CHAPTER XXIV.
Taking Eugenie by the arm to give some support to her tottering frame,Beatrice hurried on, and they reached the end of the street in safety.As they were turning into another, however, a man who was walkingslowly on the other side of the way paused to mark them in theiradvance towards him, and seemingly attracted by a certain degree ofagitation as well as haste in their demeanour, crossed over andaccosted them:--
"What now, my young rovers!" he exclaimed. "Whither away so fast? Someintrigue, I warrant!"
"What is it to you?" demanded Beatrice, turning towards him fiercely,while she still hurried on, holding up the trembling form of her timidfriend. "If no one meddles with your intrigues, meddle you with noone's either."
"What is it to me!" cried the stranger. "Do you not perceive that I amthe captain of the quarter? and I doubt you have been about somenotorious evil, by your haste and this young lad's trembling;" and, ashe spoke, he laid a somewhat rude grasp upon Eugenie's arm.
"By the blessed Union, and the holy catholic faith!" exclaimedBeatrice, in a tone that made the man start back, "if you hold his armanother moment, I will drive my dagger into you, twice as far as SaintJacques Clement did the other day into the tyrant at St. Cloud;" and,without hesitation, she drew the weapon out of its sheath, and broughtthe gleaming blade so near the man's breast that he dropped Eugenie'sarm, and laid his hand upon his sword.
Bursting into a loud laugh, Beatrice taunted him with his fright; andputting up her dagger, hurried on, diverting the stranger's attentionby raillery, till at the corner of another street, Eugenie saw herraise her two fingers in the moonlight, and the next moment a mansprang out from a gateway on the dark side of the way; and runningforward as fast as possible, as if intending to pass them, he rushedfull against their undesired companion, and laid him prostrate in thegutter in the middle of the street. Then taking the first word ofquarrel, he stopped and turned to abuse the fallen man for not gettingout of his way, while Beatrice and her companion hurried on, and weresoon at a distance from the scene of strife.
"Matthew managed that well!" exclaimed Beatrice, when she thoughtherself at a sufficient distance to pause and take breath; "I mustpromote that fellow to some better office for his skill."
"Then that was one of your own people?" said Eugenie, with herconfidence in the success of their endeavour somewhat strengthened byevery new proof of the foresight and precaution which her faircompanion had used to ensure support. "But what if the captain of thequarter calls up the guard, and takes him into custody?"
"Captain of the quarter!" she exclaimed, with a laugh, "and did youbelieve that? Do you not know that, in these times, every one assumeswhat name he pleases? Captain of the quarter, indeed! Rather some_filou_ or some _escroc_, who seeing two youths fresh from an idlescrape, as he thought, fancied he could lay a tribute on their purseas the price of his silence and departure."
Still hurrying on, Beatrice of Ferrara led the way through a number ofstreets towards the gates of the city; but, warned by their lateadventure, she no longer proceeded at such a rapid pace. Assuming, onthe contrary, somewhat of a swagger in her air, yet still holdingEugenie firm by the arm, she walked along, displaying no bad imitationof the vastly important demeanour of some noble page, who, justliberated from his mother's careful eye, overlays the inexperiencedtimidity of youth with affected self-confidence.
More than once quitting the quieter and less frequented streets,Beatrice was obliged to lead the way into others, through which thehuman tide that rarely ebbs entirely in the city of Paris, was stillflowing on, though the hour was approaching to midnight. Eugenie'sheart beat quick at every fresh group that they encountered, and manya pang crossed her bosom, and many an unseen blush passed over hercheek, at some of the scenes that she thus for the first timewitnessed in the streets of the metropolis. Twice as they walkedalong, Beatrice paused for a moment to speak a single word to personswho seemed to be common passengers, and Eugenie, whose timid glancewas frequently cast behind, remarked that the men to whom hercompanion spoke turned and followed at the distance of a few paces. Atlength, as they approached the extremity of the Faubourg St. Germain,Beatrice whispered in her ear, "It will be impossible to pass thegates at this hour of the night, and, therefore, we must take sheltertill the morning begins to dawn in a place of refuge which I haveprepared."
