Bernard de Rohan waited long; and, though his imagination was not an
active one in regard to difficulties or dangers in his own case, yet,
when he thought of Isabel de Brienne, nurtured with care, and
tenderness, and softness, never having known during life the want of
protection, or the necessity of acting for herself, never having been an
hour without protection--when he thought that she must now go forward to
Paris alone, without any one loved or known to sooth and guide her;
without any other protection but that of a few menials; with the bitter
thought of having lost him she loved for ever, as the chief recollection
of the past, and with the expectation of meeting her mother, who had
been always harsh, and her stepfather, who had treated her with
treachery and baseness, as the chief anticipation of the future--his
heart burned to speed on, without the loss of a single moment, to
protect, to console, and to relieve her from the deep sorrow which he
knew too well must overshadow her.
Still one hour passed after another, the sun began to decline from the
meridian, and the good hostess only visited him on two occasions. In the
first place, to tell him that a party of travellers who stopped for half
an hour at the inn were only peasants from a neighbouring village; and,
in the next place, to beseech him not to go near the windows, or to show
himself in any way, as a party of the Lord of Masseran's men had just
passed, and another was speedily to follow.
At length the aubergiste himself appeared, heated and dusty, and,
closing the door carefully, told him that he had found the man he went
to seek, and had brought back with him a few words written on a strip of
leather. They were deciphered with difficulty, but were to the following
effect: "I thought you gone for ever. But, as you are still destined to
remain with the rest of us, so let it be. I will visit you to-night, and
you shall soon find the lady; but on no account go on till you have seen
me! By so doing you will endanger her, endanger yourself, and delay your
meeting."
Bernard de Rohan gazed upon the writing, and then turned a dissatisfied
look towards the sky. "This is trifling," he thought: "I must be across
the frontier as speedily as possible. Well might Isabel think me cruel
if I remained here an hour longer, knowing that she is in danger,
sorrow, and anxiety."
"Have you heard aught of a horse, my good Gandelot?" he said: "I cannot
wait as he requires me. How far is it to the frontier?"
"Two hours' journey on horseback," replied the host, "and four or five
afoot. But there is no horse to be found, and you must not think of
trying it on foot, my noble lord. You do not know that the people from
the castle are scouring the whole road between this and Bonvoisin."
"But they do not know me," answered Bernard de Rohan. "There is scarce
one among them that has ever seen me. Five hours? that is long, indeed!
But I could buy a horse at Chambery."
"Not before nightfall," replied the host; "and you had a great deal
better wait here to see one who can help you more speedily than anybody
else."
"Why cannot I go to him?" demanded Bernard de Rohan. "If you can find
him, so can I."
"Oh, surely," replied Gandelot, "but you run a great risk of being
taken."
"If that be all," answered the young cavalier, "I should think that
there was less chance of being taken on the hillside than here.
Something must be risked, at all events, Gandelot. Get me a peasant's
frock, good friend, and a large hat: my own I lost in the fall, you see.
When I am so dressed, I shall pass unknown, I'll warrant, should it be
through the midst of this Lord of Masseran's men."
"I must show you the way, however," replied the innkeeper. "But stay a
minute, and I'll get what you want: it is no bad plan."
Thus saying, Gandelot left him; but the aubergiste was not long before
he returned, bringing with him a peasant's frock and belt, and a large
straw hat, such as we have mentioned in describing the dress of good
Father Willand at the beginning of this true history. The very act of
putting them on was a relief to the mind of Bernard de Rohan; for, to a
man accustomed to action, inactivity adds an almost insupportable burden
to grief and anxiety. When the frock, however, was cast over his
shoulders, and his head was covered with the hat, Gandelot gazed upon
him with a smile, saying, "I must take care, my lord, that I don't
mistake you for a peasant, and ask you to sell me eggs. Well, I did not
know how much the dress made the man before."
Passing over the bad compliment of his host without notice, Bernard de
Rohan only expressed his eagerness to set out; and Gandelot, after
having gone down to look round the inn on every side, and to ascertain
that no one was watching, returned in a few minutes, carrying in his
hand a short sword and dagger, such as were worn commonly by what were
called the New Bands, warring in Piedmont for the service of France.
"Nobody can tell what may happen, my lord," he said, "so you had better
tuck those up under your gown; but don't draw the belt too tight, or the
hilt will appear."
Bernard de Rohan grasped the weapon as he would the hand of an old
friend, and, concealing it carefully under the frock, he followed the
innkeeper, who led him out through the back court of the auberge upon
the side of the mountain, where a steep pathway led up between the
rocks, and over the lower part of the hill, into one of the valleys,
which, without plunging deep into the alpine scenery around, led through
a softer but still uncultivated country, in the direction of Albens. The
innkeeper strolled on, and the young nobleman followed, both keeping a
profound silence till the inn and all the neighbouring objects were out
of sight.
