The consequence of fishing in troubled water.
We must now return to the two worthy personages whom we left jogging on
towards the Chateau of St. Loup, taking them up at the precise place
where we set them down.
"_Bon gré mal gré va le prêtre au séné_," grumbled the Norman.
"Remember, Madame Louise, I take you with no good-will: you insist upon
going; so now if you meet with any thing disagreeable, it is your own
fault,--mark that, _ma poule_."
"I'm no more afraid of the Devil than yourself," answered Louise pertly;
"and I suppose I shall meet with no one worse than he is."
"You may," replied the Norman; "but come on, it gets late, and we have
no time to spare."
The tone of Marteville was not very encouraging; but Louise was resolved
not to lose sight of her husband, and being by nature as bold as a lion,
she followed on without fear. True it is, that she did not know the
whole history of the Sorcerer's Grove, or perhaps she might have felt
some of those imaginary terrors from which hardly a bosom in France was
altogether free: although Louise, bred up by Madame de Beaumont, whose
strong and masculine mind rejected most of the errors of that age, had
perhaps less of the superstition of the day than any other person of her
own class.
The first approach to the Sorcerer's Grove was any thing but terrifying.
The road, winding gently down the slope of the hill, entered the forest
between some fine tall trees, which rising out of a tract of scanty
underwood and open ground, with considerable spaces between each of the
boughs, afforded plenty of room for the rich sun to pour his rays
between, and to chequer the green shadows of the wood with intervals of
golden light. Every here and there, also, the declining sunbeams caught
upon the old knotted trunks, and on the angles of the broken ground on
either side, enlivening the scene without taking from its repose; and
at the bottom of the hill, seen through the arch of boughs which
canopied the way, appeared a bright mass of sunshine, with a glimpse of
the sky beyond, where a larger open space than ordinary gave free access
to the day. From this spot, however, the road, entering the deeper part
of the wood, took a direction towards the old Château of St. Loup; and
here the trees, growing closer together, began to shut out the rays;
gloom and darkness spread over the path, and the rocks rising up into
high broken banks on each side, cut off even the scanty light which
glided between the thick branches above. At the same time, the whole
scenery assumed a wilder and more desolate character, and the windings
of the road round the base of the hill prevented the eye from catching
even a glimpse of the prospect beyond.
Here, strewed upon the path, lay great masses of green mouldy rock,
fallen from the banks on each side, evincing plainly how seldom the foot
of man traversed its solitude; there again a mundic stream, blood-red,
flowed across and tinged all the earth around with its own unseemly hue;
while long brambles and creeping shrubs, dropping with chill dew, grew
at the base of the rocks on either side, and shooting out their thorny
arms, caught the feet of the horses as they passed. The deep solitude,
the profound silence, the shadow of the overhanging woods, and the
sombre gloom of every object around, began to have their effect on the
mind of Louise, and notwithstanding her native boldness of heart, she
set herself to conjure up more than one unpleasing vision. Her fears,
however, were more of the living than the dead; and having now, against
her nature, kept silence a long while, out of respect to the angry
humour of her dearly beloved husband, she ventured to assert that it
looked quite a place for robbers, and added a hope that they should not
meet any.
"Pardie! I hope we shall!" replied the Norman. "Those you call robbers
are _fort honnêtes gens_: they are merely gentlemen from the wars, as I
am myself: soldiers at free quarters, who have ever had a right
prescriptive to levy their pay with their own hand. I beg that you will
speak respectfully of them."
Louise looked at her husband with an inquiring glance, not very well
knowing whether to take his speech seriously, or merely as a jest; but
there was nothing mirthful in the countenance of Monsieur Marteville,
who, out of humour with his fair lady for persisting to accompany him,
was in no mood for jesting. At this moment a whistle was heard in the
wood, so like the note of a bird, that Louise was deceived, and would
have taken no farther notice of the sound, had not her companion applied
his hand to his lips and imitated it exactly.
"What is that?" demanded Louise, upon whose mind a thousand undefined
suspicions were crowding fast: "What noise is that in the wood?"
"It's only a _pivert_," replied the Norman with a grim smile, in the
effort of which the scar upon his lip drew the corner of his mouth
almost into his eye.
