CHAPTER L.

RATHER POLITICAL.

I now rehearsed, as succinctly as I could, considering the agitation

of my thoughts, my adventures with Marie Louise on our journey;

omitting only such passages as I deemed might prove unnecessary, or

unwelcome. When I concluded, her brother expressed much

satisfaction, and gave me earnest thanks, adding that in everything,

my relation agreed with that given by Mademoiselle to himself, and to

the Duke.

'A further proof that she has not told them all,' thought I, again.

'Now that I have heard your story, and that those blustering Counts

are gone elsewhere to swear and grumble over pots of Rhenish, or jugs

of German beer,' said the gay Prince, filling up my wine-horn again,

'tell me, how are all my enemies, the good people of Paris? Marion

de l'Orme, Ninon de l'Enclos, Louis _le Juste_ (faugh!), and Anne of

Austria; and how is Father Richelieu himself--the great master

showman in red hat and stockings, who makes all these little

marionettes to hop and dance whenever he pulls the political strings?'

'Marion is still surrounded by lovers, and Ninon ditto, having quite

forgotten the Count de Poligni,' I replied, in the same bantering

tone; 'Louis is still in the silken meshes of Clara d'Ische; Anne of

Austria still makes confessions to Monseigneur, the Archbishop of

Paris, and still powders, paints, and patches; and eats and drinks as

usual with the regal voracity of a pike; while Richelieu, the

Coadjutor's rival in her heart, still enrols regiments, and levies

treasures, to carry the frontiers of France towards the Rhine.'

The expression of Vaudemont's face changed, and his eyes sparkled at

these words.

'Louis, most falsely surnamed the Just, is a prince without honour,

and without gratitude!' said he, flinging his empty silver cup upon

the table; 'he is at once the slave and the tool of Cardinal

Richelieu, whom he hates and fears, and yet obeys--Richelieu, the

most stern and bloody minister that ever stained the annals of

France!--and now to divert the attention of her people from the

intrigues by which he is surrounded, and by which he, a presumptuous

priest, has obtained all but the royal authority, he has plunged

Louis into this wanton war with the Empire and Lorraine, on the bold

plea, ever so pleasing to French vanity, that their frontier shall be

the Rhine. Marched by Champagne, and bordered by the Rhine, with

Burgundy on one hand, and Luxemburg on the other, doubtless my

father's ancient dukedom presents a tempting morsel to our friend M.

le Cardinal and his creatures--and to enable them to swallow this

morsel with ease, he has poured five armies into Germany and Italy.

But our people are brave, bold, and hardy; our valleys are covered by

vineyards; our mountains teem with mines of the richest ore, and

hence this old Lorraine of ours--this patrimony which we have

inherited since the days of the Merovingian kings--forms a prize too

valuable to be relinquished to the grasping house of Bourbon: and

while we have a rial and a rapier left, with God's help and the

Emperor's, we shall defend it!'

'Louis asserts that Lorraine belongs to him, because Charles the

Simple united it to France in the tenth century, and made Regnier

governor over it.'

'Pardieu--no! 'tis our devil of a Cardinal who asserts this. But

France will not be content with her boundaries at the Rhine, and if

so, where is this spirit to end? Since the days of Charles the

Great, the French dominions have not had such prospects of extension

as they have now by the schemes of Richelieu, who has cast his eyes

on Lorraine, Alsace, Brissac, and Philipsburg. He has cast them over

Flanders, towards Dunkirk; across the Pyrenees, and over Rousillon

into Catalonia. The annexation of our duchy to France would bring

her frontier forty leagues into the empire; it would make Louis XIII.

master of all the land between the Saar and the Moselle; it would

secure his possession of Burgundy, and open up his path to the

Palatinate; but never while blood and breath remain to Duke Charles

and his son will they submit to France, and place the coronet of

their independent dukedom under the closed-crown of the imperious

line of St. Louis! And now, M. Blane, for your own affairs. You

must be aware, my friend, that the sooner you leave Nanci, the better

for your honour and for your life. In the first place rumour may

indulge in unpleasant surmises about your sojourn here; and in the

second, I would have you to rejoin your comrades without delay, lest

Pappenhem, this Æneas of ours who seeks a wife, and his fidus

Achates, the Petardier, who seeks that, which is much the same,

mischief--may work you evil; for they are at no pains to conceal

their hostility.'

