CHAPTER XIV.
St. Real, whose toilet at the convent of the Jacobins had been,from the circumstances in which he was placed, both hasty andunceremonious, now proceeded to change a dress suited alone to ajourney, and both deranged and soiled by all that he had lately passedthrough. While thus occupied, a loud but well-known voice made itselfheard in the ante-room, exclaiming, "Make way, make way! Paul Thiebautand Pierre Langlois, if you do not get out of my way, I will breakyour pates with the hilt of my dagger! I will break your pates, thoughthey may be as thick, and as hard, and as heavy as the leaden pummelof my old lord's double-handed sword! Out of the way, I say: do youthink one can walk through your great hulking bodies?"
"No," replied one of the attendants, in a gruff voice, "no! but youcould walk between our legs, I suppose, little Master Bartholo."
What was the dwarf's reply did not appear; but it would seem that itwas somewhat of a manual nature, for a loud oath and stamp of the footfollowed; and the door of the chamber opened so unceremoniously as toevince that Bartholo was in some haste to escape from the vengeancethat his replication, whatever it had been, was likely to call downupon his head. Banging the door in the face of those behind, heinstantly recovered his tranquillity when he found himself in thepresence of his master; and advancing towards St. Real with gracefulease, bent his little knee to the ground, kissed his lord's hand, andgave him joy on his arrival in the great capital.
St. Real replied something kind to his first salutation, and thenadded, "But how now, Bartholo! you claim no merit for the service youhave rendered me this morning?"
"I never like to claim merit," replied the dwarf, in his usual cynicaltone: "I never like to claim merit, especially with people who thinkthemselves generous; because, if they have forgot my merit, and do notintend to reward me, my claim is a reproach which they never forgive;and if they remember my merit, and design to thank me, my claim is adisappointment."
"It would be well, my good Bartholo," replied St. Real, "if every oneelse acted upon the same principle--not alone to those who thinkthemselves generous, as you say, but to all men. It would, I believe,save many a disappointment, and many a bitter aggravation ofingratitude; for I have remarked that, as you say, those who aresimply forgetful of services hate those who serve them when they arecalled on to be grateful. But where is Leonard de Monte? Could not hefind out his master's abode as well as you, Bartholo? or is he one ofthose whose memory of kindness does not outlive the act?"
"Good truth, I do not know, my lord!" replied the dwarf. "I neverjudge of folks on brief acquaintance. His memory of kindness may be asshort-lived as a jest at the gallows, or a widow's mourning, or acourt lady's constancy--the sincerity of Madame de Montpensier, or thesmiles of Monsieur de Mayenne, or any other short thing in this shortlife, for aught I know; but, in regard to the reason why Leonard'sblack eyes did not find you out here, it is that they are even nowlooking for you at St. Cloud. As you were two or three days later thanyour appointed time, the silly boy took fright, and set out late lastnight to seek for you. He would fain have persuaded me to go too; butI was not to be wheedled into such an errand. I know well that everyfool finds his way to Paris, and that you, therefore, could not wellmiss it. So I remained quiet, watching every corner till you appeared;and then, as I found you guarded more strongly than necessary, andlodged more holily than I judged you would like, I made bold to bearthe tidings to the Duke of Mayenne, begging him to deliver youforthwith from the preaching friars, for fear you should be tired ofthe friars' preaching."
"You did well and wisely, Bartholo," replied St. Real; "and, as thisis the first piece of real good-will that I have ever seen you displayto any one, it shall not go without reward. There is my purse, goodBartholo; and now, while I dress, give me the news of Paris; for youare sharp enough and shrewd enough, I take it, to discover and to markall that is passing in this great city."
According to his master's desire, Bartholo proceeded to detail all thegossips, the scandal, and the real news of the capital, commenting, ashe went on, on every anecdote that he related with the keen shrewdnessand sagacity which peculiarly distinguished him. His observations,indeed, might derive a peculiar turn from his own particular views andpurposes; but, in this curious and complicated world in which we live,every part fits into the other with such exact nicety, that the greatdepend upon the little nearly as much as the little depend upon thegreat: the intrigues of the mighty and the powerful, the schemes ofthe noble and the high, are almost always to be affected in theircourse--to derive their success or receive their overthrow--from themost mean and despised things that crawl almost unseen around theirpresence. Thus, in the present instance, all the art, the tortuouspolicy, the consummate acting of Madame de Montpensier was renderednearly unavailing by the keen and sarcastic observations, theknowledge of parties, and the insight into real motives and actions,of even so insignificant a person as the dwarf. In the course of thehalf hour that succeeded, he gave to St. Real a completely new view ofthe state of the League, and the motives and characters of itssupporters; and, without one direct assertion, without one attempt tocontrovert his opinions, or one apparent effort to obtain a particularobject, he showed his master, that frank simplicity might be assumedas the best cloak for art, just as much as religion and patriotismmight be affected for the purpose of concealing selfishness andambition.