"A _pivert_!" replied Louise: "No, no, that is not the cry of a
woodpecker--you are cheating me."
"Well, you will see," replied Marteville; "I'll make him come out." So
saying, he repeated the same peculiar whistle, and then drawing in his
rein, shook himself in the saddle, loosened his sword in the sheath, and
laid his hand on one of his holsters, as a man who prepares for an
encounter, of the event of which he is not quite certain whether it will
be for peace or war.
His whistle was again returned, and a moment after the form of a man was
seen protruding itself through the trees that crowned the high bank
under which they stood. His rusty iron morion, his still rustier
cuirass, his weather-beaten countenance and dingy apparel, formed
altogether an appearance so similar to the trunks of the trees amongst
which he stood, that he would have been scarcely distinguishable, had it
not been for the effort to push his way through the lower branches, the
rustling of which, and a few falling stones forced over the edge of the
rock at his approach, drew the eye more particularly to the spot where
he appeared. In his hand he carried a firelock, which, by a natural
impulse, was pointed at the Norman the moment he perceived a doublet of
blue velvet--as the fowling-piece of a sportsman is instinctively
carried to his shoulder, on the rising of a partridge or a grouse. But
Monsieur Marteville was prepared for all such circumstances; and drawing
the pistol which hung at his saddle-bow, and which, if one might judge
by length, would carry a mile at least, he pointed directly towards the
rusty gentleman above described, crying out, "_Eh bien, l'ami! Eh bien!_
Do you shoot your friends like woodcocks? or have you forgotten me?"
"_Nom de Dieu!_" cried the man above: "_Je vous en demande mille
pardons, et mille, Monsieur le Capitaine._ I'll come down to you
directly. Christi! I had nearly given you a ball! But I'll come down!"
While the robber was putting this promise in execution, Marteville
whispered a few words of consolation to Louise, bidding her not be
afraid, that they were _fort honnêtes gens, très aimables_ to their
friends, _et cetera_; but seeing that his words produced no effect, and
that the unfortunate girl, beginning to comprehend the nature of his
character, had burst into tears of bitter regret, he muttered a curse or
two, not loud, but deep; and without any farther effort to allay her
fears, sat whistling on his horse, till the robber, half sliding, half
running, managed to descend from the eminence on which he had first
appeared.
"_Eh bien_, Callot," said Monsieur Marteville to his former companion,
"how goes it with the troop?"
"But badly," replied Callot: "What with one devilry or another, we have
but half a dozen left."
"And where is Pierrepont Le Blanc?" demanded the Norman: "Could not he
keep you together?"
"Oh! we have sent him to the kingdom of moles," answered the robber,
twisting his face into a most horrible grin. "First he quarrelled with
one, and then he quarrelled with another; and then, as he was captain,
and had the purse, he bethought him of taking himself off with all the
treasure. But we caught him on the road; and so, as I have said, we sent
the buccaneer on an embassy to the kingdom of moles. After that, there
were two of us shot near Epernay, by a party of the Guard; and then six
more went to see what could be gathered upon the road to Perpignan, and
one was taken and hanged at Troyes; so that there are but myself and
five others of the old band left."
"And quite enough too, if you had a bold leader," replied the Norman.
"But where do you roost, _mes jolis oiseaux_?"
"No, no; we do not perch now," answered the robber; "we go to earth.
Under the old castle here, are the most beautiful vaults in the world;
and I defy Beelzebub himself to nose us, when we are hidden there."
"But why not take to the château itself? Is it so far decayed?"
"Nay," replied the other, "for that matter, it is as good a nest as any
one would wish to house in: but it is not quite so forsaken as folks
think. We did put up there at first; but one night, while all of our
party were out but three--being myself and two others who stayed--we
heard suddenly the sound of horses, and looking out, we saw by the
twilight five stout cavaliers dismount in the court; and up they marched
to the very room where we were sitting, so that we had scarce time to
bundle up our things and to cover. And there they sat for four good
hours; while we were shut up in the little watch-tower next to them,
with no way to get out, and no powder but what was in our carbines, or
mayhap we should have given them a dose or two of leaden pills, for at
first we thought they were on the look-out for our band. But presently
after, up came another, and then they all set to, to talk high treason.
