In the great hall of the Louvre, the princes, the nobles, and the ladies
of France--all who had a right, from their rank and station, to be
present at the great festivals of the court, and all who could by any
means obtain an invitation from the king himself--were assembled before
the hour of ten at night, on that occasion to which reference has been
made in the last chapter. The monarch himself had not yet appeared; but
one of those services which Henry principally required from his great
officers was to entertain with affability and kindness those whom the
etiquette of his court obliged him to keep waiting; and, on the night of
which we speak, the famous Marquis de Vieilleville in fact, though not
ostensibly, represented the king, and, aided by a number of other
gentlemen and officers commissioned so to do, received the court, and
endeavoured to make the time of expectation ere the sovereign's arrival
pass lightly.
Everything had been done that could be done to give splendour to the
apartments, and many of those ornaments and decorations which we
attribute to the taste of modern days, but which, in fact, have but come
back again in the constant revolutions of fashion, were displayed on
this occasion to render the scene of royal festivity bright and
exciting. Some of the rooms were blazing with light, and covered with
every sort of ornament of gold and silver: rich draperies were hanging
from the walls, banners waving over head, garlands festooning the
cornices, and music floating on the air. In others, again, by some
means, a green hue had been given to the light, and it had been shaded
and kept down to a kind of soft twilight by flowers and green branches;
while a cool wind found its way in through open casements and
well-watered plants, and a stillness reigned upon the air only broken by
the far-off sound of the music, the murmur of distant voices, and the
sighing of the night air through the gardens.
We shall pause no more, however, on the decorations of that gay scene,
inasmuch as so to do would be merely to give description without an
object; for we have no reason to assign why the reader should bear any
part thereof in mind. It is principally with the great hall we have to
do, but more especially still with the people that were in it. Shortly
after ten the king himself, with his queen, the famous Catharine de
Medicis, several of his children--among whom were three destined to be
kings, and two queens of mighty nations--entered the hall, and took his
place towards the head of the room.
It was very customary in those times to give the balls of the court in
open day; and, though it certainly would strike us as somewhat strange
to see dancing take place except by candlelight--unless, indeed, it were
upon the greensward, where the smiling look of Nature herself seems to
justify and to call for that exuberant life which she first taught in
the world's young days--yet then as gay and as merry dances as any that
we now behold, took place in the painted saloons, under the somewhat too
bright and searching eye of the sun. The whole of that morning, however,
had been spent in either business or in festivities of another kind, and
the present was one of those more rare occasions selected, as we have
said, for a ball at night.
Shortly after the king entered the room, he spoke a few words to the
young Count Duilly, then celebrated for his skill and grace in the
dance, and he, making his way to the spot where the musicians were
placed, communicated to them the orders of the king. What was called the
_Danse Royale_ was then played; and Henry himself, graceful and
distinguished in every sport and exercise, opened the ball in person.
Shortly after, another dance was played; and all who were, or believed
themselves to be, the most skilful of the court, hastened to figure in
the galliarde. Upon the execution of that marvellous performance, the
galliarde, however, perhaps the less we say the better; for it is to be
acknowledged that the various names of the wonderful steps danced--the
desportes, capriolles, turns and returns, fleurettes, close and
dispersed gamberottes, &c.--convey as little definite idea of what was
really done to our own mind as they would to the minds of most of our
readers. It was all very successful, no doubt; and there is much reason
to believe, from the account which Monsieur de Vieilleville himself
wrote on the occasion, that many a young lady's heart was pierced
through and through by the graces of particular cavaliers.
The king himself took part in the dance, as we have said, but it was a
dignified part; and, having set the example, he retired from it as
speedily as possible. When he had done he looked round, as if searching
for some face he had missed, and his eye soon fell upon the fair Duchess
of Valentinois, whom he had not beheld before; for, to say the truth,
she had just entered, taking advantage of the general movement round the
galliarde to come in without attracting much attention. Her countenance
bore an expression of such unusual gravity, that Henry himself, ere he
resumed the place in the saloon where he usually stood on such
occasions, paused and spoke to her; first playfully scolding Henrietta
de la Mark for not having joined the dancers, and then asking the
duchess, in a lower tone, if anything had gone amiss.
