CHAPTER XVII.
Leaving St. Real to meditate over the effects which his candour andhonesty had produced, and to strengthen himself in his integrityagainst the bitterness of undeserved suspicion and reproach, we mustfollow the Count d'Aubin to his dwelling, and be his companion for thenext few hours. Springing from his charger, he threw the reins to oneof his attendants, ordered fresh horses to be saddled in the stable, achange of dress to be instantly brought him, and eagerly demanded ifno packet had arrived from Paris. The answer was in the negative; butstill the count proceeded to change his dress, apparelling himselfwith no small care and splendour, brushing the dust from his darkcurling locks, and adding the fine essences that were then held a parteven of the simplest toilet. Ere he had done, there was a sharp knockat the door of his chamber, and the next moment the dwarf Bartholostole in, bearing a packet in his hand.
"I saw the messenger straying about the town," he said, "and knowingyou would want this, I hastened to bring it hither."
"You see into my thoughts, and anticipate my wishes, good Bartholo,"replied D'Aubin, breaking open the packet, and running his eye overthe words of a regular safe-conduct from the Duke of Mayenne. "It isall right," he added, "though they limit me to four and twenty hours;but say, have you aught to tell me, Bartholo; for the day wears, and Iam ready to set out. There seems matter in that face of thine. Speak,man! speak boldly. We know each other well."
"Your lordship is kind," replied the dwarf, with one of his sardonicgrins. "I would fain give your lordship a piece of advice; but knowingfrom sweet experience how advice is relished in this wise world, Iwish to know whether you have any appetite for it?"
"Yes, yes; speak boldly," replied D'Aubin; "I am as hungry for goodadvice as a famished wolf, and I am inclined to believe thee, justnow, seeing that the hint you gave me not long since concerning mysimple-seeming cousin has proved but too true. He would act in allhonour as yet, it seems; but we all know with what tiny footsteps lovebegins the course, that he determines, ere the end, to stride overlike a giant. Not that I think," he added, giving a glance to themirror, and marking there as handsome features as ever that crowninginvention of personal vanity reflected to the self-satisfied eyes ofman--though the countenance he beheld might be somewhat worn with thestrife of passions, it is true--"not that I think that, were it cometo rivalry, I should have to fear the result. But I would fain put itbeyond all chances; so speak your advice, good Bartholo. If it suitme, I will take it; and if not--why it is but empty air."
"Ay, ay," replied the dwarf, "empty air, and dust and ashes! Those fewwords are the history of the whole world--man's fame, and wisdom, andwit, and eloquence, and power, and strength, and beauty--empty air,and dust and ashes, are the whole!--so that brings me to my tidings,and to my advice;" he continued, resuming his ordinary tone. "You haveheard of the king's wound, my lord. Now, do not you be one of thefools who deceive themselves, and think he will recover! Take my wordfor it, he will die!"
"Nay; but the surgeons say," replied D'Aubin, "that he is already farbetter, and give many shrewd reasons to show that he is nearly well."
"Let them give what reasons they will," answered the dwarf, "do notyou believe them. Why, my good lord, do you think that your fairfriend, the Duchess of Montpensier, or any of the holy and devout menof the Catholic union, are such fools in grain as to trust to a simplebit of smooth innocent iron to do the work of their hatred, while theyhave our dearly beloved Rene Armandi at hand, to smear the edge andthe point with some of his blessed contrivances for shortening painand making the work sure? No, no! my lord. Not more than two days ago,I was hanging about the gate of that very Jacobin convent from whichthis foul monk came forth, and I saw three people arrive to lay theirheads together with the very reverend and respectable Father Prior,whose meeting told its own tale, whereof this morning's butchery isbut the comment. First came Armandi the poisoner, next came theDuchess of Montpensier, and then came Wolfstrom the rogue; so be yousure, my lord, that the king will die; and this very night make yourbargain so firm that no one will dare to break it. To-night," headded, his lips curling with more cynical bitterness than ever,"to-night you may dispose of your assistance and co-operation at whatrate you like; but if you wait till tomorrow, your merchandise willfall a hundred per cent., for the market will be overstocked."
