CHAPTER XXIII.
When Eugenie de Menancourt, slowly and painfully, returned toconsciousness of life and sorrow, she found herself in the saloon inwhich she usually sat, and in the arms of her own women. Gazingfearfully around, she sought to discover where the forms of those whoso lately surrounded her were now concealed; and as she satisfiedherself that there was no one present but her own attendants, herbewildered imagination almost led her to hope, that the terriblescenes she had gone through were nothing but the phantasms of somehorrible dream. Gradually, however, memory recalled every circumstancewith too painful a degree of accuracy to admit of her indulging anylonger in such a happy delusion; and now, unrestrained by the presenceof any but those whom she knew and loved, she gave way to all thebitter sorrow that swelled her heart, and burst into a long and silentflood of tears. The tears seemed to relieve her; but the words whichone of her young attendants whispered in her ear tended more than allto afford consolation, and to revive almost extinguished hope.
"Do not weep so bitterly, lady, do not weep so bitterly," said thegirl. "He is gone, and may not return for months!"
"Who is gone?" exclaimed Eugenie, starting up, and hurriedly wipingthe tears from her eyes, that she might gaze the more intently uponthe speaker. "Who is gone? Who may not return for months?"
"The Count d'Aubin, lady," replied the girl. "Madame de Montpensierbade me tell you so, and gave me this note to be delivered to you,when you were well enough to read it."
"Give it to me--give it to me now," cried Eugenie; and tearing itopen, she held it to the light, gazing with eager eyes upon thecontents. It was very brief, but almost every word spoke comfort, forthey went to inform her that the Count d'Aubin, on business ofimportance, had been obliged to set off for Maine; that the period ofhis return was not decided, but that it certainly could not take placebefore the end of the month, while it might be delayed longer; andthough the conclusion of the letter went to say, that both the Duke ofMayenne and Madame de Montpensier trusted that, ere the Count'sreturn, Mademoiselle de Menancourt would have made up her mind toreceive him as her husband, and to sign the formal contract ofmarriage, yet the intelligence of his absence was a reprieve; andimagination fondly clinging to the uncertainty of the future, at oncerenewed hope in her bosom.
With hope came back the spirit of exertion which had been crushedbeneath despair. Dropping the note upon the table, as the lightningprogress of thought ran on in an instant from one object to another,she clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Where, where! can Beatrice ofFerrara be? She must be ill, or she would have come to me, I am sure."
"Shall we send, and see, lady?" demanded one of the women.
"Yes, yes! do so," replied Eugenie, "and leave me alone for half anhour; I would fain think--I would fain consider what is best to bedone! I am better, indeed I am better now," she added, seeing thewomen look at her with some hesitation. "Stay in the ante-room, and Iwill call, if I want you."
The women obeyed; and Eugenie, leaning on the table, covered her eyeswith her hands, and remained endeavouring to reduce, to some definiteand feasible plan, the vague hopes of relief which she had againconceived. But the effects of the agitation she had suffered stillremained, and she found it impossible to fix her thoughts upon thefuture, so perseveringly did they wander back to the past.
In this state, she had continued about five or ten minutes, when thesound of creaking hinges made her raise her eyes. The door which ledinto the ante-room was shut, as well as that which gave egress, atonce, upon the staircase; but on the other side of the room there wasanother door, which communicated with an unoccupied part of the house,looking into a back street which led away towards the Faubourg St.Antoine; and when Eugenie turned her eyes in that direction, shestarted up with surprise, and some degree of alarm, on perceiving itgently and slowly drawn back. Remembering, however, that herattendants were in the ante-room, she paused, to see what would be theresult, suppressing the exclamation which had nearly burst from herlips.
The sight that the open door presented, when farther drawn back, wascertainly one which in no degree diminished her surprise, but at thesame time added nothing to her alarm; for the person who opened it wasalone; nor was he one whose appearance was calculated to inspireterror. It was the figure of a youth, apparently not more than fifteenyears of age, that now presented itself, carrying a lamp in one hand,and unclosing the door with the other. His dress was of the gay andsplendid costume of the court of Henry III. and from under hishigh-crowned beaver, and its manifold ostrich feathers, the bright andglossy curls of his coal-black hair fell round as handsome a face asever was beheld. A large cloak was wrapped about his arm, andriding-boots pushed down to the ankles, as was then customary, seemedto indicate that he either came from or was bound upon a journey; andas Eugenie gazed upon him, she concluded at once that he was some pageattached to the Count d'Aubin, who, sent with some message or letterere his lord's departure, had either by accident or design passed bythat part of the dwelling which was for the time out of use. As soonas this conviction struck her, she rose to call in her women, but theyouth held up his hand with a gesture which was easily interpretedinto an entreaty to be silent; and Eugenie again paused, saying in alow tone, "What do you seek here, sir? Do not advance, or I must callmy servants!"