Diana smiled, and replied, "No, sire, nothing exactly amiss; but I have
had visiters this evening at an unusual hour, and they have been
pressing me to obtain for them an audience of your majesty on this very
night, regarding matters of much importance."
"Nay, why should that cloud your fair brow?" said the king, in the same
low tone: "I will give them audience ere I go to bed, if my so doing
will please you, bright queen of night. If they can put it off, however,
let them come to-morrow, and your name shall open the doors of the
cabinet to them, be they the lowliest in the land."
"That they are not, sire," replied Diana. "They are high enough to
present themselves here this night even unbidden; but I fear that
to-morrow will not do; for, upon your majesty's reply to them, a courier
must depart at once for the South. Still let me say, ere they come
forward--for I see them entering now--that it is not their requested
audience that makes me somewhat grave; no, nor their pressing for it at
an unseasonable hour, but it is that they come to urge upon your majesty
the selfsame suit I urged this morning; and, as I then saw that for the
first time I was doubted and suspected of art, in trying to lead rather
than to argue with my king, it may now be thought I have some share in
their coming, when, Heaven is my witness, it could take no one more by
surprise than myself."
"Nay, but what is all this?" demanded the king, in a soothing tone; and
then, suddenly turning to Mademoiselle de la Mark, he exclaimed, "Lo!
Henriette--belle Henriette! here comes Damville, all love and ambergris,
to claim your fair hand--for the dance. Go with him, lady! Now, Diana,
what is this that agitates you thus? Faith, I suspect you not, and never
have suspected. I did but smile this morning at your eagerness, though
natural enough, and to see how we kings find soft leading, and all
things prepared to bring us to that which wise or fair counsellors judge
is for our good; it is the vice of power, my Diana, it is the vice of
power! As men by years reach childhood again, so kings by power fall
into weakness. But that matters not; your wishes were for the best; and,
if there was a little management in the matter, there could be but small
offence."
"With one so placable as you are, sire," rejoined the duchess, gazing in
his face with a smile; "but the matter is this: There came to me this
night the Lord of Masseran--one of your majesty's faithful adherents in
Savoy--beseeching that I would obtain for him and for his fair lady
immediate audience of your majesty on matters that brook no delay. He,
judging wrongly that I had some little credit or influence with you,
besought me to urge upon your majesty the immediate promulgation of the
edict, so long delayed and often spoken of, concerning clandestine
marriages, and besought me to tell you the cause of his application. All
this I refused to do, telling him that on the subject of the edict I had
already done my best; that I had pleaded for myself; that I had even
pleaded in behalf of what I thought your majesty's best interest; and
that, having done so, I could not say a word for any other being on the
earth. Thus, sire, all I have to request is, that you would hear him and
judge for yourself."
The expression of Henry's face while she was speaking puzzled not a
little Diana of Poitiers. The king's brow became for a time dark and
heavy, and his eye flashed angrily. But then, again, when he saw that
the lady seemed somewhat alarmed by his look, he smiled upon her kindly,
as if to mark that any feelings of dissatisfaction which he experienced
were not directed towards herself. His real feelings were explained,
however, immediately, by his replying in the same low tone, "He is, I
believe, a most consummate villain, this Lord of Masseran; and there is
good reason to suppose he has been playing false both to France and
Savoy. He has the very look of a handsome wolf," the king continued,
turning his frowning brow to the part of the room towards which the eyes
of Diana of Poitiers directed his in search of the Lord of Masseran: "I
will speak with him presently, however. Let him be taken into the white
chamber, next to that in which they serve the confectionery. Send
likewise for Bertrandi. He is in my closet. I will join you there in a
quarter of an hour. A guard, too, may be wanted before we have done. So,
as you pass, bid Beaujolais keep near the door."
Thus saying, the king turned away and occupied himself with other
matters, speaking to the most distinguished persons present, and
laughing gayly with many a fair dame as he passed along. The duchess
remained for a short time where he had left her, not only for the
purpose of preventing her long conversation with the king from
connecting itself in the suspicions of those around with whatever might
take place regarding the Lord of Masseran, but also because she had some
doubts as to whether she should herself be present or not at the
interview between the Savoyard nobleman and the king. Henry had
certainly implied that she was to be present. But she had doubts and
fears in regard to meddling too much with the matter; and, if she could
have trusted to the Lord of Masseran, she certainly would have stayed
away.
