CHAPTER VI.
A month and some days succeeded--full of events important to France,it is true, but containing nothing calculated to affect materially thecourse of this history; and I shall, therefore, pass over in mynarrative that lapse of time without comment, changing the scene alsowithout excuse.
There is in France a forest, in the heart of which I have spent many ahappy hour--which, approaching the banks of the small river Iton,spreads itself out over a large tract of varied and beautiful groundbetween Evreux and Dreux, sweeping round that habitation of melancholymemories called Navarre, filled with the recollections of Turennes andBeauharnois. Over a much greater extent of ground, however, than theforest, properly so called, now occupies, large masses of thicket andwood, with, occasionally, much more splendid remnants of the primevalcovering of earth, show how wide the forest of Evreux must have spreadin former years; and, in fact, the records of the times of which Iwrite compute the extreme length thereof at thirty-five Frenchleagues; while the breadth seems to have varied at different pointsfrom five to ten miles.
In the space thus occupied, was comprised almost every description ofscenery which a forest can display; hill and dell, rock and river,with sometimes even a meadow or a corn-field presenting itself indifferent parts of the wood, which was also traversed by two highroads--the one leading from Touraine, and the other from Alen?on,Caen, and the northern parts of Normandy. These high roads, however,were, from the very circumstances of time, but little frequented;for the eloquent words of Alexis Monteil, in describing the stateof France in the days of the League, afford no exaggeratedpicture:--"France, covered with fortified towns, with houses, withcastles, with monasteries enclosed with walls within which no oneentered, and from which no one issued forth, resembled a great bodymailed, armed, and stretched lifeless on the earth."
Nevertheless, interest and necessity either lead or compel men to allthings; and along the line of the two high roads already mentionedwere scattered one or two villages and hamlets--the inhabitants ofwhich had little to lose--and a number of detached houses, theproprietors of which were willing to risk a little in the hopes ofgaining much. The fronts of these houses, by the various signs andinscriptions which they bore, gave notice to the wayfaring traveller,sometimes that man and horse could be accommodated equally well withinthose walls; sometimes that the human race could there find rest andfood, if unaccompanied by the four-footed companion whose greatercorporeal powers we have made subservient to our greater cunning.According to the strict letter of the existing laws, we find that the_auberge_ for foot passengers was forbidden to lodge the equestrian,and that the _auberge_ for cavaliers had no right to receive thetraveller on foot. But these laws, like all other foolish ones, wereneglected or evaded in many instances; and he who could pay well forhis entertainment was, of course, very willingly admitted to themercenary hospitality of either the one or other class of inns,whether he made use of the two identical feet with which nature hadprovided him, or borrowed four more for either speed or convenience.
Notwithstanding the turbulent elements which rendered every state oflife perilous in those days, the landlord of the _auberge_, howeverisolated was his dwelling, did not, in fact, run so much risk as maybe supposed; for by a sort of common consent, proceeding from ageneral conviction of the great utility of his existence, and thecomfort which all parties had at various times derived from hisever-ready welcome, the innkeeper's dwelling was almost universallyexempt from pillage, except, indeed, in those cases where the partyspirit of the day had got the better of that interested moderation inpolitics which is such a distinguishing feature of the class, and hadled him to espouse one of the fierce factions of the times withsomewhat imprudent vehemence. Nevertheless, it need hardly be said,that between the several villages, and the several detached houseswhich chequered the forest of Evreux, large spaces were left withoutanything like a human habitation; and the traveller on either of thetwo highways, or on any of the multifarious cross-roads which wanderedthrough the woods, might walk on for many a long and weary mile,without seeing anything in the likeness of mankind. Perhaps, indeed,he might think himself lucky if he did find it so; for--as there thenexisted three or four belligerent parties in France, besides variousbodies who took advantage of the discrepancy of other people'sopinions upon most subjects, to assert their own ideas of property atthe point of the sword--there was every chance that, in any accidentalrencontre, the traveller would find the first person he met a greatdeal more attached to the sword than to the olive branch.
