room, and in a low sweet tone informed the Marquis, that Monsieur de
Villequier had just returned from Vincennes, and desired earnestly to
speak with him, for a moment, _alone_ in his own cabinet. The word
"alone" was pronounced more loud than any other, though the whole was
low and tuneful; for Villequier used to declare that he loved to have
servants with feet like cats and voices like nightingales.
The Abbe marked that word distinctly, and was too wise to make the
slightest attempt to accompany his former pupil. The Marquis, however,
did not remark it; and, perhaps a little fearful of his own firmness
and skill, asked his friend to accompany him. But the Abbe instantly
declined. "No, Gaspar," he said, "no; it were better that you should
see Monsieur Villequier alone. I will wait for you here;" and, turning
to the table, he took up an illuminated psalter, and examined the
miniatures with as close and careful an eye as if he had been deeply
interested in the labours of the artist.
He saw not a line which had there been drawn; but after the Marquis
had followed the servant from the room he muttered to himself, "So,
Monsieur de Villequier, you think that I am a mean man, who may be
over-reached with impunity and ease? You know me not yet, but you
shall know me, and that soon." And laying down the psalter, he took up
another book of a character more suited to his mind at the moment, and
read calmly till his young friend returned, which was not for near an
hour.
In the mean time the Marquis had proceeded to the cabinet of
Villequier, who, the moment he saw him, rose from the chair in which
he had been seated busily writing, and pressed him warmly by the hand.
"My dear young friend," he said, "one learns to love the more those in
whose cause one suffers something; and, since I saw you, I have had to
fight your battle manfully."
"Indeed! and may I ask, my Lord, with whom?" demanded the young
Marquis.
"With many," answered Villequier. "With the King,--with Epernon,-with
your own brother."
"With my brother?" exclaimed Gaspar of Montsoreau, while the blood
rushed up in his face. "Does he dare to oppose me after all his loud
professions of disinterestedness and generosity? But where is he, my
Lord? Leave me to deal with him. Where does he dwell? Is he in Paris?"
Villequier smiled, but so slightly, that it did not attract the eyes
of his companion. That smile, however, was but the announcement of a
sudden thought that had passed through his own mind.
Shrewd politicians like himself, fertile in all resources, and
unscrupulous about any, feel a pride and pleasure in their own
abundance of expedients, which makes the conception of a new means to
their end as pleasant as the finding of a diamond. On the present
occasion the subtle courtier thought to himself with a smile, as he
saw the angry blood mount into the cheek of the young Marquis of
Montsoreau at the very mention of his brother's name,--"Here were a
ready means of ridding ourselves, were it needful, of one if not both
of these young rash-headed nobles, by setting them to cut each other's
throats."
It suited not his plan however at the moment to follow out the idea,
and he consequently replied, "No, no, Monsieur de Montsoreau. I should
take no small care, seeing how justly offended you are with your
brother, to prevent your finding out his abode, as I know what
consequences would ensue. But in all probability, by this time, he has
gone back to the Duke of Guise, having with difficulty been
frustrated, for the King was much inclined to yield to his demands."
"What did he demand?" exclaimed the Marquis vehemently. "What did he
dare to demand, after the professions he made to me at La Ferte?"
"That matters not," answered Villequier. "Suffice it that his demands
were such as would have ruined all your hopes for ever."
"But why should the King support his demands," said the Marquis, "when
well assured of how attached he is to the great head of the League
that tyrannises over him?"
"Hush, hush!" said Villequier. "The League only tyrannises so long as
the King chooses. Henry wields not the sword at present, but the sword
is still in his hands to strike when he thinks fit. But to answer your
question, my young friend. The King knows well, as you say, that your
brother is attached to the Duke of Guise: but you must remember at the
same time, Monsieur de Montsoreau, that as yet he is not fully assured
that you are attached to himself. Nay, hear me out, hear me out! The
King's arguments, I am bound to say, were not only specious but
reasonable. He had to consider, on the one hand, that the Duke of
Guise, with whom it is his strongest interest to keep fair, demands
this young lady as his ward, which, according to the laws of the land,
Henry has no right to refuse. Your brother, on the Duke's part,
threatens loudly; and what have I to oppose to a demand to which it
seems absolutely necessary in good policy that the King should yield?
