CHAPTER XXII.
Bernard de Rohan waited for nearly an hour before the person whom hewished to see made his appearance. At length, however, the aubergisteentered; and--with a face of so much mystery and importance as almost tomake the young gentleman believe that he was acquainted with thecharacter and pursuits of the brigand--he announced that the ChevalierLenoir had called again to know if the Baron de Rohan had returned. In aminute or two after, Corse de Leon himself entered the room; and Bernardcould not but feel some surprise at the manner in which the wild, bold,vehement rover of the mountain side conformed to the usages of society,and bent down his energies, if we may so say, to the customary trammelsof an artificial mode of life.
He shook hands with Bernard de Rohan as an old friend, put down his hatupon the table by his side, remarked that the dust had soiled his plume,spoke of the heat of the past day, and with such empty nothings carriedon the interview till the aubergiste had retired and closed the largeoaken door behind him.
The moment he was gone, however, the brigand said abruptly, "I camehither before, to lead you to the scene whither it seems you had gonewithout me. Is not that a lovely sport?" he continued, with a curlinglip and a flashing eye; "is not that a lovely sport for keen, sleekpriests, after feasting in the refectory? Is not that a sweet amusementfor these holy and gentle pastors to go to, with the grease of theirpatties still sticking upon their lips? Pastors! why our pastors of theAlps would teach them better than that: they take the wool and use themilk, but they roast not the lambs of their flock, as the people of theplains do. By Heaven, it would do my soul good to make yon bloodthirstycapuchin eat the flesh he has cooked this night. They call us lawlessbrigands," he continued. "Pray God that we may ever be lawless, so longas there are such laws as these. I came to show you this spectacle, forI once told you I would make you witness such things, but you had gonewithout me."
"I went not willingly," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I was caught in thecrowd, and could not disentangle myself. I hate and abhor such sights,and think that these acts are disgraceful and ruinous to our religion.If anything could justify heresy, such persecution surely would do it."
"Think not, think not," cried Corse de Leon, eagerly, "think not thatthis is a crime of our religion alone, or of any other. It is man, andman's infamous laws, and the foul vice of that strange compact whichrogue has made with rogue, and villain with villain, and tyrant withtyrant, and fool with fool, in order that the cunning may have the bestmeans of outwitting the strong; that the criminal may torture anddestroy the innocent, and the virtuous be for ever the prey of thevicious. Catholic or Protestant, heretic, infidel, Turk, it is all thesame: man is bound together, not by a league for mutual defence, but bya league for mutual destruction and corruption. Here you yourself have afriend and comrade, who fights by your side, and whom you trust. What isthe first thing that he does! Betrays you--seeks to injure you in thedarkest way--plots--contrives--cabals--"
"There is a day of reckoning coming," replied Bernard de Rohan.
"Ay, and it may come soon," answered Corse de Leon, "for that very manis now in Lyons."
Bernard de Rohan started up and laid his hand upon his sword, which hehad thrown down upon a chair beside him; but the brigand went on,saying, "Not to-night, not to-night. Let it be in the open day; and itwere better, too, before the whole court of France."
"I will not wait for that," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Where I find him,there will I punish him. But, as you say, it must be in the open day.Yet I must not let him escape me; I will write to him this instant."
"The way of all others to make him escape you," replied Corse de Leon."He might, on this occasion, refuse to meet you hand to hand; hemight--"
"No," answered Bernard de Rohan, "no, he dare not. There is no Frenchgentleman who dares to be a coward. To those whom he has wronged he mustmake reparation, even though it were with life. Besides, this is not aman to turn away from the sword's point."
"I know not," answered Corse de Leon, "for I am not one of you; butmethinks--though there is nothing upon all the earth now living thatcould make me turn aside from my path--there would be something veryterrible to me in a wronged friend. However, this man may have an excuseyou know not of to refuse you that which you desire: he may say that thematter is before the king, which, as I learn, it is. Be persuaded: waittill to-morrow: then let him be narrowly watched: meet him alone; and,when your sword is drawn upon him, then, as you say, he cannot wellevade you."
"He shall not," answered Bernard de Rohan. "But still it is not him thatI now seek, it is my own dear Isabel; and here, in this town of Lyons, Ihave lost all trace of her, though she must have been here last night."
