There was a great crowd in the court of the Hôtel d'Anjou--lackeys,
and pages, and men-at-arms; but the court was a very large one, with
covered galleries on either hand, and the number of retainers present
was hardly seen. From time to time some great lord of the court
arrived, and proceeded at once into the palace, leaving his followers
to swell some of the little groups into which the whole body of the
people assembled had arranged themselves. To one particular point the
eyes of all present were most frequently directed, and it was only
when one of the princes of the blood royal, the Dukes of Berri or
Bourbon, or the King of Navarre arrived, that the mere spectators of
the scene could divert their eyes from a spot where a young and
handsome lad, who had not yet seen twenty years, stood in the midst of
a group of the _prévôt's_ guard with fetters on his limbs.
By half past three o'clock, several of the princes and the Royal
Council had entered the building, and were conducted at once to a
large hall on the ground floor, where every thing was dark and sombre
as the occasion of the meeting. The ceiling was much lower than might
have been expected in a chamber of such great size; but the
decorations which it displayed were rich and costly, showing the rose,
an ancient emblem of the house of Anjou, in red, and green, and gold,
at the corner of every panel; for the ceiling, like the rest of the
room, was covered with dark oak. The walls were richly embellished;
but the want of light hid the greater part of the delicate carving,
and scarcely allowed a secretary, seated at the table, to see the
letters on the paper on which he was writing.
Most of the members of the council had arrived; the Duke of Berri
himself was present; but two very important personages had not yet
appeared, namely, the Duke of Anjou (titular king of Sicily), and the
Duke of Burgundy. The Duke of Berri, nevertheless, gave orders that
the business of the day should proceed, while he sent a lackey to
summon the Duke of Anjou; and very shortly after, that prince entered
the room, inquiring, as he advanced to the table, if the _prévôt_ had
yet arrived.
"No, fair cousin," replied the Duke of Berri; "but we may as well get
over the preliminaries. The facts attending the finding of the body
must be read, in the first place."
"I have read the whole of the _procès verbal_," replied the King of
Sicily. "Go on--go on, I will be back immediately."
The Duke of Berri seemed somewhat displeased to see his cousin quit
the hall again; but the investigation proceeded. All the facts
regarding the assassination of the Duke of Orleans which had been
collected were read by the secretary from the papers before him; and
when he had done, he added, "I find, my lords, that a young gentleman,
the secretary of the late duke, who was not with him at the Hôtel
Barbette, was arrested by one of her majesty's servants at the scene
of the murder, in very suspicious circumstances, shortly after the
crime was perpetrated. Is it your pleasure that he be brought before
you?"
"Assuredly," replied the Duke of Berri. "I have seen the young
gentleman, and judged well of him. I can not think he had any share in
this foul deed. Are there any of my poor nephew's household here who
can testify concerning him?"
"Several, your highness," answered the secretary. "They are in the
ante-room."
"Let them also be called in," said the Duke of Berri; and in a minute
or two, Jean Charost, heavily ironed, was brought to the end of the
table, and a number of the Duke of Orleans's officers, the jester, and
the chaplain appeared behind them.
The Duke of Berri gazed at the young man sternly; but with Jean
Charost, the first feelings of grief, horror, and alarm had now given
way to a sense of indignation at the suspicions entertained against
him, and he returned the duke's glance firmly and unshrinkingly, with
a look of manly confidence which sat well even upon his youthful
features.
"Well, young gentleman," said the Duke of Berri, at length, "what have
you to say for yourself?"
"In what respect, my lord?" asked Jean Charost, still keeping his eyes
upon the duke; for the stare of all around was painful to him.
"In answer to the charge brought against you," answered the Duke of
Berri.
"I know of no charge, your highness," answered Jean Charost. "I only
know that while proceeding, according to the orders of my late beloved
lord, to rejoin him at the Hôtel Barbette. I was seized by some men at
one corner of the Rue Barbette, just as I was pausing to look at a
house in flames, and at a crowd which I saw further down the street;
that then, without almost any explanation, I was hurried to prison,
and that this morning I have been brought hither, with these fetters
on my limbs, which do not become an innocent French gentleman."
