cloak; but Henry twitched it away from his grasp with an air of
impatience, and continued, "I shall therefore answer you frankly and
freely, young gentleman; telling you that the Lady whom you are sent
to seek is in fact not at Vincennes; nor, to the best of our knowledge
and belief, in our good city of Paris; neither do we know or have any
correct information of where she may be found, though it is not by any
means to be denied that she has visited this our castle of Vincennes."
The first part of the King's speech had considerably relieved the mind
of Villequier; but when he proceeded to make the somewhat unnecessary
admission, that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut had visited Vincennes, the
minister again attempted to interrupt the King, saying, "You know,
Sire, her pause at Vincennes was merely momentary, and absolutely
necessary for those passports and safeguards without which it might be
dangerous to travel, in the distracted state of the country."
"Perfectly true," replied Henry: but the King's apprehension of the
Duke of Guise appearing in Paris was much stronger than his respect
for his minister's opinion; and he proceeded with what he had to say,
in spite of every sign or hint that could be given him.
"You must know, Monsieur de Logeres," he said, "that, as I before
observed, she did visit Vincennes for a brief space; but, there being
something embarrassing in the whole business, we were, to say the
truth--albeit not insensible to beauty--we were not at all sorry to
see her depart."
Although Charles of Montsoreau judged rightly that the abode of
Vincennes, to the high and pure-minded girl whom he sought, could only
have been one of horror, he could not conceive any thing in her
situation which should have proved embarrassing to the King, and he
answered bluntly, "Then your Majesty of course has caused her to be
escorted in safety to the Duke of Guise, as the means of relieving
yourself from all embarrassment concerning her."
"Not so, not so, Monsieur de Logeres," replied the King. "Young
diplomatists and young greyhounds run fast and overleap the game. It
so happens that there are various claims regarding the wardship of
this young Lady. She has many relations, as near or nearer than the
Duke of Guise. The care and guidance of her, too, under the
authorisation of the Duke himself, has been claimed by a young
nobleman whom you may have heard of, called the Marquis of
Montsoreau;" and he fixed his eyes meaningly upon the young Count's
face. "All these circumstances rendered the matter embarrassing; and
as I was not called upon to decide the matter judicially; and the
Lady, if not quite of an age by law to judge for herself, being very
nearly so, I thought it far better to leave the whole business to her
own discretion, and let her take what course she thought fit, offering
her every assistance and protection in my power, which, however, she
declined. You may therefore assure the Duke of Guise, on my part, that
she is not at Vincennes, and that I am unacquainted with where she is
at this moment. I now think, therefore, that all your questions are
answered, and the business is at an end."
"I fear I must intrude upon your Majesty still farther," replied the
young Count; "for besides the letter from the Duke of Guise, which I
have had the honour of delivering to your Majesty, he has also
furnished me with this document, giving me full power and authority to
inquire, seek for, and require, at the hands of any person in whose
power she may be, the young Lady whom he claims as his ward. He has
directed me to request your Majesty's approbation of the same,
expressed by your signature to that effect, giving me authority to
search for her in your name also, and to require the aid and
assistance of all your officers, civil and military, in executing the
said task."
Henry looked both agitated and angry; and Villequier spoke for a
moment to Epernon behind the King's back.
"Monsieur de Logeres," exclaimed the latter, taking a step forward,
"this is too much. I can hardly suppose that his Highness the Duke of
Guise has authorised you to make such a demand."
"My Lord Duke of Epernon," replied the Count, "were it not that I hold
in my hand the Duke's authority for that which I state, I would call
upon you to put your insinuation in plainer terms, that I might give
it the lie as plainly as I would do any other unjust accusation."
The Duke turned very red; but he replied, "And you would be treated,
sir Count, as a petty boy of the low nobility of this realm deserves,
for using such language to one so much above yourself."
"There is no one in France so much above myself, sir," replied the
Count, gazing on him sternly, and with a look of some contempt, "as to
dare to insult me with impunity; and though you be now High-admiral of
France, Colonel-general of Infantry, Governor of half the provinces of
this country, Duke, Peer, and hold many another rich and honourable
office besides, I tell you, John of Nogaret, that when the Baron de
Caumont dined at my father's table, he sat nearer the salt than
perhaps now may suit the proud Duke of Epernon to remember."
