Once I had an elder brother who was called Captain Bourdeille, one of
the bravest and most valiant soldiers of his time. Although he was my
brother, I must praise him, for the record he made in the wars brought
him fame. He was the _gentilhomme de France_ who stood first in the
science and gallantry of arms. He was killed during the last siege of
Hesdin. My brother's parents had destined him for the career of letters,
and accordingly sent him at the age of eighteen to study in Italy, where
he settled in Ferrara because of Madame Renée de France, Duchess of
Ferrara, who ardently loved my mother. He enjoyed life at her court,
and soon fell deeply in love with a young French widow,--Mademoiselle de
La Roche,--who was in the suite of Madame de Ferrara.
They remained there in the service of love, until my father, seeing that
his son was not following literature, ordered him home. She, who loved
him, begged him to take her with him to France and to the court of
Marguerite of Navarre, whom she had served, and who had given her to
Madame Renée when she went to Italy upon her marriage. My brother, who
was young, was greatly charmed to have her companionship, and conducted
her to Pau. The Queen was glad to welcome her, for the young widow was
handsome and accomplished, and indeed considered superior in _esprit_ to
the other ladies of the court.
After remaining a few days with my mother and grandmother, who were
there, my brother visited his father. In a short time he declared that
he was disgusted with letters, and joined the army, serving in the wars
of Piedmont and Parma, where he acquired much honor in the space of five
or six months; during which time he did not revisit his home. At the end
of this period he went to see his mother at Pau. He made his reverence
to the Queen of Navarre as she returned from vespers; and she, who was
the best princess in the world, received him cordially, and taking his
hand, led him about the church for an hour or two. She demanded news
regarding the wars of Piedmont and Italy, and many other particulars, to
which my brother replied so well that she was greatly pleased with him.
He was a very handsome young man of twenty-four years. After talking
gravely and engaging him in earnest conversation, walking up and down
the church, she directed her steps toward the tomb of Mademoiselle de La
Roche, who had been dead for three months. She stopped here, and again
took his hand, saying, "My cousin" (thus addressing him because a
daughter of D'Albret was married into our family of Bourdeille; but of
this I do not boast, for it has not helped me particularly), "do you not
feel something move below your feet?"
"No, Madame," he replied.
"But reflect again, my cousin," she insisted.
My brother answered, "Madame, I feel nothing move. I stand upon a solid
stone."
"Then I will explain," said the Queen, "without keeping you longer in
suspense, that you stand upon the tomb and over the body of your poor
dearly-loved Mademoiselle de La Roche, who is interred here; and that
our friends may have sentiment for us at our death, render a pious
homage here. You cannot doubt that the gentle creature, dying so
recently, must have been affected when you approached. In remembrance I
beg you to say a paternoster and an Ave Maria and a de profundis, and
sprinkle holy water. Thus you will win the name of a very faithful lover
and a good Christian."
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