CHAPTER III.
The personage concerning whom the last sentences were spoken, and whonow entered the hall, was not more than three feet six inches inheight,[1] but perfectly well formed in every respect, except that thehead, as is very usual with persons of his unfortunate description,was somewhat too large for the size of the body it surmounted. Hisformer lord had spoken of his ugliness; but although his face wascertainly by no means handsome, yet there was nothing in itapproaching deformity. Between "the human face divine" and that of themonkey, our great original, there are a thousand shades and varietiesof feature; and the countenance of the dwarf, it must be admitted, wasat the very far extreme of the chain, and at the end nearest the ape.A pair of sparkling black eyes, and two rows of very fine white teeth,however, rendered the rest of his features less disagreeable, but byno means diminished his resemblance to the animal. Whether from aconsciousness of this likeness, and a desire to hide it as far aspossible, or from a sort of conceited foppery not uncommon, the dressof this small man was as scrupulously elegant as the taste of that daywould admit. His beard and mustachios, which were soft and silky, weremost accurately trimmed. His hair, thrust back from his face, exposedhis large and somewhat protuberant forehead; while his pourpoint,composed of deep blue cloth, was slashed with primrose silk, to favoura somewhat dingy complexion. Sword and dagger he wore at his girdle;and all the chronicles of those days bear witness that he well knewhow to use--and to use fearlessly--the weapons intrusted to his smallhands.
His whole appearance produced a strange and not pleasant effect uponthose who saw him. The want of harmony between his size and his formwas constantly forcing itself upon attention. Could one have magnifiedhim, he would have appeared a very well-dressed cavalier, according tothe fashions of the times; and, had there not been something in hiswhole form and air that bespoke manhood, one might have looked uponhim as a smart child; but, as it was, one felt inclined to smile assoon as the eye fell upon him, though there was in his demeanour butfew of those absurdities by which many of his class of beings renderthemselves ridiculous. He had neither strut nor swagger, smirk norsimper; and the only thing which in any degree tended to render hisaspect peculiar, besides the fact of his diminutive form, was acertain cynical smile which ever hung more or less about his lips, asif, from a consciousness of superior talent or superior cunning, hescorned the race which, for their superior corporeal qualities, hehated; or rather, perhaps, as if he were ever prepared to encountertheir contempt for his inferior size by contempt for their inferioracuteness.
He entered the hall with ease, if not with grace; but, perhaps, withmore of what may be termed boldness than either. To St. Real, as hisactual master, he bowed low, and to the Count d'Aubin still lower,accompanying the inclinations of his head, in this instance, with akeen and significant glance, which, had the Chevalier de St. Real beenof a suspicious nature, might have made him place but littleconfidence in an attendant of his cousin's recommending. But hehimself had nothing to conceal, and, as yet, feared not that any oneshould see his inmost thoughts; for he was one of those few men whoknow no other use for words than to express their feelings.
"Why did you blow the horn so loud, Bartholo?" demanded St. Real,"when you well knew that my father lies so ill?"
"I did it, noble sir," replied the dwarf, "lest the cooks, and thepages, and the concierge at the door should lose a jest and fit oflaughter--rare things in the castle of St. Real. I knew full well thatsome one would cry out, 'Hear what a great sound can be made by alittle body!' and it would be unjust to disappoint the poor fools inthe offices, for fear of disturbing the rich gallants in the hall.But, by my faith, I had another reason, too, which is worth lookingto. There was a traveller came with me, and an ass, and an ass'sburden."
"Was it the surgeon for whom I sent you?" asked St. Real, eagerly;"the new surgeon from Tours?"