"Silence!" exclaimed the King, rousing himself for a moment from his
effeminate apathy, while, for a brief space, an expression of power
and dignity came over his countenance, such as that which had
distinguished him while Duke of Anjou. "Silence, insolent boy!
Silence, Epernon! I forbid you, on pain of my utmost displeasure, to
take notice, even by a word, of what this young man has said. You were
yourself wrong to answer for the King in the King's presence. The Duke
of Guise shall have no just occasion to complain of us," he added, the
brightness which had come upon him gradually dying away like the false
promising gleam of sunshine which sometimes breaks for a moment
through a rainy autumnal day, and fades away again as soon, amidst the
dull grey clouds; "the Duke of Guise shall have no occasion to
complain of us. We will give this young man the authority which he has
so insolently demanded, to seek for Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and
having found her--if she have not joined the Duke of Guise long
before--to escort her in safety to our cousin's care. But, Monsieur de
Logeres, you show your ignorance of every custom of the court and
state, by supposing that the King of France can write down at the
bottom of the powers given you by the Duke of Guise his name in
confirmation of the same, like a steward at the bottom of a butcher's
bill. The authority which we give you must pass through the office of
our secretary of state, and it shall be drawn out and sent to you as
speedily as possible. I think that Monsieur de Villequier already
knows where to send this authority. You may now retire; and rest
assured that it shall reach you as soon as possible. At the same time
we pardon you for your conduct in this presence, which much needs
pardon, though it does not merit it."
Charles of Montsoreau bowed low, and retired from the King's presence,
fully convinced that Henry was deceiving him; that he knew, or, at all
events, had every means of judging, where Marie de Clairvaut was; and
that he had not the slightest intention of sending him the
authorisation he had promised, unless absolutely driven to do so.
The moment that the young Count had quitted the presence, the King
turned angrily to Villequier, exclaiming, "Are you mad, Villequier, to
risk bringing that fiery and ambitious pest upon us? 'Tis but four
days ago he was within ten miles of Paris!"
"Pshaw, Sire!" replied Villequier; "there is not the slightest chance
of his coming. Did I not tell you when he was at Gonesse that I would
find means to make him run like a frightened hare back again to
Soissons? I fear your Majesty has ruined all our plans by promising
this authority to that malapert youth, who doubtless already knows, or
easily divines, that he is deceived."
"I have not deceived him," said the King: "I told him the girl was not
at Vincennes; nor is she. I told him that I did not know where she is
at this moment; nor do I; for she may be three miles on this side of
Meulan, or three miles on that, for aught I know. It depends upon the
quickness of the horses, and the state of the roads. I promised him
the authority to seek her; and he shall have it in good due form, if
he live long enough, and wait in Paris a sufficient time."
"If he have it not within three days," replied Villequier, "be you
sure, Sire, that he will write to the Duke of Guise."
"But, Villequier," said the King in a soft tone, "could you not find
means to prevent his making use of pen and ink to such bad purposes?
In short, friend Rene, it is altogether your affair. You seem to think
that the fact of this girl falling into our hands is quite the
discovery of a treasure which may fix on our side this young Marquis
of Montsoreau and the crafty Abbe that you talk of, and I don't know
how many more people besides. Now I told you from the beginning that
you should manage it all yourself: so look to it, good Villequier;
look to it."
"He has let me manage it all myself, truly!" said Villequier, in a low
tone, "But I wish to know more precisely, your Majesty," he added
aloud, "what am I to do with this youth and the girl? Is he to have
the authorisation, or not? Am I, or am I not, to give her up when he
demands her?"
"Now, good faith," replied the King, "would not one think, Epernon,
that our well-beloved friend and minister here was a mere novice out
of a convent of young girls, a tender and scrupulous little thing,
thinking evil, in every stray look or soft word addressed to her. He
who has dealt with so many in his day, diplomatists and warriors and
statesmen, has not wit enough to deal with a raw boy, whom, doubtless,
our fair and crafty cousin of Guise has sent upon a fool's errand to
get him out of the way."