"It is right you should near the charge," answered the duke. "Is the
man who first apprehended him here present?"
The tall, stout lackey of the queen, who had been the first to seize
the young secretary's bridle, now bustled forward, full of his own
importance, and related, not altogether without embellishment, his
doings of the preceding night. He told how, on hearing from the flying
servants of the Duke of Orleans that their lord had been attacked by
armed men in the street, he had snatched up a halbert and run to his
assistance; how he arrived too late, and then addressed himself to
apprehend the murderers. He said that Jean Charost was not riding in
any direction, but sitting on his horse quite still, as if he had been
watching from a distance the deed just done; and that a gentleman of
good repute, who had hastened, like himself, to give assistance, had
pointed out the young secretary as one of the band of assassins, and
even aided to apprehend him. He added various particulars of no great
importance in regard to Jean Charost's manner and words, with the view
of making out a case of strong suspicion against him.
"You hear the charge," said the Duke of Berri, when the man had ended;
"what have you to say?"
"I might well answer nothing, your highness," replied Jean Charost;
"for, so far as I can see, there is no charge against me, except that
I checked my horse for an instant to look at a crowd and a house in
flames. Nevertheless, if you will permit me, I will ask this man a
question or two, as it may tend to bring some parts of this dark
affair to light."
"Ask what you please," answered the duke; and Jean Charost turned to
the servant, and demanded, it must be confessed, in a sharp tone, "Was
the man who pointed me out to you armed or unarmed?"
"Completely armed, except the head," replied the lackey, looking a
little confused.
"What had he in his hand?" demanded Jean Charost.
"A mace, I think," answered the man; "an iron mace."
"Did he tell you how he came completely armed in the streets of Paris
at that hour of the night?" asked Jean Charost.
"He said he came forth at the cries," answered the servant.
"How long may it take to arm a man completely, except the head?" asked
the young gentleman.
"I don't know," answered the servant; "I don't bear arms."
"I do," answered Jean Charost; "and so do these noble lords; nor is it
probable that a man could shuffle on his armor in time to be there on
the spot so soon, unless he were well armed before. Now tell me, what
was this man's name?"
The man hesitated; but the Duke of Berri thundered from the head of
the table, "Answer at once, sir. You have said he was a gentleman of
good repute; you must therefore know him. What was his name?"
"William of Courthose," answered the man; "the brother of the king's
valet de chambre."
"Where is he?" asked the Duke of Berri, so sternly, that the man
became more and more alarmed, judging that his stupid activity might
not prove so honorable to himself as he had expected.
"I do not know rightly, your highness," he replied. "His brother told
me to-day he had gone to Artois."
There was a silence all through the room at this announcement. Jean
Charost asked no more questions. Several of the council looked
meaningly in each other's faces, and the Duke of Berri gazed
thoughtfully down at the table.
The chaplain of the late Duke of Orleans, however, and Seigneur André,
his fool, moved round and got behind the prince's chair.
The former bent his head, and said a few words in a low tone; and the
duke instantly looked up, saying, "It seems, Monsieur De Brecy, that
there was a quarrel between yourself and my unhappy nephew. You were
heard speaking loud and angrily in his apartments; you left him half
way to the Hôtel Barbette. Explain all this!"
"There was no quarrel, my lord," replied Jean Charost; "there could be
no quarrel between an humble man like myself and a prince of the blood
royal. His highness reproved me for something I had done amiss, and
his voice was certainly loud when he did so. He pardoned me, however,
on my apology, took me with him on his way to the Hôtel Barbette, sent
me to deliver a letter and receive an answer, and commanded me to
rejoin him at her majesty's house, which I was on the way to do when I
was arrested."
"What was the cause of his reproving you?" asked the Duke of Berri;
"to whom did he send you with a letter, and where did you pass the
time from the moment you left him to the moment of your arrest? You
had better, Monsieur De Brecy, give a full account of your whole
conduct from the time of your arrival in Paris till the time of your
apprehension."
