"MY BELOVED HUSBAND:--I think you will be glad to hear of me after
my leaving you so shortly a few nights since. We have reached Turin
in safety, and without accident; but it was a weary journey for me,
as every step took me farther from the place where I wished to
remain. We are going on to Venice in three days, and there I am to
be placed with a Madame de la Cour, a cousin of the Duc de Rohan,
and a distant relation, I am told, of my own. I am glad of it, for I
cannot love the duchess. I trust this to the care of an Italian
gentleman going to Aix. He passes for an astrologer; and Madame de
Rohan, who is very superstitious, receives him with great
distinction. She would fain have had him draw the horoscope of all
the household, and we each had audiences apart. But I could tell him
nothing of my own birth,--neither date, nor time, nor place. He,
however, contrived to draw from me, before I well knew it, something
of my history, and has promised to take this and deliver it to you
secretly, if I write it quickly. He knows Lord Montagu, and is to
join him at Aix. Perhaps I have been imprudent to tell him any
thing; but his questions were so artfully shaped that I knew not how
to answer; and I cannot resist the temptation of sending you these
few words, to let you know where I am and where a letter will find
me. Whenever a change occurs, I will try to find means of letting
you know, in order that when our long period of separation is over
you may be aware where to find your LUCETTE."
Such were the lines upon which Edward's eyes rested as soon as he
reached his room in the abbey; and, though very simple, they gave him
matter for thought during one-half of the night. That thought was all
sweet; but on the following morning other considerations suggested
themselves. He felt certain that Lord Montagu had seen Morini slip the
paper into his hand; and there had been so much and such unusual
confidence between the master and the page that Edward shrank from the
idea of its being shaken even by a suspicion. Yet he could not resolve
to put the note into Montagu's hands. Lucette's love had something
sacred in it in his eyes, and, with the shyness of early affection, he
could not bear the idea of even a jest upon the subject. He thought long
while he was dressing: the servants came and went, and he had almost
forgotten to tell them to follow him to the town, when Pierrot himself
brought the matter to his mind by mentioning Lord Montagu's return as a
rumor of the abbey.
The youth then set out for the city on foot, without having at all
settled how he should act in regard to Lucette's letter. It is
extraordinary how trifles sometimes embarrass us more than matters of
deep moment. He had faced Richelieu himself, conscious that life hung
upon the caprice or the accident of a moment, without half the
hesitation he now felt. He did at last what he might as well have done
at first,--left the direction of the matter to chance; for chance,
unfriendly on most occasions, generally supplies us with an opportunity
of acting rightly in embarrassing circumstances, if we have but the wit
to take advantage of it.
When Edward entered Lord Montagu's room, he found the learned Signor
Morini already there, with some papers, covered with strange characters,
on a table between him and the English nobleman. Montagu gathered up the
papers quickly and spoke to his page, without any allusion to the
subject which principally occupied the young man's thoughts. His speech
seemed somewhat dry, however, and Edward saw that the Italian gazed at
him with meaning looks. A sudden thought struck him as Lord Montagu
turned the conversation with Morini to some common topic, and, waiting
till there was a momentary pause, he said, "By-the-way, Signor Morini,
where did you leave the lady from whom you brought me a note last night?
Had she gone on toward Venice?"
The Italian changed not a muscle, but replied, deliberately, "Yes: she
went in the morning. I set out in the afternoon."
"Ho, ho! Signor Morini!" cried Montagu, laughing: "so you condescend to
be Venus's messenger, do you?"
"Well may your lordship say Venus," replied Morini; "for a more
beautiful little creature never rose from the sea or brightened the
land. But your lordship will bear me witness that I betrayed no secrets.
It was the young gentleman himself."
"I have betrayed no secret," said Edward, gayly, for he felt relieved.
"Lord Montagu has never seen the young lady,--does not even know her
name; and there is no cause why I should conceal that a lady has written
to me."
"A young lady!" said Montagu, thoughtfully. "Now I have it. The Duchess
of Rohan was at Turin; she had with her a cousin or a niece,--as pretty
a little creature as I ever beheld. Ha, Edward! so you took care on
your long journey to guard yourself against the charms of the
innkeepers' daughters. Now I understand a good deal. And pray, Ned, how
much of the time you consumed is to be attributed to the attractions of
this pretty fair one?"