A little more than a month, then, after the funeral of the old Marquisof St. Real, in a part of the forest where a few years before the axehad been busy amongst the taller trees, there appeared a group ofseveral persons, two of whom have already been introduced to thenotice of the reader. The spot in which they were seated was a smalldry grassy strip of meadow by the side of a clear little stream, whichat a hundred yards distance crossed the high road from Touraine. Fromthe bank of the stream the ground rose very gradually for some way,leaving a space of perhaps fifty yards in breadth free of underwood orbush. It then took a bolder sweep, and became varied with manifoldtrees and shrubs; and then, breaking into rock as it swelled upwards,it towered into a high and craggy hill, diversified with clumps of thefine tall beeches which the axe had spared, and clothed thickly,wherever the soil admitted it, with rich underwood, springing up fromthe roots of larger trees long felled. On the other side again, theground sloped away so considerably, that had the stream flowedstraight on, it would have formed a cataract; and as the eye rested onthe clear water, winding in a thousand turns within a very shortdistance of the edge of the descent, and seeming to seek a way overwithout being able to find it, one felt as we do in gazing upon achild in a meadow looking for something it has lost, which weourselves see full well, yet cannot resolve to point out, lest thelittle seeker should desist from all the graceful vagaries of hissearch. Various bends and knolls, however, confined the rivulet to thecourse it had taken; but still the whole ground on that side was low,and at one point sunk much beneath the spot where the travellersbefore mentioned were seated, affording--over the green tree-tops--abeautiful view of a long expanse of varied ground, lying sweet in themisty light of summer, with many a wide and undulating sweep, fainterand more faint, till some grey spires marked the position of a distanttown, and cut the line of the horizon.
The party here assembled consisted of five persons: the first of whomwas the page already described under the name of Leonard de Monte, andwho, now stretched upon the ground, seemed making a light repast,while the dwarf Bartholo, standing beside him, filled a small horn cupwith wine from a gourd he carried, and presented it to the youngItalian with a low inclination of the head. The other three personageswho made up the group were evidently servants. The colours of theirdress, however, were very different from those of the Marquis of St.Real, and they were also armed up to the teeth, though their garbbespoke them the followers of some private individual, and notsoldiers belonging to any of the parties which then divided the land.Besides the human denizens of the scene, five horses were browsing theforest grass at a little distance. Three of these were equipped withsaddles; while two still bore about them the rough harness, if harnessit could be called, by means of which they had been attached to asmall vehicle, somewhat between a carriage and a car, which, with itsleathern curtains and its wicker frame, might be seen peeping out fromamongst the bushes hard by.
While the page concluded his repast, two of the servants--the otherseemed the driver of the carriage--stood behind him with their armsfolded on their bosoms, but still in an attitude so common in thosetimes of trouble as to have found its way into most of the pictureswhich have come down from that epoch to the present. The same movementwhich crossed the right and left arms over the chest had easilybrought the hilt of the sword, and the part of the broad belt in whichit hung, up from the haunch to the breast, where the weapon wassupported by the pressure of the left arm and the right hand, and wasever ready for service
at a moment's notice. The youth, however, whowas the principal person of the party, and the dwarf, who seemed toape his demeanour, wore their swords differently, following theextravagant court fashion of the day, and throwing the weapon which,in those times, might be needed at every instant, so far behind them,that the hilt was concealed by the short cloak then worn, and wouldhave been out of the reach of any but a very dexterous hand.
When the page had concluded his repast, he wiped his dagger on thegrass, and returned it to the sheath; and then, making the dwarfmingle some water from the stream with the wine he offered, he asked,ere he drank, "Are you sure, Bartholo, right sure, that we have passedthem?"
"Certain! quite certain!" answered the dwarf; "unless, noble----"
"Hush!" cried the youth, holding up his hand impetuously; "have I nottold thee to forget, even when we are alone, that I am any other thanLeonard the page. Some day thou wilt betray me; and, by my troth, thoushalt repent it if thou dost. Go on! go on! What wert thou saying?"
"Nothing, then, Signor Leonard," answered the dwarf, with his usualsardonic grin; "but that I am certain we have passed them, quitecertain: for I saw each day's march laid down before they set out; andthough we were two days behind them, and had to take a round of tenleagues to avoid their route, yet we have done five leagues more thanthey each day that we have travelled."
"Well, then, well!" said the youth; "dine, and make these varletsdine. If I am in Paris three days before them, it is enough. Yet loseno time; for I would fain be on far enough to-night to be beyond theirutmost _fourriers_ ere I stay to rest. I go up yon hill to look overthis woody world. When all is ready, whistle, and I will come." Thussaying, he turned away with a slow step, and, climbing the banks, wasquickly lost amongst the trees and underwood.
