CHAPTER XXII.
It was toward that hour in the evening, at which the rays of twilightthat linger behind the rest of the lustrous retinue of day are calledaway from the sky, and our hemisphere is given over to the absoluterule of night--it was at that hour, too, which is more important, whenthe joyous denizens of the gay capital of France, after having sunnedthemselves through the long afternoon of a summer's day in the gardensand highways, were in those times wont to retire each to hisindividual home, to enjoy such dainties as the bounty of nature andthe skill of his cook had prepared for the last meal of the evening.It was about nine o'clock, then, on a night in August, when, thestreets of Paris being nearly deserted by every one else, a strongtroop of horsemen assembled in the little square, nearly opposite tothe dwelling of Eugenie de Menancourt.
The gentleman who was at their head, springing to the ground, advancedto the door; and after asking a few questions of one of the servants,entered the court. Shortly afterwards the carriage of Madame deMontpensier rolled heavily up; and that fair dame herself, with one ortwo ladies in her train, descended therefrom and mounted the greatstaircase. Then, after a pause of five minutes, the Duke of Mayenneappeared on horseback, with his habiliments somewhat dusty, as ifunchanged since his return from some long expedition, and accompaniedby a numerous train of officers and attendants. Dismounting from hishorse, the Duke dismissed at once the principal part of his suite;only retaining two or three of the inferior attendants who remainedbelow at the gate, while he himself, with a slow and seeminglyunwilling step, entered the house.
The servant who marshalled the Duke on his way to the saloon did notseem to look upon him with the best-satisfied countenance in theworld; and the faces of the three or four attendants who had beenpermitted to remain with the young heiress of Menancourt aftertheir old lord's death, and who now appeared in the lobbies andante-chambers, seemed full not only of grief, but of a sort of sullendetermination, which, had their numbers been greater, might havebroken out at once in a more serious manner.
Mayenne, however, marked them not, but mounted the stairs and enteredthe saloon; and certainly, if his heart revolted at the part he wasabout to act, the scene which now presented itself to his eyes was notcalculated to reconcile him to the proceeding.
Standing at one of the farther windows, and looking out into the darkstreet, where he certainly could see nothing to engage his attention,was the Count d'Aubin, while seated at a table, on which stood two orthree lighted tapers, was the unhappy Eugenie de Menancourt. Her dresswas still deep mourning; and her eyes gave evident tokens of havingshed late and bitter tears: but she was now calm; and fixing her gazeupon vacancy, seemed totally inattentive to the words which Madame deMontpensier and her ladies, who stood round her, were pouring upon herdull unheeding ear.
"We cannot persuade her to change her dress, Charles," said theDuchess, pointing to the mourning in which Eugenie was clothed.
"Never mind, never mind!" replied the Prince, impatiently; "why teaseher more than necessary? Let her wear what dress she will!"
"Nay, Charles, but it is ominous," cried the Duchess; "pray speak toher about it."
"Mademoiselle de Menancourt," said Mayenne, in a grave but not unkindtone, "let me persuade you to change this garb, if it be but for thisnight. It is unusual and ungracious to go to the marriage altar in therobe of mourning, as if you were following some friend to the grave."
Eugenie had started at his voice, and now looking up she replied,"Were I going willingly to the marriage altar, my Lord Duke, I wouldchange my garb; but what robe, but the robe of mourning, would youhave me wear, when you are about to drag me to a fate, in comparisonwith which the grave itself were happiness. But, my Lord, you mistakeme. If, as I am told, marriage must depend upon consent, and that noneother is legal, my consent shall never be given to a union with theCount d'Aubin."