"Not a moment, my lord," replied Edward,--"unless it be that when she
was stricken with the fever of the Marais I stayed with her a few days,
rather than leave a lady confided to my care amongst a people almost
savage and in a rude country. I might perhaps have forced my way on more
quickly had I been alone; but by that time I had accepted the charge;
and I will ask your lordship if I could have refused to see a lady of
high rank safely to the Duc de Rohan or the Prince de Soubise, her
relations, when the only alternative was for her to be shut up in
Rochelle during the horrors of a siege, and when the task was pressed
upon me by those who had nursed me tenderly and saved my life by their
care. All we contemplated at first was a journey of a few hours; but
would your lordship have left her when a series of unfortunate mishaps
had cast her, sick and in danger, upon the care of perfect strangers?
Could you have left any woman?"
"Perhaps not, Master Ned," said Lord Montagu, laughing,--"especially if
she were as young and as pretty as the lady I saw. The only question is
why you did not tell me all this before. Concealment between friends is
a bad thing, Edward, and in this case might breed a suspicion that you
had been trifling your time away with the pretty girl who is now sending
you love-letters."
"I did not even imply that the letter was a love-letter," replied
Edward; "and, moreover,----"
"I will return to your lordship in an hour or two," said Morini, rising
and approaching the door: "at present I have some business."
"I was going to say," continued Edward, resuming the subject which he
had dropped as Morini spoke, "if your lordship would consider, you would
see that I have not yet had time to tell you one-half that has happened
to me."
"Well, well," answered Montagu, good-humoredly, "no need of any
excuses, Ned. I do not doubt you. Young men are young men, all the world
over; and you have fewer of their faults and more of their best
qualities than any one of your age I ever met with. Besides, your
conduct this day would clear away all suspicions of your frankness, if I
had any. I saw that crouch-backed Italian give you a billet secretly
last night; and, had you concealed the fact from me, I might have
thought it had reference to an intrigue more within my competence than a
love-affair. But you spoke of it frankly, and that cleared my mind; for,
to say truth, I had some doubts----"
"Not of me, I trust, my lord?" said Edward, somewhat mortified.
"No, not exactly of you," replied Montagu, thoughtfully, "but great
doubts of that man. Do you know who he is?--or, rather, what he is?"
"I know nothing of him, my lord," replied the youth. "I never saw him or
heard of him till last night."
"And yet he knew all about your having been wounded by your own brother.
You will make even me believe in occult sciences," answered Montagu.
"That piece of knowledge is easily accounted for," said Edward. "He
learned that from Lucette. She stayed at the abbey with Madame de Rohan
as they passed, heard all my story from the good sisters, and, in her
anxiety to write to me, suffered him to draw the facts from her."
"Oh, it was from Lucette, was it?" asked Montagu, with a smile. "Well,
that explains all, and without any secrecy, if you are sure it is so."
"She speaks of it in her letter," answered Edward, "and blames herself
for indiscretion. But your lordship asked me but now if I knew what
Signor Morini is. What can he be but a well-read quack?"
"He is something more than that," replied Montagu, lowering his voice.
"He is a most cunning intriguant. He is more than that. He is an agent
of the Cardinal de Richelieu; and I could not be certain that the note
you received last night did not contain strong inducements for you to
betray me."
"He would be a bold man to offer them to me, my lord," replied Edward,
warmly; "but there was nothing of the kind. The possibility of such a
thing, however, forces me to do what nothing else would have induced me
to think of,--namely, to show you the letter. There it is, my lord. In
regard to all that concerns myself and the writer, I must beg you to ask
me no questions. If there can be found in it any thing that affects your
lordship, interrogate me, if you will; and I will answer all frankly."
Montagu looked at the address of the letter, and, perhaps, had some
desire to see more; for where is the breast without some share of that
small vice called curiosity? but he returned it unopened, saying, "I am
quite satisfied, Ned. But you must understand: we are living in an age
of intrigue. Each man is playing a game which has no laws. And in cases
where the strong arm of power cannot reach--where no soldiers or sailors
can be employed--friends, acquaintances, attendants, pages, must be
gained to obtain this or that advantage for an adverse politician. You
know not how widely this is practised,--how many devoted confidants of
great men are also the confidants of their bitterest enemies,--what
hosts of spies surround every man in eminent station. You know little of
all this; but in France and Italy the evil system is carried further,
deeper, lower than anywhere else; and it was very natural for me to
suppose that this man, whom I know to be an emissary of Richelieu,
should attempt to seduce you, and to find it hardly possible to suppose
that when Richelieu had you wholly in his power he did not personally
aim at the same object. The thought never struck me till last night; but
then it flashed across my mind vividly, and would seem to explain how he
let you go so easily."