The manner in which the dwarf put his counsels was certainly not themost agreeable; but D'Aubin was accustomed to his bitterness, and waswilling enough to cull wholesome advice for the direction of his ownplans and purposes from amongst the gall and wormwood wherewith goodBartholo seldom failed to savour his discourse. "I believe thou artright, Bartholo," he replied; "and as I am determined sooner to loselife itself than to be foiled, and made a laughing-stock and held upto the scorn of all my companions by this fair-faced country-girl, Imust even make the most of my time, and bind Mayenne to his promisesby ties that he cannot shake off. Thanks, then, good Bartholo, foryour advice; I will be back before dawn to-morrow, and will reward youbetter than by thanks. In the meantime, keep a wary eye on all that isgoing forward here; and, both for ancient love, and for futureadvancement, bring me, as often as may be, a hint of other men'sdoings. And now, fare thee well--away to thy lord, lest he miss thee.But hark I there are the horses, and I go."
Thus saying, he threw on his hat and plume, cast a wrapping cloakround his shoulders to keep his apparel as much as possible from thedust; and, springing down the stairs, mounted his horse, which stoodsaddled at the door. Bartholo watched him, as making a sign for hisusual train of attendants to follow, he struck his spurs into hischarger's flank, and galloped away at full speed towards Paris. Agrim smile hung upon the dwarf's lips as he saw him depart, andmuttering--"Ay, there he goes! to seek an unwilling bride, and forpure vanity to marry, neither loving nor beloved: but it mattersnot--my end is gained!"--he turned back towards the abode of St. Real.
In the mean time, D'Aubin galloped on hastily, giving the word as hepassed any of the posts of the royal army, till at length, having gotbeyond the precincts of his own camp, he was challenged by the outmostsentinel of the League. Occupied with other thoughts, and giving wayto the vehement impatience of his nature, the Count spurred on withoutreply; and the man, presenting his matchlock, fired without furtherceremony. The ball whistled past D'Aubin's head; but, merely shakinghis clenched hand at the sentinel, he pursued his rapid way, till atlength he was encountered by a body of Mayenne's horse, who againchallenged him, and obliged him to display his pass. More than once,ere he was permitted to enter the town, the same ceremony wasobserved; and, what between one delay and another, the evening skygrew deep purple, and then faded into grey, as he rode along, at amore cautious pace, through the streets of the capital.
Directing his course by the shortest way, he passed through many ofthe narrow gloomy lanes of the Faubourg, and, crossing one of thebridges which joined the island in the middle of the Seine to theshore, he plunged in amongst that dingy accumulation of tall, dark,small-windowed houses, which lie behind the great cathedral of NotreDame. In these streets, at the hour of which we speak, the twilight,which would have still been seen in the open country, existed not; andall was darkness, except where, here and there, citizens returningfrom their shops to their dwelling-houses, or persons of a higherclass going on some expedition of pleasure or business, were seenfinding their way along, preceded by a lantern or a torch; and alsowhere, before the hotel of some of the old nobles of the court, whostill lingered in that quarter, were to be seen a few torches fixed insockets at the door. It was to none of these more lordly dwellings,however, that D'Aubin took his way; but, at a door which stood open ina tall, unlighted, gloomy-looking house; he sprang to the ground, andafter giving his servants directions to take up their temporary abodein an inn, where he should find them in case of necessity, and somemoney wherewithal to provide themselves their evening meal, he enteredthe house, followed by his page and one armed attendant, and beganmounting, in utter darkness, the long, steep, narrow stair.
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sp; At the second story D'Aubin stopped, and by the little light thatfound its way from a lamp through a small lattice upon the staircase,he struck several hard blows with the hilt of his dagger against amassive unshapely oaken door, which stood on one side of thelanding-place. Immediately after, a sound was heard within, and, thedoor opening, the Count was admitted, shading his eyes from the suddenglare of light, into a small ante-room or vestibule, where, stretchedon benches or settles, were ten or eleven stout attendants, togetherwith one of those large sort of vehicles which we are accustomed tocall sedan-chairs, wherein the ladies of Paris were very muchaccustomed, at that time, to go from house to house, and one of whichwe have already described.
The person who opened the door was a trim-looking serving-man, dressedsomewhat in the garb of an inferior burgher of the town; and,conducted by this personage, D'Aubin was led on, leaving his groombehind him, but followed by the page. The next chamber into which hewas led presented a different aspect, being a small octagon room, withthe ceiling of black oak exquisitely carved, the walls beautifullypainted and gilt, and the furniture as rich and elegant as the art andtaste of that day could produce.
