PAUL-EMILE.
"Oh! silence, gentlemen," said, the prince, "do not be more content than
I am at my good fortune. I am enchanted not to be dead, you may well
believe; and yet, if you had not recognized me, I should not have been
the first to boast of being alive."
"What! monseigneur," cried Henri, "you recognized me--you found yourself
among a troop of Frenchmen, and would have left us to mourn your loss,
without undeceiving us?"
"Gentlemen, besides a number of reasons which made me wish to preserve
my incognito, I confess that I should not have been sorry, since I was
believed to be dead, to hear what funeral oration would have been
pronounced over me."
"Monseigneur!"
"Yes; I am like Alexander of Macedon; I make war like an artist, and
have as much self-love; and I believe I have committed a fault."
"Monseigneur," said Henri, lowering his eyes, "do not say such things."
"Why not? The pope only is infallible, and ever since Boniface VIII.
that has been disputed."
"See to what you exposed us, monseigneur, if any of us had given his
opinion on this expedition, and it had been blamed."
"Well, why not? do you think I have not blamed myself, not for having
given battle, but for having lost it."
"Monseigneur, this goodness frightens me; and will your highness permit
me to say that this gayety is not natural. I trust your highness is not
suffering."
A terrible cloud passed over the prince's face, making it as black as
night.
"No," said he, "I was never better, thank God, than now, and I am glad
to be among you all."
The officers bowed.
"How many men have you, Du Bouchage?" asked he.
"One hundred, monseigneur."
"Ah! a hundred out of ten thousand; that is like the defeat at Cannes.
Gentlemen, they will send a bushel of your rings to Antwerp, but I doubt
if the Flemish beauties could wear them, unless they had their fingers
pared by their husbands' knives, which, I must say, cut well."
"Monseigneur," replied Henri, "if our battle was like the battle of
Cannes, at least we are more lucky than the Romans, for we have
preserved our Paulus-Emilius!"
"On my life, gentlemen, the Paulus-Emilius of Antwerp was Joyeuse; and
doubtless, to preserve the resemblance with his heroic model to the end,
your brother is dead, is he not, Du Bouchage?"
Henri felt wounded at this cold question.
"No, monseigneur, he lives," replied he.
"Ah! so much the better," said the duke, with his icy smile. "What! our
brave Joyeuse lives! Where is he, that I may embrace him?"
"He is not here, monseigneur."
"Ah! wounded?"
"No, monseigneur, he is safe and sound."
"But a fugitive like me, wandering, famished, and ashamed. Alas! the
proverb is right--'For glory, the sword; after the sword, blood; after
blood, tears.'"
"Monseigneur, I am happy to tell your highness that my brother has been
happy enough to save three thousand men, with whom he occupies a large
village about seven leagues from here, and I am acting as scout for
him."
The duke grew pale.
"Three thousand men! he has saved three thousand men! he is a perfect
Xenophon, and it is very lucky for me that my brother sent him to me. It
is not the Valois who can take for their motto 'Hilariter.'"
"Oh! monseigneur," said Henri, sadly, seeing that this gayety hid a
somber jealousy.
"It is true, is it not, Aurilly?" continued the duke; "I return to
France like Francois after the battle of Pavia; all is lost but honor.
Ah! ah!"
A sad silence received these laughs, more terrible than sobs.
"Monseigneur," said Henri, "tell me how the tutelary genius of France
saved your highness."
"Oh! dear comte, the tutelary genius of France was occupied with
something else, and I had to save myself."
"And how, monseigneur?"
"By my legs."
No smile welcomed this joke, which the duke would certainly have
punished with death if made by another.
"Yes, yes," he continued; "how we ran! did we not, my brave Aurilly?"
"Every one," said Henri, "knows the calm bravery and military genius of
your highness, and we beg you not to distress us by attributing to
yourself faults which you have not. The best general is not invincible,
and Hannibal himself was conquered at Zama."
"Yes, but Hannibal had won the battles of Trebia, Thrasymene, and
Cannes, while I have only won that of Cateau-Cambresis; it is not enough
to sustain the comparison."
"But monseigneur jests when he says he ran away."
"No, I do not. Pardieu! do you see anything to jest about, Du Bouchage?"
"Could any one have done otherwise?" said Aurilly.
"Hold your tongue, Aurilly, or ask the shade of St. Aignan what could
have been done."
Aurilly hung his head.
"Ah! you do not know the history of St. Aignan. I will tell it to you.