Trust him, however, she could not; for there was something in his whole
aspect, demeanour, and tone which at once inspired suspicion. Indeed, he
did not try to avoid it; for, looking upon skill, cunning, and acuteness
as the greatest of human qualities, he made no pretence whatever to
either frankness or sincerity. She still hesitated, however, when the
Count de Meyrand, dressed in the most splendid, and, at the same time,
the most tasteful habit that perhaps the whole court that night
displayed, passed by her as he retired from the dance. He bowed as he
did so with lowly reverence, but, at the same time, with a meaning
glance of the eye towards the spot where the Lord of Masseran stood.
"I must watch what takes place myself," thought the duchess: "I will
take no part in the matter unless there be great need; but I will watch
all that is said and done."
She accordingly drew herself gradually back from the circle, and,
choosing a moment when some change in the dance produced a momentary
confusion, she retired to the room which the king had named.
A minute or two after, an attendant passed through the ballroom and
whispered a few words to the Lord of Masseran, who instantly followed
the servant, accompanied by a lady who had continued to stand beside him
since his entrance, but to whom he had not addressed more than one or
two words during the evening. She was a tall and handsome woman, and in
her countenance there was certainly some degree of resemblance to the
fair Isabel de Brienne. The features, however, though still fine, were
all larger and harsher except the eyes, which were small and of a
different colour from those of Isabel, being of a keen, eager black. She
was pale, and looked somewhat out of health; and, mingling with an air
of sternness which sat upon her brow, there was an expression of anxiety
and grief which made her countenance a painful one to look upon. It
seemed to bear written upon it, in very legible lines, the history of a
haughty spirit broken.
When the Lord of Masseran and his wife reached the chamber to which the
royal servant conducted them, the Duchess of Valentinois was there
alone. She received them affably, but with somewhat of regal state, and
begged the marchioness to seat herself, acting in all things as if the
palace were her own.
"Is that note for me, Monsieur de Masseran?" she inquired, after having
announced that the king would join them in a few minutes, and asked some
questions of common courtesy regarding the health of the Marchioness of
Masseran. "Is that note which you hold in your hand for me?"
"It is, madam," replied the other. "It is from Monsieur de Brienne, whom
we left booted and spurred, with his horses at the door, ready to mount
at a moment's notice."
The duchess took the note and read. "Madame," it ran, "I am ready
promptly to set out for the frontier of Savoy as soon as my errand is
clearly ascertained. My dear sister Isabel is either the wife of my
earliest friend Bernard de Rohan, to whom she was promised by my father,
and to whom it is my first wish she should be united, or the marriage
which I understand has taken place is null. If she be his wife, Heaven
forbid that I should make even an attempt to separate them, which I am
sure De Rohan would instantly and justly resist. If, however, the king,
by an edict which I must not dare to impugn, has thought fit, as I am
told, to declare such marriages void, whether past or future, it, of
course, becomes my duty immediately to seek my sister, and to keep her
with me till such time as we obtain his majesty's permission for her
final union to my friend. But I must first be positively certified that
such an edict has been signed. If I can show this to De Rohan, I know
him too well to doubt his conduct; but, if I cannot show it to him, I
must not and dare not attempt measures towards him which he would
infallibly resist. At the same time, madam, let me tell you, with all
respect, that I find I have been trifled with; that false information
regarding De Rohan's movements has been given me, in order to prevent my
joining him at Grenoble, as he wished; and that I am certain my sister
Isabel has been driven to give her hand thus suddenly to her promised
husband by circumstances of which we are not aware."
"More good sense than I gave him credit for," said the duchess, musing.
"May I be permitted, madam, to see the note which has excited your
admiration?" inquired the Lord of Masseran, with a quiet sneer.
"Nay, Monsieur de Masseran," answered the duchess, "it was not written
for the public benefit."
"And, doubtless," continued the Lord of Masseran, "as the young
gentleman was not in the sweetest of moods, it was not written for my
private benefit either?"