Eugenie expressed her willingness to do anything her companion thoughtfit; and in a few moments Beatrice stopped opposite to a small housein the suburb, and pushing the door which was open, led the way in.All was darkness within; and Eugenie, though she had the most perfectconfidence in her friend, felt her terror increased at the aspect ofthe place. Taking her hand, however, Beatrice led her on, up a narrowstaircase, and through a still narrower passage, to a door at whichshe knocked for admittance. It was instantly opened, and the nextmoment Eugenie found herself in a neat, plainly furnished room, wheretwo of Beatrice's women, whom she had frequently seen before, stoodready to receive them. The moment they had entered, Beatrice cast herarms round her; and kissing her tenderly, exclaimed, "Now, my sweetfriend, I trust we are safe; to-morrow morning, I think, we shall beable to pass the gates without obstruction, and the rest of ourexpedition will be easy."
"Thank God!" cried Eugenie, sinking down into her seat. "Thank God!and next to him, Beatrice, I have to thank you!"
"Spare your thanks to me, Eugenie," cried her companion, "till we havereached the end of our journey. I will then try to hear them withpatience. But now, I dare say, you will think it strange that I havenot taken you to my own house, instead of bringing you here. But Ihave three sufficient reasons for not doing so. First, because on manyaccounts they might suspect you of flying to me; secondly, because weare here much nearer to the gate, and, thirdly, for a reason, Eugenie,that you would scarcely suspect, which is, that I did not choose anyof the gossiping fraternity should say they had seen two gay-lookingyouths enter the house of Beatrice of Ferrara at night, and remainthere till morning shone. So you see, Eugenie, that I, even I, am notwithout fears of scandal; I who have not scrupled, when my purposeserved, to go disguised as I am now, and live disguised in the houseof a strange man. Ay, Eugenie I do not look so horrified, for I wasas safe there as in my own chamber. I was surrounded by ownattendants, whom I had contrived by one means or another to force intohis service. He was too simple and unsuspicious to suspect me, andeven had he discovered me, was too noble-minded to have misused hisadvantage."
"You do not mean," exclaimed Eugenie, "you do not mean surely the----"
"Not the Count d'Aubin!" exclaimed Beatrice, with a blush that spreadlike lightning over her cheek, and forehead, and temples; "not theCount d'Aubin! I would not have trusted myself within his gates inthis guise for millions of kingdoms. No, not to have obtained acentury of the brightest happiness that ever yet shone upon the pathof mortal!"
"I did not mean him," replied Eugenie, smiling; "I meant the Marquisof St. Real."
"Then you have divined more shrewdly than I thought you would,"replied Beatrice. "But I will tell you all that story another time,"she added, quitting suddenly a subject on which she evidently wishedto speak, but did not know well how to proceed. "What was I saying?Oh! that I feared to have two gay-looking youths seen to enter myhouse at this hour; but the fact is, Eugenie, I have found that bycaution and propriety, and determination in certain things, I haveacquired, as it were, a right prescriptive to be as wild, and asdaring, and as unhesitating as I like in all others,--but now, my fairfriend, let us think of the present moment. You have four good hoursto rest yourself ere we set out. In yonder room you will find a bed;and one of my girls shall sit by you, while you lie down to repose, ifyou are afraid of sleeping in a strange apartment. Yet stay, I musthave those delicate shoes of yours; for ere we set out to-morrow, weshall need a pair more conformable to your dress, and must send amodel to my own shoemaker, who perhaps may have some that will fit. Heis accustomed to my whims; and will not mind being roused out of hisbed to serve me. In the meantime, I
must change my dress and hastenaway; for I am determined to show myself, if but for an hour, at thefete given to-night by old Madame de Gondi, so as to turn away allsuspicion from the right direction. I will be back long ere it be timeto set out to-morrow."