As soon as he was dressed, St. Real went forth on foot, followed, aswas customary in those days, by two or three armed attendants, andguided by the dwarf, who took care that he should see everything whichthe capital contained that could disgust him with the proceedings ofthe League: though why he wished to drive his master into the royalparty was somewhat difficult to discover. He first led the youngMarquis into the large open space in the neighbourhood of theUniversity, upon the pretence of showing him that building from whichthe light of knowledge had been so frequently poured forth uponFrance; but it would seem that he had calculated upon another and moreimportant object presenting itself by the way: nor was hedisappointed: for, immediately on entering the great square, St.Real's eyes encountered a considerable crowd; and, making his wayforward through the press to a spot where he could see what wasproceeding, he immediately beheld one of the many curious scenes whichwere then taking place in the French capital--such as no city in theworld, at any period of its history, has presented, except Paris inthe days of the League. Covered with steel corslets, armed with sword,and pike, and musketoon, and with their shaven heads covered with thatspecies of iron caps called a _salade_, appeared a dense body of about1500 men, man[oe]uvring with that close and serried discipline whichwas peculiarly attributed to the Spanish infantry. They seemed,indeed, at first, a very strong body of regular troops, thoughsomewhat singularly clothed; but nearer inspection showed the largehanging sleeves and long flowing gowns of various communities of monksand friars protruding from under the iron panoply of war.
As soon as St. Real had satisfied himself that his eyes had notdeceived him, he turned away disgusted, and, led by the dwarf,proceeded onward to the Bastille, where, entrance being refused to allbut those who came against their own will, or those who had somethingto do with the act of bringing them thither, St. Real and hisattendants stood without, while the dwarf commented in a low voice,but in bitter terms, upon the uses to which that prison was for thetime applied. While thus engaged, a party of horsemen, followed by asmall guard of cavalry, came up at full speed; and their leader, as hesprang to the ground at the gate of the fortress, turned to give ahasty glance at St. Real, exposing as he did so, the features of theDuke of Mayenne.
As soon as the Duke perceived who it was that was gazing up to thebuilding, he beckoned to him to approach, saying, in the same bold andcandid tone which he usually employed, "If you will come in with me,Monsieur de St. Real, you shall see the inside as well as the outsideof this famous prison; and may also see--" he added, knitting hisbrows, "and may also see to what evil purposes power may sometimes beapplied in troublous times, and how difficult it is f
or one whoendeavours to guide aright the outburst of popular indignation toinsure that his name and authority shall not be abused by others, evenwhile he is labouring night and day himself to re-establish order andjustice, and promote the public weal."
St. Real readily agreed to his proposal, as his desire was to see allthat he could during his short stay in the capital. Every gate openedat the appearance of the Duke; but, as if by previous orders, he wasnot alone accompanied by his own immediate suite, but was alsofollowed by at least one-half of the cavalry forming his escort: who,dismounting from their horses, gave their bridles to their companions,and kept close to the heels of Mayenne as he advanced. The guards andwarders at the second and third gates looked suspiciously upon thenumber of soldiers thus introduced into the fortress, and seemed tohesitate in regard to giving them admission. Mayenne walked on; and,before his bold and determined aspect, all opposition at once gaveway. A man at the second gate, indeed, made a sudden movement, as ifto communicate the fact of the Duke's arrival to others in theinterior of the building; but in a stern though low tone, Mayennecommanded him to stay where he was, and advanced rapidly unannounced.It would seem, indeed, that his coming took the demagogues then inpossession of the Bastile by surprise. In the inner court a knot ofseveral persons might be observed standing under a beam, which wasthrust out of one of the loophole windows of an angular tower, andfrom which beam dangled a strong cord, formed into that ominousellipsis, the sight of which has made many a stout heart turn cold.One of the group assembled below was in the very act of demonstratingto his fellows that it would be necessary to fetch a bench or table inorder to bring their pastime to a crisis, inasmuch as the rope was tooshort, and the noose fully eight feet from the ground, when theappearance of Mayenne stopped his oration in the midst.
The speaker raised his hat at the approach of the Duke; but the glancethat he gave was certainly not one of welcome or of love. "What areyou doing, Monsieur le Clerc?" demanded Mayenne, sternly eyeing thefatal preparations before him. "All this seems very like an intentionof again overstepping your authority."