Here D'Aubin was met by no less a personage than Armandi the perfumer,who, bowing low and reverently, welcomed him to his house, and thenled him on through several chambers, each more tastefully decoratedthan the other, into one where eastern luxury itself was outdone, andwhere Madame de Montpensier was waiting the guest she had invitedthere to supper. Strange as it may seem that the highest and noblestin such a capital as Paris should abandon their own convenient andsplendid dwellings, to make these little parties at the houses ofinferior, and often of very base and dishonourable persons, yet thecustom was not restricted to this period of French history, but evenin the succeeding reigns the monarch himself was frequently known thusto indulge; and the custom, which was begun probably with politicalviews, or for the sake of a temporary relaxation from the fetters ofstate, was found to be too convenient for a debauched court to bereadily abandoned.
"True to your appointment, most noble Count," said the Duchess, in alight tone. "I augur from your punctuality, that all goes well andhappily with the heretics and tyrants beyond the walls, so that theycan spare the services of so gallant a cavalier as the Count d'Aubin."
"The fact is, most beautiful Lady Catherine," replied D'Aubin, whoseplan was already fixed, "that their majesties are waiting till the dayafter to-morrow, ere they begin serious operations against the city;for, first, with that brilliant forgetfulness which characterisesgreat men, they did not remember till yesterday that fifteen hundredcannon-balls are hardly enough to begin a regular bombardment; and,secondly, they wished that my worthy cousin should bring up his troopson the side of St. Denis, in order to straiten you a little in yourdiet, as they are resolved, absolutely, to try whether your stomachsare not like that of the ostrich, and capable of digesting mere ironin default of other food. They must therefore wait a day to give timefor casting bullets and marching men."
D'Aubin spoke with so much of his ordinary levity, that he left Madamede Montpensier still doubtful whether he spoke in earnest or injest--whether he was saying what was really the case, or from someparticular motive was endeavouring to deceive her.
"You seem in a mood for revelations to-night," she said. "Thank youfor your warning, Monsieur d'Aubin, we shall be upon our guard; butwhether the two kings will thank you for telling us, remains to beproved."
"I care very little whether they thank me or not," replied D'Aubin;"besides, what I have said can do you no good, and them no harm,otherwise I should not have told it. You are here in a net, fair lady;and you must employ some other means to get yourself free than thoseyou have hitherto employed, or depend upon it, the fisherman will putin his hand and take you."
"He may find that he has a shark in the net," replied Madame deMontpensier, "and be glad enough to let it escape ere it devour him."
"Well, we shall see," replied D'Aubin--"we shall see. But oh! by theLord, I had nearly forgot to compliment your Highness on your exploitsof this morning. Has none of the Dominican come back to you yet?
"None of the Dominican!" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier, with evidentastonishment--"none of the Dominican! What do you mean, D'Aubin?"
"I simply mean," replied the Count, "that by this time I thought yourHighness might at least have got a leg, or an arm, or a foot, or alittle finger of your martyr, to make a relic of; for it couldscarcely be more than two o'clock when he was torn to pieces by thefour horses. No, it could not be more than two; for as soon as ever heattempted to stab the king, La Guesle ran his sword through him, and,almost immediately after, casting him out of the window, they tied himto the horses' heels, and tore him to pieces, in the little squaredown by the end of the bridge."
"_Attempted_ to kill the king!" said Madame de Montpensier, but illconcealing, in her desire to hear more, her previous knowledge of theact that had been perpetrated--"attempted! Then he _did not_ killhim."
"Oh, no," replied D'Aubin, gaily, and purposely affecting to laugh ather disappointment. "You do not think Henry is such a fool as to lethimself be killed by a bungling Dominican. You should have sent ourfriend in the next room there, Armandi, or some other skilful,delicate, dexterous personage. Besides, dear lady, when you andArmandi and good father Bourgoin were consulting together, surelythree such shrewd heads as yours might have fallen upon some betterand more politic plan of getting rid of a bad king than that oftrusting the execution of the act to an ignorant, clumsy, timid friar.Good faith! I should have thought that you might have even actedJudith yourself, and have delivered the land of our worthy Holofernesof St. Cloud with your own hand."