When they had fully plunged into the valley, however, good Gandelot
spoke, but still in a low voice, saying, "We are pretty safe here; the
danger was up yonder."
Bernard de Rohan made no direct reply, but asked whether the road they
were taking did not lead him farther from that which he had afterward to
travel. Assured, however, by the good innkeeper that it did not, he went
on in silence, finding by the length of way that his companion had lost
no time upon the previous journey he had made during the morning. At
length Gandelot turned a little towards the north, up a smaller valley,
which, winding away with many bends and angles, never exposed more than
one or two hundred yards of hillside to the view at once. At the end of
about a quarter of an hour after entering this dell, a solitary house
presented itself, as desolate in appearance as well might be. It was
old, and built of cold gray stone, with a roof of slates; and a low
garden wall which surrounded it enclosed a space of ground amounting to
perhaps an acre or an acre and a half, but in no degree impeded the view
of the house.
The hills in that spot were quite bare: much lower, indeed, than the
scenery from which Bernard de Rohan had just come, but far more naked
and arid. Not a shrub, not a tree was to be seen. Nothing but scanty
turf, broken by scattered stones, with occasional crags here and there,
covered the slopes; and, had it not been for those thin, short blades of
grass, one might have fancied one's self in the world before the
vegetable creation had been called into being.
"You will find him there, my good young lord," said Gandelot, pointing
forward to the house: "I will stay here. But you had better whistle, as
you know how, when you go up, that he may know you are coming. If you
find that you are not likely to come back before night--and it is
getting somewhat late now--send me out word, and I will hie me home."
"Nay, leave me, leave me, good Gandelot," replied the young cavalier. "I
will find my way back: I never forget a path I have once trodden."
Thus saying, he advanced towards the desolate-looking house which stood
before him, and, at a short distance from it, imitated, as well as he
could, that peculiar whistle which he had heard more than once among the
companions of Corse de Leon. The sounds had scarcely issued from his
lips ere the brigand himself appeared at the door, and, apparently
without the slightest apprehension or hesitation, walked forward to meet
him. He was habited in the same large cloak and hat which he had worn on
the night when Bernard de Rohan first beheld him, so that the young
nobleman could plainly see he bore his left arm supported by a bandage
from his neck.
The moment they met he grasped Bernard warmly by the hand, saying, "So
you are living! you are living! I never thought we should see each other
again in this world, though I did think we might meet in that where the
compensations are reserved to confound the workings of the great bad
spirit to whom this earth is given up for evil. But I fell into a sad
mistake, and have let your sweet lady go away in the belief that you are
dead."
"It is on that account," said Bernard de Rohan, "that I am so eager to
set out, in order to put her mind at ease; but I know not where she is
to be found, or which road she has taken. Neither have I horse nor arms,
nor, I fear, enough in my purse both to buy them and carry me on my way
also."
"And you come to me for all!" said Corse de Leon, with a smile: "who
would ever have thought this, some seven or eight years ago, when the
young Lord of Rohan struck down to the earth the intendant of the
Countess of Brienne for wronging the sister of a poor soldier far away
fighting for his country? Who would have thought that the poor soldier
would ever have been able to aid the young lord in marrying her he
loved, or to furnish him with horse, and arms, and money, in an hour of
need? There is a retribution in this world! Ay, there is a retribution
even here! But come, my lord, I am your humble servant; but, perhaps, a
truer friend than any whom you meet with in your own rank and class. Let
us into the house, and rest you for the remainder of the day. You will
travel quicker, better, more safely in the night. Ere the sun goes down
you shall have all that you want; and between this and tomorrow's
nightfall you may well overtake the lady."
Corse de Leon saw that, notwithstanding the reasons he gave, Bernard de
Rohan was not well pleased with even the short delay that he proposed.
He was not one who loved long explanations of any kind, but he could
feel for an impatient disposition; and he added, as if in reply to his
companion's look, "It cannot be otherwise: I have had to send a four
hours' journey for the horses, and they cannot be here till night,
though the messenger has been absent now near two hours. You would make
no greater speed by going back to the inn. Come in, sit down, then, rest
you, and bear what is unavoidable as patiently as may be; for, though
half the difference between great men and little ones in this world lies
in their judgment of what can be done and what cannot be done, and
though half the things men despair of are as easy as to drink from a
stream, yet, nevertheless, there are things that are impossible, and in
those cases it is useless to struggle."