"I am sorry to say, Madame," replied Mayenne, "that imperative motivesof state necessity compel me--"
Mayenne was suddenly interrupted; for, unperceived by himself, the fewservants and retainers of the old Count de Menancourt, who had, as wehave said, been suffered to remain with their young mistress, hadglided into the room one after the other, and stood ranged across thedoor; and while the Duke was speaking, the principal officer of theunhappy girl's household, indignant at the oppression exercisedtowards the daughter of his beloved lord, strode forward and boldlyconfronted Mayenne, as if he had been his equal. "My Lord Duke," hesaid, "we will have none of this! Our young lady shall be free to giveher hand to whom she likes; and if you drag her to the altar againsther will, it shall be over our dead bodies! Nay, frown not on me,Count d'Aubin. I have seen more stricken fields than you are years ofage; and a great man when he is doing a wicked thing is less than alittle one. But all I have to say is, that though we be but few, wewill die sooner than see our lady ill-used. Stop him in the way,Martin," he continued, speaking to his companions as he perceived theCount d'Aubin striding towards the door. "We have them here; but twoagainst us seven; and though, doubtless, we shall be hanged for itafter, we can, by one means, make sure that Mademoiselle shall neverbe forced to marry a Count d'Aubin!"
Rage and fury had evidently taken possession of D'Aubin; but Mayenne,on the contrary, listened calmly and tranquilly, with a slight smilecurling his lip, till the man had done speaking; then, pointing to thewindow, he said, "Do me the favour, Monsieur d'Aubin, to call up theguard. By the window, by the window, D'Aubin!"
"Lock the door, Martin," exclaimed the old attendant, as a commentupon Mayenne's words; "we can settle the matter here before the guardcomes. Out with your swords, my men, and upon them!"
But Eugenie interposed: "No, no! my friends," she cried, rising; "no,no! blood shall never be spilt on my account. Quit the room, Ibeseech, I command you, and let them have their will, howeveriniquitous that will may be. Only remember, that whatever may be said,or whatever may be done, I do to the last protest, that I do not, andthat I will not, wed the Count d'Aubin; and though they may drag me tothe altar, I am not, and never shall consider myself, his wife:--leaveme, I beseech you," she added, seeing some hesitation on the part ofher attendants; "leave me, if you would not increase my sorrow," andsinking down into her chair, she burst once more into a flood oftears; while the attendants, still muttering and eyeing Mayenne andhis companion with somewhat doubtful glances, slowly and sullenlyquitted the apartment.
"Really, Monsieur d'Aubin," said Mayenne, in a low voice, "this shouldnot go forward!"
"Your promise, my Lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, drily.
"Well, well," said Mayenne, shrugging his shoulders; and thenproducing a roll of parchment, he laid it on the table before Eugeniede Menancourt, whose weeping eyes were still covered with her hands,and said, "Mademoiselle de Menancourt, I am compelled bycircumstances, much against my inclination, to request your signatureto this contract of marriage between yourself and the Count d'Aubin."
"Never!" answered Eugenie, distinctly; "never!"
Mayenne looked towards the Count d'Aubin, who said, in a low andhurried tone, "Never mind the contract, my Lord! let us get over theceremony in the chapel. That will be sufficient. Marriage is asacrament, you know, and that once past, it cannot be shaken off."
Mayenne paused for a moment, as if scarcely able to master thereluctance which struggled in his bosom against the fulfilment of hispromise to the Count d'Aubin. "Where is Father Herbert?" he asked atlast; "Catherine, did you not bring him with you?"
"He is waiting us in the chapel by this time," replied Madame deMontpensier: "some one gave him a note just as we were in the court,and he said he would follow instantly, and join us below."
"Send down and see, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne: "you had bettercall up some of the attendants, by means of that window," he added,"for we may be troubled by these pugnacious peasants again; and,indeed, I must take care that they be looked to till this business beblown over and forgotten. You are well aware," he continued, in a lowtone, speaking to D'Aubin, "that what we
are doing is contrary to thelaw."
"I will take my share of the responsibility," replied the Count,sharply; "and for your part, my Lord, if you cannot manage aparliament which is wholly devoted to you, I am afraid you will neverbe able to manage a kingdom, which is more than one half devoted toanother." Thus speaking, he approached the open window, and, in a fewwords, directed some of the persons below to come up; but almostinstantly turned to Mayenne, saying, "I suppose that is your confessorjust arrived--at least I hear some one inquiring for you in greathaste apparently."