Edward smiled bitterly. "This is somewhat hard!" he said. "And thus, my
lord, my good fortune in escaping safe from a most perilous situation
has shaken your trust in my honesty?"
"Not at all," replied Montagu: "he may have attempted you without
success, or you may have promised him, in order to save your neck, what
you did not intend to perform. I do not believe that you would really
betray me for any consideration: on my soul I do not!--no, not for life!
But tell me, Ned; in your conversation with that Eminence, did he never
desire you to write him of my movements, or perchance to send him some
of my letters, or copies thereof, or give him intimation of whom I
correspond with?"
"No, my lord! no!" replied Edward, warmly. "He never did. He never
hinted at or insinuated such a desire. Your name was never mentioned but
once or twice in the last interview I had with him. Then he said, so far
as I can recollect his words, 'You may say to Lord Montagu that the
cardinal treated you well,--liberally,--and, although he had every right
to stop you, sent you on to Lord Montagu, though he knew your errand and
his. Compliment his lordship for me!' This was the only time that your
name was mentioned, my lord; and till toward the close of that interview
I did not know that his Eminence was aware I was attached to your
household."
"That is strange!" said Montagu, gravely. "He knew your errand and mine,
and yet let us both go forward! We form a different estimate of his
character in England."
"At the risk of making your lordship still suspect he has gained me,"
said Edward, "I must say that I cannot but believe the cardinal has many
high and noble qualities. Some evening--perchance the time may come
again--when I may be permitted to pass a few hours in calm conversation
with your lordship, as in days of yore, I will repeat, as nearly as I
can remember, all that passed between his Eminence and myself. You will
then see why I think so highly of him. But now I cannot conceive why,
knowing this man Morini as you seem to know him,--an agent of Richelieu,
a spy, and a charlatan,--you suffer him to hang about you, and give him
the opportunity of tampering with your servants or perhaps even stealing
your letters and despatches. I cannot believe that your lordship has any
faith in his pretended science."
Montagu looked at him for a moment with a somewhat doubtful smile. "As
to my believing in his pretended science, as you call it," he said, "I
neither altogether believe nor disbelieve. There is such a thing in the
world as a state of doubt, Ned,--a state where assent is not given nor
dissent entertained. But what is this pretended science you speak of?
Astrology has a very wide meaning, though circumscribed to its mere
etymological sense it seems very narrow. But even in that sense I see
not why it should be rejected altogether. Are not the stars mere
creatures of God, obeying his will, following his impulses? Were they
created for some purpose, or for none? Various men will tell you that
their functions are this or that. Now, the astrologer says they are the
real handwriting on the wall of heaven, announcing to those who can read
them the fate of nations and of men. Writing in stars! What a
magnificent thought! I have heard men object that those golden
characters are so few and the human race so numerous that the several
fortunes of all men could not be written by them. But such people forget
that the motions of the stars are infinitely complex, that the relative
position of every star to every other forms a new combination and may
foreshadow a different event to each one of those born under their
influence. Thus, if the human race be protracted to eternity, or the
numbers now existing be multiplied by myriads, the various positions of
those bright characters to each other in the course of time would be
more than sufficient to indicate the fate of every man that ever can be
born. I say not that they do indicate, but that they may. These things
must always remain doubtful till repeated verification gives more
convincing proof. I hold my mind open to receive or to reject; but, in
the mean time, I do not neglect opportunities of obtaining means for
forming a just opinion."
Lord Montagu might be in some degree amusing himself by puzzling his
young companion, or he might not; but there can be no doubt that a great
portion of the well-educated and many of the greatest men of his day
believed at least as much as he seemed to believe of judicial astrology.
Indeed, no picture of those times would be correct which did not display
this peculiar aspect of the human mind. The great reformers of science
had not yet appeared, or were little known; and the mind of Bacon itself
was but beginning to have its influence in leading the minds of others
into the course of truth and certainty.