The person he addressed was a shrewd bold-looking man, with anexpression of quick eager cunning, not unlike that of a monkey. "Wewere going, my lord Duke, to do what, I trust, you will be wellpleased to witness," replied Bussy le Clerc: "we were going to executea traitor, a rebel to lawful authority, and an enemy to the apostolicLeague and to the Catholic faith--him who was formerly called thePresident Blancmesnil."
"And how did you dare, sir," exclaimed Mayenne, in a tone that cowedeven the bold plotter before him, "how did you dare to stir in such amatter without my authority? I ask you not where you got theimpudence, for that you lack not for any feat; but where did you getthe courage for such a deed? Am I, or am I not, lieutenant-general ofthe kingdom? and am I man to pass by such an act without punishment?"
"You are, my lord--you are lieutenant-general of the kingdom," repliedBussy le Clerc, in a humble tone; but the next moment he mutteredbetween his teeth, "You are lieutenant-general of the kingdom; butthose who made can unmake."
Notwithstanding the low tone in which he spoke, Mayenne seemed tocatch his words; for, grasping him suddenly and firmly by the arm withhis left hand, he pointed to the instrument of death, which Le Clerchad prepared for others, and, shaking the forefinger of his right inthe pale countenance of the bloody man before him, he fixed his eyesupon him with a look of dark and stern significance, the meaning ofwhich was not to be mistaken. He said not a word, but the glance wassufficient; and there was no one present who did not read therein athreat to make the demagogue taste of the portion he assigned toothers, if he pursued his bloody course any further--a threat whichdid not fail to receive its accomplishment at an after period.
Mayenne held him in his powerful grasp for nearly a minute; then,letting his arm drop, he turned, and, while Le Clerc slunk awayamongst his creatures, exclaimed aloud, "Bring forth the President deBlancmesnil!"
Several of the officers hastened to obey; and an old man, whose noblecountenance and silver hairs might well win respect and pity, wasbrought out into the court, while two or three of the governor'ssatellites hurriedly untied the cords which had pinioned his handsbehind.
"Ah! my good lord of Mayenne!" he exclaimed, as he approached, "I amhappy to see your face."
"I had nearly come too late, Monsieur de Blancmesnil," repliedMayenne; "but still I am in time to tell you, that by the authority inme reposed, you are set free from this moment; and that whateverproceedings have been taken against you, in whatever court, whetherlegal or illegal, are null and void, so far as I can render them so."
The old man cast himself at Mayenne's feet and embraced his knees."Thank you, my lord!" he said: "I thank you, and God will reward youfor saving a guiltless man, on whose life some hopes and someaffections are still fixed by those he loves; but yet, my lord, oneboon--grant me one boon more, and let the cup of your generosityoverflow! You have given me life--give me also liberty, and suffer meto retire from a city where each day shows me something either tocondemn or to regret, and retire to the court of my lawful sovereign,where alone I can serve my country as I ought."
Mayenne paused for a moment, and his countenance, though not of themost expressive character, gave evident marks of a strong internalstruggle; the quick glance of displeasure, and the open expansion ofmore generous feelings, succeeding each other rapidly, like the quicklight and shade flying across a landscape in an autumn day, as theclouds are borne over the bright sky by the hasty wind. The sunshine,however, at length predominated. "Be it so; Blancmesnil, be it so," hereplied, "be it so. I had hoped that your wisdom, your attachment tothe faith, and your love of virtue would have kept you from a court offools, of heretics, and of villains; but I will not stay you, if youlove such men."
"My lord," said Blancmesnil in a tone almost of sorrow, "it would beungrateful in me to answer you. Suffer me alone to say, that the mostimperative and absolute sense of duty alone would induce me to repeatthe request which I have made. None would more willingly spend hislast few hours of this brief life in the service of one so noble andso generous as yourself than old Blancmesnil; but it cannot be, mylord, without the sacrifice of all those principles which have won methe esteem of your Highness."
"Well, well!" replied Mayenne, conscious that the impression producedby any further discussion of this kind in the hearing of St. Realwould be very opposite to that which he could desire; "well, well! farbe it from me to withhold any man from the path on which he thinksthat duty prompts him. A bold enemy I love next to a faithful friend:it is only traitors to either cause that deserve punishment. Go!Blancmesnil, go! and do not forget that as much as we hate the viceswhich we are armed to crush, so much do we love virtue, even in anenemy!"
