CHAPTER XXVI.
The morning after Eugenie's departure, no small surprise was expressedin the Hotel de Guise at the non-appearance of the priest, who had notonly performed the marriage ceremony for the Count d'Aubin, but alsorendered the much more important service of communicating to Mayennethe approach of aid from the Duke of Parma. While Mayenne, in hisusual slow and deliberate manner, discussed the fact with his sister,and, shrugging his shoulders, declared that if the good father did notchoose to come for his reward, he could not help it, the thoughtcrossed his mind that he had not yet seen his own confessor, who hadbeen carried off by the myrmidons of Bussy le Clerc; and although hedoubted not that the Chevalier d'Aumale had before this time set thegood priest at liberty, he determined to inquire farther: a vaguesuspicion for the first time crossing his mind that all was not rightin regard to the transactions of the preceding evening.
By this time the hand of the dial pointed to the hour of nine; andEugenie's maid Caroline, who, in order to give as much time to hermistress as possible, had ventured to prolong the period at the end ofwhich she had been directed to present herself at the Hotel de Guise,was even now at the door inquiring for the Duchess of Montpensier. Hermessage was brought to that lady as she sat by her brother; andalthough she comprehended not one word thereof, she saw that it insome manner bore upon the point they were discussing, and ordered thegirl to be brought into the room.
"He says that Mademoiselle de Menancourt's tire-woman has brought someapparel for her mistress," she repeated, turning to her brother afterthe attendant who made the announcement had left the room; "what canthis mean, Charles?"
"I know not, Kate," he replied with a doubtful smile; "but when thegirl comes, make her repeat her message," appearing perfectlyunconcerned.
Before he could add more, the tire-woman was in the saloon; andplaying her part with a natural talent which none but a French_soubrette_ ever possessed, she approached towards Madame deMontpensier, and with a low and reverent courtesy, and a look of themost perfect simplicity, said, "I have brought all the things, yourHighness, that my mistress thought she would require; but in regard tothe filigree girdle, as I told her last night, I have not seen it forthese two months. It was given into charge to Laure, who was sent awaywhen my old lord died." And she went on into a long story, solely theinvention of her own brain for the occasion; but which was socircumstantial and minute, and delivered with so much apparentearnestness and sincerity, that Mayenne looked at Madame deMontpensier, and Madame de Montpensier looked at Mayenne, with eyes inwhich bewilderment and surprise were then plainly visible.
"And pray what made you think that your mistress was here at all?"demanded the Duchess, at length cutting across the thread of thegirl's story, which bade fair otherwise to be interminable.
It was now the maid's turn to be surprised, and most skilfully did sherepresent the passion of astonishment; standing before Madame deMontpensier in silence, and looking at her without one trace ofcomprehension in her eyes. "Pray what did your Highness say?" sheasked at length; "I did not understand you."
"She demanded what made you think your mistress was here at all?"repeated Mayenne, in a harsh voice.
"Lord bless me, sir! Your Highness! Dear me! What made me think mymistress was here?" cried the girl, with an affectation of wonder anddoubt and affright that was perfectly admirable. "Did not her Highnesssend her own carriage for her last night, with a young abb? and apage, and a billet sealed with green wax?"
The story, as it had been prepared by Beatrice of Ferrara, now cameout at full, and the whole Hotel de Guise was soon in agitation andconfusion:--Madame de Montpensier alternately laughing and frowning,Mayenne striding up and down the room, and vowing that if it were theCount d'Aubin who had served him such a trick, he would find means tomake him rue it; and the maid Caroline weeping as bitterly as if shehad lost a lover or a gold necklace, and wringing her hands for herpoor mistress with all the phrase and circumstance of sorrow.
In the midst of this scene the Chevalier d'Aumale appeared, informingMayenne that Bussy le Clerc denied all knowledge of his chaplain, andthat the guards at the Bastile were in the same story. Ere Mayenne,however, could include Bussy le Clerc in his denunciations ofvengeance against the Count d'Aubin, the confusion of the whole wasrendered more confused by the apparition of the confessor himself, whoexculpated the demagogue by declaring that he had never been in theBastille, but, on the contrary, had been carried away by persons heknew not, who, at a certain point, had put him into a carriage, andblindfolded him. They had then lodged him for the night in a smallroom with nothing but a bed, a crucifix, and a missal. Here, in mortalterror, he had watched and prayed, till the grey of the dawn, when,being again blindfolded, he was led out through a great many streetsand turnings, of whose name and nature of which he had not theslightest conception, and at length finding himself free from thehands of those who had held him, he uncovered his eyes, and perceivedthat he was standing in the midst of the Pont Neuf, by the side of ablind man who was singing detestable melodies to the discordantaccompaniment of that most ancient instrument the hurdy-gurdy. Tired,frightened, and bewildered, he had made the best of his way home,without attempting to seek for his ravishers; and after sleeping tillhe had incurred a penance for forgetting his matins, he had come toadd his mite of confusion to that which already existed in the hall ofhis patron.