"Seeing that my eyes and the surgeon are innocent of all intercourse,"replied the other, "I cannot tell you, noble sir, whether it be he ornot. The man was not in his dwelling when I reached it, so I left mymessage, and rode further; and, as I came back, what should I see,half a mile hence, but the white feather of this man's hat waving inthe dark night, and not knowing its way to the chateau of St. Real. Iasked him what party he was of, whither he was going, and if he hadpassport or safe conduct. He answered, short enough, that he belongedto his own party, had no passport but his sword and his right hand,and was coming hither. So, whether he were surgeon or not, let thosejudge that are wise! I asked no further, but brought him hither, andleft him in the green arras room, as he seemed no way dangerous, andwished to see either the Marquis or the Marquis's son in private."
"It is either a reitter seeking service, or a quack-salver seeking thesick," cried the Count d'Aubin. "Go to him--go to him quick, Huon! Hewill whip you the gold lace off the hangings, either for his pocket orhis crucible. So go to him, and leave me the dwarf to jest withal."
With the quick and impatient step which anxiety produces in the youngand active, St. Real bent his steps towards the chamber to which hehad been directed by the dwarf, hoping, notwithstanding thedescription which had been given of the person who awaited him, thathe might prove the surgeon who had been sent for in aid of theordinary medical assistance attending upon his father.
The room which he now entered was a small one, hung with arras of adark-green hue, that served to absorb the greater part of the lightafforded by a single lamp. The stranger had cast himself into a largechair at the farther end of the chamber, and, in the half obscurity,his person and features were but faintly seen; but nearer, and in thefull light, sat the youth whom we first found washing his feet in oneof the neighbouring streams. He seemed fatigued with journeying, andleaning listlessly against a small table under the lamp, suffered hishead to rest upon his hand, showing a profusion of jetty curls fallingthick round his brow, while the cap and feather which he had wornwithout was now thrown upon the ground beside him. The person whom hehad accompanied, however, retained his hat and high white plume, andmade no movement to rise as St. Real entered.
The eyes of the young noble first rested upon the boy; but immediatelyturning towards the elder of his two visitors, he advanced towardshim, without noticing the apparent incivility of his demeanour. Whenhe had taken two steps forward, however, St. Real paused; and then,with an exclamation of surprise, was again advancing, when thestranger rose, saying, "Ha, Monsieur St. Real, I did not know you atfirst. Ventre Saint Gris! I had forgot that ten years makes a boy aman."
"If I am not mistaken, I see his Majesty of Navarre," said theChevalier; "and only grieve that my father is not capable of biddinghim welcome, with all the goodwill that we entertain towards himselfand his royal house."
"Henry of Navarre, indeed!" replied the monarch; "as poor a King aslives, St. Real, but one who grieves sincerely at your father'sillness. I trust that it is not dangerous, however, and that I shallyet see him ere I depart; for to that purpose I have been forced tosteal me a path amidst bands through which I should have found it hardto cut me a way, and to do that singly which I dared not attempt withmany a stout soldier at my back."
"My father sleeps, my lord," replied St. Real; "'tis the first sleepthat he has known for many a day, and I would fain----"
"Wake him not--wake him not for me!" interrupted the King. "To-morrowI must hie me back to Tours; but in the meanwhile I can well wait hiswaking, and will crave some refreshment for myself and this goodyouth, who has guided me hither, and who seems less able to bearhunger and long riding than Henry of Navarre."
"I will order such poor fare as our house affords to be placed beforeyour Majesty directly," replied St. Real, "though I fear me much thatthe two surgeons and a priest, together with a _gentilhomme serjent_from La Fleche, are even now busy in despatching all that is alreadyprepared."
"Let us join them! let us join them by all means!" cried the King; "bymy faith I would never choose to dine where better cheer is usually tobe found, than in company with surgeons and with pr
iests. The firstare too much accustomed to the care of other people's bodies toneglect their own; and the others, though they limit their specialvocation to the preparation of souls for the other world, are notwithout care for the preservation of the corporeal part in this. Butour horses, St. Real--they stand in the court-yard: that is to say, myhorse, and this good youth's more humble charger in the shape of anass."
St. Real turned his eyes upon the youth while the King spoke; andafter having replied that he would give instant orders for Henry'sequipage of all kinds to be attended to, added, still looking at theboy, "Your Majesty's page, I suppose?"