As soon as he was gone, the dwarf beckoned to the servants; and,making them sit down beside him on the grass, did the honours of thefeast, but still taking care to maintain that air of superiority withwhich a master might be supposed to portion out their meal to hisdomestics, on some of those accidental expeditions which level, forthe time, many of the distinctions of rank. The servants, too,submitted to this sort of assumption as a matter of course; and thoughthe eye of each might be caught running over the diminutive limbs ofthe dwarf with a glance in which the contempt of big things for littlewas scarcely kept down by habitual deference, yet, in their generaldemeanour, they preserved every sort of respect for their smallcompanion, keeping a profound silence in his presence, and treatinghim with every mark of reverence.
Scarcely had they concluded their meal, however, and were in the actof yawning at the horses they were about to harness, when the rustlingof the bushes on the hillside, and the fall of a few stones, gavenotice of the approach of some living being. The moment after, thelight and graceful form of their young master appeared, bounding downthe slope like a scared deer, with his cheek flushed, and all theflashing eagerness of haste and surprise sparkling in his dark eye."Quick!" he cried, as he came up, "quick as lightning! Draw thecarriage into that brake, and lead the horses in amongst the bushes.Scatter as far as possible, and come not hither again till you hear myhorn."
"But the carriage!" cried the dwarf, looking towards the spot to whichthe page pointed--"the brake is deep and uneven."
"We must get it out afterwards as best we may," replied the youth; "doas you are bid, and make haste! They are not half a mile from us, whenI thought they were leagues. I saw them coming up, on the other sideof the hill, and they will be here in five minutes. Quick! quick aslightning, Bartholo!"
The dwarf and his companions obeyed at once, and in a few moments thecarriage was drawn into a woody brake that completely concealed itfrom view; the horses were led into the forest; Bartholo betookhimself one way, and the attendants another; and their young lord,climbing the hill, sought himself out a place amongst the shrubs andlarger trees, where he could see all that passed upon the high road,without running any risk of being seen himself. A quick and impatientspirit, however, gauging all things by its own activity, had, as isoften the case, deceived him as to the movements of others; andinstead of five minutes, which was the utmost space that hisimagination had allowed for the arrival of the persons he had beheld,full half an hour had elapsed ere any one appeared.
At length, however, the trampling of horses sounded along the road;and the moment after, winding round from the other side of the hill,was seen a party of six horsemen, each bearing in his hand a shortmatchlock, with a lighted match, while three other weapons of the samekind hung round at the different corners of the steel saddle withwhich every horse was furnished. After a short interval, another smallparty appeared; and, succeeding them again, might be seen, firstmoving along above the interposing shoulder of the hill, and then uponthe open road, the dancing plumes of a large body of officers andgentlemen, in the midst of whom rode the young Marquis of St. Real,and his cousin, the Count d'Aubin. The eyes of Leonard de Monte fixedeagerly upon that party, and followed its movements for many a minute,till a new bend of the road concealed it from his sight; and he turnedto gaze upon the strong body of troops that then appeared. Twocompanies of infantry, each consisting of two hundred men, came next;and a gay and pleasant sight it was to see them pass along with theirshining steel morions, and tall plumes, and rich apparel, in firmarray and regular order, but all gay and cheerful, and singing as theywent. Amongst them, but in separate bands, appeared the various sortsof foot soldiers then common in France; the musketeer with his longgun upon his shoulder, and the steel-pointed fork, or rest, used toassist his aim in discharging his piece, while, together with thebroad leathern belt which supported his long and heavy sword, hung theinnumerable small rolls of leather, in which the charges for hismusket were deposited. The ancient pikeman, too, was there, with hislong pike rising over the weapons of the other soldiers, and one ortwo bodies of arquebusiers, armed with a lighter and less cumbersome,but even more antique kind of musket, here and there chequered theranks. A troop of cavalry, still stronger in point of numbers,succeeded, consisting of two companies of men-at-arms, which oldprivileges permitted the two houses of St. Real and D'Aubin to raisefor the service of the crown, and of about four hundred of morelightly armed horse of that description which, from having been firstintroduced from Germany and Flanders, had acquired the name ofreitters, even when the regiment was composed entirely of Frenchmen.The first body contained none but men of noble birth, and consistedprincipally of young gentlemen attached to the two great houses whoraised it. Each carried his lance, to which weapon the men-at-arms ofthat day clung with peculiar tenacity, as a vestige of that ancientchivalry which people felt was rapidly passing away before improvedscience, but from which they did not like to part. Each also wassplendidly armed; and gold and polished steel made their horses shinein the sunbeams.