The youth, however, did still advance, but with an air of deprecationand gentleness, that took away all fear; and when, within a step, heplaced the lamp on the table, and bent one knee to the ground, Eugeniegazed upon him with doubt and astonishment; but a confused anduncertain hope began to take possession of her mind, as the boy raisedher hand to his lips, and then, as he glided his arms round her waist,and, with the jetty curls of his hair mingling with her light-brownlocks, kissed her tenderly on either cheek, the fair girl's facedropped upon her new companion's shoulder, and with a flood of tearsshe exclaimed, "Oh! Beatrice, Beatrice! why did you not come sooner?"
"I did come sooner," replied Beatrice of Ferrara--or Leonard de Monte,as the reader will,--"I did come sooner, my dear Eugenie. I did comesooner! and have been in these apartments all the evening, directingeverything that has passed in all this sad scene, though those whowere actors therein knew nothing of the prompter. I could not come toconsole you, my Eugenie, nor to give you one word of comfort andassurance, lest I should be discovered by all the spies and messengerswho were going to and fro about this house during the whole ofyesterday; but I arranged the only means of saving you, and, making myway into the house by the back street, watched till I saw my planexecuted, and then came to bear you away to a place of greatersecurity."
"But, alas, alas! your plan has failed," replied Eugenie. "The fatalring has been upon my finger."
"Fear not! fear not!" replied Beatrice, with a smile. "That ring bindsyou to nothing, Eugenie. Such a marriage is lawful in no land underthe sun; and I took care that there should be plenty of witnesses toprove, hereafter, that your consent was refused to the last."
"I know," replied Eugenie, "I know that such a marriage cannot belegal; and I would sooner die than ever render it so. But still,Beatrice, still a ceremony has taken place; and though I will not behis wife, yet I can never, never feel myself free again!"
"Yes, yes, you can," replied Beatrice, with one of her gay smiles;"yes, you can be free as ever to give this fair hand to any one in thewide world you choose."
Eugenie shook her head; but Beatrice drew her arms closer around her,saying, "Well, well, you little infidel, if you will not believe mewithout farther proof, hear the secret of it all--but I dare not speakit aloud, lest the very spirits of the air should catch it, ere thepoor man get back to the Huguenot camp; for they would burn him alivein the Place de Greve, if they caught him; and the two thousandpistoles which bribed him to the adventure would be but cold comfortin the midst of the flames;" and putting her lips close to Eugenie'sear, she whispered one or two words in a tone so low, thatMademoiselle de Menancourt herself might rather be said to divinetheir meaning than to hear them distinctly. That she understood th
emfully, however, was evident; for the light of joy instantly broke overher countenance; and clasping her hands together, while she raised hereyes towards heaven, she exclaimed, "Then I am saved indeed!"
At that moment, the door from the ante-room suddenly opened, andBeatrice started up from the position in which she had remained eversince her first entrance into the room, while Eugenie turned aterrified glance towards the door. It was only one of her women,however, who entered; and, contrary to her mistress's expectations,she evinced no surprise at the sight of Beatrice of Ferrara, disguisedin the manner we have described.
"She knows it all, Eugenie," said Beatrice, "for it was by her means Iobtained admission."
"I suppose, madam," said the waiting-woman, with a smile, "that I needscarcely tell you that Jean Baptiste has returned, with the news thatMademoiselle de Ferrara is still absent from home, and is not expectedfor many days."
"But why did you not tell me, Caroline," demanded Eugenie, "that shewas here? It would have saved me many a miserable moment. If I hadknown that she was in this house, I should never have lost hope thatall would go right."
"But it was impossible to tell you, lady," replied the waiting-woman;"for the Duchess de Montpensier sent us all away; and after she wasgone, I could not say what I knew, because your other women were withyou."