Nothing; for, on the other hand, Henry affirms that he can be in no
degree sure of yourself; that your family for long have shown
attachment for the House of Guise; that you yourself were upon your
march to join the Duke, when this lady, falling into the hands of the
King's troops, induced you to abandon your purpose for the time; but
that the moment he favours your suit, or gives his consent to your
union with her, you may return to your former attachments, and
purchase the pardon and good will of the Duke of Guise by returning to
his faction."
"I am incapable of such a thing!" exclaimed the Marquis vehemently:
but the recollection of his abandonment of the Duke's party came over
him with a glow of shame, and he remained for a moment or two without
making any farther reply, while Villequier was purposely silent also,
as if to let what he had said have its full effect. At length he
added:
"I believe you are incapable of it, Monsieur de Montsoreau, and so I
assured the King. He, however, still urged upon me that I had no
proof, and that you had taken no positive engagement to serve his
Majesty. All the monarch's arguments were supported by Epernon, who, I
believe, wishes for the hand of the young lady for some of his own
relations, in order to arrange for himself such an alliance with the
House of Guise as may prove a safeguard to him in the hour of need."
And again Villequier smiled at his own art in turning back upon the
Duke of Epernon the suspicion which the Duke had expressed in regard
to himself.
The warning of the Abbe de Boisguerin, however, at that moment rang in
the ears of Gaspar of Montsoreau, and he roused himself to deal with
Villequier not exactly as an adversary, but certainly less as a
friend.
"In fact, Monsieur de Villequier," he said, "his Majesty wishes that I
should devote my sword and fortune to his service; and I am to
understand, through you, that he holds out to me the hope of obtaining
the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut in return. Now, it was not at
all my purpose to take any part in the strifes that are agitating the
country at this moment. I am neither Leaguer nor Huguenot, nor Zealot
nor Moderate; and, though most loyal, not what is called Royalist. I
was merely conducting Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, with a very small
force, not the tenth part of what I can bring into the field at a
week's notice, when the events took place which brought me to Paris.
Now, Monsieur, if the King does not rest satisfied with my expressions
of loyalty, and desires some express and public engagement to his
service, I see no earthly reason why I should rest satisfied with mere
vague hopes of obtaining the hand of the lady I love; and though, of
course, I cannot deal with his Majesty upon equal terms, yet I must
demand some full, perfect, and permanent assurance that I am not to be
disappointed in my hopes, before I draw my sword for one party or
another."
Villequier gazed thoughtfully in his face for a moment or two, biting
his under lip, and saying internally, "The Abbe de Boisguerin--this
comes from him." His next thought was, "Shall I endeavour to pique
this stripling upon his honour, and generosity, and loyalty, and all
those fine words?" But he rejected the idea the moment after thinking.
"No; that would do better with his brother. When a man boldly leaps
over such things, it is insulting him to talk about them any more."
And after a moment's farther thought, he replied, "It is all very
fair, Monsieur de Montsoreau, that you should have such assurances;
though, if we were not inclined to deal straightforwardly with you in
the matter, we might very very easily refuse every thing of the kind,
and leave you not in the most pleasant situation."
"How so?" demanded the Marquis with some alarm. "How so?"
"Easily, my dear young friend," replied Villequier. "Thus: by
informing you that the King could give you no such assurance--which,
indeed, is nominally true, though not really--and by showing you, at
the same time, that as the young lady is in his Majesty's hands, and
he is determined not to give her up to the Duke of Guise or to any
body else, but some tried and faithful friend, the only means by which
you can possibly obtain her is by serving the King voluntarily, in the
most devoted manner. Suppose this did not suit you, what would be your
resource? If you go to the Duke of Guise, you find the ground occupied
before you by your brother, and the Duke accuses you of having
betrayed his young relation into the hands of the King--perhaps sends
you under a guard into Lorraine, and has you tried, and your head
struck off. Such things have happened before now, Monsieur de
Montsoreau. At all events, not the slightest chance exists of your
winning the fair heiress of Clairvaut from him. But, even if you did
gain his consent, she is still in the hands of the King, who would
certainly not give her up to one who had proved himself a determined
enemy."