"Certainly," replied the Duke of Epernon, "our wise friend Villequier
seems to be somewhat prudent and cautious this morning. The young lady
is in your hands, I think, Villequier; is she not? and you have sent
her off into Normandy, I think you told me, with an escort of fifty of
your archers. She goes there, doubtless, as his Majesty has said, with
her own will and consent, and by her own choice, for there is a soft
persuasiveness in fifty archers which it is very difficult for a
woman's heart to resist; and, doubtless, by the same cogent arguments,
you will induce her to marry whom you please. Come, tell us who it is
to be; the hand of a rich heiress to dispose of, may be made a
profitable thing, under such management as yours, Villequier."
"I have not discovered the philosopher's stone, like you, Monsieur
d'Epernon," replied the other.
The King laughed gaily, for Epernon's extraordinary cupidity was no
secret even to the monarch that fed it. But the Duke was proof to all
jest upon that score; and looking at Villequier with the same sort of
musing expression which he had before borne, he repeated his question,
saying, "Come, come, disinterested chevalier, tell us to whom do you
intend to give her?"
"Perhaps to my own nephew," replied the other. "What think you of
that, Monsieur le Duc?"
The brow of Epernon grew clouded in a moment. "I think," he said,
"that you will not do it, for two reasons: in the first place, you
destine your nephew for your daughter Charlotte."
"Not I," replied the Marquis; "I never dreamt of such a thing. She
shall wed higher than that, or not at all. But what is your second
reason, Monsieur d'Epernon?"
"Because you dare not," replied the Duc d'Epernon: and he added,
speaking in a low tone, "You dare not, Villequier, mingle your race
with that of Guise. The moment you do, your object will be clear, and
your ruin certain."
"It is a curious thing, Sire," said Villequier, turning to the King
with a smile, "it is a curious thing to see how my good Lord of
Epernon grudges any little advantage to us mean men. However, to set
his Grace's mind at ease, I neither destine Mademoiselle de Clairvaut
for one nor for the other; but I think she may prove a wonderful good
bait for the wild young Marquis of Montsoreau. By the promise of her
hand, as far as my interest and influence is concerned, he will not
only be bound to your Majesty's cause on every occasion, but will
exert himself more zealously and potently for that, than any other
inducement could lead him to do. Even if he should fail in the
trial--for we must acknowledge that he shows himself somewhat unstable
in his purposes--he will, at all events, have so far committed himself
as to give your Majesty good cause for confiscating all his land,
cutting down all his timber, and seizing upon all his wealth. However,
I must think, in the first place, of how to deal with this brother of
his."
"No very difficult task, I should judge," said the Duke of Epernon,
"for one so practised in the art of catching gudgeons as you,
Villequier."
"I don't know that," answered Villequier; "I would fain detach that
youth, also, from the Guises. You see, most noble Duke, I am thinking
of the King's interest all the time, while you are thinking of your
own. However, I must find a way to manage him, for, as their wonderful
friend and tutor, this wise Abbe de Boisguerin, admitted to me last
night, there are three means all powerful in dealing with our
neighbours--love, interest, and ambition; and we might thus exemplify
it,--the King would do any thing for the first, the Duke of Epernon
any thing for the second, and his Highness of Guise any thing for the
third."
"There are two other implements frequently used, which I wonder
Monsieur de Villequier did not add," said the Duke, "as I rather
expect he may have to use one or other of them on the present
occasion; and men say he is fully as skilful in using them as in
employing love, interest, or ambition, for his ends."
"Pray what are those?" demanded Villequier, somewhat sharply.
"Vicenza daggers," replied the Duke of Epernon, "and wine that splits
a Venice glass!"
"Come, come, Epernon," cried the King, "you and Villequier shall not
quarrel. Come away from him, come away from him, or you will be using
your daggers on each other presently:" and, throwing his arm
familiarly round his neck, he drew the Duke away.
CHAP. V.