"Well, well," said Beatrice, "we have matters of more importance tothink of now, Eugenie: we will keep all explanations for an aftertime,when you and I, in some little cottage, far away from these scenes ofstrife, want conversation to pass away the hours till the storm hasworked itself out, and the sky is once more clear. And now, sweet sisterof my heart, call up all your courage, summon all your resolution, forwe must lose no time, but make the best of our way out of this hatefulcity. Ere to-morrow morning be two hours' old, Mayenne will havediscovered that he has been cheated; and though Philip d'Aubin be bythat time beyond recall, his Highness the lieutenant-general, and theHoly League, even if they find not out all the windings of our plot,will take such measures for your security, that all after efforts willbe vain."
"Oh! I will do anything! I will fly anywhere!" replied Eugenie. "Ihave courage, I have resolution for any effort. The worst that canbefall me is death; and I would rather die a thousand times than bethe bride of Philip d'Aubin."
Beatrice smiled, half sorrowfully, half playfully. "He is not reputed,my fair Eugenie," she said, "to be so very hateful, as you seem tothink."
Eugenie blushed deeply, pained to believe that her undisguisedabhorrence of the Count d'Aubin might have wounded the feelings of onewhom she loved so much as Beatrice of Ferrara--one who, she well knew,was not indifferent to the man whom she herself so deeply detested. "Imean not to say that he is so hateful in himself, Beatrice," shereplied; "but has not he given me good reason to hate him? Perhaps Imight have loved him, too, if--"
"If you had not loved another," interrupted Beatrice, with a smile."But we have not time for all that either," she added; "and will talkof it, too, another day. At this moment we have other things on hand.You, my good Caroline, bring your mistress some refreshments quickly;but take care that no one else enters while you are gone."
"Indeed, Beatrice, I need no refreshment," said Eugenie, rising. "Joyat my deliverance, and hope for the future, will give me strength andsupport to go any length of way; and I am ready, quite ready, to setout directly."
Beatrice smiled. "I will command to-day," she said; "Caroline, do as Ibid you! Alas, my poor Eugenie, you have much to do, ere you can setout, for the danger lies at our threshold; and when once I have ledyou twenty yards in safety from the door of this house, I shall thinkthe battle half won at least."
"What, then, is it that you fear?" demanded Eugenie, eagerly.
"Delay, above all things!" answered Beatrice; "for though, I trust,our plot has been too well laid to be discovered immediately, yetthere is always danger where there is anything concealed. First, then,Eugenie, you must change your dress, and take such a one as will mostcompletely disguise you, should you be sought for more speedily thanwe suppose."
"I know not where to find any dress but my own," replied Eugenie."What dress would you have me to take, Beatrice?--Though, now I thinkof it," she added suddenly; "one of my maids has her own countrycostume with her,--a white petticoat, and a red open gown above it,with----"
"Impossible! impossible!" exclaimed Beatrice. "It would betray you atonce. Remember, my dear Eugenie, that I go with you; and though in thestreets of Paris they might but think that the gay page was deceivingthe country girl with a tale of love, that would not do beyond thegates. I once thought of a nun's dress for you, which would do verywell in the city also; but one must care for other things than thoseof the mere present; and recollect that if I, dressed as a bold youth,and you, dressed as a pretty nun, were seen getting into either coachor litter together, we should have the ecclesiastical officers at ourheels. No, no, Eugenie! we must have some dress for you which willneither attract attention in the city, nor beyond the walls; whichwill tell its own tale, and, by sparing all inquiries, conceal our sexand character without an effort."
"Oh, not a man's dress!" exclaimed Eugenie, imploringly.
"None other, indeed!" answered Beatrice, smiling; "but knowing thetimid shyness of that heart which pretends to be so bold, I havechosen one for you, Eugenie, which will hide your person aseffectually as the fullest robe that ever woman wore, which willaccord with a smooth cheek and a demure look, and which will yet admitof your travelling in company with a bold page. Come and see! for Ihave brought it here along with me."
Thus saying, Beatrice of Ferrara took her hand, and led her throughthe same passage by which she herself had entered, to a room whereinshe had lain concealed during the time that the other apartments wereoccupied by the party assembled for that sad bridal. There, on one ofthe old oaken chairs, lay the robes of a young abb? in completecostume; not such as that costume appeared in after years, when thegradual blending of the dress of different orders permitted theaspirants to ecclesiastical stations to assume habiliments onlydistinguished from those of the laity by colour; but full, ample, andflowing, and offering to Eugenie that modest concealment for her fairform, to which even she, under existing circumstances, could notobject. Deeply sensible of the kind and delicate appreciation of allher feelings, which Beatrice--whose wilder and more daring naturescoffed at such scruples in her own instance--had displayed in thischoice of her disguise, Eugenie was eagerly thanking her for all herconsideration; but her friend cut her short, to hasten her new andunusual toilet, taking care, however, as indeed she had hitherto done,to avoid, even by any eager hurry, alarming her more timid companionin the outset of their perilous undertaking.
