Leaving the Count d'Aubin to pursue his schemes to their conclusion,
we must now follow Bartholo home to the chateau of Guery. Few were the
friends which the page possessed amongst the servants of his mistress;
but in that number was the old warder at the gate, who, warned
beforehand of the dwarfs absence, hastened to give him admittance
without noise on his return. Bartholo stabled his horse and rubbed him
down with his own small hands, and then, entering by a side-door,
passed through the great hall, which was lighted by one of the large
paper globes of the time--not at all unlike a Chinese lantern--and
picking his steps through the midst of the straw mattresses upon
which, as was then customary, several of the inferior servants were
sleeping, he made his way towards a staircase leading to the room
which had been appropriated to himself during the illness of the Count
d'Aubin, and he had now resumed. Opening the door, he entered,
congratulating himself upon not having been seen, when suddenly he was
seized on either side, and held fast to prevent him from using his
dagger, while some one at the farther end of the chamber drew a screen
from before a concealed lamp, and Bartholo found himself in the hands
of the major-domo and two stout grooms, who, with little compassion
and less ceremony, proceeded to bind him tightly hand and foot.
The dwarf asked not a question, and said not a word; and the old
_maître d'hôtel_, though loving him but little, refrained from any
expression of triumph, merely directing the grooms to watch him well
and not molest him, and then left him for the night. Early the next
morning the cords were slackened upon his ankles, and he was brought
into the presence of his mistress, whose quivering lip and flashing
eye told how much her anger was roused against him.
"Bartholo, you have deceived me!" she said; "you have basely deceived
me!"
"Those who suspect without cause," answered the dwarf, doggedly, "will
always be deceived in the end, and will deserve it."
"And do you think me so weak a being," asked Beatrice, sternly, "as to
believe that he who could practise the piece of knavery which you
executed last night is innocent of foregone deceits? No, poor fool,
no! and even were it not that--as is ever the case with favourites in
disgrace--the whole household is pouring forth tales of thy former
treason now that it no longer avails me to know it, I should still
feel as certain of your guilt as I am of living and breathing, and
should only daily look for the instances of your knavery. I seek not,
man, to make you own either your former or your present baseness; all
I seek to know is your motive. Tell me, were you bribed to divulge my
secrets and thwart my plans? Were you hired to betray the mistress
that trusted and befriended you?"
"No man does anything without the hope of recompense," replied the
dwarf, "nor woman either."
"I should have thought," answered Beatrice, in a tone of bitter but
sorrowful reproach, "that no recompense would have been sufficient to
bribe you to sting the hand which cherished you when all the rest of
the world either scorned or forgot you."
"You mistake me, noble lady," said the dwarf, "I see you mistake me.
There are men and women both that sell their honour for gold; but I am
not of them. There are still more, both men and women, that pawn their
virtue for less solid payment, ay, and sell even their souls for
vanity; but still no bauble was my bribe. It was neither title given
by some profligate king, nor words of flattery spoken by some vicious
lover. I had--I own it--a motive before my eyes, a recompense to look
forward to; but I choose not to speak it before these gaping fools.
Should I ever again have your ear alone, to it I may tell the cause of
all that is strange in my behaviour--if aught be strange in the
actions of man. But till then I am silent."
"Leave me!" said Beatrice, looking towards her attendants, "retire to
the ante-room--no farther!" Her commands were instantly obeyed; but
still there was many an ear eager for the sounds of what passed
farther; and those who dared, advanced close to the door, which was
not entirely closed. The dwarf's voice was heard speaking quick and
long, but in tones so low, that the eavesdroppers were all at fault.
At length, however, the voice of Beatrice exclaimed, "Madman! dared
you to entertain such a hope?"
"I entertained no hope," replied the dwarf, aloud--"I entertained no
hope, but that I might never behold you in the arms of another!"
