangerous with the spoiled children of fortune.
The anger of the duke was excessive. He spoke loud and sharply,
reproached his young secretary for presuming upon his kindness and
condescension, and reproved him in no very measured terms for daring
to intermeddle with his affairs; and Jean Charost, feeling at his
heart that he had most assuredly exceeded, perhaps, the bounds of due
respect, had come to conclusions for which there was no apparent
foundation, and had suffered his suspicions to display themselves
offensively, stood completely cowed before the prince. When the duke
at length stopped, he answered, in a tone of sincere grief, "I feel
that I have erred, sir, greatly erred, and that I should have obeyed
your commands without even presuming to judge of them. Pray remember,
however, that I am very young, perhaps too young for the important
post I fill. If your highness dismisses me from your service, I can
not be surprised; but believe me, sir, wherever I go, I shall carry
with me the same feelings of gratitude and affection which had no
small share in prompting the very conduct which has given you just
offense."
"Affection and gratitude!" said the duke, still in an angry tone.
"What can affection and gratitude have to do with disobedience to my
commands, and impertinent intrusion into my affairs?"
"They might, sir," answered Jean Charost; "for your highness
communicated to me at a former time some regrets, and I witnessed the
happiness and calm of mind which followed the noble impulses that
prompted them. Gratitude and affection, then, made me grieve to think
that this very letter which I hold in my hand might give cause to
fresh regrets, or perhaps to serious perils; for I am bound to say
that I doubt this lady; that I doubt her affection or friendship for
your highness; that I am sure she is linked most closely to your
enemies."
"You should not have judged of my acts at all," replied the Duke of
Orleans. "What I do not communicate to you, you have no business to
investigate. Your judgment of the lady may be right or wrong; but in
your judgment of my conduct you are altogether wrong. There is nothing
in that note which I ever can regret, and, could you see its contents,
you would learn at once the danger and presumption of intruding into
what does not concern you. To give you the lesson, I must not
sacrifice my dignity; and though, in consideration of your youth, your
inexperience, and your good intentions, I will overlook your error in
the present instance, remember it must not be repeated."
Jean Charost moved toward the door, while the duke remained in
thought; but, before he reached it, the prince's voice was heard,
exclaiming, in a more placable tone, "De Brecy, De Brecy, do you know
the way?"
"As little in this case as in the last," replied Jean Charost, with a
faint smile.
"Come hither, come hither, poor youth," cried the duke, holding out
his hand to him good-humoredly. "There; think no more of it. All young
men will be fools now and then. Now go and get a horse. You will find
my mule saddled in the court. Wait there till I come. I am going to
visit my fair sister, the queen, who is ill at the Hôtel Barbette, and
we pass not far from the place to which you are going. I will direct
you, so that you can not mistake."
Jean Charost hurried away, and was ready in a few minutes. In the
court he found a cream-colored mule richly caparisoned, and two horses
saddled, with a few attendants on foot around; but the duke had not
yet appeared. When he did come, four of the party mounted, and rode
slowly on through the moonlight streets of Paris, which were now
silent, and almost deserted. After going about half a mile, the duke
reined in his mule, and pointing down another street which branched
off on the right, directed Jean Charost to follow it, and take the
second turning on the left. "The first hotel," he added, "on the right
is the house you want. Then return to this street, follow it out to
the end, and you will see the Hôtel Barbette before you. Bring me
thither an account of your reception."
His tone was grave, and even melancholy; and Jean Charost merely bowed
his head in silence. He gave one glance at the duke's face, from which
all trace of anger had passed away, and then they parted--never to
meet again.