"He never mentions your name, my lord," replied the duchess, "nor speaks
of you in any way. But here comes my good lord the chancellor: the king
will not be long."
Her prediction was verified, for Bertrandi had scarcely entered the room
when Henry himself appeared, accompanied by his son, afterward Francis
the Second, and followed by a page, who placed himself at the door to
prevent any one from entering without permission. Every one present drew
back as the king appeared, and bowed low; while, with a frowning brow,
he crossed the cabinet, and seated himself at a small table. The dauphin
then took a place upon his father's right hand, and the chancellor,
after a deprecatory bow to the Duchess of Valentinois, advanced to the
king's left.
"I grieve, madam," said Henry, addressing the Marchioness de Masseran,
in a courteous tone, "I grieve to see you apparently so much altered in
health. It would seem that the air of Savoy--that pure, fine air--suits
not your constitution. We must keep you more with us in Paris."
"I have been suffering some anxiety and grief, sire," replied the lady,
while the eyes of the Lord of Masseran were bent keenly and fiercely
upon her.
"Most sorry am I to hear it," replied the king. "We believed that, in
providing for you so noble and high a husband as the Lord of Masseran,
we should have moved grief and anxiety from you altogether. We trust
that we have not been deceived in this noble lord," continued the king,
gazing sternly upon the Savoyard.
"Your majesty has, I believe, been mistaken in what this dear and
excellent lady said," replied the Lord of Masseran; "I discovered no
charge against myself in her words. Was there any, dear lady?"
"Oh, no," replied the lady, quickly, and, it seemed, fearfully; "none,
none; I spoke alone of the grief and anxiety which, as you know, I came
hither to lay before his majesty, if we were fortunate enough to find
audience."
"Then I will beg you, madam," said the king, "to lay it before me at
once, and fully, confiding in me entirely as you would in a brother, and
remembering that, whoever be the offender, you have in the king one who
can protect as well as punish, and who will protect wherever he sees
wrong offered or evil suffered."
The lady gave a momentary glance at her husband, as if of timid inquiry.
It was like a child saying its lesson, and looking up for a word of
direction or encouragement. "I thank your majesty much," she said, "for
your gracious promise, and I come to you with full confidence, feeling
that you will grant me redress for what I consider a great injury. My
complaint is this: that a gentleman of high rank and station, connected
with some of the highest families of this realm, a distinguished soldier
also, and one who has hitherto borne a high character--has, while
pretending to carry on the war in Piedmont, and commanding certain
bodies of your majesty's troops--has, I say, clandestinely carried away
my daughter, Isabel de Brienne, during the temporary absence of my
husband, Monsieur de Masseran. He had even induced a priest to perform
the marriage ceremony between him and her, when the fortunate return of
my husband at the very moment enabled him to seize them at the altar. I
say, sire, that this is my complaint, and for this I beg redress; the
more so, indeed, inasmuch as this very gentleman who has so acted was
well aware that your majesty had expressed yourself strongly against
such clandestine marriages, and had even proposed an edict declaring
them void and of no effect."
"Pray who is this gentleman?" demanded the king, in a stern tone. "By
your showing, madam, he has acted bitterly wrong, and, unless some
extenuations appear, he shall be most severely punished; nor shall that
punishment be the less on account of his rank, distinction, and
services, as he could neither plead ignorance, inexperience, nor folly."
The features of the Lord of Masseran relaxed into a dark smile; and the
lady replied, "His name, sire, was once dear and familiar to me and
mine--it is Bernard, baron de Rohan."
"What! our good friend and daring captain?" exclaimed the king; "this is
indeed too bad. Monsieur de Rohan ought to have known that he had
nothing to do but to apply to ourself, not only at once to obtain our
royal permission, but also to induce us to use every argument with such
of the lady's family as might be opposed to his wishes."
"Sire," replied the lady, taking advantage of a pause in the king's
answer, "this gentleman has acted ill in all respects. He neither put
confidence in your majesty nor in me; he never even applied for my
consent; he has never seen me since he crossed the Alps."
"This is altogether amiss," replied the king. "You say they are
separated," he continued, in a musing tone; "where is the young lady? I
would fain see and speak with her."