Gaspar of Montsoreau looked down, with somewhat of a frowning brow,
upon the ground. He saw, indeed, that the alternative was one that he
could not well adopt; and, from the showing of Villequier, he fancied
himself of less power and consequence in the matter than he really
was. He resolved, however, not to admit the fact if he could help it.
"Suppose, Monsieur de Villequier," he said, "that the League were to
prevail, and to force his Majesty to concede all the articles of
Nancy, think you not that one thing exacted from him might well be, to
yield Mademoiselle de Clairvaut to her lawful guardian?"
"It might," answered Villequier immediately. "But then I come in. The
question of guardianship has never been tried between the Duke and
myself. I stand as nearly related to her as he does; and I should
instantly bring the cause before the Parliament, demanding that the
young lady should remain in the hands of the King as suzerain till the
cause is decided, which might be this time ten years."
"I did not know," said the young nobleman, "that the relationship was
so near, though I was aware that Clairvaut is the family name of
Villequier. However, sir, there is yet another alternative. Suppose I
were to keep the sword in the sheath, and retire once more to
Montsoreau."
"Why there, then," replied Villequier with a slight sneer, "you might
happily abide, watching the progress of events, till either the
royalist party or the League prevailed; and then, as chance or
accident might will it, see the hand of the fair Lady rewarding one of
the King's gallant defenders, or bestowed by the Duke of Guise upon
his brave and prudent partisan, the Count of Logeres."
He paused for a moment or two, to let all he said have its full
effect, and then added, in a familiar tone, "Come, come, Monsieur de
Montsoreau, see the matter in its true light. There is no possible
chance of your obtaining the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, except
by attaching yourself to the King's service, and defending the royal
cause with the utmost zeal. If you persist in doing so simply as a
voluntary act to be performed or remitted at pleasure, be you sure
that as you make the King depend upon your good will for your services
towards him, so will you be made to depend upon his good will, his
caprices if you like, for the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut. If,
however, on the contrary, you frankly and generously determine to take
service with the King, and bind yourself irrevocably to his cause, I
do not scruple to promise you, under his hand, his full consent to
your union with Mademoiselle de Clairvaut. I will give you the same
consent under mine, assuming the title of her guardian. Your marriage
cannot, of course, take place till the great struggle that is now
impending is over. In a few months, nay, in a few weeks, the one party
or the other--who are now directing their efforts against each other,
instead of turning, as they ought, their united forces against the
common enemies of our religion--must have triumphed over its
adversary. I need not tell you which I feel, which I know, must be
successful; but your part will now be, to exert yourself to the
utmost, to traverse the country with all speed to Montsoreau, to raise
every soldier that you can, and to gather every crown that you can
collect, to join the King with all your forces, wherever he may be,
and, by your exertions, to render that result certain, which is,
indeed, scarcely doubtful even as it is; remembering that upon the
destruction of the Duke of Guise's party, and upon the overthrow of
his usurped and unreasonable power, depends not only the welfare of
your King and master, but the realisation of your best and sweetest
hopes."
"You grant all that I demand, Monsieur de Villequier," replied Gaspar
of Montsoreau. "All I wish is the King's formal consent in writing,
and yours, to my marriage with Marie de Clairvaut, as the condition of
my absolute and public adhesion to the royal cause."
"I know," replied Villequier, "that I grant all you demand, and I was
prepared to do so from the first, only we were led into collateral
discussions as we went on. You will, of course, take an oath to the
King's service, and confirm it under your hand."
"We will exchange the papers, Monsieur de Villequier," replied the
Marquis, thinking himself extremely cautious. "But now, pray tell me,
how ended the discussion with my brother?"