The dress, chosen by an experienced eye, fitted admirably in everyrespect, with the exception of the shoes, which were far too large forEugenie's small feet. The robe, however, was sufficiently long toconceal this defect, in a great degree; and, when all was complete,Beatrice gazed over the changed appearance of her fair friend with asmile of gay satisfaction.
"Well, Eugenie," she exclaimed, "certainly you are the prettiestlittle abb? that ever was seen; but, nevertheless, you will doadmirably. Only remember not to uncover your head, for your ringletswill betray you. See how I manage mine! I can pull off my hat withoutfear; cannot you do the same? Only cut off those two lower curls atthe side; they will grow again in a month."
"I will cut them off altogether, with all my heart," answered Eugenie.But her friend assured her that such a sacrifice of her bright lockswas not necessary; and showing her how she herself contrived toconceal in one mass her own profusion of dark hair, she soon put thatof Mademoiselle de Menancourt into the same form, but still bade heruncover her head as little as possible, lest the want of all tonsureshould call attention, and betray her disguise.
"And now, Eugenie, take some refreshment," said Beatrice; "meat togive you strength,--for you may have far to walk ere morning--and wineto give you courage; for, after all, I doubt the resolution of thatlittle hea
rt; and depend upon it, that the only sure means of carryingthrough a great undertaking is to begin boldly, and go on withoutstopping. But I hear your girl, Caroline, in the other room; she hadbetter bring the refreshments in here, lest we should be interrupted."
Beatrice, accordingly, called the maid in; and not small was thegirl's astonishment to behold the transformation that had taken placein the person of her mistress during her short absence. Beatrice,however, suffered no exclamations; and while Eugenie, whose appetitehad not been increased by all the events of the night, took whatrefreshment she could, her friend proceeded to give directions to the_suivante_ concerning the course that was to be pursued after hermistress's departure.
"In case any one returns to the house to-night," she said, "seekingthe priest, all you have to reply is, that you know nothing about him,and that your mistress is in her own chamber in deep grief. I do notthink, however, that any one will come; and, in that case, by eighto'clock to-morrow--for Mayenne does not rise before--go yourself toMadame de Montpensier, and with a grave and serious face ask to seeyour mistress, adding, before she can answer you that you have broughther such apparel as she may stand in need of for the morning. Mind,you must not move a muscle of your face! She will instantly be allastonishment, and ask if you are mad; then tell her that, about thishour to-night, a gay page and a young abb? came here saying, that theybrought a letter from her Highness, and took your mistress away withthem, as if to the Hotel de Guise, to which place you were directed tobring various things the next morning. Will not that do Eugenie?" shecontinued, turning to her friend, "and am I not fit to be a general ofreitters?"
Eugenie smiled, but replied, "Suppose they do not believe her,Beatrice, and send to examine the other servants?"
"Oh! I am prepared for all that," replied Beatrice. "As soon as everwe are gone, send the women to bed, good Caroline, and dispatch thegreater part of the men upon different errands: you can direct two ofthem to my house, bidding them wait till my return. One you can sendto the Count d'Aubin's, to inquire whether he has really set out forMaine; and while these are gone, explain yourself to those whom youcan best trust amongst the others, telling them simply, that if anyinquiries are made, they have merely to keep to the same story aboutthe abb? and the page which you are going to tell."
"But suppose we are asked to describe the abb? and the page, lady,what are we to do then?" demanded the woman.
"Why, describe them, to be sure," replied Beatrice. "Here we are, takean exact picture of us. You cannot do better; and if you say, thatyour mistress went away in our company, you will but say the truth.Now I bethink me, you may as well add, that you think you have seenthe page somewhere before, and rather believe that he is in theservice of the Count d'Aubin--which is true too, Eugenie, when allthings are wisely considered, though we are serving him against hiswill. But now, my pretty abb?--I shall call you Eugene for thefuture--we must lose no more time. Run down, Caroline, and see thatthe door at the foot of the back stairs is open, and give a glanceround the court-yard, to make sure that it is clear."