Such communication would not have suited the purposes of the Lord of
Masseran, even had it been possible to produce Isabel of Brienne; and
now, having seen his wife make her formal complaint exactly as he could
have wished, he took the rest of the business out of her hands, fearful
lest she might make some rash admission. "Alas! sire," he said, "it is
impossible that your majesty's commands can be complied with; not only
is the lady not with us in Paris, but she has escaped from the hands of
those into whose charge I gave her. Where she is, and what doing, we
know not; and it is under these circumstances that we come to your
majesty, not so much for redress as for aid."
"This complicates the matter, indeed," said Henry; "have you, then,
reason to suppose that she has rejoined him?"
"No, sire," replied the Lord of Masseran, "not so at all; for I ventured
to take a step which--although, of course, on my own territories I am
free and independent, as lord and sovereign--I would not have done, had
I not been aware that your majesty is as just as you are powerful. I
found one of your majesty's subjects upon my territories committing an
unlawful act, for which I would have punished any of my own vassals with
death, and I ventured--"
"You did not kill him?" exclaimed the king, starting.
"Oh no, sire, no," replied the Savoyard; "I never dreamed of such a
thing. I ventured to arrest and imprison him, in order to prevent the
evil being carried farther; and, having done so, I set out immediately
to cast myself at your majesty's feet, to inform you exactly how I had
acted, to beg your forgiveness for having imprisoned one of your
subjects, and to place the decision of his fate entirely in the hands of
your majesty."
"You have acted well and wisely," replied the king; "and, such being the
case, you shall not only have aid, but redress. The edict which renders
such clandestine marriages null and void shall be signed this instant,
and shall be registered by our Parliament to-morrow. My lord the
cardinal, we trust that you come as well prepared this afternoon as you
were this morning. Have you the edict with you now?"
"I have not, your majesty," replied Bertrandi; "but it is in your
majesty's cabinet."
"Let it be brought instantly," said the king. "This new example of the
fault which it is destined to amend, not only fully justifies the act,
but also peremptorily requires the clause which remedies the evil just
committed. Nor shall this be the only punishment which shall fall upon
the head of him who has so far neglected what was due to himself and to
us. He must be summoned to Paris immediately; and, in the mean time,
means must also be taken to bring this refractory girl also to our
court. Be quick, good cardinal, for we must not be long absent from the
hall."
The dauphin listened to his father in silence, and with an air of deep
reverence. "I trust, sire," he said, at length, as soon as he perceived
that the king, having given his orders, was turning once more to address
the Marquis of Masseran, "I trust that there are some circumstances in
the case of Monsieur de Rohan which may mitigate your majesty's anger
when known. It seems to me that Monsieur de Masseran has not been
completely explicit on one or two subjects; may I presume to ask him a
few questions in your majesty's presence?"
"Certainly, Francis," replied the king. "It gives me always pleasure to
see you exercise your judgment and powers of mind on subjects of
importance."
The young prince bowed with an ingenuous blush, while the Marquis of
Masseran turned a shade paler than usual, and bent down his eyes upon
the ground before the boy of sixteen, who now advanced a step to
question him. "You tell us, Monsieur le Marquis," he said, "that the
Baron de Rohan did not even apply for the consent of your fair lady: may
I ask if he ever presented himself at your palace, or chateau, or
whatever it may be, for the purpose of so doing?"
"It was the marchioness who said so, not I," replied the Lord of
Masseran: "I was absent at the time."
"At what time?" demanded the prince, sharply; and, seeing the Savoyard
hesitate, he added, "Did or did not Monsieur de Rohan come to your
gates? and was he or was he not refused admission?"
"I believe he did," said the Marquis of Masseran, "I believe he did
present himself at the gates when I was absent."
"He himself believed that you were not absent," replied the youth, with
royal sternness, while the king felt no little surprise to find that his
son had so intimate a knowledge of the facts in question; and the
Marquis of Masseran, still more surprised, concealed his astonishment
less skilfully than the monarch. "On my word, your highness," he said,
"on my life, I was absent."