Madame de Montpensier turned pale, and red, and pale again; and therewas a quivering of her fine lip, and a flashing of her proud dark eye,which showed D'Aubin at length that he was urging her too far. As soonas he perceived it, he dropped the sarcastic irony which he had beenusing; and drawing nearer to her, he took her fair, soft, jewelledhand in his, and raised it to his lips. "Forgive me," he said, "forteasing you. I love not Henry of Valois more than you do--as you wellknow; and though I will not say that I regret your attempt has failed,yet I do believe that all knowledge of the share you had in it restswith me alone, and, believe me, my lips are and shall ever be sealedby this kiss upon this hand--except towards yourself."
Madame de Montpensier gazed on him in no small surprise. "You assumethings, sir," she said with some hesitation, "which you have no rightto assume."
"Nay, nay," replied D'Aubin, "say not a word, dear lady. I know thewhole as well as if I had been one of your triumvirate at the Jacobinsthe day before yesterday, all the means employed, the vision of theangel, and all----"
"Either some one has betrayed me, or you deal in magic, D'Aubin!"cried the Duchess.
D'Aubin smiled to see her consternation; for although, by combiningthe information he had received from St. Real with the hints that hadbeen given him by the dwarf, and adding thereunto his own knowledge ofthe parties, he had been able to form a very correct guess at thetruth--and although he knew the effect which vague hints of greaterknowledge than one possesses, supported by one or two distinct facts,will produce upon a mind loaded with a heavy secret and apprehensiveof discovery, yet he had hardly calculated upon so completelydeceiving such a shrewd intriguer as Madame de Montpensier, in regardto the extent of his information. "No one has betrayed you," hereplied; "nor do I deal in magic; but I have far greater means ofknowing things that pass both in the city and in the camp than yousuppose. What I have said just now I said but to tease you; and,indeed, fair lady, you deserve somewhat worse at my hands."
"Wherefore, wherefore? How so?" demanded Madame de Montpensier; "howhave I offended you, D'Aubin?"
"Why, I do think," replied D'Aubin, "that considering all the oldfriendships which had existed between us, it should not have been youwho attempted to mar my fortunes, and thwart my purposes. Did you notonly last night propose to my cousin St. Real to bestow on him thehand of m
y promised bride?"
"I did," replied Madame de Montpensier, boldly, recovering in a momentall her composure--"I did, and I will tell you why I did so, Philipd'Aubin. I saw, by your conversation of the day before, that you hadirretrievably attached yourself to the party of the tyrant; and Iconsider the interests of our cause far before any private interestsor friendships. I am resolved, and so I know also is Mayenne, that thehand of Mademoiselle de Menancourt shall never be given to any but amember of the union; and it was therefore that I offered her hand toyour cousin, if he would bring his forces to our side."
"Ah! but, lady," replied D'Aubin, "how could you venture on such anoffer, when your own brother, the very morning before, had made thesame to me, and left me a certain time to deliberate and act?"
"Nay, of that I know nothing," replied Madame de Montpensier. "Had Ibeen aware of that, of course I should have acted differently."
"But if you and your brother will play at cross purposes," saidD'Aubin, "what surety is there that the promises of either will bekept? And observe the consequences of this sort of dealing! My cousinat once determined to join the forces of the king, told me the story,and thus well-nigh changed all my views and purposes, unsettled mydesigns, and nearly determined me to take an oath of perpetual serviceto the kings."
"Nay, nay," replied the Duchess, giving him her hand, "but join us atthis moment of our need, and Eugenie shall be yours."
"Ay," said D'Aubin; "but I must have some better security than merepromises."