"The only way that it could end," replied Villequier, "when all
parties were determined to evade his demand. The King, you may easily
suppose, was not inclined to give the young heiress of Clairvaut to
any of the partisans of an enemy. Epernon knew well that if the hand
of a Guise were upon her shoulder, the ring of a La Valette would
never pass upon her finger; and I, when last we met, had half given my
promise to you, and was, at all events, determined that the question
of wardship should be settled before I parted with her. The King,
therefore, evaded the demands of the young Count, though he was not a
little inclined to yield to them at one time, in order to pacify the
Duke of Guise. However, I took the brunt of the business upon myself,
and underwent the hot indignation of your brother, who thought to find
in me an Epernon, or a Montsoreau, who would measure swords with him
for an angry word."
"They had better be skilful as well as brave," said the young Marquis
thoughtfully, "who measure swords with my brother Charles."
"Indeed!" said Villequier, "is he then so much a master of his
weapon?"
"The most perfect I ever beheld--ay, more skilful now, than even our
friend the Abbe de Boisguerin; though I have heard that, some years
ago, when the Abbe was studying at Padua, he challenged the famous
Spanish sword-player, Bobez, to display his skill with him in the
schools, in single combat, and hit him three times upon the heart
without Bobez touching him once."
"I remember, I remember!" cried Villequier. "The master broke the
buttons from the swords in anger, and the student ran him through the
body at the first pass, whereof he died within five minutes after in
the Deacon's chamber."
"I never heard that he died," replied the Marquis with some surprise.
"He did indeed, though," replied Villequier with a meditative air.
"And so this was the Abbe de Boisguerin. One would have thought the
army, rather than the church, would have called such a spirit to
itself."
"I know not," replied the young Marquis, "but in all things he is
equally skilful; and, doubtless, you know he has taken but the first
step towards entering the church, pausing as it were even on the
threshold."
"Do you think," said Villequier, "that he is as skilful in conveying
intelligence as in other things?"
"What do you mean, my Lord?" exclaimed his young companion.
"Nay, I mean nothing," replied the politician, satisfied with having
sown the first seed of suspicion in the young nobleman's mind,
without, perhaps, any definite design, but simply for the universal
purpose of making men doubt and distrust each other, with a view of
ruling them more easily. "Nothing, except a mere question concerning
his skill. I have no latent meaning, I assure you."
The brow of the Marquis grew clear again, and Villequier saw that he
believed the latter assertion more fully than he had intended. He let
the subject pass, however, and spoke of many other things, giving his
own account of various matters which had occurred during the Count de
Logeres's audience of the King, and urging Gaspar de Montsoreau to set
off with all speed to raise his forces in his native province. Then
abruptly turning the conversation, he demanded, "You or the Abbe told
me, I think, that you suspected your brother of having communicated
your march to the reiters. Is it like his general character so to act?
I'm sure, if it be his custom to do such things, I would much rather
that he was upon the opposite party than our own."
The Marquis bent down his head, and gazed sternly upon the ground for
two or three moments. He then answered, with a deep sigh, "No,
Monsieur de Villequier; no, it is not like Charles's character. He has
all his life been frank and free as the summer air, open, and
generous. I fear I did him wrong to suspect him. We are rivals where
no man admits of rivalry: but I must do him justice. If he have done
such a thing, his nature must be changed, changed indeed--changed,
perhaps, as much as my own."
"I thought," replied Villequier, "that he seemed frank and
straightforward enough, bold and haughty as a lion; gave the King look
for look; bearded Epernon, and threatened to bring him to the field;
and spared not me myself, whom men don't for some reason love to
offend. But he did not seem a man likely to betray his friend, or
practise treachery upon his brother. It is a very strange thing, too,"
he continued in an easier tone, "that Colombel and the other officers
of the King's troops at Chateau Thierry should have received news of
your coming a day before you did cross the Marne, together with the
information that the reiters might attack you near Gandelu. Was not
this strange?"
"Most strange," replied the Marquis, knitting his brows, and setting
his teeth hard. But Villequier, now seeing that he had said quite
enough, again turned the conversation; and after letting it subside
naturally to ordinary subjects, he told the young Marquis that he
would immediately write to the King, and obtain his signature to the
paper required, before bed-time. "It is late already," he said; "I
think even now I see a shade in the sky, so I must about my work
rapidly. But remember, Monsieur de Montsoreau, nine is my supper hour
exactly; and then, care and labour being past, we will sit down and
enjoy ourselves, though I fear the accommodation which I can offer you
in my poor dwelling must seem but rude in your eyes."