Exhausted with all she had gone through, grief, terror, mentalexertion, and corporeal fatigue, Eugenie de Menancourt gladly availedherself of the opportunity of repose. Casting off her upper robe, butwithout undressing herself farther, she lay down to rest. She did notrefuse, however, the attendance of one of Beatrice's women; for dangerand terror, instead of losing their effect on her mind by custom, hadonly rendered her more timid and apprehensive.
For more than an hour, agitation prevented Eugenie from sleeping; buttowards two o'clock weariness prevailed, and she sunk into profoundslumber. It seemed scarcely a moment, however, ere she was roused bysome one touching her arm; and she found Beatrice standing beside her,while the grey light that found its way into the room through the openwindow showed that she had slept longer than she imagined.
"It is time for us to depart, Eugenie," said her friend, "andunwillingly I must break your short repose; but I see the market cartscoming in; showing both that the gates are open, and that the siege ofParis is not only raised in name but in reality. We must make the bestof our time, Eugenie; for in five hours more your absence may bediscovered."
Eugenie de Menancourt needed no admonitions to haste. Her dress wassoon resumed, her shoes tried on and found to fit tolerably, her hairre-arranged so as to conceal its length; and once more takingBeatrice's arm, she proceeded down the narrow staircase to the door ofthe house, where, stretched upon some benches in the passage, lay twoor three men in different costumes, who instantly started upon theirfeet as the two maskers approached.
"Do not come out," said Beatrice, stopping to speak with them, "butlook forth from the side window where you can see the gate. If I holdup my handkerchief, run up to help us; and, good faith, you must evenrisk a hard blow or two, should need be; but if you see Andrew joinus, or if I do not hold up my handkerchief, be sure that all is safe,and return home with the women."
The men bowed and made way; and Eugenie, accompanying her companionthrough the doorway, found herself once more in the street in thecool, clear light of the early morning. During the former part of herflight, she had thought the very darkness increased her terror; butnow as she walked on, with faltering steps, in an unwonted garb, andfancying that every passing eye must penetrate her disguise, she wouldhave given worlds for night once more to afford her the covering ofits dull obscurity.
The gate lay at the distance of not more than a hundred yards beforethem; and Beatrice whispering, "Do not be surprised or alarmed atanything you see or hear, for I expect a confederate here," led theway with a quick step.
Not to be alarmed, however, was out of Eugenie's power; for even thegreat interests she had at stake, though they prompted to exertion,were without effect in giving birth to courage: nor was the sight ofthe gate at that moment calculated to remove her fears, for althoughthe siege was, as Beatrice said, absolutely at an end, and the royalarmy already many leagues from Paris, yet sentinels were to be seen inevery direction, and a number of the fierce-looking soldiers of theLeague still hung about the gates, some examining the market carts asthey entered the city, some jesting with the countrywomen whoaccompanied them.
Beatrice advanced boldly, however, her confidence and presence of mindappearing to increase as the dangers became more imminent, and glidingbetween two carts which stood in the archway, she was leading Eugenieon, when the _lanceprisade_ of the guard darted out of the gate-house,and caught her by the arm.
"Ha, ha! my young truant," he exclaimed, "whither away so fast? nonepasses here without question: this is not the door of a church, youngman!"
Beatrice shook off the man's hold without showing the slightestsymptom of alarm or agitation; and ever ready with a reply, sheanswered, "Not the door of a church! Is it the door of a Huguenot_pr?che_ then? and are you a _maheutre_ minister? Come, come! what doyou stop us for? They told me that the Bearnois and his beasts weregone, and that we could go out in safety and see where the Huguenotsroasted their apples."
"You have more malice in your heads than that, my good youths, I havea notion," replied the soldier. "We must have your names at least.Give us your name, my good boy."
"Mine is Monseigneur le Duc du Petit Chatelet," replied Beatrice,laughing; "so put that down in your book."
The soldier shook his finger at her good-humouredly enough. "You are awild one," he said, "and will break many a country wench's heart, I'llwarrant you, ere you be done with it. But what is your name, my prettylittle abb?, that stand there holding by the cart and blushing like agirl of fifteen?"