The girl, with a ready promptitude in man[oe]uvring, for which French_soubrettes_ are not unjustly famed, required no farther explanations,having that internal consciousness of great resources of intrigue,which rendered her quite confident of being able to make up a newstory, or to mend the old one for the occasion, in case anything inBeatrice's plan went wrong. Tripping away then through the unusedapartments, to the back staircase that led out into the court, shedescended to the bottom, and gently unclosing the door, to the extentof about a hand's breadth, closed it again as quietly, and returned tothe two ladies with the unpleasant tidings, that all the maleattendants belonging to the house were standing under the arch of the_porte-coch?re_, apparently talking over the events of the evening.
"Get ye down then, Caroline, to the _ma?tre de h?tel_," criedBeatrice; "bid him express your mistress's thanks to the honestfellows for their attachment; and tell him, in her name, to call theminto some room, where their voices will not be heard by the spies ofthe League, and to give them each a bottle of the best Burgundy, todrink to their lady's health and deliverance, and confusion to herenemies and persecutors."
With a smile at the lady's readiness and resources, the _soubrette_ran off to obey; and in a few minutes returned with the better news,that all the men were safely housed, with bottles before them whichwould occupy them for some time. Beatrice then drew Eugenie's armthrough her own, and led the way towards the staircase, followed bythe _suivante_, for the purpose of closing the doors behind them.
Eugenie felt that her happiness for life was at stake; that she wastaking the only means to save herself from oppression, persecution,and, in all probability, ultimate misery. She felt that the object wasworth any exertion; that if ever she displayed energy, resolution, andcourage, this was the moment in which they were all most needed: andyet it were vain to say, that her heart did not palpitate; that herknees did not shake; and that her trembling hand did not feel like apiece of ice, even in the midst of a hot and sultry night of August.
Beatrice perceived her agitation; and, though her own firm heart didnot share in her friend's terrors, she felt for her deeply, andendeavoured to support her by every means in her power. "Fear not,dear Eugenie!" she said, "fear not! Be assured that ere I came hither,I took every means to ensure success; and that we shall not pass alongtwo hundred yards of the way without finding some one stationed by meto aid and protect us in case of need. I have spared neither gold northought, Eugenie; and, in this world, gold, and thought, and courage,will do everything; so there wants nothing but the courage, my fairfriend, and that you must try to have."
"I will! I will!" whispered Eugenie in return. "But, indeed, Beatrice,I cannot but find it terrible to go out thus alone into the streets ofa strange, turbulent, vicious city, in the dress of a different sex,and with no one but another girl to guide and protect me!"
"Not terrible at all," replied Beatrice. "It is but what many a gaylight heart would do for a jest, and many a base heart for a worsepurpose. It is only on account of the great stake we are playing for,that you feel terrified, Eugenie; but that, on the contrary, shouldgive you courage."
By this time they had reached the top of the back staircase, thenarrowness of which obliged them to descend one by one. Beatrice,holding the lamp, led the way, and Eugenie followed. At the bottom ofthe stairs, the fair Italian, telling the maid who accompanied themthat she must find her way back in the dark, blew out the light, andgently unclosed the door. The moment she did so, the summer air rushedin; and though it was as soft and warm as the breath of southernspring, it felt chill to Eugenie's cheek, while the rolling sound ofcarriage-wheels, in some distant street, made her shrink back upon themaid as if she were already detected. Beatrice glanced her eye quicklyaround the court, and seeing that it was vacant, took Eugenie's handto lead her on. The maid, at the same time, feeling sure that hermistress would gain more courage as soon as all means of retreat werecut off, kissed her affectionately on either cheek, by way ofleave-taking, and gently supported her forward till she was actually inthe court, then suddenly closed the door; and Eugenie heard the lockturn within. For a moment her heart sunk; but making a great effort,and recalling the image of the Count d'Aubin, she hurried forward withBeatrice across the court to a small door which opened into the backstreet.
When one is in haste there is always some impediment. The door waslocked, and though the key was in it, it fell out of Beatrice's handas she attempted to turn it, and rattled on the pavement. Some momentspassed ere it could be found again, during which time Eugenie'scourage waned fast. At length, however, the key was recovered, andplaced in the lock, but ere the door was opened, some one rang thebell at the front gate. Eugenie felt as if her fate was sealed, andclung to the doorway for support. Luckily, however, no servant lovesto obey the summons of a bell; and Eugenie's attendants, happy intheir Burgundy, resolved that the visitor should ring again. Ere thatoccurred, Beatrice, with a steady hand, had turned the lock,
the dooropened; and springing through after her friend, Eugenie de Menancourtstood in the streets of Paris.