His tribute, however, small as it was, aided to perplex the ideas ofMayenne far more than ever. Ere he made his appearance, it had beenthe natural conclusion of the lieutenant-general and of his sister,that the carrying off of Eugenie de Menancourt had been the work ofthe Count d'Aubin; and the absence of the confessor had beenconsidered entirely as a thing apart. No sooner, however, were hisadventures related, than they instantly connected themselves in theminds of all with the non-appearance of the priest, who had performedthe ceremony, and with the absence of Eugenie; and the shrewdintellects of Mayenne and Madame de Montpensier, thus put upon theright track, seemed likely soon to discover no small portion of thetruth. Eugenie's tire-woman was again strictly examined, and thoughshe acquitted herself to a wonder, suspicion was roused. "Think you,Kate," demanded Mayenne, "that shrewd plotter, Beatrice of Ferrara,has a hand in this? There was some talk of love--ay! and even ofmarriage--between her and D'Aubin in the old Queen's time."
"No, no!" replied the Duchess, "that has all gone by, and she nowdespises him, as every woman of common sense must do. Besides, I sawher at old Madame de Gondi's fete last night at one o'clock! You hadbetter question the other attendants of De Menancourt. You may gainmore tidings there."
Mayenne accordingly determined to proceed instantly to Eugenie'sdwelling, in order to interrogate the rest of her servants; and hecommanded, in a stern and threatening tone, that the girl Carolineshould be detained till he returned. As the door was thrown open,however, to give him exit to the court, a gentleman was introduced asthe captain of the lansquenets, sent to his aid by the Duke of Parma;and all Mayenne's conclusions were once more deranged, by finding thatthe intelligence brought him by the priest was genuine.
How Beatrice of Ferrara had obtained that intelligence Mayenne neverdiscovered; but true the news certainly was, and most important werethe results to the cause of the League; for what between the auxiliaryforce which thus joined him, and reinforcements brought in byBassompierre, Nemours, and Balagny, the army in Paris was soon sostrong as not only to justify but to bespeak bold and energeticmeasures. Mayenne instantly prepared to take the field against theroyal army; and ere Henry IV. had been three days before Rouen, theforces of the League were in full march to give him battle. Before heleft Paris, however, the Duke used every means not only to discoverthe retreat of Eugenie, but to ascertain the cause and the manner ofher flight. In regard to the first, he was baffled at every point; andso skilful had been the arrangements of Beatrice, that in respect tothe second he returned to the conclusion, after long and repeatedinvestigations, that to the Count d'Aubin was to be attributed an actwhich, under such cir
cumstances, he looked upon as a base breach offaith, approaching to a personal insult. The tidings, therefore, thatEugenie had disappeared from the capital, and was nowhere to be heardof, were conveyed to D'Aubin by a reproachful letter from the Duke ofMayenne; and mad with anger and disappointment, the Count, on hispart, gave his mind up to the belief that Mayenne was deceiving him,threw himself on his horse, and travelled with frantic rapidity, tillhe reached Paris. There finding that the army of the League wasalready on its march, he followed with all speed, overtook Mayenne atGournay, and a somewhat vehement altercation was the consequence.
Mayenne, however, could not afford to quarrel with a person of so muchimportance to his cause; and acting with wisdom and moderation, anexplanation soon ensued, which cleared either party in the opinion ofthe other. As D'Aubin, however, giving way to the natural impetuosityof his disposition, had not waited to put the troops in motion whichhe had collected in Maine, he returned thither after one day's rest,while Mayenne marched forwards towards Dieppe.
Accompanied by some of the first officers in France, and supported byan overwhelming force, it seemed that the great leader of the Leaguewas about to drive the handful of men which opposed him, and theirheroic monarch, into that sea which was already bearing to their aidthe expected succour from England. Strongly posted, however, andpowerful both in courage and in right, Henry IV. calmly awaited theattack of his adversary; and, after several preliminary movements, theday of Arques dawned heavy and dull, without a breath of air to stirthe trees or to dispel the autumn fog that obscured the scene of thatmemorable fight.
It were tedious here to tell all the minute particulars of theglorious day, when, attacked at all points, and assailed in allmanners, not only by the arms of the enemy, but by the treason orfolly of part of his own troops, Henry IV. defended the hill of Arquesagainst forces more than six times the number of his own.
Every one has heard how, when monarch and soldiers were alike weariedout with sustaining through a long day the unceasing attacks ofinfinitely superior numbers, when scarcely a horse could bear hisrider to the charge, and scarcely a hand could wield a sword, thelittle band of Royalists beheld the powerful and yet untouched cavalryof the League wheeling round upon their flank, while a light windspringing up tended to clear the air, and showed to both armies theinsignificance of the one and the tremendous advantages of the other.But in stricken fields, as in the daily strife of life, the eventwhich seems destined to seal our misfortunes is often but theharbinger of unexpected success. The wind, it is true, rose higher,and rolling the sea-fog, in heavy clouds, away down the valley ofArques, left the few gallant defenders of that long-contested hillexposed, in all their need, to the eyes of the mighty host that sweptround them in dreadful array; but, at the same time, the full sunshinepoured upon the advancing squadrons of the League as they came on tothe charge, and those upon the hill, for the first time during theday, could distinguish clearly the separate masses of friends andfoes. The cannon of the castle of Arques opened at once, withtremendous effect, upon the cavalry of Mayenne; the first ranks wereswept down as they advanced; the second rolled over their dyingcomrades; the horses, mad with pain and terror, broke through theranks behind; and the charge of a few hundred men, at that criticalmoment, put all the gallant array into irremediable flight. Mayennesaw that the day was not for him; and withdrawing his masses in slowand soldierly order, he retreated for several miles, and left thefield of Arques to the glory of Henry IV.