"Surely you do not doubt me," said Madame de Montpensier, "when I mostsolemnly declare----"
"Declare nothing, dear lady," answered D'Aubin; "I doubt nobody, butmy resolution is taken. The hand of Eugenie de Menancourt must bepromised to me this night, under the hand and seal of his Highness ofMayenne, as lieutenant-general of the kingdom; or when I return to thecamp to-morrow, I pledge myself, in the most solemn terms, to servethe Kings of France and Navarre, till there is no such thing as a HolyLeague and Union in France. And more, I assure you most solemnly, thatI will instantly send an order unto Maine to cut down remorselesslyevery acre of my old forests, in order to raise another regiment forthe service of the state. Now, mark me, lady!--mark me well! In doingthis, I know what I am doing; for, if you cannot obtain this writtenpromise for me, it will be evident your brother does not intend thatthe hand of Eugenie should be mine, and I have no other means toobtain it, but the capture of Paris and the destruction of the League.It will be therefore well worth my while to sacrifice everything toswell the ranks of the royal forces, in order to insure success."
"Well, well, say no more, say no more," replied Madame de Montpensier;"the promise you shall have, if I have any influence with Mayenne; andbesides, you say he voluntarily made it himself, and therefore he willnot hesitate to write it. But tell me what are the terms in which thispromise is to be couched--you mean him to promise you her hand, if sheherself consents?"
"No, no," replied D'Aubin; "I will leave no hold for after tamperingand intrigue by any party. But," seeing a cloud come over the brow ofMadame de Montpensier at his intemperate words, "I mean not anyoffence to you, dear lady. Others may tamper--there are others mayintrigue, and may delay her consent and our union so long that myviews in favour of the League itself may be overthrown. The momentthat the hand of Eugenie is mine, I will raise for the service of theDuke all the retainers of the house of Menancourt who are now eitherlying idle, or swelling the ranks of the royalists. What I demand thenis, that your brother--acting as lieutenant-general of the kingdom, aswell as calling himself so, and consequently considering himself asthe lawful guardian of all wards of the crown--shall promise me,without other condition than that in three days I subscribe the Unionand join my forces to his, the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt, whichwas promised to me by her own father."
Madame de Montpensier mused for a moment; and then rising, shereplied, "It shall be done, D'Aubin; it shall be done. Theworld--which Mayenne fears more than he will acknowledge--can saynothing against this act, for it is but a ratification of her father'spromise by him who now stands in her father's place. Here," she criedaloud, ringing a small silver bell that stood on the table before her,and which was instantly answered by the appearance of Armandi, "bringme ink and paper, Ren?. You shall write down the promise as you wouldhave it, D'Aubin, and I will get my brother to sign it before you go;but make haste, for every moment I expect Wolfstrom to make our thirdat supper."
"I, too, must be speedy," replied D'Aubin; "for I must be back in thecamp long before dawn, lest there be any tampering with my troops.They are all fresh, and new-arrived, so that I can do with them what Iwill at present; but there is many a shrewd head both amongst theHuguenots and royalists, and, not being too sure of my attachment,they may think to make sure of my soldiers."
With his swift and gliding step Armandi soon re-appeared, bearing thewriting materials which had been demanded, and D'Aubin proceeded toput down the brief promise which he required from Mayenne; butscarcely had he finished, when the leader of the reitters madehis appearance, and seemed somewhat surprised at the grave andbusiness-like faces by which he was received.
"What is the hour, sir Albert?" demanded Madame de Montpensier. "Hasit yet struck nine?"
"The light, or rather the darkness, says that it is nearer ten,"replied the German; "and I heard the nine o'clock bell near an hourago."
"Then I shall not find Mayenne till eleven," replied the Duchess. "Hisclock-work habits have, at all events, the advantage of letting oneknow when and where he is to be met with. Come, Armandi, is the tableready? We may as well fill the moments with something more real thanpoor thought."
In a moment Armandi re-appeared, and with soft and courtly wordsinformed the Duchess that the best refreshments which his poor houseand inferior artists could prepare waited her gracious presence.Catherine of Guise and her two companions followed where he led; and,proceeding into another small cabinet, they found a table covered withwhat might well have merited the name of _cates divine_, if everanything can be so called which is destined to pamper the most animalpropensity of our nature.
Placing himself beside the Duchess's chair--while his own lacqueys andthe pages of the guests served and carved the dishes, and poured outthe wine--Armandi, in his low, sweet tone, mingled in theconversation, descanted upon the merits of the various kinds of food,and read one of those lectures upon the mysterious art of cookerywhich persons addicted to the pleasures of the table are always wellpleased to hear during their meals--stimulating their appetite for thegood things before them, by exciting their _eating imagination_ withpictures of unseen delicacies.