Charles of Montsoreau rode homeward in painful and anxious thought: he
had flattered himself vainly, before he had proceeded to Vincennes,
that the redoubted name of Henry of Guise would be found fully
sufficient immediately to cause the restoration of Marie de Clairvaut
to him, who had naturally a right to protect her. It less frequently
happens that youth fails to reckon upon the fiery contention it is
destined to meet with from adversaries, than that it miscalculates the
force of the dull and inert opposition which circumstances continually
offer to its eager course, throwing upon it a heavy, slow, continual
weight, which, like a clog upon a powerful horse, seems but a nothing
for the moment, but in the end checks its speed entirely. None knew
better than Henry III. that it is by casting small obstacles in the
way of impetuous youth, that we conquer and tame it sooner than by
opposing it; and such had been his purpose with Charles of Montsoreau.
In his idle carelessness he cared but little what became of
Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, or into whose hands she fell. He was
willing to countenance and assist the politic schemes of his favourite
Villequier; and cared not, even in the slightest degree, whether that
personage employed poison or the knife to rid himself of the young
Count of Logeres, provided always that he himself had nothing to do
with it. The only part that he was inclined to act was to thwart the
Duke's young envoy by obstacles and long delays; and this he had
suffered to become so far evident to Charles of Montsoreau, that he
became angry and impatient at the very prospect before him. He
doubted, however, whether it would be right to send off a courier with
this intelligence immediately to the Duke of Guise, or to wait for two
or three days, in order to see whether the powers promised him were
effectually granted; and he was still pondering the matter, while
riding through the streets of Paris, when, in passing by a large and
splendid mansion in one of the principal streets, he caught a glimpse
of two figures disappearing through the arched portal of the building.
The faces of neither were visible to him; their figures only for a
moment, and that at a distance. But he felt that he could not be
mistaken--that all the thoughts and feelings and memories of youth
could not so suddenly, so magically, be called up by the sight of any
one but his brother,--and if so, that the other was the Abbe de
Boisguerin.
"Whose is that house?" he exclaimed aloud, turning to his attendants.
"That of Monsieur Rene de Villequier," replied the page instantly;
and, springing from his horse at the gate, the young Count knocked
eagerly for admission. The portals were instantly thrown open, and a
porter in crimson, with a broad belt fringed with gold, appeared in
answer to the summons.
"I think," said the young Count, "that I saw this moment the Marquis
de Montsoreau and the Abbe de Boisguerin pass into this house."
The porter looked dull, and shook his head, replying, "No, sir; nobody
has passed in here but two of my noble Lord's attendants--the old Abbe
Scargilas, and Master Nicolas Prevot, who used formerly to keep the
Salle d'Armes, opposite the kennel at St. Germain."
Although Charles of Montsoreau knew the existence and possibility of
such a thing as the lie circumstantial, yet the coolness and readiness
of the porter surprised him. "Pray," he said, after a moment's pause,
"is there any such person as either Monsieur de Montsoreau or the Abbe
de Boisguerin dwelling here at present?"
"None, sir," replied the man. "There is no one here but the attendants
of my Lord, who is at present absent with the King."
Charles of Montsoreau would have given a good deal to have searched
the house from top to bottom; but as it would not exactly do to storm
the dwelling of Rene de Villequier, he rode on, no less convinced than
ever that his brother was at that moment in the dwelling of the
minister.
This conviction determined his conduct at once. That his brother was
in Paris, and in the hands of the most dangerous and intriguing man of
that day, he had no doubt; and it seemed to him also clear, that
schemes were going on and contriving, of which the obstacles and
delays thrown in his way might be, perhaps, a part. To what they
tended he could not, of course, tell directly; but he saw that the
only hope of frustrating them lay in exertion without the loss of a
moment, and he accordingly dispatched his faithful attendant Gondrin
to Soissons as soon as he reached the inn.
We must follow, however, for a moment, the two persons whom the young
Count had seen enter the hotel of Villequier, and accompany them at
once into the chamber to which they proceeded after passing the
portal. It was a splendid cabinet, filled with every sort of rare and
costly furniture, which was displayed to the greater perfection by the
dark but rich tapestry that covered the walls. Another larger room
opened beyond, and through the door of that again, which was partly
open, a long suite of bed-rooms and other apartments were seen, with
different rich and glittering objects placed here and there along the
perspective, as if for the express purpose of catching the eye.
Into one of the large arm-chairs which the cabinet contained, the
Marquis of Montsoreau threw himself as if familiar with the scene.
"Villequier is long," he said, speaking to the Abbe. "He promised to
have returned before this hour."