Eugenie hesitated, and blushed a thousand times more deeply thanbefore; but Beatrice instantly came to her aid, exclaiming, "Do nottell him your real name, silly boy; have you not wit to make one? Whathas he to do with your real name? Monsieur le Soldat, or better still,Monsieur le Lanceprisade, this gentleman here present is called L'Abb?des Ponts et Chaussees,--so put that down in your book also!"
"Very well, I will," replied the man; "but before I let you gofarther, I must know whether these are your real names or not, and Ithink we have one within there who can tell us."
Eugenie's heart sunk, and even Beatrice's confidence seemed a littleshaken, while the soldier, turning to some of his companions,exclaimed, "send out the old man there, and we shall soon see if herecognises these two pretty youths!"
The moment after, an elderly man, dressed much in the costume of amajor-domo belonging to some old family of distinction, came forthfrom the gate-house and approached them, holding up his hands andeyes, as if in horror and astonishment. Eugenie looked to Beatrice, tosee what was to come next; but a suppressed smile upon the countenanceof her fair friend re-assured her, although the words that accompaniedthat smile tended to a contrary effect. "We are caught now, Eugene,"she exclaimed aloud, "we are caught now, that is clear!"
At the same time the old man advanced, crying, in a lamentable tone,"Ah! young gentlemen, young gentlemen! how could you play such atrick? There's my Lord the Marquis been storming like mad, and yourlady-mother crying her eyes out, ever since you left the chateau. Wethought you must have fallen into the hands of the Huguenots, andthere has been nothing but fear and anxiety through the wholehousehold. You, Monsieur Leonard, your father said he could understandyour running away, for you are always in mischief, but how you couldpersuade Monsieur l'Abb? here to accompany you, he could notunderstand!"
"I am sure if my father be in such a rage," replied Beatrice, in thetone of a spoilt boy, caught in some trick more outrageous thanordinary, "I am sure if my father be in such a rage, I shall not goback till he is cool again; and so you may go and tell him, goodMaster Joachim!"
"Oh, let us go! let us go!" said Eugenie in a low tone; and nowcomprehending her companion's scheme, but anxious to bring the sceneto an end as speedily as possible, "Oh, let us go! it is useless todelay."
"That is right! Monsieur l'Abb?, that is right!" cried the old man;"but you need be under no fear of your father either, Master Leonard,for good Father Philip has made him promise that nothing shall be saidif you do but come home quietly. There is the carriage, as you see,standing ready, with Jean the lackey, and nothing shall be said Ipromise you; but if you will not go peaceably, of your own will, Imust make you go whether you will or not, and these good gentlemen ofthe guard will help me."
"Ay, that we will," cried the lanceprisade. "Two young truants! If yewere not two such pretty boys, I should feel tempted to make yourbacks so well acquainted with the staff of my halbert, that you wouldjump into the carriage fast enough, I will answer for it!"
"We will not give thee the trouble, most redoubtable hero," answeredBeatrice, in a mocking tone. "But, as we must go, there is a crown foryou and your pot companions to drink to the health of the Duc du PetitChatelet and the Abb? des Ponts et Chaussees."
The man laughed
and took the money; and Beatrice, with the same gayand swaggering air, marched forward through the gate, followed byEugenie; while the old man came after; the lanceprisade of the guardtaking care to whisper in his ear, with a knowing look ere he went,"You had better look sharp to them, or that young chap will give youthe slip yet; he is as full of mischief as a loaded cannon."
"Ay! ay! I will look to them," said the old man, with a solemn shakeof the head; "I will look to them, sir Lanceprisade, and many thanksfor your kind help and assistance in taking them."
