CHAPTER XII.
In one of the sweetest situations that it is possible to conceive--withgreen sloping hills, covered with the richest vegetation, rising on thefour sides thereof, and forming, as it were, a beautiful basin, withfour long valleys, each of which bears onward its stream of clear andsparkling water--is the little town of Bourgoin, which was at that time,as now, neat, clean, and fresh-looking, with perhaps fewer inhabitantsthan it can at present boast, but without any of the manufactories whichhave since somewhat diminished its beauty, if they have increased itswealth.
It was the custom in those days for the signs to hang out far from thedoors of the inn; and often at each side of the doorway was placed thename of the landlord, with a long recommendation of the fare and lodgingto be found within, with the price of the various meals which were to befurnished to a visiter. A bench was there also, and a wide door, givingentrance to a courtyard.
Such was not, however, altogether the aspect of the little auberge atBourgoin. The village was too small to have a regular inn, or _gite_,and the homely symbol of a bush, suspended from a long pole, thrustforth horizontally from the front of the building, was the only signthat it could boast. The landlord and landlady were in their green oldage, and were what they term in France _bonasse_, though that word hasbeen applied to a beast who, if one may judge by his look, is of a veryopposite sort of disposition to that which I wish to describe. Theywere, in short, good-humoured, honest country-people; and when thelandlady beheld a considerable company of horsemen draw in their bridlesat her door, with a young lady and her maid in a litter in the midst,her first thought was really not of self-interest, but of what she couldbest do to make her fair guest happy and comfortable during the timethat she was about to stay in her dwelling.
The Count de Meyrand sprang to the side of the litter which containedIsabel de Brienne; and, as if with an instinctive insight into theirlord's wishes, all his attendants but one, who was holding back thecurtain, and one at the head of the nearest horse, kept aloof while thelady descended.
"Monsieur de Meyrand," said Isabel de Brienne, as she quitted thelitter, "I cannot help repeating again that it is much against myinclination I have come hither. If you did not choose to conduct me, asI asked you, on the direct road to Grenoble, you might, at least, havesuffered me to remain for the night at Latour."
"Indeed, dear lady," replied the count, still with an air of perfectdeference, "it would have been dangerous for you to do so. There, but afew leagues from Chambery, and still less from Beauvoisin, we shouldhave been entirely at the mercy of the enemy. In regard to Grenoble, Ionly besought you to pause till you could hear my reasons. You are toomuch fatigued to attend to them now; but, ere you set out to-morrow, youshall hear them at full."
"Your politeness, my good lord," replied Isabel de Brienne, with an airof grief and vexation, "is somewhat compulsory." Thus saying, sheadvanced towards the landlady, who had kept back at a sign from one ofthe count's attendants, but not so far as to prevent her from noting allthat had passed; the ears of aubergistes and aubergistes' wivesacquiring by long and peculiar practice a facility of hearing everythingand not hearing anything, according to circumstances, which is trulyastonishing.
The Count de Meyrand bowed low, and, following to the door, he orderedapartments immediately to be prepared for his fair charge, and then tookleave of her for the night, while a slight smile played upon his lip ashe turned away, and he said in his heart, "If I could trust this man ofMasseran, I would humour the girl, and see what might be done bysoftness. She smiled upon me this morning, and made me almost forget herformer insolence. It were as well, however, to bring down this hightemper; and, now the storm is somewhat roused, it may as well go on. Noone can say I do her wrong in using some gentle force to bring her toParis to the presence of her lawful king, who will soon judge whetherthat ring be to remain upon her finger or not."
As he thus thought, he pictured to his own imagination the marriage offair Isabel de Brienne with Bernard de Rohan annulled by the royalauthority. He fancied his own claim to her hand heard and conceded. Hethought of how her travelling alone with him by slow journeys across thewhole of France might render her own consent a matter more of necessitythan choice; and, with inward satisfaction, he revolved the air of coolindifference with which he would treat the whole proceedings, as ifthere were absolutely nothing on earth worth the attention of so high agentleman.
In the mean while Isabel de Brienne was led to her chamber by thehostess, who asked many a kindly question, not directly pertinent to theconversation which she had overheard, but tending to elicit the cause ofthat anxiety and distress of mind which she witnessed. Isabel did notsatisfy her, it is true; but she replied so sweetly and gently, that thegood woman went away with her mind made up that she was the most amiableyoung lady she had ever seen, and that she was, moreover, very much illused by some one. Who that was she could not very well satisfy herself;but, nevertheless, she looked with no very favourable eye upon the Countde Meyrand, and made but short replies to the various questions which heasked her when she came down again.
After giving various directions to the soubrette, to which that taciturnperson replied less than ever, Isabel seated herself near the window inmelancholy thought. Removed almost by force from Latour, where the goodpriest, Father Willand, expected to find her, and having been now fullyconvinced, by the conduct of this Count de Meyrand, that she was littlebetter than a prisoner in his hands, she knew not whence to hope forsuccour or deliverance. There was many a dark and painful point in hersituation on which we must not dwell; many a present and many a futuredanger to herself, to him she loved, and to their mutual happiness. Thethoughts connected with these points mingled with the chief strain ofher reflections, and rendered them, bitter as they were, still morebitter and grievous to be borne.