Jean Charost looked down thoughtfully, and his countenance changed. To
betray the secrets of the dead, to plant a fresh thorn in the heart of
the Duchess of Orleans, already torn, as it must be, to explain how
and why he had hesitated to obey his lord's commands, was what he
would fain escape from at almost any risk; and his confidence in his
own innocence made him believe that his refusal could do him no
material damage.
"It will be better for yourself, sir, to be frank and candid," said
the Duke of Berri; "a few words may clear you of all suspicion."
"I doubt it not, your highness," replied Jean Charost; "for as yet I
see no cause for any. Were I myself alone concerned, I would willingly
and at once state every act of my own and every word I uttered; but,
my lord, in so doing, I should be obliged to give also the acts and
words of my noble master. They were spoken to me in confidence, as
between a frank and generous prince and his secretary. He is dead; but
that absolves me not from the faithful discharge of my duty toward
him. What he confided to me--whither he sent me--nay, even more, the
very cause of his reproving me, which involves some part of his own
private affairs, I will never disclose, be the consequence what it
may; and I do trust that noble princes and honorable gentlemen will
not require an humble secretary, as I am, to betray the secrets of his
lord."
"You are bound, sir, by the law, to answer truly any questions that
the king's council may demand of you," said the King of Navarre,
sternly; "if not, we can compel you."
"I think not, my lord," replied Jean Charost; "I know of no means
which can compel an honorable man to violate a sacred duty."
"Ha, ha!" shouted Seigneur André; "he does not know of certain
bird-cages we have in France to make unwilling warblers sing. Methinks
one screw of the rack would soon make the pretty creature open its
bill."
"I think so too," said the King of Navarre, setting his teeth, and not
at all well pleased with Jean Charost's reply. "We give you one more
chance, sir; will you, or will you not, answer the Duke of Berri's
questions? If not, we must try the extent of your obstinacy."
As he spoke he beckoned up to him the _prévôt_ of Paris, who had
entered the hall a few minutes before, and spoke to him something in a
whisper; to which the other replied, "Oh yes, sir, in the other
chamber; the screw will do; it has often more power than the rack."
In the mean time, a struggle had been going on in the breast of Jean
Charost.
It is often very dangerous to commit one's self by words to a certain
course of action. So long as we keep a debate with ourselves within
the secret council-chamber of our own bosom, we feel no hesitation in
retracting an ill-formed opinion or a rash resolution; but when we
have called our fellow-creatures to witness our thoughts or our
determinations, the great primeval sin of pride puts a barrier in our
way, and often prevents us going back, even when we could do so with
honor.
Jean Charost was as faulty as the rest of our race, and perhaps it
would be too much to say that pride had no share in strengthening his
resolution; but, after a short pause, he replied, "My lord, the Duke
of Berri, take it not ill of me, I beg your highness, that I say any
questions simply regarding myself I will answer truly and at once; but
none in any way affecting the private affairs of my late royal master
will I answer at all."
"We can not suffer our authority to be set at naught," said the Duke
of Berri, gravely; and the King of Navarre, turning with a heavy frown
to the _prévôt_, exclaimed, "Remove him, Monsieur Tignonville, and
make him answer."
Jean Charost turned very pale, but he said nothing; and two of the
_prévôt's_ men laid their hands upon him, and drew him from the end of
the table.
At the same moment, however, another young man started forward, with
his face all in a glow, exclaiming, "Oh, my lords, my lords! for
pity's sake, for your own honor's sake, forbear! He is as noble and as
faithful a lad as ever lived--well-beloved of the prince whom we all
mourn. Think you that he, who will suffer torture rather than betray
his lord's secrets, would conspire his death?"
"It may be his own secrets he will not reveal," said the Duke of
Berri.
"Meddle not with what does not concern you," cried the King of
Navarre, sternly.
But Jean Charost turned his head as they were taking him from the
room, and exclaimed, "Thank you, De Royans--thank you! That is noble
and just."