"If so, but the page of a day," replied the King; "but, nevertheless,though of so short an acquaintance, I can say that he seems as good aboy as ever lived, has guided me here through many dangers, with morewit and more courage too than most would have shown, and is by far toowise to prefer the service of a poor king to that of a rich lord. Inshort, St. Real, it seems that he was coming here when I met with him;and as his sole guerdon for the pains he has taken, he required me toadvocate his cause with your father, to have him received as a page inyour household."
"My father," said St. Real, in reply, "has a mortal aversion to pages,ever since the Queen was here with more than half a score, and willonly suffer two in his household--his own stirrup page, and mine, adwarf given me by my cousin Philip."
"Nay, nay, you must not refuse my first request, St. Real," said theKing; "for I have many another to make ere I have done, and if I haltat the first step, I shall never be able to walk through the rest ofthe list."
"Oh! I never dreamed of refusing your Majesty so trifling a thing,"replied the other; "but we must give him some other name than page.What will you be, my boy? You are too young and too gay-looking for avalet in such a dull house as this."
"And too noble," added the youth, "or too proud, if you will. I seeknot, sir, to take wages of any man; but I seek to pass a time in somehouse where the hearts are as noble as the blood they contain, whereold feelings are not forgot in new follies; and I would fain that thathouse were the chateau of St. Real."
"You speak well, good youth, and more like a man than a boy; butsomewhat too haughtily too," replied St. Real.
"I will speak more humbly when I am your follower," answered theyouth, colouring a good deal; "to those who would raise me up, I canbe as humble as the dust, and to those who would cast me down, asproud as a diamond. I sought to be your father's page, my lord," headded, in a softer tone; "because I heard much of him, and because allthat I did hear showed him as a man blending so equally in his naturegoodness and nobility, that love and reverence must be his followerswherever he bend his steps."
Something very like a tear rose in St. Real's fine clear eye, and theyouth proceeded. "I am grieved that aught should have grieved you,sir, on his account; but still let me beseech you to take me into hisservice. You know not," he added, eagerly, "how kindly I can tendthose I love; how I can amuse the weary hours of sickness, and whileaway the moments of pain. I can read him stories from ancient lore,and from many a language that few pages know. I can tell him tales ofother lands, and describe places, and things, and nations that he hasnever seen. I can sing to him sweet songs in tongues that are allmusic, and play to him on the lute as none in this land can play."
"Enough! enough!" cried Henry; "by my life, St. Real, if you do notconclude your bargain with the boy quickly, I will step in and try tooutbid you in your offers; for if he but perform his undertaking withyou as well as he has done with me, you will have a page such as neverwas since this world began."
"He was ours, my lord, from the first moment that your Majestyexpressed a wish that he should be so," replied St. Real. "There is myhand, good youth, and it shall ever give you aid and protection atyour need. But tell me, what is your name? for although, as in the oldtimes, we let our guests come and go in the chateau without question;yet, of course, I must know what I am to call _you_."
"Leonard," answered the youth; "Leonardo, in my own land; but here inFrance, men call me Leonard de Monte."
"I thought I heard a slight Italian accent on your lips," said St.Real; "but tell me, have I not seen you as one of the pages of QueenCatherine's court?--a court," he added, almost regretting that hehad yielded to the King's request, "a court, not the best schoolfor----" But there again he paused, unwilling to hurt the feelings ofany one, and seeing a flush come over the boy's face, as if he alreadyanticipated the bitter censure that court so well deserved. Theyouth's answer made him glad that he had paused.