"Here, Joachim, Annette!" cried the voice of Beatrice, and in a moment
the room where she sat was again crowded with her attendants. They
found her with the eloquent blood glowing in deep crimson through her
clear fine skin, and dying her brow and temples and neck with a blush
almost painful to behold. "Take him hence!" she cried, pointing to the
dwarf with a look of irrepressible disgust, which, as his eye marked
it, turned him deadly pale. "Take him hence!--and yet stay," she
added, addressing him--"I suppose it is vain to question you as to
what you told to him whom you went last night to visit."
A change had come over the appearance of the dwarf, which it were
difficult to describe. The paleness that had followed Beatrice's last
words remained--even his lips were blanched; and though with his white
upper teeth he bit the under lip unconsciously, no mark appeared
after, so bloodless was his whole countenance. He replied, however,
with a voice of unnatural calmness, "It is not in vain, madam, to ask
me anything you seek to know. Life is over with me,--at least, life's
hopes and fears; and I may as well tell you all, as conceal anything.
The moment that what I have dared to do was discovered, that moment I
knew that the game was lost; and it is in vain now to play a few moves
more or less."
He then, as shortly as possible, repeated the substance of what had
passed between D'Aubin and himself, in regard to Eugenie de
Menancourt's abode, and the means of securing her person, and that
concluded, calmly suffered himself to be led back to the room where he
had passed the night, and where he was now left alone.
In the meantime, Beatrice, with a hasty hand, wrote a few words on
several sheets of paper, and ordering horses to be saddled instantly,
gave the letters to the servants who were first prepared. "This to La
Loupe," she said, giving one, "for the captain of the arquebusiers;
and bid him mark within the king's own hand to the command. This to
the chatelain of Armençon. Tell him, if he cannot spare many, to send,
if it be but twenty men, well armed end mounted. This to the Lady
Eugenie, with all speed! Away, away! This purse to him who does his
errand soonest. Now, Joachim, now! you gather together all the men
that we have here, and all that are in the neighbouring town; arm them
to the teeth, and make speed! Tell me when all is ready, and lose no
time!--Away! for we must endeavour to be first on the spot, and carry
off that poor timid dove from her dovecot, ere the kite pounces upon
her. If we are too late to save her from danger, we must do our best
to rescue her, whatever befall."
Beatrice's orders were as rapidly obeyed as given; but we must deviate
a little from our general plan, and quitting the persons with whom we
have begun this chapter, turn once more to the efforts of the Count
d'Aubin; efforts which were unfortunately but too successful. The sun
had not risen half an hour ere D'Aubin was again in the saddle; and
though his horse was somewhat stiff from having passed a night in the
open air, in the midst of storm and tempest, the Count urged him on at
full speed, and never drew a rein till he was within sight of his own
paternal home.
There are feelings touched by the view of such a place, so interwoven
with all the texture of our being, that even the coarse hand of vice,
or the more cunning touch of worldly-mindedness, can hardly tear them
out; but it was not any such emotions that caused D'Aubin to stop and
gaze round him as he approached the dwelling of his fathers. It was
that, in a field close to the chateau, he beheld a man, dressed in the
costume of a German soldier, sauntering idly about, and talking to
some women who were weeding the ground. An undefined apprehension of
danger made him pause; but the next moment he spurred his horse
furiously on, and rode into the court-yard. It was filled with
reitters, who were sitting round in various attitudes, eating their
morning meal in the early sunshine. The apparition of a single
horseman, for the guide was some furlongs behind, did not seem to
disturb in the slightest degree their German phlegm; and D'Aubin was
suffered to cast his rein over a hook, and push open the great door of
the hall without one of the troopers ceasing from his pleasant
occupation, to ask the business of the intruder. The first object the
Count beheld in the hall was one of his own servants; but the next,
which rendered all question unnecessary, was a large breakfast-table,
covered with loads of meat and flagons of wine, at which sat Albert of
Wolfstrom, and one or two of the officers of his troop. The apparition
of D'Aubin was certainly unexpected, for the party of the League
believed him dead; but it required no lengthened explanations to make
him comprehend that his friend, the captain of the reitters, had
hastened with as many of his men as had escaped the bloody fight of
Ivry to take possession of the lands and chateau of Aubin, in order to
pay himself some certain thousands of crowns, won by him at play, ere
the next heir of the supposed dead count put in his claim, either by
the sword or otherwise.