Imagine, then, that when the battle was declared to be lost, he
assembled 500 horse, and, instead of flying like the rest, came to me
and said. 'We must attack them, monseigneur.' 'What! attack?' said I;
'they are 100 to one.' 'Were they 1,000 to one, I would attack them,'
replied he, with a hideous grimace. 'Attack if you please,' said I; 'I
do not.' 'Give me your horse, and take mine,' said he: 'mine is
fresh--yours is not; and as I do not mean to fly, any horse is good for
me.' And then he took my white horse and gave me his black one, saying,
'Prince, that horse will go twenty leagues in four hours if you like.'
Then, turning to his men, he cried, 'Come, gentlemen, follow me--all
those who will not turn their backs;' and he rode toward the enemy with
a second grimace, more frightful than the first. He thought he should
have met men, but he met water instead, and St. Aignan and his paladins
were lost. Had he listened to me, instead of performing that act of
useless foolhardiness, we should have had him at this table, and he
would not have been making, as he probably now is, a grimace still
uglier than the first."
A thrill of horror ran through the assembly.
"This wretch has no heart," thought Henri. "Oh! why does his misfortune
and his birth protect him from the words I long to say to him?"
"Gentlemen," said Aurilly, in a low voice--for he felt the effect these
words had produced--"you see how monseigneur is affected; do not heed
what he says, for since his misfortune I think he has really moments of
delirium."
"And so," continued the duke, emptying his glass, "that is how St.
Aignan is dead and I alive. However, in dying he did me a last service,
for it was believed, as he rode my horse, that it was me, and this
belief spread not only among the French, but among the Flemings, who
consequently ceased their pursuit; but reassure yourselves, gentlemen,
we shall have our revenge, and I am mentally organizing the most
formidable army that ever existed."
"Meanwhile, monseigneur," said Henri, "will your highness take the
command of my men? It is not fit that I should continue to do so when
you are here."
"So be it; and, first, I order every one to sup, particularly you, Du
Bouchage--you have eaten nothing."
"Monseigneur, I am not hungry."
"In that case return to visit the posts. Tell the chiefs that I live,
but beg them not to rejoice too openly until we gain a better citadel,
or rejoin the army of our invincible Joyeuse, for I confess I do not
wish to be taken now, after having escaped from fire and water."
"Monseigneur, you shall be strictly obeyed, and no one shall know
excepting ourselves that we have the honor of your company among us."
"And these gentlemen will keep the secret?" said the duke, looking
round.
All bowed, and Du Bouchage went out.
It only required an hour for this fugitive, this conquered runaway, to
become again proud, careless, and imperious. To command 100 men or
100,000 men, was still to command.
While Du Bouchage executed his orders with the best grace he could,
Francois asked questions. He was astonished that a man of the rank of Du
Bouchage had consented to take the command of this handful of men, and
of such a perilous expedition. The duke was always suspicious, and
asked, therefore, and learned that the admiral had only yielded to his
brother's earnest request. It was the ensign who gave this
information--he who had been superseded in his command by Henri himself,
as Henri had been by the duke.
The prince fancied he detected a slight irritation in this man's mind
against Du Bouchage; therefore he continued to interrogate him.
"But," said he, "what was the comte's reason for soliciting so earnestly
such a poor command?"
"First, zeal for the service, no doubt."
"First!--what else?"
"Ah! monseigneur, I do not know."
"You deceive me--you do know."
"Monseigneur, I can give only, even to your highness, public reasons."
"You see," said the duke, turning to the others, "I was quite right to
hide myself, gentlemen, since there are in my army secrets from which I
am excluded."
"Ah! monseigneur," said the ensign, "you misunderstand me; there are no
secrets but those which concern M. du Bouchage. Might it not be, for
example, that, while serving the general interests, he might have wished
to render a service to some friend or relation by escorting him?"
"Who here is a friend or relation of the comte? Tell me, that, I may
embrace him."
"Monseigneur," said Aurilly, mixing in the conversation, "I have
discovered a part of the secret. This relation whom M. du Bouchage
wished to escort is--a lady."
"Ah! ah! why did they not tell me so frankly. That dear Henri--it is
quite natural. Let us shut our eyes to the relation, and speak of her no
more."
"You had better not, monseigneur, for there seems a great mystery."
"How so?"
"Yes, the lady, like the celebrated Bradamante, about whom I have so
often sung to your highness, disguises herself in the dress of a man."
"Oh! monseigneur," cried the ensign, "M. du Bouchage seems to me to have
a great respect for this lady, and probably would be very angry at any
indiscretion.'"
"Doubtless, monsieur; we will be mute as sepulchers--as mute as poor St.
Aignan; only, if we see the lady, we will try not to make grimaces at
her. Where is this lady, Aurilly?"--"Upstairs."
"Upstairs! what, in this house?"
"Yes, monseigneur; but hush! here is M. du Bouchage."
"Hush!" said the prince, laughing.