"I know what are in your thoughts, sir," he replied; "but I beseechyou speak no evil of a mistress who is now dead, and who was ever kindto me. Let her faults lie in the grave where she lies, and let menforget them as soon as they forget virtues. As for myself, I may havefaults too; but they have never been those of the persons amongst whomI mingled; I have neither learned to lie, nor to flatter, nor tocheat, nor to run evil messages, nor give sweet hints. If, then, Ihave lived amidst corruption and come out pure----"
"You are gold tried in the fire," rejoined St. Real, laying his handupon his shoulder; "and I will trust you, my good youth, as muchconvinced by the tenderness of your speech towards her who is no more,as by your defence of yourself----. But this matter has kept yourMajesty too long," he added, "and by your permission I will nowconduct you to the lesser hall, where these four persons are atsupper; though I cannot but think that you had better suffer me toorder you refreshments here."
"Nay, nay, I will sup with chirurgeons by all means," replied Henry,laughing, "and we will forget that there is such a thing as a king, ifyou please, St. Real; for I would not have it blazed abroad that I amwandering about without an escort, or I might soon find myself in thecastle of Amboise. Call me Maitre Jacques, if you please, for thepresent time, and let us make haste; for if I am to gauge the appetiteof those worthy doctors by my own, they will have devoured the supperere we reach the hall."
"Permit me, then, to show the way," replied St. Real; "seek out mydwarf, Bartholo, good youth," he added, turning to the page, "and bidhim find you lodging and refreshment, as he values my favour. But Iwill see more to your comfort myself shortly; for the villain issometimes insolent, and may be spiteful too, like most of his race,though I never have marked it."
The youth bowed his head without other reply, and St. Real proceededto conduct Henry of Navarre, afterwards so well known as the frank andgallant "Henri Quatre," along the many long and dimly lighted passagesof the chateau of St. Real, towards a small hall in one of thefarthest parts of the building.
"Maitre Jacques! remember I am Maitre Jacques!" said Henry, as theyoung noble laid his hand upon the lock; "and you must not only makeyour words call me so, but your demeanour also, St. Real."
"Fear not! fear not!" answered St. Real, in a low tone; "I will be asdisrespectful as you can desire, sire."
Thus saying, he opened the door, exposing to view the interior of whatwas called the little hall, which presented a scene whereon we maydwell for a single instant; for, though the picture which it displayedof the callous indifference of human nature to the griefs andsufferings of others, is not an agreeable one, it was not new enougheven then to excite wonder, and is not old enough now to be omitted.The master of the house was dying, and his family full of sorrow atthe approaching loss of one who had been a father to all whosurrounded him; but there, in the little hall, was collected, in thepersons of the surgeons, the priest, and the lawyer, attendant uponthe dying man, as merry a party as it had ever contained. The hall,though it was called little, was only so comparatively; for its sizewas sufficient to make the table at which the feasters sat look like aspeck in the midst. Nevertheless, it was well lighted; and St. Realand his royal companion, as they entered, could plainly see the man oflaw holding up a brimming Venice glass of rich wine to one of his twoshrewd eyes, while the hall was echoing to some potent jest that hehad just cast forth amongst his companions. Even the carver at thebuffet, and the serving man who was filling up the wine for the r
est,were shaking their well-covered sides at the joke; and the priest,though repressing as far as possible the outward signs of merriment,was palating the _bon mot_ with a sly smile, and had perhaps a covertintention of using it himself secondhand, whenever he could findoccasion. For a minute or two the party at the table did not perceivethe entrance of any other persons, or concluded that those who didenter were servants; and their conversation went on in the same lighttone which had evidently predominated up to that moment.
As soon, however, as St. Real and his guest appeared, matters assumeda different aspect; and solemn ceremony and respect took the place ofmerriment. Seats were soon placed; and Henry, while engaged insatisfying the hunger that a long day's journey had occasioned, failednot by some gay and sportive observations to bring back a degree ofcheerfulness: but the natural frank liveliness of the King's heart wascontrolled, or rather oppressed, by many an anxious thought forhimself, and by feelings of kindly and sincere sympathy with the youngnoble who sat beside him. St. Real, on his part, did not affect tofeel aught but deep anxiety; and, after their entrance, the merrimentof the party in the hall was very much sobered down from its previouselevated tone, giving way, indeed, in the breasts of the lawyer andthe surgeons, to many a shrewd conjecture in regard to the professionand object of their new comrade Maitre Jacques.