I could not well hear, for the door was so thick, and we dared not move;
but I know they spoke of a treaty with Spain, and bringing in Spanish
troops into France. Since then, we have kept to the vaults, for fear of
being nosed."
"Well, Louise," whispered the Norman, turning to the _soubrette_, "you
see I did not come here for no purpose. It is this treaty with Spain I
want to find out; and if I do, our fortune is made for ever, and you
will eat off gold, and drink out of gold, and be as happy as a
princess!"
The prospects which her husband held out, and which might certainly be
called golden, were not without their effect on Louise; but still his
evident familiarity with the gentleman in the rusty steel coat did not
at all suit her ideas of propriety, nor were the matters which they
discussed in the least to her taste; but as remonstrance was in vain,
and she began to perceive that the influence of her tears was not very
great, she resigned herself to her fate in silence.
Several more questions and replies passed between the Norman and his
ancient comrade, which, as they tend to throw no light upon this
history, shall not find a place therein. At length Monsieur Callot, in
as hospitable and courtly a strain as he could assume, requested the
pleasure of Monsieur Marteville's company to spend the evening in the
vaults of the old chateau, if he had not grown too fine, by living among
the great, to associate with his old friends. In return for this, the
worthy Norman assured him, that he never was so happy as when he was in
their society, accepted the invitation with pleasure, and begged to
introduce his wife. Callot would fain have offered his salute to the
lips of the fair lady, and had mounted on a huge stone beside her horse
for that purpose; but Louise repulsed him with the dignity of a duchess,
and Callot did not press the matter farther, merely giving a shrewd wink
of the eye and screw of the under-jaw, as much as to say, "she's nice,
it seems," and then led the way towards the present abode of
Marteville's old band.
The road which he took, wound through the very depth of the wood towards
that side of the hill which, looking over the wide extent of
forest-ground lying between the old castle and the high road to Troyes,
seemed to offer nothing but dark inaccessible precipices, from the
shallow stream that ran bubbling at its base to the walls of the ruin
above. Crossing the rivulet, however, which did not rise higher than the
horses' knees, the robber led the way round a projecting mass of rock,
that seemed to have been forcibly riven from the rest, and which, though
it left space enough for the horses to turn, would have effectually
concealed them from the sight of any one who might be in the wood.
The two sides of the hill next to the village of Mesnil, and the ridge
of rising ground on which it was situated, sloped easily into the
valleys around, and were covered with a rich and glowing vegetation; but
on the northern as well as the western side, which the Norman and his
companions now approached, the rock offered a very different character,
and one, indeed, extremely rare in that part of the country.
Wherever the eye turned, nothing presented itself but flat surfaces of
cold grey stone, with the deep markings of the rifts and hollows which
separated them from each other. Occasionally, indeed, a patch of thin
vegetable earth, accumulating on any point that offered the means of
support, yielded a slight gleam of verdure, so poor in hue, and so
limited in extent, that it seemed alone to rival the lichens and stains
of the rocks around, and to serve but as a mockery of the naked crag
that bore it. Here and there too, a black antique pine, fixing its
sturdy roots in the bleakest pinnacles, would be seen to start boldly
out, as if to brave the tempests, that, sweeping over the oaks in the
forest below, spent their full fury on its more ambitious head. The
principal objects, however, that attracted attention, were the multitude
of deep fissures and hollows which presented themselves at every point,
and the immense blocks of stone which, scattered about round the base of
the rock, offered plentiful means of concealment to any one who might
there seek to baffle a pursuer.
Turning, as we have said, round the base of one of these large masses,
the robber uttered three loud whistles, to give notice that it was a
friend approached; and immediately after, from a cavern, the mouth of
which was concealed in one of the fissures above-mentioned, came forth
two figures, whose wild apparel corresponded very well with that of
their companion.
"_Morbleu! Monsieur Marteville!_" cried one of them, the moment he
recognised the Norman, "_est-ce vous? Soyez le bien venu!_ Come at a
lucky moment for some of the best wine of Bonne! The _Gros St.
