CHAPTER I.
Oh the confines of the two beautiful provinces of Maine and Touraine,lies one of the sweetest valleys that the foot of man ever trod. Thehills by which it is formed are covered on one hand by a wood ofvenerable oaks, while the other side offers a green slope only brokenoccasionally by rocky banks; and on the summit of every eminencestands out, in bold relief, a group of two or three young trees,casting their deep, soft shadows on the velvet turf below.
The eye of a traveller, placed at the northern extremity of thevalley, may trace its course winding on in varied beauty for nearly aleague to the southward; till at length the hills between theacclivities of which it lies, seem to end abruptly in that direction,but still without meeting; the one side terminating in a high ruggedrock, cutting clear and distinct upon the sky, and the other fringedby the branches and foliage of the trees. Far away beyond--enframed,as it were, by the opening of the valley--lies a rich, splendidlandscape, showing bright Touraine, with its plains, and woods, anddells fading off in long misty lines of light and shade, till earthand heaven blend in the blue obscurity of distance.
Washing the roots of the trees on one side, and edged with a bank ofsoft green moss on the other, a small limpid stream runs swiftly alongover a shallow bed of rocks and pebbles, and, like some spoiled childof fortune, winds rapidly on amidst a thousand sweets and beauties,still hurrying forward, careless of all the bright things thatsurround its path. Such is the picture of that valley as I have seenit within the last twenty years; but the tale I have to tell refers toa period more remote.
Down the steep, rugged bridle-road, which, descending sharply from thebrow of the more exposed hill, crossed the course of the valley andthe stream at nearly a right angle, and then, mounting the oppositeslope, made its way through the forest;--down that road, somewherenear the end of April, 1589, a very handsome boy, seemingly aboutsixteen years of age, took his path on foot. He was just at the timeof life when childhood and manhood meet--when sports, and pastimes,and sweet innocence are cast away like faded flowers, and when wefirst set the naked foot of inexperience on that burning and arid paththrough the fiery desert of desire and disappointment, which each manmust tread, ere he reach the night's resting-place of the tomb. Not ashade of down yet tinged his upper lip with the budding of thelong-coveted mustachio, and his face was smooth and soft; but therewas a flash and a fire in his splendid dark eye, which told that thestrong and busy passions that beset man's prime had already takenpossession of his heart.
He was dressed in a vest of dark murrey-coloured cloth, bound with alight edging of gold, and in large trunk breeches descending to hisknee, made of the same stuff, and ornamented in the same manner. Hiscloak, which was more ample than was usual in those days, or than thetime of year required, was fastened by a buckle to the right shoulder,and, being brought round under his left arm in the Italian mode, waswrapped across his chest, without opposing any obstacle to the freepassage of his hand towards the hilt of his dagger or his sword. Hewas, if anything, below the middle height, and slightly made; but inhis countenance there were all those signs and features from which weare accustomed to argue the presence of high and daring courage: and,perhaps, it might have been a safer task to attack many a man ofgreater personal strength, and much more warlike appearance, than thatslight boy, with his light active limbs, and quick remarking eye.
On the summit of the hill he paused for a moment, and gazed over thecountry which he had left behind, as if looking anxiously for someexpected sight; and then, muttering the words, "Negligent varlets!" heresumed his path down the side of the hill. After wandering for ashort space along the margin of the shallow stream, seeking for aplace where he might cross its fretful waters, without wetting thelight buskins that covered his feet, he sat down upon the mossy bankunder the shade of a clump of oaks, seemingly wearied with his walk,and, pulling off his boots and stockings, dipped his feet in therivulet to cool and refresh them. Laying his broad-plumed hat by hisside, he leaned back against the broken bank, from which sprang theoaks that shaded him; and, with the water still rippling over hisfeet, and the chequered light and shade of the green leaves aboveplaying on his broad fair brow, he seemed to give himself up to one ofthose fanciful dreams ever so busy with the brain of youth.