As he was well aware that no party would permit of his holding long
possession of the lands, the mercenary leader had employed means to
raise the sum he claimed, which now caused some sharp and angry words
to pass between him and the count,--words which might not have ended
bloodless had D'Aubin at the moment been prepared to expel the Germans
from his dwelling: but his own retainers and domestics were dispersed;
and not above two or three of his old attendants were to be found
within the walls of the chateau. The thought of his fine old trees
felled to supply the greedy craving of the mercenary, his crops and
cattle swept away, his peasantry half ruined, did enrage him almost to
striking Wolfstrom where he stood; but in the midst of his anger he
remembered that there was but one way to clear off this and many
another similar claim upon him, and to emerge into greater splendour
and power than ever; and in that dim and misty dream of splendour and
power he fancied that the voice of conscience, and remorse, and
disappointed love, would never be heard.
"Well, well, Wolfstrom," he added, abruptly breaking off the angry
vituperation he was heaping upon the chief of the reitters, "you might
have waited a little longer; you might have proceeded a little more
moderately; but now send out and order all to be stopped instantly,
then lend me your full and active aid for this one day, and you shall
receive every farthing in gold before a week be over."
"Ay, indeed! how so?" demanded the other, somewhat doubtingly; for
Albert of Wolfstrom had nothing very confiding in his disposition. "As
to waiting, you know, sir count, that was out of the question
entirely, for we thought you dead; and as to proceeding more
moderately, you know I was obliged to make haste, for on the one hand
Mayenne might call me to Paris in a day, at any time; and on the
other, the Bearnois and your cousin might come down and turn me out;
so that I was obliged to make good use of my time. But how can I serve
you?"
"How many men have you here?" demanded D'Aubin.
"Why, not many, on my life," answered Wolfstrom; "only a hundred and
fifty. All the rest were killed or taken at that cursed Ivry. But what
do you want us to do?"
"Listen!" said D'Aubin. "I last night learned, Wolfstrom, that by a
foul scheme my promised bride was persuaded that I did not love her,
and that it was thus she was induced to fly immediately after our
marriage."
"But do you know, Monsieur d'Aubin," interrupted Wolfstrom, "that the
good folks in Paris vow, that marriage of yours was no marriage at
all; that the priest was a mad Huguenot soldier, and that----"
"Never mind all that," replied D'Aubin, "I have here a priest in the
neighbouring village who has done me some services already, and he
will bind me in half an hour to Eugenie de Menancourt by a knot that
can never be untied, without asking any questions or listening to any
objections. Only let me once have her safe within these walls!"
"Ay, but how is that to be done?" demanded Albert of Wolfstrom.
"That is what I was about to tell you," answered the count. "The same
person who informed me of the means which had been used to estrange
her affection from me, informed me also of the place of her present
dwelling. It is within six leagues of this castle, and all that is
necessary in the present case is----"
"To carry her off by a _coup de main!_" cried Wolfstrom, clapping his
hands at the sound of a project which combined, in a degree peculiarly
adapted to his palate, villany and adventure. "Bravo, sir count I
bravo! Let us about it immediately."
"Thanks, thanks, Wolfstrom, for your ready aid," replied D'Aubin. "All
that we have to do is to mount fifty men, and to lose no time; the
first, because the girl has some guards stationed round about her, and
more may be sent; the second, because the keenest eye in France is
upon her and me, and she may be removed."
"Well, well, to it at once," cried Wolfstrom, moving towards the door;
but ere he reached it he stopped, and, turning to the count said, in a
low tone, "Of course you will give my men a day's pay."
"And you a thousand crowns to boot, if we succeed," answered the
Count, who knew that there was nothing comparable to gold for
quickening his comrade's energies.
"We had better take a hundred men at once," said Wolfstrom, when he
heard that they were to be paid; "they are as soon mounted as fifty,
and we are then more sure. Fifty can stay to guard the chateau."