"Perhaps not," replied the brigand. "I have no certain tidings of herany more than you have; but listen to what I do know. I reached thisplace in haste to-day; and during the morning, at the inn called theDolphin, near the old church by the river, I saw a man who had been withthis Meyrand in Savoy, his guide, and assistant, and confidential knave.He knew me not, and indeed, perhaps, had never seen me; for I see many,but am seen by few. I made inquiries, however, and I found that this manhad preceded his lord from Paris on business, it was said, of mightymoment. He was preparing rooms for him, gaining intelligence, and, infact, making all things ready for whatever knavery so skilful a mastermight have in hand. I inquired farther, and found that yesterday,shortly after the man's arrival, a lady and her train had paused forsome moments at the same inn; that one of his servants had spoken tothis serviceable villain, and that, without descending from her litter,she had gone on, it was said, towards Geneva. To-day I waited andwatched for the arrival of your enemy, and the moment he did come, hewas closeted with his knave. A minute after, the host was summoned, andmuch inquiry made for fresh horses to go towards Geneva. By this time,however, it was late; none but tired beasts could be found, and thejourney was put off till daybreak to-morrow morning."
"We will travel the same road," said Bernard de Rohan, "we will travelthe same road. But what can have induced Isabel to take the way toGeneva?"
"We know not that this lady was the same," replied Corse de Leon; "but,supposing her to be so, forget not that she believes you to be dead. Ihave told you that the matter is before the king; and she may fear that,as this Count de Meyrand is a known intimate of a woman all too powerfulin this land of France, some constraint may be laid upon her will inorder to make her give her hand to him."
"They shall find," replied Bernard de Rohan, "that there is one whoseclaim upon her hand is not so easily to be cast off; and, even were Idead, I am full sure that to the last day of her existence she wouldlook on one who could betray his friend with nothing but abhorrence anddisgust."
"It may be so," replied the brigand; "but you have yet one thing tolearn. Your claim upon her hand is already disallowed. On that theking's decision has gone forth three days ago. An edict, which has justreached Lyons, was then registered in the Parliament of Paris, renderingall clandestine marriages, past or future, null and void. This was aimedat you, depend upon it, for both the wily Italian and the artfulFrenchman were then at the court of France."
Bernard de Rohan covered his eyes with his hand, and paused thoughtfullywithout reply. "All this," he said at length, "all this shows, myfriend, the absolute need there is of my being speedily in Paris.Wherever Isabel may turn her steps, she will soon hear that I am livingif I appear before the king; and in another point of view, also, myspeedy appeal to Henry himself may do good. There is one whom you havementioned who does certainly possess much power--far too much for anysubject in the realm; but yet I judge not of her so harshly as youperhaps may do. She has a noble spirit, and I think would not willinglydo wrong. Besides all this, she is the trusted friend of one who lovesme well--the Marechal de Brissac; therefore I do believe that especiallyshe would not wish to injure me. When I have seen her, she has alwaysseemed to regard me highly; and I will own--although I must regret thatany one should hold such authority in the land of France as often tooverrule th
e king's wisest ministers--I do believe that, for her ownpersonal advantage, she would in no degree seek what is unjust toanother, or do that which might be dangerous to her country. I have nodoubt that one of her first wishes is to promote, in every way, suchplans as she considers just and wise; and although, of course, she mayfrom time to time be biased, like every other person, by blinding mistsof prejudice or of self-interest, yet I do think that she is less sothan any other being who ever yet filled a situation of splendiddisgrace and ill-bought authority. I believe, then, that with her, aswith the king, a few plain words of remonstrance and explanation willwin that support which is alone needful to my just claims."
"Then go thither at once," said Corse de Leon, with a dissatisfied air."If you will still trust to those whom you have not tried, go thither,and encounter whatever the consequence may be. Were I you, my conductwould be different."
"What would you do, then?" asked Bernard de Rohan. "I do not propose togo to the court _at once_, but merely after I have done all that I canto trace my Isabel on the road that she has taken. Say! what would youdo were you situated as I am?"
"It matters little," replied Corse de Leon, "for we are differentlyformed. You are like the stately warhorse, doubtless strong and full offire, but broken down to the bit and rein of custom, and trained to pacehither and thither, as the great riding-master called society wills.Your affections may be vehement, your courage high, your heart sincere,but you are not fitted and formed for the wild life of freedom, or for adesperate and deadly struggle against the trammels of habit, and thelash and spur of opinion. I, on the contrary, am the lion--or, if youwill, the tiger, or the wolf. No hand tames me and goads me on--my mouthknows no bit and curb--the desert is my home--solitude my society--myown will my law--and they who strive to take and chain me, to break medown to the world's habits, or to bind me by man's opinions, will eitherrue the bite of the free wild beast, or see him die before the hunters,in silence and despair. If you would know what I would do, I would takemy revenge of that bad man; I would seek the lady till I found her; Iwould tell her that dangers, obstructions, impediments, and the vainidleness of a world's laws were before us if we did not trample uponthat world's judgments; I would ask her to cast off for me and with methe prejudices of country and connexions; I would make my native placeof the first land of freedom I could find; I would find my friends andmy relations among the brave, and the free, and the good, wherever I metthem; I would press out from the grape of liberty the wine of my ownhappiness, and I would drink of the cup that my own hand had prepared.But such counsels are not for you; such things are not parts of yournature."