It was certainly a spot and an hour to dream in. It was the noon of abright spring day. Every bird of the season was singing its sweetestsong in the forest opposite or in the trees above his head; and hisseat was carpeted with the meek-eyed wood anemone, the soft blueperiwinkle, the daisy, the primrose, and the violet, together with athousand other flowers, the sweetest children of the early year, whosevery birth and being are one of the brightest themes that natureoffers to imagination. And yet the youth's meditations did not appearto be pleasant ones. Whatever was the chain of thought that bound hismind, there was upon his countenance an expression of sad and painfulgloom, which gradually changed, like the hues of a red and stormysunset, to the deeper signs of wrath and indignation. Sometimes hegazed heavily upon the stream, with an eye all unconscious of theflashing waters before it; and then again, as some sterner feelingseemed to take possession of his heart, his brow would knit, his lipwould quiver, and his eye would flash like a young tiger in itsspring. Soon, however, the thoughts--whatever they were--which gaverise to such emotions, passed away; and, hanging down his head, saddersensations seemed, in turn, to occupy his breast. A bright drop roseand glittered in his eye, and the quick blood mounted hastily into hischeek, as if ashamed of the passion he had shown, though he knew notthat any one was near to witness its expression.
Whether the passing emotions by which he had been agitated were markedor not, his progress from the top of the hill to the spot where he sathad not been unobserved; and the next moment a rustling sound,proceeding from the bushes on the opposite side of the stream,startled him from his reverie. Bounding up like a frightened fawn, hefixed his eyes upon the trees in the direction from which the noisehad proceeded; but the thick foliage concealed for the time the objectwhich alarmed him; though, by the continuance of the sound, and thewaving of the boughs, it was evident that some large body was makingits way towards the side of the river. The next instant the figure ofa man emerged from the wood, and then that of a horse, whose bridle,cast over the stranger's arm, afforded the means of leading it forwardalong the narrow footpath which they had been treading. The leisurelypace at which both man and horse proceeded gave no signs of intentionsactively hostile towards any one; and although those were days inwhich dangers were to be found in every field and in every road, yet amoment's thought seemed to have made the youth ashamed of the timidstart which the stranger's approach had occasioned. Colouring highly,he sat down again upon the bank, and applied himself busily to replacehis boots and stockings, without vouchsafing a look towards the otherside of the stream.
"When you have done, my fair youth," said the stranger, after gazingat him for a minute from the opposite bank, "will you answer me aquestion?"
"If it suit me, and if I can," replied the youth, looking up into thestranger's face for the first time.
That face was not one to be seen without exciting in those who beheldit, more and more agreeable sensations than are usually called up bythe blank countenances of the great mass of mankind--too oftenunlettered books, where mind and feeling have scarcely written atrace. The features on which the lad now gazed were strongly marked,but handsome; the broad expanse of the high, clear forehead, the openunbent brow, the bright speaking eye, and the full arching lips,conveyed at once to the untaught physiognomist which watches andreasons at the bottom of every man's heart, the idea of a candidand generous mind. There was much intelligence, too, in thatcountenance--intelligence without the least touch of cunning--allbright, and clear, and bold.
The stranger was about the middle height, and, apparently, had seenfour or five and thirty summers: they might be less or more; forcircumstances, so much more than time, stamp the trace of age upon theexternal form, as well as upon the heart and feelings, that
it isoften difficult to judge whether the wrinkles and furrows, which seemto have been the slow work of years, are not, in reality, the marks ofrapid cares or withering passions. In his face were several lineswhich might well have borne either interpretation; but still, neitherhis dark brown hair, nor his thick glossy beard, offered the leastevidence of time's whitening hand. His dress was a simple riding suit,the green hue of which appeared to bespeak, either for profit oramusement, a devotion to the chase. The same calling seemed denoted bya small hunting-horn, which hung by his side; and his offensive armswere no more than such sport required. He wore, however, a hat andhigh white plume, instead of the close unadorned bonnet generally usedin the chase; and his horse, too, a deep bay barb, had less the air ofa hunter than of a battle charger.
"My question is a very simple one, good youth," he said, while aslight smile curled his lip, excited by a certain degree ofpettish flippancy which the boy displayed in replying to his firstaddress:--"Did you meet a troop of reitters just now, as you came overthe hill? and which way did they take?"