Mayenne felt that he had regained his advantage; and, turning to St.Real, he said, "Well, Monsieur de St. Real, you will return with me,for it grows late, and my sister will soon expect us. I will bear youcompany on foot. Sometimes I love to ramble amongst the people for awhile, and hear the unvarnished opinions of the streets. Greatness,caged in gilded saloons, knows too little of the world around it, andneeds now and then to take a flight amongst the wide universe of otherbeings, to learn how many varied and different aspects the state ofall things can assume to the myriads of eyes that are looking on eachpassing event. You, Longjumeau," he continued, "take the horsemen, andguard Monsieur de Blancmesnil safely to his house. Wait there with himtill all his preparations are made; and then, with a white flag, passhim safely to the outposts of the Huguenots at Meudon. Fare you well,Blancmesnil!" he added, turning to the old man; "I must embrace youonce more, though you will be my enemy."
"Perhaps more your friend, my lord, in quitting you, than I shouldhave been in staying with you," replied the President. Mayenneanswered nothing, but, turning away, led St. Real from the Bastile,and took his way back to the Hotel de Guise, followed on foot by theprincipal part of the gentlemen of his household who had attended himto the state prison. No matter of any importanc
e occurred during theirwalk; and St. Real was pleased to find, that far from attempting inany degree to influence him against his better judgment, the Dukeconfined his conversation solely to indifferent topics, commentingupon all the many objects of attention which all great cities presentwith as much liveliness as his nature permitted. More than oneinterruption occurred as they passed on, springing from the variousduties and functions with which the Duke had charged himself, or withwhich the people chose to burden him. It was now an officer from theoutposts, who stopped them on the way to demand orders and directionsfor the night; then a bare-footed friar, of not the most prepossessingappearance, approached the princely Mayenne, and held with him awhispering conversation of several minutes in the open street; thenagain a high officer, belonging to one of the courts of law, with hisbonnet in his hand, presented some papers relative to the proceedingsagainst the President de Blancmesnil; and then an old woman, thinkingthat she had as good a right as any other citizen of Paris to hershare of the great Duke, hobbled across his path, and presented herdirty _placet_ regarding a stall in the Fauxbourg de l'Universit?, andreinforced her petition by a torrent of that peculiar eloquencepossessed by old apple-women in all civilised countries.
Mayenne gave her some mild but evasive reply; and turning with a smiletowards St. Real, as they walked on, he said, "You see the post Ioccupy is not without its cares, and those cares so nicely balanced asto be all equally weighty; for you may judge, by that old woman, that,if the greater cares are more oppressive, the lighter are the moreimportunate."
All these interruptions of their onward progress had occupied no smalltime; so that the western sky began to look rosy with the summersunset ere they reached the Hotel de Guise. "Quick! Monsieur de St.Real," said Mayenne, as they entered the vestibule; "quick! for inless than half an hour my sister will expect us at her supper-table."
St. Real accordingly retired to his apartments, and changing his dresswith all speed, sent down one of his followers to seek out some of theattendants of the Duchess de Montpensier, and discover to whatchamber, of all the many in that wide and rambling mansion, he was tobend his steps. Almost immediately after a servant of the Duchessappeared to conduct him; and he was led down the stairs, and throughthe manifold passages and turnings of the Hotel de Guise, at thatparticular moment of the day ere factitious light has supplied theplace of the blessed sunshine, and when such rays of the set orb asstill linger in the sky and find their way through the windows--thoughas rosy as those of the morning--are melancholy rather than gay. Atlength the servant opened the door of a small cabinet, and passingthrough, led St. Real into a larger room beyond, where he left him.
Standing near one of the windows at the farther end, and apparentlygazing forth with some attention, appeared the figure of a lady indeep mourning. The light was not sufficient for St. Real todistinguish who she was; but her garb showed that it was not Madame deMontpensier, and St. Real was sure that it was not the Duchess deGuise. His heart beat quick, far quicker than he liked--for the heartis sometimes a prophet--and, for a moment, he paused in the midst ofthe room. The next instant, however, he again advanced: the ladyturned as he approached, roused from her reverie by the sound of hisfootsteps, and St. Real suddenly found himself alone in the chamberwith Eugenie de Menancourt. He was not surprised--at least he had noright to be so--for he was prepared to meet Mademoiselle de Menancourtat the Hotel de Guise that night; but it were vain to say that he wasnot agitated. He knew not why, and he was angry with himself forfeelings which he could not, which he would not, perhaps, account forto his own understanding.