Nicholas_--you remember our old companion--has just returned from the
Chemin de Troyes, where he met two charitable monks, who, out of pure
benevolence, bestowed upon him three paniers of good wine and twelve
broad pieces; though they threatened to excommunicate him, and the two
who were with him, for holding steel poniards to their throats while
they did their alms. However, you are heartily welcome, and the more so
if you are come to stay with us."
"We will talk of that presently," said the Norman. "But in the first
place, good friends, tell me, can one get up to the castle above, which,
Callot says, is habitable yet? for here is my wife, who is not much used
to dwell in vaults, and may like a lodging above ground better."
"Oh, certainly! Madame shall be accommodated," said the last speaker,
who seemed to be more civilized than good Monsieur Callot. "Our own
dwelling is well enough; but if she so please, I will show you up the
staircase which leads from the vaults to the court above. However, I
hope she will stay to partake of our supper, which is now before the
fire, as you shall see."
"She shall come down again," said the Norman, dismounting, and lifting
Louise out of the saddle, "and will thank you for your good cheer, for
we have ridden far." So saying, he followed into the cave, which at
first presented nothing but the natural ruggedness of the rock; but at
that spot where the daylight began to lose its effect in the increasing
darkness of the cavern, one might perceive, though with difficulty, that
it assumed the form of a regular arch cased with masonry; and in a
moment or two, as they proceeded groping their way after the robber,
they were warned that there were steps: mounting these, and turning to
the left, they discerned, at a little distance in advance, a bright red
light streaming from behind a projecting angle, which itself remained in
utter obscurity. The robber here went on first, and they heard him
announce in a loud and jocular tone, "_Le Sieur Marteville, et Madame sa
femme!_" with as much ceremony as if he had been heralding them into the
presence of royalty.
"_Bah! vous plaisantez!_" cried a thick merry voice, seeming as if it
issued from the midst of stewed prunes. But the Norman advancing, bore
evidence of the truth of the other's annunciation, and was instantly
caught in the arms of the Gros St. Nicolas, as he was called; who
merited, at least, the appellation of _gros_, though with the sanctity
he appeared to have but little to do. He was fat, short, and
protuberant, with a face as round as the full moon, and as rosy as a
peony. In fact, he seemed much better fitted for a burgess or a priest,
an innkeeper or an alderman, than for the thin and meagre trade of a
cut-purse, which seldom leaves any thing but bones to be hanged at last.
However, he bore him jollily; and, when the party entered, was, with
morion and breast-plate thrown aside, engaged in basting a large quarter
of venison, which smoked before a stupendous fire, whose blaze
illuminated all the wide vault, which formed their _salle à manger_ and
kitchen both in one.
"_Est-il possible?_" cried the Gros St. Nicolas, embracing our Norman,
whose companion he had been for many years both in honourable and
dishonourable trades;--"_Mon ami! Mon Capitaine! Mon Brave! Mon Prince!
Enfin, Mon Normand!_"
Quitting the ecstasies of the Gros St. Nicolas at meeting once more with
his friend, and the formalities of his introduction to Louise, we shall
only say that, according to the request of the Norman, one of the
freebooters led the way up a circular staircase in the rock, which soon
brought them into the open air, through a small arch entering upon the
court of the old castle. Here Marteville, having marked all the peculiar
turns which they had taken, with the accuracy which his former life had
taught, bade good day to their guide, promising to rejoin the party
below by the time the venison was roasted; and finding that more than an
hour of daylight yet remained, he proceeded with Louise to explore the
remains of the château.
The little attentions he had lately paid, had greatly conciliated his
fair lady; and though still somewhat disposed to pout, she suffered him
to explain his views with a tolerable degree of placability. "You must
know, _ma charmante Louise_," said he, "that there is a tremendous plot
going on against the Government; and that Monsieur de Chavigni has
intrusted me to discover it. You heard what Callot said, concerning a
treaty with Spain. Now I have always understood, that when these secret
treaties are formed, a copy is deposited in some uninhabited place for
greater security. You see, I have traced Fontrailles to this castle, and
it is evident that here he met the other conspirators: now where, then,
can they have secreted the treaty but somewhere about here? So now,
Louise, help me to find this paper, if it is to be found; and then we
will soon quit these men, of whom you seem so much afraid, and go and
live like princes on the fortune that Chavigni has promised."