D'Aubin made no objection, and Wolfstrom proceeded to give his orders,
which were rapidly obeyed by the well-trained veterans still under his
command. A fresh horse was provided for D'Aubin, and another for the
guide, who, without his consent being asked, was ordered to lead the
way, with a trooper on either side, to the spot which D'Aubin
described. Two old but nimble jennets from the stable of the Count
were led in the rear; and thus the cavalcade issued from the gates of
the chateau of Aubin, and took their way towards the dwelling of the
unfortunate Eugenie de Menancourt. Scarcely had they proceeded a
league, however, when, from the edge of a gentle slope, they perceived
three horsemen galloping quickly on a road in the plain below, as if
towards the castle they had just left.
The keen eyes of Wolfstrom instantly marked them; but, after gazing at
them for a moment, he said, "They are two of my reitters whom I sent
yesterday to keep a watch on Armençon; but they have a third man with
them, and must bring news. We must take care that our retreat is not
cut off." Thus saying, he detached a trooper to intercept the horsemen
by a cross road, and bring them to him, and then halted till they
arrived. Two proved, as had been supposed, ordinary reitters of
Wolfstrom's band, but the third horseman was an armed servant; and
D'Aubin instantly recognised one of the attendants of Beatrice of
Ferrara. He was tied upon his horse, and the troopers brought him up
pistol in hand. Their report was soon made; they had found him
galloping, they said, with such speed towards the castle of Armençon
that they thought it right to stop him. He fled like the wind, and
they pursued; but at length he was overtaken, and they found upon him
a letter, which, not being able to read themselves, they were now in
the act of conveying to their leader. The paper, as may be already
seen, was the letter of Beatrice of Ferrara to the chatelain of
Armençon, and it served to show D'Aubin that his movements were
suspected, if not discovered. The servant, however, was now in such
bodily fear, that he at once informed the Count and his companion,
that another messenger had been sent for troops to La Loupe.
"What force have they there, Wolfstrom?" demanded D'Aubin. "Do you
know?"
"Certainly not two hundred men!" replied the leader of the reitters.
"Then there is, first, the probability that the commander will not
listen to the request of this wild girl," said the Count; "next, he
will certainly not dare to detach more than fifty men, and we are here
a hundred. Even if she send her own armed people, too, they cannot
amount to more than thirty, so that we shall still have great odds.
But let me see," he continued, as if a sudden thought struck him, and
turning to the servant, he asked, "When did the messenger leave Guery
for La Loupe?"
"At the same moment that I left for Armençon," replied the man.
"Then," said D'Aubin, "we shall be there full four good hours before a
soldier from La Loupe can be within a league. Let that fellow go,
Wolfstrom. You, my good man, ride back with all speed to your
mistress, present the Count d'Aubin's humble duty to her, and tell her
he is her most devoted slave! Do you hear? There is a piece of gold
for you--away!"
The man seemed doubtful if his ears heard true; but at length
convinced, he took the gold, cap in hand, and rode slowly away. In the
meantime, D'Aubin and Wolfstrom again put the troop in motion; and
riding briskly on, calculated once more between them the distance from
Guery to La Loupe, and from La Loupe to the spot whither their steps
were now directed. D'Aubin was found not to have judged amiss; for
even supposing the troops mounted and the captain willing, it appeared
that the reitters must arrive at least four hours before them. "When
we come up," said D'Aubin, as they concluded, "let your men surround
the house, at such a distance as not to be seen; yourself and five or
six others come nearer, so as to be within call; and, after
ascertaining that there is no force actually present to oppose us, I
will go on and plead my cause myself. It were better to persuade her
gently, and without frightening her, if possible; but if I find her
still obstinate, we must use a little gentle compulsion: for I am
resolved," he added, with a smile of triumph, "that by the time the
troops from La Loupe reach her late refuge, Eugenie de Menancourt
shall be in the chateau of Aubin; ay, and irretrievably the wife of
its lord!"