With Eugenie it was different. She was both surprised and agitated;for the last person she had expected, yet the person she had mostwished to see, was the Marquis of St. Real. It was natural enough,too, that she should desire to see him: she had known him from herinfancy; she had learned, in the early habits of unrestrainedintercourse, to look upon him as a brother; she had found him alwayskind and gentle in his affections, clear and just in his opinions, andfirm and noble in his principles; and, in the friendless and orphanstate in which she was now left, there was no one to whom she solonged to apply for advice, assistance, and protection as to Huon ofSt. Real. At one time, indeed, in her utter ignorance of theselfishness of faction, she had contemplated applying to the Duke ofMayenne for permission to retire to the castle of the old Marquis ofSt. Real, whose neutrality between the contending parties of the day,she had fondly fancied, might obviate the objections which the leaderof the League would entertain to any other asylum not within theimmediate grasp of his own power. There was, however, in her bosom avague unacknowledged consciousness of feelings, which she wished notto render more distinct--a sort of apprehension lest the world shouldattribute to her motives that she would have shrunk from entertaining--which made her hesitate so long in regard to giving voice to herrequest, that ere she decided the tidings reached her that the oldlord was dead, and that the refuge which she might otherwise havehoped to find in his dwelling was consequently shut against herforever. Her thoughts, then, had often been busy with St. Real; shehad often longed to see him, to speak with him, to confide hersituation, her fears, her anxieties, her danger, to one in whom shewas sure to find a kind and feeling auditor. With these wishes,however, no hopes had been combined. She knew, or believed she knew,that St. Real's principles would lead him to join the royal party; andthat, therefore, unless he entered Paris as a victor or a prisoner,there was little chance of his visiting the capital. Madame deMontpensier, in summoning her to the Hotel de Guise, had given her noinformation of the object for which she was called thither; and shehad obeyed with some degree of alarm, which had not been decreased byan apparent inattention and want of courtesy on the part of theDuchess, evinced by leaving her for nearly half an hour unnoticed inthe wide and solitary chamber to which she had been ushered on herfirst arrival. Her sensations, therefore, on beholding St. Real, werepurely those of surprise and pleasure; but they reached the height ofagitation.
She spoke not; but, as the last light that lingered in the sky shoneupon her beautiful countenance through the open window, St. Realbeheld the warm blood rush up into her cheek and forehead, a beaminglustre dance in her eyes, and a bright irrepressible smile play abouther lips, that plainly told he was no unwelcome visiter. The hand thatwas instantly extended to him he took in his; and he thought it notreason to his cousin to press his lips upon it. All that Eugenie andSt. Real first said was too hurried and confused, too shapeless andunconnected, to bear much meaning if written down in mere cold words,without the looks, and the gestures, and the feelings, that at thetime gave life and soul to those words themselves. They had a thousandthings to speak of. Since their last meeting each had lost a father,each had lost a friend; and the affection that either had borne to thedead parent of the other was matter of deep sympathy and feelingbetween them. All their thoughts, their sorrows, their regrets, werein common, and their conversation, for some time, was one of thosedeep, touching, artless, unrestrained communications of mutual ideas,which--full of the reciprocation of bright sentiments--more than aughtelse on earth knit heart and heart together.
At length St. Real remembered that he was losing moments which he haddestined for another purpose; and some of the servants entering tolight the lamps and sconces in the apartment, at once showed him thathe had no time to lose, and gave him an opportunity of changing thetopic. As soon as they were left once more alone, he spoke of hiscousin, the Count d'Aubin, and approached, without directly speakingof the subject of his pretensions, to Mademoiselle de Menancourt.
Eugenie turned as pale as death, and then again the red blood mountedto her cheek with a quick vehement blush: she too felt that there wasan infinity to be said, and feared that there might be little time tosay it. There was much--she felt there was much--to be staked upon theconversation of the next few instants; and she determined that,whatever report of her sentiments St. Real might bear his cousin, itshould be such as to put an end for ever to his hopes of heraffection.
&
nbsp; "And would you, St. Real," she said, "would you, who know both him andme, would you press me to fulfil an engagement, in making which Imyself bore no part, and which, even on the side of my father, was, asfar as I can learn, but conditional? No, St. Real, no! sooner thandisobey my father's commands, I would have sacrificed happiness,perhaps life itself: but he left me free, and pointedly, with his lastbreath, bade me, in the difficult circumstances in which I should beplaced, use my own judgment. That judgment will never lead me tobecome the wife of one who can act as you and I have seen Philipd'Aubin act."
"But, believe me, Eugenie," replied St. Real, "Philip has changed. Heloves you deeply, sincerely; and that love will teach him to seek yourhappiness by gaining your esteem."
"No, no! St. Real," replied Eugenie with a sigh, "no, no! he lovesnothing but himself. I know him better than you do. While I thoughtthat, at some time, I was to become his wife, I strove to love him asgreat an effort as woman can strive to direct the feelings of her ownheart. In striving to love him, I strove to know him; and thus Ilearned all the baseness, all the selfishness, of his character.Forgive me, St. Real, for using such harsh language: you know it isnot in my nature to speak or to feel thus, except in a case where allmy happiness is concerned: but I wish you to understand at once, andfor ever, that I will not marry Philip d'Aubin--because I do not lovehim."