To this long speech of her husband, which he accompanied with sundry
little caresses, Louise replied, in a tone still half sulky, that she
was ready to seek the paper, but that she did not see how they could
find it, with nothing to guide them in the search. But nevertheless,
when they did seriously begin their perquisitions, she displayed all
that sagacity in discovering a secret which women instinctively possess.
Of course, the first place to which they particularly directed their
inquiries was the chamber in which, according to the account of Callot,
the meeting of the conspirators had been held.
Here they looked in every nook and corner, turned over every heap of
rubbish, examined the chairs and the table of old _Père Le Rouge_, and
having gone over every inch of the apartment, began anew and went over
it all again. At length Louise, seemingly tired of her search in that
chamber, left her husband to pursue it as he pleased, and sitting down
in one of the settles, began to hum a Languedoc air, beating time with
her fingers on the table.
"Pardie!" cried the Norman, after having hunted for some time in vain:
"it is not here, that is certain!"
"Yes, it is!" said Louise, very quietly continuing to beat time on the
table; "it is in this very room."
"_Nom de Dieu!_ where is it then?" cried Monsieur Marteville.
"It is here, in the inside of this hollow piece of wood," answered
Louise, tapping the table with her knuckles, which produced that sort of
empty echoing sound that evinced it was not so solid as it appeared.
The Norman now approached, and soon convincing himself that Louise was
right, he took her in his arms and gave her a kiss that made the ruin
echo. The next thing was to get into the drawer, or whatsoever it was,
that occupied the interior of the table; but this not proving very easy,
the impatient Norman set it upright upon one end, and drawing his sword,
soon contrived to cleave it through the middle; when, to the delight of
the eyes that looked upon it, appeared a large cavity neatly wrought in
the wood, containing a packet of vellum folded, and sealed at all
corners in blue and yellow wax, with neat pieces of floss-silk to keep
it all together. The Norman could have eaten it up; and Louise, with a
degree of impatient curiosity peculiarly her own, was already fingering
one of the seals, about to break it open, when Marteville stopped her
with a tremendous oath. "What are you going to do?" cried he: "you know
little what it is to pry into State secrets. If you had opened that
seal, instead of having perhaps a reward of twenty thousand crowns, we
should both have been sent to the Bastille for the rest of our lives."
Louise dropped the packet in dismay; and the Norman continued, "Did you
never hear of the Abbé de Langy, who happening to be left by Monsieur de
Richelieu in his private cabinet only for five minutes, with some State
papers on the table, was sent to the Bastille for twelve years, merely
for fear he had read them? No, no; this must go to Monsieur Chavigni
without so much as cracking the wax."
"Could not we just look in at the end?" demanded Louise, looking
wistfully at the packet, which her husband had now picked up. But upon
this he put a decided negative; and having now succeeded to his heart's
content, the burly Norman, in the exuberance of his joy, began singing
and capering till the old pile both echoed and shook with his gigantic
gambols. "_Ma Louise_," cried he at length, "_vous êtes fatiguée. Je
vais vous porter_;" and catching her up in his arms, notwithstanding all
remonstrance, he carried her like a feather into the court-yard, through
the narrow arch, and threading all the intricacies of the vaults with
the same sagacious facility with which a ferret glides through the
windings of a warren, he bore her safely and in triumph into the _salle
à manger_ of the honourable fraternity below. This was not the mode of
progression which Louise most admired, nor was she very much gratified
at being exhibited to her husband's old friends in so ungraceful an
attitude; and the consequences, of course, were, that she would
willingly have torn his eyes out had she dared.