"I believe not," replied Bernard de Rohan; "but still the first part ofyour advice I shall follow, and at daybreak to-morrow will set out tomeet this man upon the way, and bid him draw his sword where there isnone to interrupt us."
"Should he refuse?" said the brigand. "He is well accompanied--has manymen with him, and some who seem to bear a high rank and station. He mayrefuse to draw his sword, and say that the matter is before the king:what then?"
"I will spurn him as a cur," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I will strikehim in the midst of his people; call him a coward as well as a knave,and send him back with the brand of shame upon his brow. It matters notto me who are with him! If gentlemen be there, so much the better;Bernard de Rohan's name is not unknown, Bernard de Rohan's honour bearsno stain; and they shall hear his treachery and baseness blazoned in theopen day by a tongue unknown to falsehood."
Corse de Leon gazed upon him for a moment with a grave, perhaps onemight call it a pitying smile. "You have forgotten," he said, "or neverfully known, the court of France. There has there risen up," he added,"within my memory, a habit, an affectation of indifference, if you liketo call it so, to all things on this earth; which indifference is bornof a corrupt and a degraded heart, and of sated and exhausted appetites.To a high mind, furnished with keen and vigorous faculties, nothing onearth can be indifferent; for acuteness of perception--a quality which,in its degree, assimilates us to the Divine nature--weighs alldistinctions. As God himself sees all the qualities of everything,whether minute or great, and gives them their due place, so, the granderand the more expansive the intellect may be, the more accurately itfeels, perceives, and estimates the good or evil of each individualthing. The low and the base, the palled taste of luxury, the satiatedsense of licentiousness, the callous heart of selfishness, the bluntedsensibilities of lust, covetousness, gluttony, effeminacy, and idleness,take refuge in indifference, and call it to their aid, lest vanity--theweakest, but the last point to become hardened in the heart ofman--should be wounded. They take for their protection the shield of afalse and tinsel wit, the answer of a sneer, the argument of asupercilious look, and try to gloze over everything, to themselves andothers, with a contemptuous persiflage which confounds all right andwrong. Thus will this count and his companions meet you; and you willgain neither answer nor satisfaction, but a jest, a sneer, or a look ofpity."
"It matters not," replied Bernard de Rohan, "it matters not! There aresome things that men cannot laugh away! Honour, and courage, and virtueare not columns planted so loosely that a light gale can blow them down;and I will mark his brow with such disgrace that an ocean of laughterand light jests will never wash the stain off again. When I have donethat, I will seek my Isabel, and by her own wishes shall our futureconduct be guided. You have reasoned like a learned scholar, my goodfriend; but yet you see you have not converted me to your thoughts,though I will own that it much surprises me to find you have such variedknowledge of courts, and, I should think, of schools also."
"I have of both," replied Corse de Leon: "the one I have seen, though inan humble sphere; the other in my youth I frequented, and gained thereknowledge which those who taught me did not know that they communicated.However, I wished not to convince you or to overrule your determination,for that determination is not wrong. I only desired that you should goto its execution with a full knowledge of all that you might meet with.Follow your plan, therefore, as you have laid it down, and in executingit I will not be far from you in case of need. There is no knowing whata bad man may do, and you ride too slightly attended to offer muchresistance in case they sought to do you wrong."
"Oh, I fear not, I fear not," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Here, on thesoil of France, I have no fear of any acts of violence, such as thatfrom which I suffered in Savoy."
"Have you not seen to-night," said his companion, "have you not seenthis night what wrongs are daily done, even here? However, as I havesaid, I will not be far from you; so, for the present, farewell, and letnot daylight see you a lingerer in this dark city."
Thus saying, he turned and left his young companion, who remained forsome time plunged in deep thought; and, though the light of bright hopecontinued still unextinguished before him, mists and clouds came acrossthe flame from time to time, making it wavering, uncertain, and obscure.
END OF VOL. I.