He was scarcely removed when the Duke of Burgundy entered by the great
entrance, and the King of Sicily by a small door behind the Duke of
Berri. The former was alone, but the latter was followed by several of
the officers of his household, and in the midst of them appeared a
young girl, leaning on the arm of an elder woman dressed as a superior
servant.
"I heard that Monsieur De Brecy was under examination," said Louis of
Anjou, looking round, "accused of being accessory to the murder. Is he
not here?"
"He has retired with a friend," said Seigneur André, who thought it
his privilege to intermeddle with all conversation.
"The truth is, fair cousin," answered the King of Navarre, "we have
found him a very obstinate personage to deal with, setting at naught
the authority of the council, and refusing to answer the questions
propounded to him. We have therefore been compelled to employ means
which usually make recusants answer."
"Good God! I hope not," exclaimed the Duke of Anjou. "Here is a young
lady who can testify something in his favor."
He turned as he spoke toward the young girl who had followed him into
the hall, and who has more than once appeared upon the scene already.
She was deadly pale, but those energies which afterward saved France
failed her not now. She loosed her hold of the old servant's arm, on
which she had been leaning, took a step forward, and, with her hands
clasped, exclaimed, "In God's name, mighty princes, forbear! Send a
messenger, if you would save your own peace, and countermand your
terrible order. I know not why you have doomed an innocent man to
torture, but right sure I am that somehow he has brought such an
infliction on his head by honesty, and not by crime; by keeping his
faith, not by breaking it."
"They are made for each other," said the King of Navarre, coldly.
"They both speak in the same tone. Who is she, cousin of Sicily?"
"Mademoiselle De St. Geran--Agnes Sorel," answered the Duke of Anjou,
in a low tone. "One of the maids of honor to my wife."
But Agnes took no notice of their half-heard colloquy, and, turning at
once with quick decision and infinite grace toward the Duke of
Burgundy, who sat with his head leaning on his hand, and his eyes
fixed upon the table, she exclaimed, "My lord the Duke of Burgundy, I
beseech you to interfere. You know this young man--you know he is
faithful and true--you know he refused to betray the secret of his
lord, even at your command, and dared your utmost anger. You know he
is not guilty."
"I do," said the Duke of Burgundy, rising, and speaking in a hoarse,
hollow tone. "My lords, he is not guilty--I am sure. Suspend your
order, I beseech you. Send off to the Châtelet, and let him--"
A deep groan, which seemed almost a suppressed cry, appeared to
proceed from a door half way down the hall, and swell through the
room, like the note of an organ.
"He is not far off, as you may hear," said the King of Navarre, with
an indifferent manner. "Tell them to stop, if you please, fair
cousin."
The Duke of Burgundy had waited to ask no permission, but was already
striding toward the door. He threw it sharply open, and entered a
small room having no exit, except through the hall; but he paused,
without speaking, for a moment, although before his eyes lay poor Jean
Charost strapped down upon a sort of iron bedstead, and one of the
_prévôt's_ men stood actually turning a wheel at the head, which
elongated the whole frame, and threatened to tear the unfortunate
sufferer to pieces. For an instant, the duke continued to gaze in
silence, as if desirous of seeing how much the unhappy young man could
bear. But Jean Charost uttered not a word. That one groan of agony had
burst from him on first feeling the _peine forte et dure_. But now his
resolution seemed to have triumphed over human weakness, and, with his
teeth shut and his eyes closed, he lay and suffered without a cry.
"Hold!" exclaimed the duke, at length. "Hold, Messire Prévôt. Unbind
the young man. He is not guilty!"
The duke then slowly moved toward the door, and closed it sharply,
while Jean Charost was removed from his terrible couch, and a little
water given him to drink. He sat up, and leaned his head upon his
hand, with his eyes still closed, and not even seeming to see who had
come to deliver him. The _prévôt's_ men approached, and attempted,
somewhat rudely, to place upon him his coat and vest, which had been
taken off to apply the torture.
"Patience--patience, for a moment!" he said.