However, Monsieur Callot, Le Gros St. Nicolas, and others, applied
themselves successfully to soothe her ruffled spirits; and the venison
being ready, and a long table laid, each person drew forth their knife,
and soon committed infinite havoc on the plump haunch which was placed
before them. The wine succeeded, and then that water of life which very
often ends in death. All was hilarity and mirth, song, jest, and
laughter. Gradually, one barrier after another fell, as cup succeeded
cup. Each one told his own story, without regard to the rest; each one
sang his own song; each one cracked his own joke. Louise had retired to
a settle by the side of the fire, but still mingled in the conversation,
when it could be called such; and Monsieur Callot, somewhat full of
wine, and a good deal smitten with her charms, plied her with
assiduities rather more perhaps than was necessary. In the mean time,
the Gros St. Nicolas, running over with brandy and good spirits, kept
jesting the Norman upon some passages of his former life, which might as
well have been passed over and forgotten. "Madame!" cried he at length,
turning round towards Louise, with an overflowing goblet in his hand,
and his broad face full of glee, "I have the honour of drinking to your
health, as the fifth spouse of our good friend Monsieur de Marteville;
and let me assure you, that of the three that are living and the two
that are dead, you are the most beautiful beyond compare!"
Up started Louise in an agony of indignation, and forth she poured upon
the Gros St. Nicolas a torrent of vituperation for jesting upon such a
subject. But on his part he only shrugged his shoulders, and declared
that he did not jest at all. "_Mon Dieu!_" said he, "it is very
unreasonable to suppose that Monsieur Marteville, who is as big as five
men, should be contented with one wife. Besides, it is _très agréable_
to have a wife in every province; I always do so myself."
The thunder of Louise's ire, now increased in a seven-fold degree, was
turned instantly upon her dearly-beloved husband. Her eyes flashed, and
her cheek flamed, and approaching him, where he sat laughing at the
whole business, she demanded that he should exculpate himself from this
charge of pentigamy, with a tone and manner that made the Norman, who
had drunk quite enough, laugh still more. With an unheard-of exertion of
self-command, Louise kept her fingers from his face; but she burst forth
into reproaches so bitter and stinging, that Marteville's mirth was soon
converted into rage, and he looked at her with a glance which would
quickly have taught those who knew him well not to urge him farther. But
Louise went on, and wound up by declaring, that she would live with him
no longer--that she would quit him that very moment, and finding her way
to Monsieur Chavigni, would tell him all--adding, that she would soon
send the Guard to ferret out that nest of ruffians, and that she hoped
to see him hanging at the head of them. With this expression of her
intentions, Louise darted out of the vault; but the Norman, who,
speechless with rage, had sat listening to her with his teeth clenched,
and his nether lip quivering with suppressed passion, started suddenly
up, cast the settle from him with such force that it was dashed to
pieces against the wall, and strode after her with the awful cloud of
determined wrath settled upon his brow.
The mirth of the robbers, who knew the ungovernable nature of their
companion's passions, was now over, and each looked in the face of the
other with silent expectation. After a space, there was the murmur of
angry voices heard for a moment at the farther end of the passage; then
a loud piercing shriek rang through the vault; and then all was silence.
A momentary sensation of horror ran through the bosoms of even the
ferocious men whose habits rendered them familiar with almost every
species of bloodshed. But this was new and strange amongst them, and
they waited the return of the Norman with feelings near akin to awe.
At length, after some time, he came, with a firm step and unblenching
brow, but with a haggard wildness in his eye which seemed to tell that
remorse was busy with his heart. However, he sat him down without any
allusion to the past, and draining off a cup of wine, strove laboriously
after merriment. But it was in vain; the mirth of the whole party was
evidently forced; and Marteville soon took up another strain, which
accorded better with the feelings of the moment. He spoke to them of the
dispersion of the band, which had taken place since he left them;
announced his intention of joining them again; and drawing forth a
purse containing about a thousand livres, he poured them forth upon the
table, declaring them to be his first offering to the treasury.