"Impatience, Gaspar, impatience," replied the Abbe, "is the vice of
your disposition. How much have you lost already by impatience? Was it
not your impatience which hurried me forward to represent his own
situation and that of yourself, to your brother Charles, which drove
him directly to the Duke of Guise? Was it not your impatience which
made you speak words of love to Marie de Clairvaut before she was
prepared to hear them, drawing from her a cold and icy reply? Was it
not your impatience that made us leave behind at Provins all the tired
horses and one half of the men, rather than wait a single day to
enable them to come on with us; and did not that very fact put us
almost at the mercy of the reiters, and give your brother an
opportunity of showing his gallantry and skill at our expense?"
"It is all true, my friend; it is all true," replied the Marquis. "But
in regard to my speaking those fiery words to Marie de Clairvaut, how
could I help that? Is it possible so to keep down the overflowing
thoughts of our bosom as to prevent their bursting forth when the
stone is taken off from the fountain, and when the feelings of the
heart gush out, not as from the spring of some ordinary river, but,
like the waters of Vaucluse, full, powerful, and abundant even at
their source."
"It was that I wished you to guard against," replied the Abbe. "Had
you appeared less to seek, you would have been sought rather than
avoided. It may be true, Gaspar, what authors have said, that a woman,
like some animals of the chase, takes a pleasure in being pursued; but
depend upon it, if she do so, she puts forth all her speed to insure
herself against being caught. Unless you are very sure of your own
speed and strength, you had better steal quietly onward, lest you
frighten the deer. Had she heard much from my lips, and from those of
her good but weak friend Madame de Saulny, of your high qualities, and
of all those traits in your nature calculated to captivate and attract
such a being as herself, while you seemed indifferent and somewhat
cool withal, every thing--good that is in her nature would have joined
with every thing that is less good--the love of high qualities and of
manly daring would have combined with vanity and caprice to make her
seek you, excite your attention, and court your love."
"I have never yet seen in her," said the young Marquis, "either vanity
or caprice; and besides, good friend, such things to me at least are
not matters of mere calculation. I act upon impulses that I cannot
resist. Mine are feelings, not reasonings: I follow where they lead
me, and even in the pursuit acquire intense pleasure that no reasoning
could give."
"True," replied the Abbe, bending down his head and answering
thoughtfully. "There is a great difference between your age and mine,
Gaspar. You are at the age of passions, and at that period of their
sway when they defeat themselves by their own intensity. I had
thought, however, that my lessons might have taught you, my counsel
might have shown you, that with any great object in view it is
necessary to moderate even passion in the course, in order to succeed
in the end."
"But there is joy in the course also," exclaimed Gaspar de Montsoreau.
"Think you, Abbe, that even if it were possible to win the woman we
love by another's voice, we could lose the joy of winning her for
ourselves--the great, the transcendant joy of struggling for her
affection, even though it were against her coldness, her indifference,
or her anger?"
"I think, Gaspar," replied the Abbe, "that if to a heart constituted
as yours is, there be added a mind of equal power, nothing--not even
the strongest self-denial--will be impossible for the object of
winning her you love. But I am not a good judge of such matters," he
continued with a slight smile curling his lip--a smile not altogether
without pride. "I am no judge of such matters. The profession which I
have chosen, and followed to a certain point, excludes them from my
consideration. All I wish to do in the present instance is to warn
you, Gaspar, against your own impetuosity in dealing with this
Villequier. Be warned against that man! be careful! Promise him
nothing; commit yourself absolutely to nothing, unless upon good and
sufficient proof that he too deals sincerely with you. He is not one
to be trusted, Gaspar, even in the slightest of things; and promise me
not to commit yourself with him in any respect whatsoever."
"Oh, fear not, fear not," replied the Marquis. "In this respect at
least, good friend, no passions hurry me on. Here I can deal calmly
and tranquilly, because, though the end is the same, I have nothing
but art to encounter, which may always be encountered by reason. When
I am with her, Abbe, it is the continual strife of passion that I have
to fear; at every word, at every action, I have to be upon my guard;
and reason, like a solitary sentinel upon the walls of a city attacked
on every side, opposes the foes in vain at one point, while they pour
in upon a thousand others."