Almost as he spoke, the door opened, and the Chevalier d'Aumaleentered the saloon, followed by a person, who was evidently to bedistinguished as a priest, both by his tonsure and robe, but upon whomMayenne and his sister gazed as a stranger. "I beg your highness'spardon for intruding," said Aumale; "but two things have occurredwhich called upon me to wave ceremony. After leaving you, I rode ondirect to your hotel, where I found the whole world in confusion inconsequence of that insolent villain, Bussy le Clerc, having causedyour own confessor to be arrested by a party of his people within ahundred yards of your dwelling, upon the pretence of his favouring theHuguenots--your own confessor favouring the Huguenots!"
"I will hang that pitiful demagogue to one of the spouts in thechatelet before many weeks are over!" said Mayenne, sternly; "but whydid you not follow and release the good father. Monsieur d'Aumale?" hecontinued.
"Because, just at that moment," answered the Chevalier, "this reverendgentleman trotted up on his mule, begging instant audience of you onurgent business from his highness the Prince of Parma."
"Indeed! indeed!" exclaimed Mayenne; "what is your business with me,reverend sir? I can but ill attend to it at this moment, unless it beimportant indeed."
"My business is to deliver that despatch, my son," replied the priest,placing in the hands of the Duke a sealed paper, which he instantlytore open and read.
"Most warlike and joyful news, by a most peaceful messenger!"exclaimed Mayenne. "Spain sends us a thousand men, Aumale, withinthree days! Most joyful news, indeed! and not the less acceptable frombeing conveyed to us by a minister of our holy religion."
"Glad am I to hear you say so, my noble and princely son," answeredthe priest; "for his Highness of Parma, when he over persuaded me toquit my little flock at Houdaincourt, because he fancied a cassocwould pass more safely with the tidings than a buff belt, did mentionsomething about a vacant stall in the cathedral church of Cambray, andthe great love and reverence of our father, the Bishop, for yourHighness, and all your illustrious family."
"Well, well, your good service, father, in the cause of the faithshall not go without reward," replied Mayenne; "but you are just comein time to do us another good service. Have you any objection to readthe marriage service here, and win a rich benefice for your pains?"
Eugenie had heard everything that passed, as if in a troubled dream;and when the Chevalier d'Aumale had related the arrest of theconfessor, a momentary hope of reprieve had crossed her mind. The lastwords of Mayenne, however, and the ready assent of the priest,instantly extinguished it. The next moment it revived again, as sheheard the somewhat strangely chosen missive of the Prince of Parmaobserve, "But the lady seems to be weeping! what is the cause ofthat?" and a vague purpose of beseeching him not to join in theoppression which was exercised towards her entered her thoughts. Ereshe could execute such a design, however, Mayenne, in a low voice,directed the Count d'Aubin to take the priest out of the room, andexplain to him, as he thought best, the circumstances of the case,promising him what reward he judged right to stop all troublesomeinquiries.
As the door opened and closed, Eugenie looked fearfully around; andfeeling that the last hope of moving any one to pity lay in thetemporary absence of him whom she regarded as her most determinedpersecutor, she rose, intending to cast herself at the knees ofMayenne, and to beseech him, by all that was noble and chivalrous inhis nature, to become her protector against the violence of others,rather than to join in oppressing her himself. During the last twodays, however, she had undergone more mental suffering than hercorporeal frame could endure. The efforts of the last few minutes hadpoured the drops of overflowing into the cup; and though by greatexertion she staggered to the spot, where Mayenne remained standing,after speaking to the Count d'Aubin, she could not utter a word, butfell fainting at his feet. At the same moment D'Aubin returned; andthere was a slight interval of confusion and uncertainty, some callingfor water and essences, some proposing to bear her to her ownapartment. But D'Aubin interfered. "Let us seize the present moment,"he said, "to carry her to the chapel, where we can find means ofrestoring animation. One great difficulty will then be got over, andwe can proceed with the ceremony at once."
"I have often heard," said Madame de Montpensier, "that yours is adetermined nature, Monsieur d'Aubin, but I did not know how determinedtill to-night."