In the mean while, the Duke of Burgundy had approached close to him,
and stood gazing at him with his arms crossed on his broad chest. "Can
you speak, young man?" he said, at length.
Jean Charost inclined his head a little further.
"What was it you refused to tell the council?" asked the duke.
"Where the Duke of Orleans sent me last night," answered the young
man, faintly.
"Faithful and true, indeed!" said the Duke of Burgundy; and then,
laying his broad hand upon the youth's aching shoulder, he said, in a
low tone, "If you seek new service, De Brecy, join me at Mons in a
week. I will raise you to high honor; and remember--this you have
suffered was not my doing. I came to deliver you. Now bring him in,
_prévôt_, as soon as he can bear it."
When the duke returned to the hall, he found Agnes Sorel standing by
the side of the Duke of Berri, although a chair had been placed for
her by one of the gentlemen near; for in those days there was the
brilliant stamp of chivalrous courtesy on all French gentlemen, in
external things at least, though since blotted out by the blood of
Lamballe and Marie Antoinette.
"Your testimony as to his general character and uprightness, my fair
young lady," said the Duke of Berri, in a kindly tone, "will have the
weight that it deserves with the council, but we must have something
more definite here. We find that he was absent more than an hour from
the duke's suite, when my poor nephew had ordered him to rejoin him
immediately, and that this fearful assassination was committed during
that period. He refuses to answer as to where he was, or what he was
doing during that time. We will put the question to him again," he
continued, looking toward the door at which Jean Charost now appeared,
supported by two of the _prévôt's_ men, and followed by that officer
himself. "Has he made any answer, Monsieur De Tignonville?"
"Not a word, your highness," replied the _prévôt_.
"Noble lad!" said Agnes Sorel, in a low voice, as if to herself; and
then continued, raising her tone, "My lord the duke, I will tell you
where he was, and what he was doing."
The Duke of Burgundy started, and looked suddenly up; but Agnes went
on. "Although there be some men to whose characters certain acts are
so repugnant that to suppose them guilty of them would be to suppose
an impossibility, and though I and the mighty prince there opposite
can bear witness that such is the case even in this instance, yet,
lest he should bring himself into danger by his faithfulness, I will
tell you what he will not speak, for I am bound by no duty to refrain.
He was at the house of Madame De Giac, sent thither with a note by the
Duke of Orleans. She told me so herself this morning, and lamented
that a foolish trick she caused her servants to play him--merely to
see how he, in his inexperience, would escape from a difficulty--had
prevented him from rejoining his princely master, though, as she
justly said, her idle jest had most likely saved the young man's
life."
"Skillfully turned," muttered the Duke of Burgundy between his teeth,
and he looked up with a relieved expression of countenance.
"If my lords doubt me," continued the young girl, "let them send for
Madame De Giac herself."
"Nay, nay, we doubt you not," said the Duke of Burgundy; "and so sure
am I of the poor lad's innocence--although he offended me somewhat at
Pithiviers--that I propose he should be instantly liberated, and
allowed to retire."
"Open the door, but first clip the bird's wings," said Seigneur André.
"He won't fly far, I fancy, after the trimming he has had."
The proposal of the Duke of Burgundy, however, was at once acceded to;
and Louis of Anjou, whose heart was a kindly one, notwithstanding some
failings, leaned across the table toward Agnes Sorel, saying, "Take
him with you, pretty maid, and try what you and the rest can do to
comfort him till I come."
Agnes frankly held out her hand to Jean Charost, saying, "Come,
Monsieur De Brecy, you need rest and refreshment. Come; you shall have
the sweetest music you have ever heard to cheer you, and may have to
thank the musician too."
With feeble and wavering steps, the young gentleman followed her from
the room; and the moment the door was closed behind them, the King of
Sicily turned to the _prévôt_, saying, "This young man is clearly
innocent, Monsieur De Tignonville. Do you not think so?"
"I have never thought otherwise, my lord," replied the _prévôt_.