In the meantime, the page stood where St. Real and the King had lefthim, supporting himself against the table in an attitude of muchgrace, but one which spoke deep and somewhat melancholy thought. Hishead leaned upon his bosom, his hand fell listlessly by his side, hiseyes strained with the deep and intense gaze of anxious meditationupon one unmeaning spot of the marble floor; and thus, without theslightest motion, he continued so long in the same position, that hemight have been taken for some fanciful statue tricked out in the gaydress of that time, had not every now and then a deep sigh broke fromhis bosom, and evinced the conscious presence of life and all itsills.
Near a quarter of an hour elapsed without his taking the slightestnotice of the lapse of time. The steps of his new master and theprince had long ceased to sound through the passages, other noises hadmade themselves heard and died away again; but the youth remainedapparently unconscious of everything but some peculiar and absorbingfacts in his own situation. His reverie was, however, at lengthdisturbed, but apparently not unexpectedly, though the stealthy stepand silent motions with which the dwarf Bartholo advanced into theroom in which the youth stood, had brought him near before the otherwas aware of his presence. For a moment after their eyes had metneither spoke, though there was much meaning in the glance of each;and at length the youth made a silent motion of his hand towards thedoor. The sign was obeyed at once; and the dwarf, closing the doorcautiously, returned with a quick step, suddenly bent one knee to theground, and kissed the hand the boy extended towards him.
"So, Bartholo," he said, receiving this somewhat extraordinarygreeting as a thing of course, "so! you see that I am here at length!"
"I do," replied the dwarf, rising; "but for what object you are come Icannot conceive."
"For many objects," answered the youth; "but one sufficient to myself,is that I am near those that I wish to be near; and can watch theiractions--perhaps see into their thoughts. If I could but make myselfsure that St. Real really loves the girl! that were worth all thetrouble."
"But the risk! the risk!" exclaimed the dwarf.
"The risk is nothing, if my people are faithful to me," answered theyouth sharply; "and woe be to them if they are not! Why came you not asI commanded, but left me to wait and wander in the neighbourhood ofBeaumont, and nearly be taken by a party of reitters, in the pay ofMayenne?"
"I could not come," answered the dwarf; "for I was sent to seek achirurgeon from Tours for the old man, who lies at the point of death.I made what haste I could; but missed you, and could not overtake youtill you had nearly reached the chateau."
"And is the old Marquis, then, so near the end of a long good life?"asked the youth. "There are some men whose deeds are so full ofimmortality, that we can scarce fancy even their bodies shall becomefood for worms. But so it must be with the best as well as with theworst of us."
"Even so!" answered the dwarf; "but as to this old man, I have notseen him with my own eyes for this many a day; but the report runs inthe castle that he cannot long survive."
"His death would come most inopportunely for all my plans," repliedthe youth; "it would place me in strange circumstances: and yet Iwould dare them, for I have passed through still stranger withoutfear. I feel my own heart strong--ay, even in its weakness; and I willnot fear. Nevertheless, see you obey my orders better. You should havesent some other on your errand, and not have left me to the mercy of atroop of reitters."
"Crying your mercy," said the dwarf, with a significant grin, "Ishould have thought that your late companion might have proved asdangerous."
"Dare you be insolent to me, sir?" cried the youth, fixing hisfull dark eye sternly on the dwarf. "But, no; I know you darenot, and you know me too well to dare. But you are wrong. Whatevermay be the faults of Harry of Navarre--all reprobate heretic as heis--nevertheless he is free from every ungenerous feeling; andalthough I might think I saw a glance of recognition in his eyes, yetI harbour not a fear that he will betray me or make any ill use of hisknowledge, even if he have remembered me."