But Edward Langdale had a great fondness for the definite, not
original,--perhaps, for he was of a somewhat poetical disposition,--but
acquired by the rubbing and chafing of the hard world; and he returned
pertinaciously to his point. "However that may be, my lord," he said, "I
cannot believe that your desire for opportunities of judging on these
abstract points can be the cause of your giving such opportunities to a
man whom you believe to be an enemy and a rascal. You must have some
other motives for tolerating the Signor Morini about you, and appointing
to meet him here, than a desire to test the science of astrology. What
they are I cannot divine."
Montagu laughed. "Thou wilt be satisfied, Ned!" he said. "That man is
better here than at Turin. Do you understand me? He is better under my
eye than intriguing unobserved at the court of Savoy. He may tamper with
my attendants, but I am upon my guard; and I would rather that he
tampered with them than with the duke's counsellors. To me he can do
little harm while I am forewarned and forearmed against him; but he
might do much to the cause of England if he were left with a hesitating
court to plant a word here and a purse of gold there as they might be
needed. Yet what I said about astrology is true, and this very man's
firm belief in it rather tends to make the balance in my mind lean that
way; for he is keen, philosophical, worldly, learned."
"But does he really believe firmly in it?" asked Edward. "Is it not with
him a mere cloak and a pretence?"
"He has suffered it to lure him here," answered Lord Montagu, "when no
other inducement would have brought him. He will allow it to keep him
here three days longer, when in truth he is all anxiety to hurry into
France and tell the cardinal what he has discovered. I have played him
as your skilful angler plays a lively fish. Once his ruling passion
discovered, I have led him by it where I wished. It was like a ring in a
bull's nose, which he was forced to follow, with or against his will."
"Then does your lordship propose to stay three more days in Aix?" asked
the page.
"Ay, or till I receive one more note from Scaglia," answered Montagu.
"Then all will be settled irrevocably: Signor Morini may bestow himself
where he will, and we may do so likewise. You are impatient to hurry on,
I see. Impatience is youth's quality, deliberation is man's; and so, my
boy, you must keep your wishes tranquil, for I certainly shall not put
spurs to mine."
"Of course, my lord, I must only follow where you lead," answered
Edward, gayly. "I dare say your lordship believes I should bear the
delay more patiently in Venice, and I will not deny the fact; but I
suppose there is no time to go thither ere we depart."
"No, no, Ned! no!" replied Montagu. "I will not trust you near that
little siren again while we have business in hand,--at least till you
learn the great art of the present day, to let love and policy go hand
in hand and yet never let the former impede the latter."
"A difficult task," said Edward.
"Ay," answered Montagu; "and those who try it and miss often find a
bloody pillow. But here comes Morini again."
Edward immediately took his leave, and retired to obtain a chamber for
himself in the inn, where he could meditate over the conversation which
had just passed. It was satisfactory to him that his connection with
Lucette had been acknowledged. He had previously shrunk from the thought
of all mention of the subject to Lord Montagu, with the sensitive
timidity of early love; but now the ice was broken, and he feared no
more. But one point in that conversation was very painful to him. He saw
that, if Montagu did not absolutely suspect him, his lord's confidence,
which had hitherto been unbounded, was shaken. It was in vain Edward
said to himself, "These great men are bound to be suspicious." There was
a voice within him which always added, "At all events, he ought not to
suspect me."
His musings were not suffered to continue long uninterrupted, however.
Pierrot and Jacques Beaupré soon arrived with the horses. The two junior
pages of Lord Montagu--Henry Freeland and George Abbot--came to see him,
and he himself had to visit the chamber of Mr. Oakingham, a companion of
Lord Montagu's, who was travelling with him in no very well-defined
capacity. Oakingham was still ill from over-fatigue, and Edward sat
with him for some time, trying to amuse and soothe him. Thus passed the
greater part of the morning, and the two following days were fully
occupied by preparations for departure; but the thought that Lord
Montagu confided in him less still rankled in Edward's mind. He thought
he perceived evidences of doubt in many things where perhaps no doubt
existed; and he said to himself, more than once, "I cannot bear it
long." The time, however, was rapidly approaching when, according to the
custom of those days, Lord Montagu would feel it incumbent upon him to
provide for his young friend, either in the army or at the court; and
Edward resolved to wait and be patient as long as it was possible.