"Well, then, sir," said the Duke of Berri, "you have doubtless used
all diligence, as we commanded this morning, to trace out those who
have committed so horrible a crime as the assassination of the king's
own brother."
"All diligence have I used, noble lords and mighty princes," said De
Tignonville, advancing to the edge of the table, and speaking in a
peculiarly stern and resolute tone of voice; "but I have yet
apprehended none of the assassins or their accomplices. Nevertheless,
such information have I received as leads me to feel sure that I shall
be able to place them before you ere many hours are over, if you will
give me the authority of the council to enter and examine the houses
of all the servants of the king and those of the princes--even of the
blood royal; which, as you know, is beyond my power without your
especial sanction."
"Most assuredly," replied the King of Sicily. "Begin with mine, if you
please. Search it from top to bottom. There are none of us here who
would stand upon a privilege that might conceal the murderer of Louis
of Orleans."
"There can be no objection," said the Duke of Berri. "Search mine,
when you please, Monsieur le Prévôt."
"And mine," said the Duke of Bourbon.
"And mine--and mine," said several of the lords of the council.
The Duke of Burgundy said nothing; but sat at the table, with his face
pale, and his somewhat harsh features sharpened, though motionless. At
length he started up from the table, and exclaimed, in a sharp, quick
tone, "Come hither, Sicily--come hither, my fair uncle of Berri. I
would I speak a word with you;" and he strode toward the great door,
followed by the two princes whom he had selected.
Between the great door and that of an outer hall was a small
vestibule, with a narrow stair-case on one side, on the lower steps of
which some attendants were sitting, when the duke appeared suddenly
among them.
"Avoid!" he said, in a tone so loud and harsh as to scatter them at
once like a flock of frightened sheep. He then closed both the doors,
looked up the stair-case, and drew the Duke of Berri toward him,
whispering something in his ear in a low tone.
The venerable prince started back, and gazed at him with a look of
horror. "It was a suggestion of the great enemy," said Burgundy, "and
I yielded."
"What does he say--what does he say?" exclaimed the King of Sicily.
"That he--he ordered the assassination," answered the Duke of Berri,
in a sad and solemn tone. "I have lost two nephews in one night!"
The Duke of Anjou drew back with no less horror in his face than that
which had marked the countenance of the Duke of Berri; but he gave
more vehement way to the feeling of reprobation which possessed
him, expressing plainly his grief and indignation. He was brief,
however, and soon laid his hand upon the lock to open the door of the
council-chamber again.
"Stay, stay, Louis," said the Duke of Berri. "Let us say nothing of
this terrible truth till we have well considered what is to be done."
"Done!" repeated the Duke of Burgundy, gazing at them both with a look
of stern surprise, as if he had fully expected that his acknowledgment
of the deed was to make it pass uninvestigated and unpunished; and
passing between his two relations, he too approached the door as if to
go in.
But the Duke of Berri barred the way. "Go not into the council, fair
nephew," he said. "It would not please me, nor any other person there,
to have you among us now."
The Duke of Burgundy gave him one glance, but answered nothing; and,
passing through the opposite door and the outer hall, mounted his
horse and rode away, followed by his train.
"Let us break up the council, Louis," said the Duke of Berri, "and
summon it for to-morrow morning. I will hie me home, and give the next
hours to silent thought and prayer. You do the same; and let us meet
to-morrow before the council reassembles."
"My thoughts are all confused," said the King of Sicily. "Is it a
dream, noble kinsman--a bloody and terrible dream? Well, go you in. I
dare not go with you. I should discover all. Say I am sick--God knows
it is true--sick, very sick at heart."
Thus saying, he turned toward the stair-case, and while the Duke of
Berri returned to those he had left, and broke up the council
abruptly, the other prince proceeded slowly and gloomily toward his
wife's apartments. When he reached the top of the stairs, however, and
opened the door at which they terminated, a strain of the most
exquisite music met his ear, sweet, slow, and plaintive, but yet not
altogether melancholy.
Oh, how inharmonious can music sometimes be to the spirits even of
those who love it best!