The Marquis said all that such a speech required, and then withdrew.
When he was gone, Villequier applied himself for some time to other
things; but when they were concluded, he rose from his chair, and
walked once or twice thoughtfully across the cabinet.
"I had better," he said to himself at length, "I had better deal with
him at once, and then I can ascertain what are his demands, and how to
treat them."
Thus saying, he took up his bell and rang it, directing the servant
who appeared to see if he could find the Abbe de Boisguerin alone, in
which case he was to invite him to a conference. "He will be alone,"
thought the wily courtier, "for I have sown seeds of those things
which will not suffer them to be long together."
The Abbe, however, was absent from the house, much to the surprise of
Villequier; and another hour had well nigh passed before he made his
appearance. The moment that he did so, he advanced towards Villequier
with his mild and graceful calmness, saying that he understood his
Lordship had sent for him. Villequier pressed his hand tenderly, and
with soft and courtly words assured him that, in sending for him, he
had only sought to enjoy the pleasure of his unrivalled conversation
for a few minutes before supper.
The Abbe replied exactly in the same tone; that he was profoundly
grieved to have lost even a moment of the society of one who
fascinated from the first, and sent away every one charmed and
delighted.
A slight and bitter smile curled the lip of each as he ended his
speech, like a seal upon a treaty, the confirmation and mockery of a
falsehood.
The Abbe, however, added to his speech a few words more, saying that
he should have been back earlier, but that his conversation at the
White Penitent's had been so interesting that he could not withdraw
himself earlier from her Majesty the Queen-mother.
Villequier started. "Are you acquainted with the Queen?" he said.
"What a surprising-being Catherine is!"
"She is indeed," answered the Abbe. "My long sojourn at Florence some
years ago made me fully acquainted with every member of the House of
Medici, and I now bring you this letter on her part, Monsieur de
Villequier."
Villequier took the paper that the Abbe handed to him, and read
apparently with some surprise. "Her Majesty," he said, "knows that I
am her devoted slave, but at the same time she cannot doubt, knowing
as she does so well your high qualities, that I will do every thing to
serve and assist you, and prevent all evil machinations against you."
"Oh, she doubts it not; she doubts it not," replied the Abbe. "She
doubts it not, Monsieur de Villequier, any more than I do; and has
written this note only in confirmation of your good intentions towards
me. However, there is one thing I wish you to do for me, Monsieur de
Villequier."
"Name it, my dear friend," exclaimed the Marquis; "but give me an
opportunity of making myself happy in gratifying your wishes."
"The fact is, Monsieur de Villequier," replied the Abbe, "that some
malicious person has been endeavouring to persuade the young Marquis
de Montsoreau, my friend, and formerly my pupil, that it was I who
intimated to the reiters the course we were pursuing to meet the Duke
of Guise, and who also intimated the facts to the King's troops at
Chateau Thierry, that they might have an opportunity of coming up to
rescue us and bring us hither--though they showed no great activity in
doing the first. Now, doubtless, the person who did this, if there
were any one, had the King's service solely in view, and deserved to
be highly rewarded, as he probably will be; but----"
"Doubtless," replied Villequier with a sneering smile. "But surely he
could not object to such honourable service being known."
"Of course not," replied the Abbe; "nor that he had given intimation
of the facts to, and taken his measures with, her Majesty the
Queen-mother; by an order, under whose hand the troops at Chateau
Thierry acted, and at whose suggestion Monsieur de Montsoreau and
his friends threw themselves into the hands of Monsieur de
Villequier.--All this her Majesty declares he did; and he could not,
of course, object to any of these things being known, except as it is
contrary to good policy and to the wishes of the Queen-mother: and
more especially contrary to every wise purpose, if he be a person
possessed of much habitual influence with the young Marquis."
"Monsieur de Boisguerin," said Villequier, seeming suddenly to break
away from the subject, but in truth following the scent as truly as
any well-trained hound, "the bishopric of Seez is at present vacant. I
know none who would fill it better than the Abbe de Boisguerin."