Thus saying, he led the young nobleman into the house, the door of which
had remained unclosed. Though Bernard de Rohan could hear several voices
speaking in one of the rooms as he walked along the passage, it was into
a small vacant chamber, on the left-hand side, that Corse de Leon
conducted him. The windows commanded a view down a considerable part of
the valley, but still the aspect of the whole place was so undefended
and unguarded, that the young cavalier, knowing the state of hostility
with the great and powerful in which Corse de Leon lived, could not help
feeling some surprise at his choosing such an abode.
"Are you not," he said, gazing from the window, "are you not in a
sadly-exposed situation here? Why, the Lord of Masseran, or any other of
those small tyrants, could attack you at any time without the
possibility of your escape."
"You are mistaken," replied Corse de Leon, shortly: "before he came
within two leagues of me, I should know his whole proceedings, and
either scatter over the hill, and reach coverts which it were wiser to
search for the deer or the chamois than for Corse de Leon, or else offer
the good lord some hospitality on his coming which he might neither be
willing to receive nor able to return. We have resources that you are
not aware of, and neither he nor any one else knows more of them than to
make him fear."
"That you yourself have infinite resources in your activity and
experience," replied Bernard de Rohan, "I can easily believe; but,
depend upon it, if you were to trust the guidance of such hazardous
matters to other men, they would soon be overthrown."
"Not so, not so," replied his companion; "I know the contrary. Twice,
for ends and objects of my own, I have traversed all France, leaving my
men behind me; and, though perhaps not quite so busy as when I am
here--ay, and somewhat cruel and disorderly when left to their own
course--no evil has happened to themselves. I am now about to do the
same, and I do it in all confidence."
"Do you propose to go soon?" demanded Bernard de Rohan, in some
surprise.
"Ay," replied the brigand, "soon enough to meet you in Paris some day,
perchance, or even to overtake you on the road; and, as we now talk
about those things, let me caution you never to speak to me unless I
speak to you: then take the tone that I take, whether it be one of
strangeness or of former acquaintance. Recollect, too, that there is no
such person as Corse de Leon beyond the frontiers of Savoy; but that, in
many a part of France, the Chevalier Lenoir is known, and not badly
esteemed."
"I will be careful," replied the young lord. "But now, my good friend,
tell me whither has my poor Isabel directed her steps."
"First to Grenoble," replied Corse de Leon, "in the hope of finding her
brother there; but, should she not meet with him, she goes thence at
once to throw herself at the feet of the king."
"But are you perfectly certain," demanded Bernard de Rohan, "that she
has escaped from the pursuit of this base man who has married her
mother?"
"Perfectly," replied Corse de Leon: "I saw her across the frontier
yesterday. Besides, as I told you before, the Lord of Masseran himself
is absent, carried by fears regarding the discovery of his own treachery
into the very jaws of the lion, power. Power is the only true basilisk.
Its eyes are those alone in this world which can fascinate the small
things hovering round it to drop into its mouth. But the lady is safe.
Be satisfied, and you can well overtake her ere she reaches Grenoble. I
bade them send back a man to tell me if she found not her brother there;
for, as I am going to Paris also, I thought perchance it might be better
to keep near her on the road, and bring her help in case she needed it.
But your own men are enough, I do not doubt, and I can but take few with
me, if any."
"But is it not dangerous," said the young nobleman, "for you to travel
immediately after receiving so severe an injury?"
"Dangerous!" said Corse de Leon; "oh, there is no danger in such things.
I do believe these mountains that I love will crush me at last; for
twice have I escaped almost by a miracle. But it is this injury, as you
call it, that has determined me to go now. I can be of but little active
use here till I can climb a rock again, and use this left arm as well as
the right. No man has a title to remain an hour in idleness, whatever be
his calling. Sleep itself I do not rightly understand: it is a lapse in
the active exertion of our being which is very strange, a sort of calm
pool in the midst of a torrent: I suppose it is solely for the body's
sake. There could have been no sleep before death came into the world;
for, not being subject to decay, the earthly frame could require no
refreshment any more than the spirit. However, as I was saying, idle and
inactive drones pretend that they must have rest and pause: if the head
aches or the hand is hurt, they declare that they can neither think nor
labour; but the wise man and the energetic man makes his spirit like
that monstrous serpent which I have heard of, and which, when one head
was smitten off, produced at once another. If a man cannot walk, he can
ride; if a man's right arm be broken, let him use his left; if his eyes
be put out, his ears will hear but the better--let him use them. Our
manifold senses are but manifold capabilities; and if the mind is
debarred from using one of its tools, it must use another. No man need
want employment for the senses, the limbs, and the means that he has
left, if he chooses to seek for it. For a while I shall be of no good
upon the mountain, and therefore I am going to the city. Some time or
another I must go, and therefore I may as well go now. But here comes
the old woman with my mess of food. You must take some with me. No one
knows better than she does how to cook the chamois, or the venison, or
to roast the shining trout in the ashes, or the snow-fowl over the fire;
and as for wine, the cellar of an archbishop or of a prior of a
monastery could not give you better than this lonely house can produce.