"I did meet a troop of Dutch vagabonds," replied the boy, boldly:"villains that foolish Frenchmen hire to cut foolish Frenchmen'sthroats! and as to the way they took, God 'a mercy! I watched themnot."
"But from yon hill you must have seen which road they went," repliedthe stranger. "I am one of those foolish Frenchmen whom you mention,and an inoffensive person to boot, whose throat would have but smallsecurity under the gripe of these worthy foreigners. One of them Imight deal with--ay, two--or three, perchance; but when they ride byscores, and I alone, I see not why the green wood should not cover me,as well as many a brave boar or a stout stag. I pray thee, therefore,good youth, if thou sawest the way they took, let me know it, forcourtesy's sake; and if thou sawest it not, why, fare thee well! Imust take my chance."
For a moment or two the boy made no reply, but measured the strangerfrom head to foot with his eye; somewhat knitting his brow, as he didso, with a look of some abstraction, as if his mind were too busy withwhat he saw to heed the incivility of his long-protracted stare."Yes," said he, at length, speaking apparently to himself, "yes;" andthen, addressing the stranger, he demanded abruptly, "whither go you?"
"Nay, good youth! nay!" replied his companion; "these are nottimes--nor France the country--nor this the spot of all France--inwhich a man would choose to trust the first person he meets, withwhere he goes or what he goes for. I ask you not your road--ask me notmine. If you can answer my question, whether the band of reitters tookthe path to Tours, or wound under the hill towards La Fleche, do so,and I will thank you; if not, once more farewell!"--and, withoutputting foot in stirrup, he sprang upon his horse's back.
"Answer your question I cannot," replied the boy, with a degree ofcalm earnestness that seemed to speak greater interest in the strangerthan he had at first evinced; "but I can do more for you," heproceeded. "Where the reitters went I did not see, for I hid myselfbehind the rocks till they were past; but I can show you paths whereno reitters will ever come. Often have I flown my hawk across thoseplains," he added in an explanatory tone, as if he wished to recommendhis guidance to the stranger by showing how his acquaintance with thecountry had been acquired;--"often have I followed my hound throughthese valleys, in other days long gone; and I know their every turningbetter than my father's house."
"In other days!" said the stranger; "why thou art now but a boy!"
"True," replied the youth; "yet I may have known other days, andhappier ones--but to my purpose. What I offer you, I offer knowingwhat I am doing:" and he fixed Ins eyes upon the stranger's face witha meaning, but not a disrespectful, glance, and then proceeded: "Tellme whither you would go. I will conduct you thither in safety, andwill not betray you, upon my honour!"
"In faith, I believe I must even trust you," replied the stranger."There are many who, with wise saws and cautious counsels, wouldfain persuade me to be as prudent, and as careful of my life, as agreat-grandmother of eighty years and upwards. But life, at best, isbut as gold, a precious thing given to be spent. Whip me all misers,whether of their purse or of their safety, say I; and, therefore, boy,you shall be my guide, though you should give me over to all thereitters that ever the factious house of Lorraine brought to back thetreason which they call piety."
"I will give you over to no reitters," replied the boy; "so be yourmind at ease."
"Odds life! it is seldom otherwise than at ease," rejoined the other:"my heart is a light one, and will not be heavy now, as I ride onbeside thee; though I may have caught thy tongue tripping, my fairboy. Thou art no Frenchman, or thine accent sorely belies thee."
"Now do you think me both a German and a reitter, I warrant!" repliedthe youth, with a playful smile, and a toss back of his dark hair."But cannot your ear distinguish between the hoggish twang of theTeutonic gutturals, and the soft music of the Italian liquids?"
"Methinks it can," replied the stranger; "but, whether German orItalian, Switzer, or even Spaniard, thou shalt be my guide. Knowestthou the chateau of the Marquis of St. Real?"
The youth started. "Do I know it!" said he, "do I know it!" thensuddenly seeming to check, in full career, some powerful feelings thatwere in the very act of bursting from his heart to his lips, he added,more calmly, "I know it well! I know it well! Willingly will I showyou your road thither, and, perhaps, may name my guerdon by the way;but it is too far a journey for me on foot in one day."