Without noticing the sneer by any reply, D'Aubin raised the senselessform of Eugenie de Menancourt in his arms, and followed by the rest,bore her down one flight of stairs to the chapel, which, as usual inmany of the principal hotels of Paris at that time, was attached tothe dwelling, and independent of the parochial clergy. During hisshort absence, the Count had taken care that his own followers andthose of Mayenne should clear that part of the house of the attendantsof the unhappy object of his persecution, so that, by the way, he metwith neither opposition nor inquiry. The chapel was reached, and allwas found prepared, with the priest standing at the altar.
The situation of Eugenie instantly called his attention, however, andhe exclaimed, "I cannot go on till the lady has recovered."
"Nobody wishes you, sir priest," exclaimed D'Aubin, sharply. "Some onebring water; quick!"
This command was rendered unnecessary, however; for by this timeEugenie was beginning to regain that miserable consciousness of theevils that surrounded her, from which even temporary insensibility hadbeen a relief. Madame de Montpensier raised her head; Mayenne, inbroken and scarcely intelligible terms, endeavoured to speak a fewwords of comfort; and, being lifted up before the altar, the vainceremony of her marriage with the Count d'Aubin was begun by thepriest, in hurried and not very distinct tones.
Rallying all her powers for one last effort, Eugenie freed herselffrom the hands of those who supported her, and once more distinctlyand firmly protested her dissent from the idle rite which they wereperforming. Again overpowered, however, she sank upon her knees, thepriest went on, and ere she well knew what past, the fatal ring wasupon her finger.
Snatching it off instantly, however, she cast it down upon the floorof the chapel, and again fell back fainting into the arms of Madame deMontpensier.
"See her carried back to her own apartments, poor girl!" criedMayenne; "and do you, Catherine, stay with her awhile, and comforther."
"Let us leave her with her own people, Charles," answered Madame deMontpensier, comprehending better than her brother the nature of theonly solace that one in the situation of Eugenie de Menancourt couldreceive. "We are all comparatively strangers to her; and the bestcomfort in time of sorrow, to a woman's heart at least, is somefamiliar and long-remembered face. Will you call some of her ownpeople, Monsieur le Comte d'Aubin?"
It was not, perhaps, from any unnatural hardness of heart that D'Aubinwas mortified by the tone of commiseration in which both Mayenne andhis sister spoke of Eugenie de Menancourt; but he felt, and could nothelp feeling, that their pity for the object of his persecution was adirect condemnation of himself. He believed also, and perhaps noterroneously, that Madame de Montpensier, on various accounts,experienced a degree of pleasure in rendering every particular of thescene, in which he was so principal an actor, as painful to him aspossible; but he was a great deal too deeply skilled in the world'sways not to struggle to prevent those feelings and suspicions fromappearing, either in an angry word, or in any attempt to make light ofthe sorrows he had caused. Sending for some of Eugenie's attendants,therefore, he gave her over into their hands; directing them, in agrave and earne
st tone, and with the air of one who now had a right tocommand, to bear her up to her usual apartments slowly and gently, anduse instant means to recall her to consciousness. "Perhaps, madame,"he added, turning to the Duchess, "you would at least watch theapplications of remedies to promote her recovery, as these good peoplemay be more affectionate than skilful."
"I will do so with pleasure, Monsieur le Comte," replied Madame deMontpensier; "but I will retire as soon as I perceive that animationis returning; for I am sure the sight of any one who has mingled inthe horrible scenes through which the unhappy girl has just passedwill, for a long fill her with terror and abhorrence."
D'Aubin bit his lip, but made no reply; and Madame de Montpensier insilence followed the attendants, who bore the insensible form of theiryoung mistress out of the chapel.
"And now, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne, "it must be time, I think,for you to put your foot in the stirrup, and ride to make thosepreparations which we spoke of yesterday."
"A few moments more, my good lord," replied D'Aubin, with a cynicalsmile. "Your Highness has so scrupulously fulfilled your part of theengagement, that you need be under no fear lest I should fail in mine.But ere I go, I must ask this worthy priest to give me a regularcertification of my marriage with Eugenie de Menancourt, otherwise theretainers of her house may refuse to acknowledge the authority whichit is so necessary for the interests of your Highness that I should befully enabled to exercise."