Nay, nay, shake not your head; you must eat and drink, let your
impatience be what it may: every man needs strength; and that we should
take food is a condition of our flesh and blood."
In conversation of this kind passed away the hours, Bernard de Rohan and
his strange companion remaining almost altogether alone, though once two
young men, dressed like herdsmen, came to the door of the room, and,
leaning against the doorposts, addressed to Corse de Leon a few words,
apparently of no great import, and upon ordinary subjects, but to which
Bernard de Rohan imagined some occult meaning was attached.
At length, much to the satisfaction of the young cavalier, a perceptible
shade of twilight came over the valley, along which the shadows of the
hills had been creeping for some time. The twilight grew grayer and more
gray, and Bernard de Rohan rose and walked to the window, with his
impatience for the arrival of the horses increasing every moment. Corse
de Leon was looking at him with a slight smile when he turned round;
but, in a few minutes after, the brigand rose, left the room, and
returned with the two young men whom Bernard de Rohan had seen before.
They were now loaded, however, with various kinds of arms and
habiliments of different sorts, which seemed to have been gathered from
many a quarter of the earth. These were spread out, some upon the table
and some on the floor; and this being performed without a word, those
who bore them retired, only appearing again to furnish the chamber with
a light.
Corse de Leon glanced his eye to the young cavalier, and then gazed upon
the pile with a somewhat cynical smile.
"This seems to be an abundant harvest," said Bernard de Rohan, whose
doubts as to the means employed to procure such rich habiliments were
many.
"You say true," replied the brigand; "but you must remember, we are many
reapers. This has been going on, too, for very many years, so that you
will find here garments of various ages and of different nations. Look
here," he continued, taking up a black velvet surtout richly embroidered
with gold; "this is a coat cut in the fashion of forty or fifty years
ago, and belonged to some fat Englishman, who doubtless came over to
France with that arch heretic and blood monger Henry, who has not been
many years dead. Then, depend upon it, he would see foreign countries,
and go to Italy, and has left part of his fine wardrobe here behind him
in the mountains."
"An unwilling legacy, I should think," replied Bernard de Rohan.
"Yes," answered the brigand; "but that is not a shot-hole you are
looking at so curiously. Our traditions say, I believe--for we have our
traditions--that the good gentleman got safe home, though somewhat
thinner of purse and scantier in apparel than when he came away.
However, choose yourself out some quiet suit that will not attract
attention, for you must not go riding through France like a Savoyard
peasant. There, that black hat and feather, which would become some
sober student of Padua, making his first effort to look the cavalier.
Then there is that stout buff coat I would recommend, with black loops
and borders. Ay, it is somewhat heavy, but there is a secret in that:
dagger or sword point will not well make its way through the jacked
doublings of those hides, and a pistol-ball would strike but faintly,
even if it did pass. Then there are those horseman's boots: they will be
no bad addition to the rest. That long sharp sword, too, in the black
sheath, will suit the hat, and none the less fit the hand. It is true
Toledo. Now seek for two daggers somewhat like it, and a pair of pistols
for the saddlebow. By the Lord that lives, if the horse they bring be
but a gray Spanish charger, with a tail longer than ordinary, they will
take you for some one who has been studying the black art at Salamanca,
or perhaps for some lay officer of the Inquisition in disguise. Is the
coat large enough? Oh, ay! it fits well. Now for a cloak to match."
With the assistance of his companion, Bernard de Rohan fitted himself
with new garments, which somewhat disguised, but did not ill become his
powerful form. After he had done, the brigand opened the mouth of a
little sack which had been brought with the rest, saying, "Take what you
will: you can repay me hereafter."
The young cavalier, however, took no more of the gold pieces which
appeared shining within than was absolutely necessary, replying to the
remonstrance of Corse de Leon that, as he approached nearer to Paris,
there were many who would be willing to assist him.
"Well, well," replied the brigand, "it matters not. I shall not be far
from you. But now let us away. I hear the horses, and you are impatient
to be gone. We can meet them, therefore, as they come."
Though Bernard de Rohan heard nothing of the sounds which his
companion's fine ear had discovered, he gladly followed him out to the
mountain-road, and walked on with him for some way before the horses
appeared. Their feet were soon heard, however; and at length a man,
mounted on a charger and leading another, was seen coming rapidly
towards them. The animal he led was powerful, and yet apparently swift:
some short time was spent in adjusting the arms and the stirrups; and
then, after offering many thanks to his strange companion for all that
he had done, Bernard de Rohan grasped his hand, sprang into the saddle,
and rode away in the direction of Chambery.