"We will buy thee a horse, my fair boy," replied the stranger: "I mustbe at St. Real this night, and at Tours ere noon to-morrow; so we willbuy thee a horse at the first village where we can find one."
"An ass will serve my turn as well as the best Barbary steed," saidthe youth; "and the one will be more easily found than the other; for,what between the League and the Huguenots, there are more asses inFrance than any other kind of beast--so now let us on our way."
Returning into the road from which he had strayed to wash his feet,the boy stepped lightly, from stone to stone, across the stream, andsoon stood on the same side with the traveller. He, on his part, as ifunwilling to save himself fatigue by continuing to ride while theyouth walked by his side on foot, once more dismounted; and they thenturned their steps up the broad way which led through the forest tothe top of the hill, descanting, as they went, on the fineness of theday, the beauty of the scene, and all the ordinary topics whichfurnish conversation to those who have few subjects in common; buteach avoiding, as if by mutual consent, any allusion to the purpose orstation of his companion.
It was, as we have said, as fair and sunshiny an April day as everwoke since first the beautifying will of the Almighty robed the hillswith verdure, and spread out loveliness as a garment over earth. Thetrees that, springing from the high broken banks on either side,canopied the road with their green boughs, were living and tunefulwith all the birds of spring. There is not a cheerful feeling in theheart of man that might not there have found some sweet note to wakeit into harmony. The air was balm itself--soft, yet inspiring like thebreath of hope; and the dancing light and shade, that chequered thelong perspective up the hill, had something in it gay and sportive,which--joined with the song of the birds, and the sparkling glee of asmall fountain that, bursting from the midst of the road, rushed in alittle diamond rivulet down to the stream below--addressed itself toall the purer sources of happiness in the human breast, and spoke ofpeace and joy. Both the journeyers, however, were grave; although theone was in the early spring of youth--that bright season of man's lifewhere every pulse is light; and although each line in the countenanceof his companion spoke that constitutional cheerfulness which is themost blessed auxiliary that this world can afford to aid man inmaintaining his eternal warfare against time and circumstance.
At the top of the ascent, a wide and magnificent scene lay stretchedbeneath their eyes. The hill was not sufficiently high, indeed, toafford one of those map-like views, in which we see all the objectsspread out over a vast extent in harsh and unshadowed distinctness,like the prospect of life and of the
world which we take, when inmature age, after having passed through the illusions of youth and thepassions of manhood, we gaze upon the past and the present, and seethe hard, cold, naked realities of existence without a softening shadeor an enlivening hue. Still the elevation was sufficient to let theeye roam wide over scenes where line after line, in sweet variety,presented a continual change of beautiful forms, softening in tint, indepth of colour, and in distinctness of outline as the objects becamemore remote, and forming a view such as that which is offered to theeye of youth, when after having climbed over the light ascent ofboyhood, the joys of existence, grouped together without its cares,are first presented to the sight, one beyond another, to the veryverge of being, all lighted up by hope, and coloured by imagination.
"Run your eye," said the youth, "over that ocean of green boughs whichlies waving below us, to that tree-covered mound which starts highabove the rest. In a straight line beyond you catch the spire ofBeaumont en Maine, at the distance of nearly four leagues; and alittle farther to the right, upon a woody hill, you may see the darktowers of the chateau of St. Real."
His companion gazed on in the direction which he pointed out, and thenreplied, "I once knew this land well, and could have marked out in itmany a fair field either for the chase or the battle; but other sceneshave made me forget it. Our memory is but like a French crown-piece,since so many kings have been called, one after another, to rule thisunhappy land. First, one figure is strong upon it; then it goes to themint, and a new king's head drives out the other, and keeps its place,till something fresh is stamped upon it again; while, all the time,traces of former impression may be seen below, but indistinct andmeaningless. Ay! there is Beaumont en Maine, and there the chateau ofSt. Real; I remember them now: but what is that massive building, withthat large square keep, still farther to the right?"
The youth fixed his eyes upon it, and remained silent for more than aminute: he then replied, abruptly, "That chateau belongs to the Countd'Aubin. Let us on!"