"You are right," replied Mayenne, calmly. "Be so good, reverendfather, to draw up the document required. The names are, Philip Countd'Aubin, and Eugenie Lady of Menancourt and of Beaumont en Maine."
In the little room which answered the purpose of a sacristy, materialsfor writing were soon procured, and the priest sat down to prepare thecertification which was to place D'Aubin in possession of the propertyhe had so unjustly acquired.
"You are somewhat slow, sir priest," said the haughty noble,perceiving that every now and then he paused, and seemed to think ofwhat he should say next; "you are somewhat slow, as if you had neverdrawn a certificate before."
"I generally do leave it to the sacristan," replied the priest,mildly: "but that was not what made me hesitate, my son. I ponderedwhether I should insert that the marriage was against the lady'swill;" and a sly, though half-suppressed smile played about his lips,and put D'Aubin to silence.
Mayenne however replied: "No, no, good father," he said; "make it asbrief and as simple as possible. We need no comments."
The priest accordingly concluded his task; and D'Aubin taking thecertificate, glanced his eye hastily over its contents, and thenturning to Mayenne, he said, "Now, my lord, I make all speed to Maine,leaving my bride in your hands, and trusting to find on my return,that during my absence, you have used more eloquence in my favour,than you have thought fit to do to-night in my presence."
"I will do all that I can, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied Mayenne, withcalm dignity, "to efface from her mind the impression which this nightmust have left, to overcome objections founded on former conduct, ofwhich I know nothing; and to reconcile her to her fate, which she doesnot at all appear to consider the less bitter because it isinevitable."
Both the Count d'Aubin and the Duke of Mayenne felt that, underexisting circumstances, the fewer words that passed between them theless was likely to be the diminution of their friendship. Each had ina considerable degree a hold over the other; for D'Aubin, possessingan extended right of command over the lands of Eugenie de Menancourt,was too powerful to be alienated from the League; and yet, on theother hand, retaining possession of the person of Eugenie deMenancourt, Mayenne held D'Aubin to his faction, by a bond that itwould have been dangerous for him to break. D'Aubin, therefore, curbedthe anger which during the whole evening had been gathering in hisbosom, and merely bowing in reply to the last words of the Duke,quitted the chapel, mounted his horse, and galloped off, followed byhis attendants.
"And now, my good father," said Mayenne, "return with me to the Hotelde Guise, and we will speak over this letter from the Prince of Parma,and his promise regarding the stall in Cambray."
"May it please your Highness," replied the priest, "as you are onhorseback and I am on foot--for I left my mule at the door of yourhotel--I will follow you with all speed, if you will leave some one toshow me the way, for I cannot boast much acquaintance with thetopography of this vast and labyrinth-like city."
"Well, well, so be it," replied Mayenne. "But now, I think of it, mysister, the Duchess of Montpensier--that lady, who was here just now,"he added, "will bring you with her in her coach. It will hold ten withease, and she has but four ladies with her. Wait here, and I will tellsome of the attendants to let you know when she comes down."
The priest bowed his head, and Mayenne departing, left a message forhis sister, and rode back to the Hotel do Guise. Not long after thecarriage of Madame de Montpensier rolled into the court, and theDuchess instantly sought her brother's cabinet.
"One of your grooms told me, Charles," she said, "that I was to bringthe priest with me."
"Certainly," replied the Duke. "Have you not done so?"
"No," she answered, "I have not, because I could not find him. Wesought everywhere, in the chapel and the sacristy, and over all thelower part of the house; but he had evidently gone away, and left thedoor of the chapel open behind him."
"The foolish man has mistaken me, then," said Mayenne; "but it mattersnot. He will not be long in finding me out, for he has not got hisreward for either of the two services he has rendered to-night; and ifI may judge by his face, he is not a man to perform either the one orthe other for the love of God. So we shall hear of him ere half anhour be over, depend upon it." And he turned the conversation to thedistressing scene in which he had so unwillingly played a part.
In regard to the priest, however, Mayenne was mistaken. The nightpassed over without his appearance; and the following morning, as theDuke was making inquiries concerning him, he was interrupted by newsof a different nature, in regard to which we must give some previousexplanation.