The exquisite fare, however, which was placed before them, the choiceand delicious wines that flowed amongst them like water, and even theculinary eloquence of Armandi, did not seem capable of rousing eitherMadame de Montpensier or D'Aubin from the thoughtful seriousness intowhich their preceding conversation had thrown them. Albert ofWolfstrom, indeed, ate and drank, and enjoyed to the uttermost, andshowed his white teeth in many a grin at the thoughts of all the rareragouts and savoury sauces which the perfumer described; but hiscompanions were grave and abstinent, and when the dessert was placedupon the table the Duchess rose.
"I leave you, gentlemen," she said, "for half an hour, trusting youcan amuse yourselves, at least for that time, without a woman'spresence. D'Aubin," she added, turning to the Count, and marking acertain degree of stern anxiety upon his brow--"D'Aubin, it shall bedone!"
Thus saying she quitted them; and Wolfstrom looked to D'Aubin withinquiring eyes, as if for information regarding what was passing. ButD'Aubin's countenance replied nothing; and the German, filling high aglass with sparkling Burgundy, exclaimed, "Come, come, Count, think nomore of your mysteries with the lovely Duchess! Let us have the dice,and pass her half hour's absence pleasantly."
"With all my heart," replied D'Aubin; and there shot through his ownbosom one of those strange dreams of superstition which are felt evenin the present time, but which were much more c
ommon then. "I havecast my last great stake already," he thought; "but the dice will soonshow me whether fortune favours me to-night or not!"
The dice were brought, a small table placed beside them, and Wolfstromand D'Aubin shook the accursed boxes, and cast throw after throw.Fortune, however, _did_ favour D'Aubin: he won invariably; and thoughthe sums for which they played at that time were too small to make thegain or loss a matter of any consequence, yet the fancy which hadtaken possession of him made him rejoice more at the winning of a fewhundred crowns than if he had acquired a fortune. His lip smiled, hiseye sparkled, his cheek glowed; and though the time of Madame deMontpensier's absence was nearly double that which she hadanticipated, D'Aubin found it not tedious, even under expectation.
At length she returned; and, without a word, laid down a paper on thetable before the Count. D'Aubin ran his eye over the promise he hadhimself drawn up; and there assuredly, at the bottom of the page,stood Mayenne's name in his own handwriting, together with the broadseal of his arms.
What arguments she had used, what reasons she had assigned, whatmotives she had called into action, to obtain that signature, theDuchess did not tell, but gazed for a moment with a look of triumphupon the Count; and then, as her eye caught the dice upon thetable, she turned with an air of gay indifference to Wolfstrom,demanding--"Well, sir Albert! have you won the Royalist's gold!"
"Good faith, no!" cried the German, throwing the dice into a water-jarof rock-crystal that stood upon the supper-table; "those little demonshave played me false, and he has won six hundred of as good crowns ofthe League as ever were squeezed from a heretic Huguenot."
"Well, well!" replied Madame de Montpensier, "if the dice forsake you,turn again to the wine, Sir Albert; there is a resource for you in alltime of trouble. Fill me yon Venice glass too; and you, D'Aubin, giveme that sweet manchet--for, to tell the truth, the thoughts of thisencounter I was about to undergo in your behalf, sir Count, kept mefrom supper."
D'Aubin gracefully spoke his thanks, taking care, however, to veil, inthe circumlocutory ornaments employed in that day, all direct allusionto the nature of the service for which he expressed his gratitude. Theconversation became gay and animated for half an hour; roamed to athousand indifferent subjects, touching each with a momentarylight--like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds of a windy autumnday, and skipping from point to point in the landscape as the vapoursare hurried on before the gale--and then, drooping for a moment,paused as if to breathe the wits of the gay little coterie. Madame deMontpensier took advantage of that minute to rise and depart; andD'Aubin, bidding his male companion "Good night," proceeded to calltogether his attendants and return to the camp.
A more strict watch was kept in the night than in the day; and, whatbetween one halt and another, the dawn was beginning to purple theeastern verge of the sky, when the Count arrived at the spot where histroops were quartered. As he was dismounting from his horse, however,some one whispered a word in his ear; and, springing again at onceinto the saddle, he turned his horse's head, and galloped on to hislodgings at St. Cloud.