"But might not time, and assiduity, and nobler deeds, teach you tolove him?" demanded St. Real: "for, believe me, Eugenie, betterqualities lie slumbering in his heart, which a great object mightawake and strengthen. Might he not teach you to love him?"
"I would not love him for a universe," replied Eugenie; "for the womanwho loves him is sure to be miserable. But press me no more, St. Real,press me no more: my resolution is taken--my mind and my heart arefixed. I do not love Philip d'Aubin--I never have loved him--I nevercan love him; and, sooner than become his wife, I would resign allthat I have on earth but the dowry of a nun; quit the world, and seekpeace in the cloister."
St. Real replied but by a sigh; and although that sigh might be one ofsorrow for the disappointment of his cousin, yet it called up in thebosom of Eugenie de Menancourt varied emotions, that, for a moment,sent another bright flush across her cheek, which, fading away again,left her as pale as death. Ere the soft natural hue had returned, andere St. Real had time to separate his mingled feelings from eachother, and give to those he thought it right to express, the dooropened, and Madame de Montpensier appeared alone.
Strange is it to say, but no less true, that though Eugenie deMenancourt and Huon de St. Real had both longed for such a moment ofcalm and unobserved communion, the approach of a third person was, atthat moment, a relief to both. Nor was the manner of Madame deMontpensier at all calculated to lessen that sensation: it was thesame which she had assumed in the morning towards St. Real, and whichshe had found succeed so well, that she determined not to abandon ittill he had quitted Paris. She was, perhaps, even calmer and moretranquil in her demeanour now than she had appeared before: forreading, with deep knowledge, the secrets of the human heart, she knewthat such a demeanour was best in harmony with the feelings which shewished St. Real and Eugenie to experience towards each other.Approaching, then, slowly and tranquilly, she welcomed Mademoiselle deMenancourt cordially, and then proceeded to speak of variousindifferent subjects with wit and grace, but with very temperedgaiety, until the appearance of the Duchess of Guise, and then of theDuke of Mayenne, gave a different turn to the conversation. Supper wasalmost immediately announced; and, during the meal, all passed in thesame calm tone. Eugenie, for the first time in her life, thoughtMadame de Montpensier as fascinating in manners as she was generallyreported to be; and although she could not help feeling, with a degreeof discomfort, that the eyes of the princess were frequently upon herwith an inquiring, or rather, investigating, glance, yet the minuteswent by more pleasantly than any she had known for many months. St.Real, too, felt the time brief and sweet; but, arguing from the costlyapparel of the Duchess and her sister, that they were either goingforth to figure on some more splendid scene, or were about to receiveother guests at home, he judged that the moments allowed to suchconversation as he then enjoyed would be but few; and he tormentedhimself by remembering a thousand things he wished to say toMademoiselle de Menancourt, which he had forgotten at the only timewhen they could have been said.
At length the party rose; and, if the sound of rolling wheels, andshouting attendants, and trampling horses, augured true, the membersof the house of Guise were even somewhat late in preparing to receivethe noble guests who were invited that night to meet together ingaiety and splendour, though the morning had passed with many instrife and bloodshed, and though iron war was thundering with hiscannon at the gates.
On the first signal of their design to quit the supper table, theattendants, who stood round, threw open the doors of the hall, andMadame de Montpensier, taking Eugenie by the hand, led the way intoanother chamber, which was already brilliantly lighted, and evidentlyprepared for some occasion of splendour, but into which, as yet, noone had been admitted. Passing through that and several rooms beyond,they at length approached a saloon, the door of which was open, andfrom which proceeded the busy hum of many voices; while variousfigures were seen passing to and fro across the aperture of thedoorway, like the painted shadows cast by a phantasmagoria. Some ofthose guests, however, who watch for great men's steps, and observetheir looks, soon perceived the approach of the family of Guise; andthe words, "The Duke, the Duke! His Highness the lieutenant-general!"pronounced by several voices within, created, for the moment a briefbustle among the guests, and then the silence of expectation, till theparty entered the room.
The number already assembled might amount to nearly fifty, of whom thegreater proportion were officers and soldiers, either personallyattendant upon the Duke of Mayenne, or eager to pay court to him whosefortunes were for the time in the ascendant. For them, governments,commands, and the many military employments which gave profuseopportunity of squeezing a divided people, formed the attractionstowards one at whose disposal were placed all the good things of atleast one half the empire. The rest of the party who occupied thesaloon were made up of the lower classes of the French nobility, maleand female, principally the _noblesse de la robe_, who, with the sameviews as the others, though directed in a different line, sought to beamongst the first at the Hotel de Guise.