'Prince, you speak my very thoughts; I am, indeed, most anxious to be

gone,' said I, though the prospect of leaving Nanci without a parting

word from Marie Louise was agony to me; yet, fooled and deceived as I

had been, what would a parting word avail me now? 'I will this night

depart for the French camp; but I know not where my comrades are, or

how far I have to travel.'

'Morbleu! you do not know where they are?'

'No.'

'How--'

'You forget, M. le Prince, that I have passed a winter in the

seclusion of the Bastille, where I heard nothing of Paris but the hum

of its streets, far down below my chamber window.'

'The French are still before Elsace Zaberne.'

'I think Madame d'Amboise mentioned that siege to me.'

'Very probably.'

'Colonel Mulheim defends it?'

'Ma foi! yes: a valiant Lorrainer, a handsome and gallant seigneur,

who will give them some trouble, for he is as proud and as obstinate

as a Scot or a Spartan. He will give them a heavy butcher's bill of

killed and wounded to send king Luis.'

'Them--whom?'

'Messieurs Hepburn, Lavalette, and Saxe-Weimar.'

'Is he in the field, too?'

'You must understand that old Father Richelieu has just concluded a

notable treaty with the Duke of Weimar, who has bound himself to

maintain eighteen thousand Germans for the service of France, in

return for which the Cardinal, with the greatest liberality, has made

him a free and perpetual gift of _our_ province of Alsace, which was

ceded to us by the treaty of Verdun, and which, though taken from us

by the Empire and given to the Bishop of Strasbourg and its boy-duke,

we still deem ours. The inhabitants of Zaberne, our principal city

and fortress there, have naturally conceived some objections to this

transference of our rights: thus they are all in arms, and the walls

are obstinately defended by Colonel Mulheim against some thirty

thousand French, Scots, and Germans; but unless Count Gallas, who is

on the march to relieve it and to form a junction with our troops now

here in Nanci, crosses the Rhine within a week, I fear it must fall;

for our couriers say that Count John of Hanau has been slain; that

the walls were breached on the 9th of June, and that Hepburn's Scots

were clamouring to be led to the assault. This is now the 14th of

June, and by this time perhaps they have planted the standard of the

Louises above the grave of the gallant Mulheim; for our noble

Lorrainer vowed that Zaberne should be his tomb before it yielded to

a foe.'

'By what route should I proceed there?'

'Any route that will secure you from the snares and hostility of

Pappenheim, in whose eye, when he left us, I read so deadly an

expression.'

'Prince,' said I, passionately, as anger and jealousy fired me, 'I

will fight him hand to hand, on foot or horseback, with sword and

pistol, in the public market-place of Nanci, if you urge this on me

more.'

'Fight _him_--my sister's affianced husband, the love of your friend,

the little Nicola of your romantic journey? Peste! Comrade, you

must not think of that, but rather study how to avoid him. Two roads

lead from this to Zaberne,' he added, taking down from the wall one

of those maps of Lorraine and the Rhine engraved by Ferrari, the then

celebrated author of an epitome of geography. 'I would have you to

leave Nanci to-night, quietly and alone, after dusk, and I will see

that you are well armed and fleetly mounted.'

'And the distance to Zaberne is--'

'About twenty French leagues.'

'Thanks, M. le Prince.'

'You have still four hours left to dine with me and prepare for your

journey; but do me the favour to remain in your own apartments till I

come for you, as Nanci is full of men, who, like De Bitche, are

infuriated against the soldiers of Louis XIII. I go to parade my

regiment in the great square, but in two hours will return--till

then, adieu!'

'Adieu, M. le Prince, with a thousand thanks for all your kindness.'

We bowed and separated.

Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred Cuirassiers · 第 50 / 73 章