Thus saying, he followed Beatrice to the side of the carriage orrather _chaise-roulante_, and having assisted her and Eugenie in, tookhis seat in one of the boots. The lackey, who had waited with thecarriage, now closed the leathern curtain, which served the purpose ofa door, and then springing up beside the driver, who sat ready in hisseat, gave the signal for putting the whole in motion. The short whipcracked, the two strong horses darted forward, and, after drawing toits full extension the complication of ropes, leather straps, and ironrings, which formed the harness, started the heavy carriage from thespot where it rested in the full force of its _vis inerti?_; and in amoment, Eugenie, with a heart palpitating with joy, felt herselfrolling away from the gates of Paris, over roads which were rough,indeed, with the recent passage of waggons and artillery, but everystep of which seemed to her hopes to conduct to safety and to peace.
For her part, Beatrice cast herself back in the carriage; herlightness, her gaiety, her air of daring passed away; and for someminutes she remained with her hands clasped over her eyes, as ifexhausted with all the exertion she had made. When she looked up, shewas still grave, and there was a languor about her which spoke plainlythat all the ease, and the courage, and the unconcernedness which shehad displayed through the difficult scenes just passed, had been, infact, the triumph of a ready and determined mind over the weakness ofa frame as delicate as that of the most timid of her sex.
"We are safe, Eugenie!" she said, "we are safe! and now give mecredit. Have I not played my part well? But it has almost been toomuch for me. When by myself I can go through anything, but I wasalarmed and agitated for you; I feared not only lest you would beovertaken, but lest you should sink under the trial. But now I trustyou are safe, dear Eugenie, for these horses go fast. We have nearlyfive hours before us ere Mayenne will be up; ere he will be wellawake, and his eyes rubbed, and his boots pulled on, we shall have anhour more; then to discover the whole, to think which way we are gone,and to cross-examine your servants, will bring him to dinner time: thepoor man must eat, you know; and what with other business, and thetime required to give orders, and mount horsemen, and consult with hissister, the day will be done, so that we may well calculate upon itsbeing to-morrow morning ere any one sets out to seek us. Therefore, myEugenie, with God's help, you are safe!"
"Thanks! thanks, Beatrice! A thousand thanks, my sister, my more thansister!" cried Eugenie. "Well, indeed, as you say, and skillfully haveyou played your part. But you would say I have not played mine badlyeither, if you knew all that I have suffered, especially when we werestopped at the gate. If you had told me, however, that you had gotsuch a comedy ready for our deliverance, I should have been betterprepared."
"But I knew no more than yourself," replied Beatrice, "what was tocome next; I had only time after your letter reached me to takegeneral measures. Luckily I had a number of my own people around mewithout the walls of Paris. I bade Joachim have a carriage and horsesprepared this morning, and to hang about as near as possible, tellingwhatever story he thought fit, if questioned. Thus, when the soldierspoke to me, I took great care not to say a word that could contradictmy confederate's story, whatever it was; but kept to general nonsense,which could signify nothing under any circumstances. As to the comedywhich you talk of, between Joachim and myself, it was like one ofthose mysteries which people play in the convents, where the names ofthe different characters, and some general idea of the story, is allthat is given, and the actors fill up the speeches as they think bestat the time. But my good major-domo played his part admirably too, andshall not have reason to repent of it when we come to speak ofrewards."
"And, now, whither are we going?" demanded Eugenie; "for this does notseem to me to be the road towards Maine."
"The road towards Maine!" exclaimed Beatrice--"why, my dear, simplegirl, that would be going into the lion's den, indeed. They will seekyou there in the first instance, and we must give time to let theirsearch be fully over ere we think of going near to Maine. At presentwe are following, as fast as ever we can, the march of the king'sarmy, and I hope to pass the rear-guard to-night."
"But may not that be dangerous?" demanded Eugenie. "We have no passfrom them; and if any of the parties of soldiers meet us, we may betaken and discovered, and perhaps maltreated."
"No fear of that," answered Beatrice; and then added, with a smilethat called the warm blood up into Eugenie's cheek, "we can send forthe Marquis of St. Real, you know, Eugenie. But, no, no! Do not beafraid of that, or anything else. I have orders and safe-conducts inthe king's own hand. In short, Eugenie, I do not think that there isone thing, which can tend to your safety, that has been forgotten byBeatrice of Ferrara."