CHAPTER XXII.
HOW M. AND MADAME DE ST. LUC MET WITH A TRAVELING COMPANION.
The next morning, about the time when Gorenflot woke from his nap,warmly rolled in his frock, our reader, if he had been travelingon the road from Paris to Angers, might have seen a gentlemanand his page, riding quietly side by side. These cavaliers hadarrived at Chartres the evening before, with foaming horses, oneof which had fallen with fatigue, as they stopped. They enteredthe inn, and half an hour after set out on fresh horses. Once inthe country, still bare and cold, the taller of the two approachedthe other, and said, as he opened his arms: "Dear little wife,embrace me, for now we are safe."
Then Madame de St. Luc, leaning forward and opening her thickcloak, placed her arms round the young man's neck and gave himthe long and tender kiss which he had asked for. They stayedthe night in the little village of Courville four leagues onlyfrom Chartres, but which from its isolation seemed to them asecure retreat; and it was on the following morning that theywere, as we said, pursuing their way. This day, as they weremore easy in their minds, they traveled no longer like fugitives,but like schoolboys seeking for moss, for the first few earlyflowers, enjoying the sunshine and amused at everything.
"Morbleu!" cried St. Luc, at last, "how delightful it is to befree. Have you ever been free, Jeanne?"
"I?" cried she, laughing, "never; it is the first time I everfelt so. My father was suspicious, and my mother lazy. I neverwent out without a governess and two lackeys, so that I do notremember having run on the grass, since, when a laughing child,I ran in the woods of Meridor with my dear Diana, challengingher to race, and rushing through the branches. But you, dearSt. Luc; you were free, at least?"
"I, free?"
"Doubtless, a man."
"Never. Brought up with the Duc d'Anjou, taken by him to Poland,brought back to Paris, condemned never to leave him by the perpetualrule of etiquette; pursued, if I tried to go away, by that dolefulvoice, crying, 'St. Luc, my friend, I am ennuye, come and amuseme.' Free, with that stiff corset which strangled me, and thatgreat ruff which scratched my neck! No, I have never been freetill now, and I enjoy it."
"If they should catch us, and send us to the Bastile?"
"If they only put us there together, we can bear it."
"I do not think they would. But there is no fear, if you only knewMeridor, its great oaks, and its endless thickets, its rivers,its lakes, its flower-beds and lawns; and, then, in the midst ofall, the queen of this kingdom, the beautiful, the good Diana.And I know she loves me still; she is not capricious in herfriendships. Think of the happy life we shall lead there."
"Let us push on; I am in haste to get there," and they rode on,stayed the night at Mans, and then set off for Meridor. Theyhad already reached the woods and thought themselves in safety,when they saw behind them a cavalier advancing at a rapid pace.St. Luc grew pale.
"Let us fly," said Jeanne.
"Yes; let us fly, for there is a plume on that hat which disquietsme; it is of a color much in vogue at the court, and he looksto me like an ambassador from our royal master."
But to fly was easier to say than to do; the trees grew so thicklythat it was impossible to ride through them but slowly, and thesoil was so sandy that the horses sank into it at every step.The cavalier gained upon them rapidly, and soon they heard hisvoice crying,--
"Eh, monsieur, do not run away; I bring you something you havelost."
"What does he say?" asked Jeanne.
"He says we have lost something."
"Eh! monsieur," cried the unknown, again, "you left a braceletin the hotel at Courville. Diable! a lady's portrait; above all,that of Madame de Cosse. For the sake of that dear mamma, donot run away."
"I know that voice," said St. Luc.
"And then he speaks of my mother."
"It is Bussy!"
"The Comte de Bussy, our friend," and they reined up their horses.
"Good morning, madame," said Bussy, laughing, and giving her thebracelet.
"Have you come from the king to arrest us?"
"No, ma foi, I am not sufficiently his majesty's friend for sucha mission. No, I found your bracelet at the hotel, which showedme that you preceded me on my way."
"Then," said St. Luc, "it is chance which brings you on our path."
"Chance, or rather Providence."
Every remaining shadow of suspicion vanished before the sinceresmile and bright eyes of the handsome speaker.
"Then you are traveling?" asked Jeanne.
"I am."
"But not like us?"
"Unhappily; no."
"I mean in disgrace. Where are you going?"
"Towards Angers, and you?"
"We also."
"Ah! I should envy your happiness if envy were not so vile."
"Eh! M. de Bussy, marry, and you will be as happy as we are,"said Jeanne; "it is so easy to be happy when you are loved."
"Ah! madame, everyone is not so fortunate as you."
"But you, the universal favorite."
"To be loved by everyone is as though you were loved by no one,madame."
"Well, let me marry you, and you will know the happiness you deny."
"I do not deny the happiness, only that it does not exist for me."
"Shall I marry you?"
"If you marry me according to your taste, no; if according tomine, yes."
"Are you in love with a woman whom you cannot marry?"
"Comte," said Bussy, "beg your wife not to plunge dagger in myheart."
"Take care, Bussy; you will make me think it is with her you arein love."
"If it were so, you will confess, at least, that I am a lovernot much to be feared."
"True," said St. Luc, remembering how Bussy had brought him hiswife. "But confess, your heart is occupied."
"I avow it."
"By a love, or by a caprice?" asked Jeanne.
"By a passion, madame."
"I will cure you."
"I do not believe it."
"I will marry you."
"I doubt it."
"And I will make you as happy as you ought to be."
"Alas! madame, my only happiness now is to be unhappy."
"I am very determined."
"And I also."
"Well, will you accompany us?"
"Where are you going?"
"To the chateau of Meridor."
The blood mounted to the cheeks of Bussy, and then he grew sopale, that his secret would certainly have been betrayed, had notJeanne been looking at her husband with a smile. Bussy thereforehad time to recover himself, and said,--
"Where is that?"
"It is the property of one of my best friends."
"One of your best friends, and--are they at home?"
"Doubtless," said Jeanne, who was completely ignorant of theevents of the last two months; "but have you never heard of theBaron de Meridor, one of the richest noblemen in France, andof----"
"Of what?"
"Of his daughter, Diana, the most beautiful girl possible?"
Bussy was filled with astonishment, asking himself by what singularhappiness he found on the road people to talk to him of Diana deMeridor to echo the only thought which he had in his mind.
"Is this castle far off, madame?" asked he.
"About seven leagues, and we shall sleep there to-night; you willcome, will you not?"
"Yes, madame."
"Come, that is already a step towards the happiness I promisedyou."
"And the baron, what sort of a man is he?"
"A perfect gentleman, a preux chevalier, who, had he lived inKing Arthur's time, would have had a place at his round table."
"And," said Bussy, steadying his voice, "to whom is his daughtermarried?"
"Diana married?"
"Would that be extraordinary?"
"Of course not, only I should have been the first to hear of it."
Bussy could not repress a sigh. "Then," said he, "you expectto find Mademoiselle de M
eridor at the chateau with her father?"
"We trust so."
They rode on a long time in silence, and at last Jeanne cried:
"Ah! there are the turrets of the castle. Look, M. de Bussy,through that great leafless wood, which in a month, will be sobeautiful; do you not see the roof?"
"Yes," said Bussy, with an emotion which astonished himself; "andis that the chateau of Meridor?"
And he thought of the poor prisoner shut up in the Rue St. Antoine.