Not long after, however, another class began to arrive, who, willingto associate with Mayenne, to partake of the influence of his goodfortune, to share what he chose to delegate of his power, and toobtain for their younger children the various benefices in his gift,were yet desirous of distinguishing themselves from even the democracyof their own order, by making the hour of their visit somewhat later,that they might not be confounded in the first rush of the subservientcrowd. Last of all, as if in mockery of the pride of their immediatepredecessors, came the fops, the coxcombs, the witlings, thedebauchees of Paris, heedless of all interests but the dear firstall-absorbing interests of their own vanity, and ready to laugh orsneer at everything and everybody, from the great Duke himself, downto the last new-made _procureur_, who claimed a right to bear arms andcall himself _gentilhomme_.
On his arrival in the hall, the Duke advanced and bowed round him withthe dignity, and perhaps with a little more than the pride, of alegitimate monarch. Though his eye had not much of the fire and energywhich characterized that of his father and his brother, it wassufficiently quick and marking to observe in the room all those whoare likely to be serviceable, either individually to himself, or moregenerally, to the state; and to each of these he took care to addresssome word of more particular favour and encouragement. Some he passedwith a mere inclination of the head; some he noticed not at all.Madame de Montpensier, however, though in her heart prouder than herbrother, was one of those--of those few persons--capable of feelingthe master passions of human nature in all the terrible energy inwhich they can display themselves. Hatred, revenge, and ambition, werefor the time, pred
ominant in her heart: and these are idols to which,as to the Moloch of the Ammonites, pride will even sacrifice itschildren. Knowing and feeling that the meanest man present mightaccelerate or retard the objects of her desire, casting aside all hernatural vanity, and all the haughtiness of her race, Madame deMontpensier mingled with the crowd, and--while her languishingsister, the Duchess of Guise, sat coquetting with her own particularadmirers--she spoke with every one, smiled upon every one, and lefteach with increased prepossession in her favour, and renewedattachment to her cause.
As the crowd increased, and the rooms became full, the party separatedinto groups, classing themselves by the various standards of rank,opinions, wit, or tastes. For all, amusement was provided in caseconversation should not be sufficient to fill up the time; and manytook advantage of such arrangements to favour or to conceal thepurposes and the views with which each came thither more or lesspreoccupied. In one chamber the dice rolled upon the board, while oneof the most vehement players was every now and then seen to hold abrief conversation with various persons who came and went in the room.At other tables again, those flat, dull pieces of mischievouspasteboard called cards were dealt and played in solemn silence,except when some biting jest, or well-directed and premeditated sneer,found a hook to hang itself upon, even in so insignificant a thing asthe foolish names assigned to different cards. Then, again, in a vastand brilliant hall beyond, music of the sweetest kind hung upon theair; while the dance offered its protection to every sort of scheming,from the soft business of innocent love, to foul intrigue and tortuouspolicy.
In the midst of all this, St. Real, in the simplicity of his heart,saw nothing but very innocent amusement. Eugenie refused to take apart in the dance; and how or why he knew not, St. Real found himselfgenerally by her side. Such a scene, of all others on the earth,affords the greatest opportunity of private communication; but, if thethoughts, the wishes, and the purposes of the speakers be notintimately known to each other, it may become the most dangerous placefor such communion also. The half-spoken sentence is so ofteninterrupted at the very point where it is the most interesting, andwhere it most needs explanation--so much must be said in haste, or notsaid at all--so much must be left to fancy--so great is the treasureturned over to imagination--that he who plays with hearts should bevery sure of his game before he ventures boldly in such a scene asthat. St. Real and Eugenie de Menancourt conversed, at first, uponsubjects of every-day import and of general reference; but there werebetween them so many stores of private feeling and thought, that, uponwhatever topic they began, the conversation soon flowed back tomatters in regard to which their own hearts were in unison respectingeither the past or the present. They found it vain to struggle againstthe stream of sympathies that either sooner or later drew theircommunion apart from the things that surrounded them; and as theevening went on, they more and more gave way to what they felt;endeavouring, indeed, to avoid speaking of their own sentiments in anindividual manner, but still only covering their personal feelingsunder a thin veil of general observations. This veil, too, was sooften rent by accidental interruptions--the termination of a phrasewhich was intended to give it its general character so often remainedunspoken, that every minute, as it flew, left the hearts of Eugenie deMenancourt and Huon of St. Real with deeper and more agitatingfeelings than either of them had ever felt before: and yet, like allother people who have loved where it would have been wiser not, theywere unconscious of what they were encouraging in their own hearts.Eugenie was agitated, but was not alarmed. St. Real was delighted, butonly fearful, when he saw the eye of any one marking the closeposition that he occupied by Eugenie's side, lest it should besupposed that he was making love to her who had been promised to hiscousin; but he never believed--he never dreamed--that he was makinglove--that he was winning her heart, and yielding his own. The veryefforts he had made that very night in favour of his cousin weresufficient to blind him entirely, and to lead him, like a generaldeceived by his guides, into the cunning ambush which the keen archerCupid so skilfully lays for the advanced parties of the human heart.