As she thus sat and gazed out of the window--at some distance from it,indeed, so that those who were immediately beneath did not see where shewas placed--she suddenly saw a small body of horsemen come over the browof the gentle hill opposite, and ride down into the village. Isabelinstinctively drew back; for, though her actual situation was painful inno slight degree, yet among those horsemen she recognised the colours ofthe Lord of Masseran, and it seemed to her that it would be even moreterrible to fall into his power than to remain in that of the Count deMeyrand. The men came on at a quick rate, some four or five in number,and were passing by the door of the little auberge without pausing, whenshe heard the voice of the Count de Meyrand call to them, and bid themstop to speak with him. The first questions which he asked were put in alow voice, but the man whom he addressed spoke louder in reply, andIsabel heard the latter say distinctly, "Yes, my lord, he is gone onwith all speed to Paris, and we are following him as fast as we can. Wehope to come up with him at Lyons."
"By my faith, this is somewhat strange," answered the count; and thenagain what he said farther was lost to the ear.
In a few minutes the Count de Meyrand suffered the horsemen to go on;but he seemed much moved by what he had heard, saying aloud, "This manwill never be honest. We must not let him be long in advance. The horsesmust be ready by daybreak to-morrow, Matthew. Pierre, put your foot inthe stirrup, and ride after those men: I saw one of them turn away fromthe road just now, by the clump of trees on the top of the hill. If theyput their hand into the wolf's mouth, they must bear a bite."
Before the daylight failed, the man to whom he last spoke returned,informing him that, as far as he could discover, the whole party hadgone on towards Lyons; and the count, better satisfied, turned once moreinto the inn, and sat himself down to supper in a musing mood. He sentup, indeed, an humble entreaty that the fair lady whom he had the honourto escort, as he termed it, would join him at the evening meal; but thereply returned was, that Mademoiselle de Brienne had retired to rest.
The count soon after sought his pillow himself; but, accustomed by oldhabits to wake at any particular hour assigned, he started up with thefirst gleam of daylight, and gave inst
ant orders for preparing to setout. There were few persons yet up in the inn; but the good landlady wasroused, unwillingly, from her bed, and ordered instantly to wakeMademoiselle de Brienne, and give her notice that it was time to depart.The count himself stood at the bottom of the stairs, with his armsfolded upon his chest, in that gloomy frame of mind to whichdissatisfaction with ourselves is even more sure to give birth thandissatisfaction with the things around us. But he was roused from hisrevery by hearing some bustle and anxious exclamations above, the voiceof the hostess raised to the tones of wonder and astonishment, thetongue of the silent maid heard at a considerably louder pitch than wasat all usual, and other indications so decided of something having gonewrong as to induce the Count de Meyrand himself to quit his usual calmdeliberation, and spring up the stairs with a quick step and an angrybrow.
He found the door of the room which had been assigned to Mademoiselle deBrienne unclosed, the hostess standing a few steps within, the soubrettenear the bedside, the window wide open, with the morning air sighingquietly through the lattice, and Isabel herself nowhere to be seen.
"Where is your mistress?" demanded the count, furiously, fixing his eyesupon the soubrette.
"I know not, sir," replied the woman.
"Her bed has never been slept in all night," replied the hostess. "Hersweet cheek has never rested on that pillow, poor thing. She must havegot out of the window, that is clear; and, if any ill have happened toher, somebody is to blame for it, I am sure."
"Silence!" said the count, looking at her sternly. "Did you notundertake," he continued, turning to the soubrette, "never to lose sightof her?"
"I can't sleep with my eyes open," replied the woman.
"This is that scoundrel Masseran's doing," said the count: "but he shallfind himself deceived, for I will be in Paris as soon as he is. You,madam, will be good enough to come along with me; so put your dress insome better array, and lose no time."
He looked as if he could have said a great deal more, but he restrainedhimself; and, though the anger that he felt at heart found relief in abitter and sneering smile, unaccompanied by any words, he turned uponhis heel, walked down to the inn door, and remained for a few minuteslooking forth upon the morning as if nothing had happened. In a minuteor two after, seeing one of his men pass, he beckoned to him, spoke aword or two in his ear, and suffered him to depart. The man returned ina few minutes, and replied, "They are all ignorant of anything of thekind, sir. It is evident none of the people of the place know aughtabout it."
"Have you seen the landlord?" demanded the count.
"No!"
"Go and make inquiries regarding him."
The man did as he was bid, and the reply was, "That the landlord hadgone away towards the market of St. Laurent an hour or two beforedaybreak, as was always his custom."
"That is sufficient," said the count, with a sneer. "Quick with thehorses; let us mount and go on."