The reitters, however, were more simply clothed, and were composed ofsuch persons from the wealthier part of the _classe bourgeoise_ as thelove of arms, the distinctions generally affixed to military life, orfeudal attachment to any particular house, brought from the veryinsecure tranquillity then afforded by their paternal dwellings, tothe open struggle of the field. This corps, however, was notdistinguished by the lance: a long and heavy sword, which did terribleexecution in the succeeding wars, together with a number of pistols,each furnished with a rude flint lock, composed the offensive arms ofthe reitter. His armour, too, and his horse were both somewhat lighterthan those of the man-at-arms; but his movements were, in consequence,more easy, and his march less encumbered.
The whole body wound slowly on with very little disarray Of confusion,till, one by one, the several bands turned the angle of the wood, anddisappeared in the distant forest. A few scattered parties followed;then a few stragglers, and then all was left to solitude, whilenothing but a cloudy line of dust, rising up above the green coveringof the trees, and two or three notes of the trumpet, told that such aforce was near, or marked the road it took. Leonard de Monte gazedfrom the place of his concealment upon each party as it passed
, andthen waited for several minutes, listening with attentive ear tillthe trumpet sounded so faintly that it was evident his own smallhunting-horn might be winded unheard by the retiring squadrons. Hedescended, however, in the first instance, to the bank of the streamwhere he had been previously sitting, and then gave breath to a fewlow notes, as of a huntsman recalling his dogs. The sounds were heardby his attendants, and instantly obeyed. The horses were led forthfrom the wood; and, while the two servants bestirred themselves todraw out the carriage from the brake in which it had been concealed,the youth beckoned the dwarf towards him, demanding--"Now, Bartholo!now! what think you of this?"
"Why, I think it a very silly trick, sir," replied the dwarf: "I couldforgive a raw youth like the Marquis for leading his men through sucha wood as this; but how an experienced soldier, like my good lord theCount, could let him do it, I cannot fancy. Why, the League might havetaken them all like quails in a falling net!"
"You are wrong," said the youth; "you are wrong, Bartholo. He knowsfull well that the League, close cooped in Paris, have not men tospare, and that Longueville and La Noue keep Aumale in check nearCompeigne. St. Real is no bad soldier. At least, so I have heard. Butit was not of that I spoke. What are we to do now? You told me thatthey were a day behind, and now they are right on the road before us.They must have changed their route. What must we do?"
"Why, we must turn back," answered the dwarf, calmly; "and then atDreux seek out the _ma?tre des postes_, leave these slow brutes behindus, and on to Paris with all the speed we can."
"But should there be no horses?" said the youth, "as was the case atLa Fleche; what must we do then?"
"Oh, beyond all doubt, we shall find horses there," the dwarf replied;"and if the post be broken up, we can but apply to the master ofrelais, whose horses will take us on for fifteen leagues, while thesetired brutes will scarce carry us to Dreux: better go with beasts thathave dragged a cart, than halt half way on the road."[2]
The youth paused and pondered; and though his intention was at firstdirected to the exertions of the servants with the carriage, yet themoment after, his glance began to stray abstractedly over the forest;and it is more than probable that his thoughts wandered much fartherthan the mere trifling embarrassment in which he found himself; forhis brow became clouded and melancholy, his lip quivered, and his eye,which was now again straining vacantly upon the grass, seemed as if itwould willingly have harboured a tear. The dwarf gazed at himearnestly with his quick black eyes, while the habitual sneer upon hislip seemed mingled with other feelings, which somewhat changed itscharacter, but rendered it not less dark and keen. Whatever were hisown thoughts, however, he seemed perfectly to comprehend that hisyoung lord's mind had run beyond the situation of the moment. "You aresorry you undertook it at all!" he said, keeping his eyes still fixedupon the face of the other.