At length, towards midnight--that enchanted hour, when all the powersof the imagination, the fairies of the microcosm within us, are up andrevelling in the greenest spots of the human heart--at length, towardsmidnight, when music, and conversation, and gay sights, and happyfaces all around, and pleasant words, and the bright eyes of the sweetand beautiful, had left St. Real's fancy as excited as ever wasBacchus' self by the juice of the Achaian vine, Madame de Montpensierstood by his side; and, laying the jewelled forefinger of her righthand upon his arm, called his attention while she said, "I have amessage to give Monsieur de St. Real from my brother, who cannotdetach himself from that group to speak with you in person, and whofears that you may be absent to-morrow, ere he can see you. I will notdetain you one instant."
St. Real obeyed the summons at once, giving but one look, as he turnedto follow Madame de Montpensier, towards Eugenie de Menancourt, andanother towards a young cavalier, who hastened to fill up the place heabandoned at her side. The Duchess also gave a glance to each, and athird to St. Real; and then, with a smile, led the way across theball-room, and through two or three chambers beyond, to the utmostverge of the long suite of apartments, which was that night thrownopen to the public.
There, looking round her to see that she was unobserved, she paused,and turned towards the young cavalier. "Monsieur de St. Real," shesaid, in a calm, sweet, but impressive tone, "when you came to Paris,you came undecided whether to join the friends and supporters of theCatholic faith, or its enemies. I think that you have seen enough ofus now to judge and to decide; and I have not the slightest doubt ofwhat your decision will be; nay, what it is! But, setting all thatapart, I have an offer to make you, which the noblest amongst all yonglittering throng would give his right hand to hear addressed tohimself. Mark me, Monsieur de St. Real! A woman's eyes are keen: youlove Mademoiselle de Menancourt! Nay, stop me not; but hear! Eugeniede Menancourt loves you! I, in the name of the lieutenant-general ofthe kingdom, offer you her hand. Take it, and be happy! Spare mybrother a world of anxiety and difficulty on her account; spare herthe pain of importunity; relieve her from the helpless exposure of herpresent situation; and make the loveliest creature of all Francehappy, in the protection of him she loves!"
Pausing for a moment, she gave one glance at the countenance of herauditor, and then added, "Say not a word to-night! but breakfast withme _t?te-?-t?te_ to-morrow, when all difficulties and obstacles shallbe removed for ever!"
She turned away, and left St. Real standing alone in the room, feelingthat the casket of his heart was opened to his own sight, and itsdeepest secrets displayed, never to be concealed again by any of thethin and glistening veils with which human weakness cloaks itself soeffectually against the purblind eyes of self-examination. He casthimself into a seat, and for some minutes remained in bitter communewith his own heart, while the music and the dancing, and the gaysociety of the capital, were as unmarked as if they had not existed.Then remembering, painfully, that his demeanour had been already buttoo accurately watched, he rose, and, with a flushed cheek andcontracted brow, returned to the chief saloon. As he approachedEugenie de Menancourt, however, he perceived that she was preparing todepart with a lady of high rank and advanced years, under whoseespecial care Madame de Montpensier had placed her. Eugenie paused ashe came near. The crowd of gay gallants, who were pressing forwardwith the formal courtesy of the day to offer their services inconducting her to the carriage, drew back as he approached, as ifalready warned of the purposes of Mayenne in regard to the richheiress. St. Real felt what was expected of him, and at once offeredhis hand; but it was with an air of restraint and absence thatinstantly caught the eye of her to whom he spoke. She suffered him tolead her through the rooms in silence; but, as a turn on the staircaseleft them for a moment alone, her anxiety prevailed, and, with anunsteady voice, she said, "You seem suddenly unhappy, Monsieur de St.Real. Has anything occurred to pain you?"
St. Re
al was not a good dissembler; and Eugenie had not dissembled. Heheard in the soft, scarce audible tone--he felt in the trembling ofthe hand that lay in his--he saw in the soft and swimming eyes thatlooked on him--the truth of one part of what the Princess had said;and in his own heart he felt but too strongly the truth of all therest. St. Real was not a good dissembler; and all he could reply was,"Oh, Eugenie!" but it was enough.