"Are you aware, however," asked the dwarf, lowering his voice anddropping his eyes--"are you aware that the Count d'Aubin is here?"
"No, no!" cried the youth, starting. "No, no! Where--where do youmean? I know that he is in Maine, but surely not here."
"In this very house," answered the dwarf--"in the great hall, not ahundred yards from the spot where we now stand."
"Indeed!" said the other, musing. "Indeed! I knew that he was near,and that we should soon meet; but I did not think to find him here.Look at me, Bartholo! look at me well! Think you that he wouldrecognise me? Gold, and embroidery, and courtly fashions, are all laidaside; and I might be taken for the son of a mechanic, or, at best,for the child of some inferior burgher."
"I knew you at once!" answered the page emphatically.
"Yes, yes; but that is different," replied he whom we shall take theliberty of calling by the name he had given himself, although thatname, it need scarcely be said, was assumed; "but that is different,"replied Leonard de Monte. "You were prepared to know me; but I thinkthat I am secure with all others. Why, when I look in the mirror, Ihardly know myself."
The dwarf gazed over the person of him who was evidently his realmaster, however he might, for some unexplained purposes, affect to bein the service of others--and after a moment, he replied, with a shrugof the shoulders, "It may be so indeed. Dusty, and travel-soiled, andchanged, perhaps he would not know you; and were you to put on a highfraise, instead of that falling collar, it would make a greaterdifference still in your appearance."
"Quick! get me one, then" cried the youth; "I will pass before him foran instant this very night, that his eye may become accustomed to thesight, and memory be lulled to sleep. See, too, that all be preparedfor me to lodge as you know I would."
"I have already marked out a chamber," answered the dwarf, "and havecurried favour with the major-domo, so that he will readily grant itto the new page at my request."
"Where is it?" demanded the youth. "You know I am familiar with thehouse."
"It is," replied the dwarf, "one of the small chambers, with a littleante-chamber, in the garden tower."
"Quick, then! Haste and ask it for me," exclaimed Leonard de Monte."The young lord bade me apply to you for what I needed; so you canplead his order to the master of the chambers. Then bring me thefraise speedily, ere I have time to think twice, and to waver in myresolutions."
With almost supernatural speed the dwarf did his errand, and returned,bearing with him one of those stiff frills extended upon whalebonewhich are to be seen in all the portraits of those days. The youthinstantly took it from his hand; and, concealing the falling collar oflace, which was f
or a short period the height of the fashion at thecourt of Henry III., and which certainly did not well accord with thesimplicity of the rest of his apparel, he tied the fraise round hisneck, and advanced to a small mirror in a silver frame that hungagainst the arras. "Yes, that does better," he exclaimed--"that doesbetter. Now, what say you, Bartholo?"
"That you are safe," answered the page--"that I should not know youmyself, did I not hear your voice."
"Well, then, lead through the hall, if Philip of Aubin be there."replied the youth; "and when I am in my chamber, bring me a wafer anda cup of wine; for I am weary, and must seek rest."
The dwarf opened the door, and led the way, conducting his youngcompanion across the great hall, up and down which the Count d'Aubinwas pacing slowly and thoughtfully.
"Who have you there, Bartholo?" demanded the young noble as theypassed.
"Only a page, my lord," replied the dwarf; and they walked on. TheCount looked at the page attentively; but not the slightest sign ofrecognition appeared on his face; and, though the youth's stepsfaltered a little with the apprehension of discovery, he quitted thehall, satisfied that his disguise was not seen through. As soon asthey reached the door of the small chamber, which was to bethenceforth his abode, Bartholo left him, to bring the refreshment hehad ordered; and as the dwarf passed by the door of the hall oncemore, and heard the steps of the Count pacing up and down, he pausedan instant, as if undecided. "Shall I tell him?" he muttered betweenhis teeth, "shall I tell him, and blow the whole scheme to pieces? Butno, no, no; I should lose all, and with him it might have quite thecontrary effect. I must find another way;" and he walked on.