"But yet, Monsieur de Masseran," continued the prince, "you were
perfectly well aware that Monsieur de Rohan presented himself at your
gates, demanding to speak with yourself, in the first place, and then,
in your absence, with this fair lady your wife, who certainly was within
the chateau; and yet you suffered her--unconsciously upon her part, no
doubt--to lead his majesty to believe that her approbation had not been
sought and was utterly contemned. This was not right, sir, for it was
misleading the king."
"You speak well and wisely, Francis," said his father: "go on, my dear
boy, go on, if you have anything more to ask."
"One or two things more, may it please your majesty," he replied, with a
look of pride in his father's approbation, but keeping his eyes still
fixed upon the Lord of Masseran. "My next question is: as the young lady
has a brother, who is her next male relation, did he or did he not give
his consent to the marriage of Monsieur de Rohan with his sister?"
"In regard to that, sir, I can say nothing," replied the Lord of
Masseran. "Monsieur de Brienne, your highness, is not under my charge
and guidance. All I have to say is, that his mother most positively
refused her consent."
"It might be more straightforward, sir," replied the prince, "to say
whether, to your knowledge, Monsieur de Brienne consented or not."
"I think, monseigneur," said Diana of Poitiers, taking a step forward,
"I think I may reply fully to your question, which Monsieur de Masseran
seems not inclined to do. Henry de Brienne always has approved of his
sister's marriage to Bernard de Rohan, and Monsieur and Madame de
Masseran are amply aware of the fact."
"I do not deny it," said Madame de Masseran, sharply. "He is a
headstrong and unruly boy."
"One question more," said the prince, "and I have done. Is not Bernard
de Rohan justified, to a certain degree, in that which he has done, by a
written promise of Mademoiselle de Brienne's hand, given to him by her
own father shortly before the good count's death? I ask you, madam, is
not this the case?"
"It is the case that he has such a promise," replied Madame de Masseran,
in the same shrewish tone, "but not that he is justified by it, your
highness. That promise never had either my consent or approbation;
though the late Monsieur de Brienne, who was his guardian and brought
him up, was foolishly fond of this boy, and thought that he was
everything great and noble, I had always different views for my
daughter, and never either directly or indirectly countenanced that
promise."
"I am in no way interested in this business, sire," said the dauphin,
turning towards his father, "not being personally acquainted in the
slightest degree with Monsieur de Rohan; but I thought it necessary to
ask these few questions in your majesty's presence, in consequence of
information I had received in a somewhat circuitous manner. Having thus
far elicited the truth, which was at first evidently concealed from you,
your majesty's wisdom must decide the rest--"
"This is the edict, sire," said the Cardinal Bertrandi, re-entering the
chamber; "it wants but your royal signature and the great seal. May I
offer you the pen?" and, thus saying, he spread the parchment on the
table before the king.
Henry took the pen, paused for a moment, and then turned his eyes upon
the Duchess of Valentinois. She looked down upon the ground, however,
and uttered not a word. The king dipped the pen in the ink and wrote his
name at the bottom of the edict. The chancellor countersigned it, and
raised it from the table.
"Now, Diana," said Henry, in a low voice, turning to the duchess, "what
think you?"
"That your majesty has done perfectly right," replied the lady, in the
same low tone. "Not that this poor Bernard de Rohan, it would appear, is
really to blame."
"I do not know," replied the king, "I do not know; but we shall soon
see. The question must be inquired into," he added, in a louder voice.
"I will hear all parties, and then decide. For the present, the marriage
is annulled. Monsieur de Masseran, hasten back to Savoy, and instantly
set the Baron de Rohan at liberty. Let some one proceed immediately--her
brother will be the best, the fittest, the only fit person. Let him
immediately proceed to seek for Mademoiselle de Brienne, and bring her
to Paris without loss of time. You, Monsieur de Masseran, will command
De Rohan, in our name, to present himself in the capital within fourteen
days from the date of his liberation by your hand. You will do well also
to come hither yourself as speedily as may be; for our good friend
Brissac, who is somewhat of a sanguinary person to deal with, has
conceived an objection to the frequent passing of couriers through your
part of the country. It were well to keep out of Brissac's way. My good
Lord Cardinal, see that all things requisite be done, and also that the
edict be duly registered in the Parliament to-morrow. Come, Francis,
come. We shall have all the world marvelling at our absence."