This magnificent donation, which came in aid of their finances at a
moment when such a recruit was very necessary, called forth loud shouts
of applause from the freemen of the forest; and the Gros St. Nicolas
starting up, addressed the company much to the following effect:
"Messieurs--every one knows that I am St. Nicolas, and no one will deny
that I am surrounded by a number of goodly clerks. But although in my
saintly character I will give up my clerical superiority to nobody; yet
it appears to me, that our society requires some lay commander;
therefore I, your bishop, do propose to you to elect and choose the
Sieur Marteville, here present, to be our king, and captain in the wars,
in room of the Sieur Pierrepont Le Blanc, who, having abdicated without
cause, was committed to the custody of the great receiver-general--the
earth, by warrant of cold iron and pistol-balls. What say ye, Messieurs,
shall he be elected?"
A shout of approbation was the reply; and Marteville, having been duly
elected, took the oaths, and received the homage of his new subjects.
He then entered into a variety of plans for increasing the band,
concentrating its operations, and once more rendering it that formidable
body, which it had been in former times. All this met with the highest
approbation; but the Captain showing the most marked dislike to
remaining in the forest which they at present tenanted, and producing a
variety of reasons for moving their quarters to Languedoc, where the
neighbourhood of the court and the army offered greater facilities both
for recruiting their numbers and their purses, it was agreed that they
should disperse the next morning, and re-assemble as soon as possible,
at a certain spot well known to the whole party, about forty leagues
distant from Lyons.
This was happily effected; and the Norman, on presenting himself at the
rendezvous, had the pleasure of introducing to the band two new
associates, whom he had found the means of converting on the road.
Although abandoning himself heart and soul to the pleasures of his
resumed profession, our friend Marteville was not forgetful of the
reward he expected from Chavigni; and as his official duties prevented
his being himself the bearer of the paper he had obtained, he despatched
it to Narbonne, where the Statesman now was, by his faithful subject
Callot, with orders to demand ten thousand crowns of Monsieur de
Chavigni, as a reward for having discovered it, adding also an elaborate
epistle to the same effect.
The Norman never for a moment entertained a suspicion that the paper he
sent was any thing but the identical treaty with Spain, which the
conspirators had been heard to mention; and he doubted not that the
Statesman would willingly pay such a sum for so precious a document. But
the embassy of Monsieur Callot did not prove so fortunate as had been
anticipated. Presenting himself to Chavigni, with as much importance of
aspect as the ambassador from Siam, he tendered his credentials, and
demanded the reward, at a moment when the Statesman was irritated by a
thousand anxieties and dangers.
Making no ceremony with the fine blue and yellow wax, Chavigni, having
read the Norman's epistle, soon found his way into the inside of the
other packet, and beheld in the midst of a thousand signs and figures,
unintelligible to any but a professed astrologer, a prophetic scroll
containing some doggrel verses, which may be thus rendered into
English:--
THE FATE OF RICHELIEU.
Born beneath two mighty stars,
Mercury with Mars combined,
He shall prompt a thousand wars,
Nor live the balm of peace to find.
Less than a King, yet Kings shall fall
And tremble at his fatal sway;
Yet at life's end he shall recall
The memory of no happy day.
And the last year that he shall know,
Shall see him fall, and see him rise;
Shall see him yield, yet slay his foe,
And scarcely triumph ere he dies.
Begot in factions, nursed in strife,
Till all his troubled years be past,
Cunning and care eat up his life,--
A slave and tyrant, first and last.
PERE LE ROUGE.
Chavigni gazed at the paper in amazement, and then at the face of
Monsieur Callot, who, totally unconscious of the contents, remained
very nonchalantly expecting the reward. "Ten thousand crowns!" cried the
Statesman, giving way to his passion. "Ho! without there! take this
fellow out and flog him with your hunting whips out of Narbonne. Away
with him, and curry him well!"
The grooms instantly seized upon poor Callot, and executed Chavigni's
commands with high glee. The robber, however, though somewhat surprised,
bore his flagellation very patiently; for under the jerkin which he
wore, still lay the rusty iron corslet we have before described, which
saved him from appreciating the blows at their full value.
The matter, however, was yet to be remembered, as we shall see; for when
Callot, on his return to the forest, informed his captain what sort of
reward he had received for the packet, the Norman's gigantic limbs
seemed to swell to a still greater size with passion, and drawing his
sword he put the blade to his lips, swearing, that before twelve months
were over, it should drink Chavigni's blood: and promises of such sort
he usually kept most punctually.