"Out, knave!" cried Leonard de Monte, turning sharply upon him. "Out!Did you ever know me hesitate in a pursuit that I had once determined,or regret a deed when once it was done? Firm in myself, I am firm tomyself, and, whether good or ill happens, I never regret. No, no;think you that I am such a fool or such a child as to start from thefirst trifling obstacle? To whimper, because I am forced to lie on ahard bed, or fly off indignant because some saucy serving-man breakshis jest upon _the page?_ No, no! I was thinking of my father's house,and of a picture there which some skilful hand had painted of justsuch a scene as this. There was the little sparkling stream, andthere a sweet and tranquil grassy bank like that, with the brightsunshine--even as it does now--streaming through the bushes, andtouching the rounded turf with gold. Often, very often, have I stoodand gazed upon that landscape, and my fancy has rendered the dullcanvass instinct with life. I have dreamed that I could see throughthose groves, or climb the hill, and wander amongst the rocks; and ininfancy--that time of happy hearts--imagination, as I stood andlooked, has shaped me out a little paradise in such a scene as that.The palace and its cold splendour has faded away around me, and I havefancied myself wandering in the midst of Nature's beauties, withbeings as bright and as ideal as my dream: and now, Bartholo--andnow--what are all those visions now?"
The dwarf cast his eyes to the ground, and for a moment, a singlemoment, the cynical smile passed away from his lip. "You," hesaid--"you have made your fate! You have sought the bitter well fromwhich you are forced to drink. You have chosen sorrow, and the way tosorrow; for the love of any human thing is but the high road thither,and you must tread it to the end."
"How now, sir!" cried the youth, proudly tossing back his head;"school'st thou me?"
"Nay, I school you not," answered the dwarf; "and less than all soughtto offend you. I would have given you consolation. I would have saidthat you, for a great prize, had played a stake as weighty:--I meanthat knowingly, willingly, you had risked happiness for love; and,seemingly having lost, are sorrowful; but still you have thesatisfaction of knowing that your fate has been your own deliberateact."
"Would not that make it all the more painful, thou bitter medicine?"asked the youth.
"Not so!" answered the dwarf, "not so! Think, what must be hisfeelings who is _born_ to disappointment and to scorn; whose heart maybe as fine as that which beats in the bosom of the lordliest warriorin the land, and yet whose birthright is contempt, and degradation,and slight; whose mind may be as bright as that of prelate, or oflawgiver, and yet whose doom is to be despised and neglected? Thinkwhat must be his feelings, who has no refuge from disappointment, butin the hardness of despair; who has no warfare to wage against insult,but by hurling back contempt and defiance!"
"I am sorry for thee, from my heart," answered the youth. "Indeed, Iam sorry for thee."
"_Your_ pity I can bear," replied the dwarf, "because I believe it isof a nobler kind; but the pity of this base degraded world is poisonto every wound in my heart. No more of myself, however," he added,resuming at once his usual look; "I have spoken too long about myselfalready. I cannot change my state, were I to reason on it till the sungrew old and weary of shining; but you can do much to change yours;and, in honesty, it were better to try a new plan, for this is a badone."
"Care not thou for that," replied the other; "its wisdom or its follyrests upon me. Thou canst not say that there is either sin or crimetherein; and till then, be silent."
"You spoke of your father's house," still persevered the dwarf. "Whynot return thither, where now, since your uncle's death, peace, andrepose, and a princely fortune await you?"
"Return thither!" replied the youth, with a sigh. "Return thither! andfor what? to find the voices I used to love silent; the forms thatused to cheer it gone; to see in every chamber a memorial of the dead,and in each well-known object a new source for tears. Oh, no! I lovedthat place once with love far beyond that which we give in general toinanimate things; but it was because the living, and the good, and thekind, were mingled up with every scene and every object; but now theyare gone: the fairy spell is broken; the rich gold turned dross; andno place of all the earth is so painful in my sight as that--myfather's house."
"Nevertheless," urged the dwarf somewhat anxiously; but the other wenton: "But that is not all, Bartholo," he said, "that is not all; thoughthat were fully enough. No, when I last saw my father's halls my bosomwas as light as air, and all the thoughts that filled it were as thesummer dreams of some sunny, happy child. Since then how many a bitterlesson have I learned; how changed is the aspect of life, and fate,and the world!--No, no! The sunshine that shone in my father's hallsis gone for ever--the sunshine of a happy heart; and I will carry backwith me a new star to light them, or never see them more."
"Nevertheless," repeated the dwarf, "nevertheless--"
"No more in that tone!" interrupted the youth, "let me hear no more!My resolutions are fixed beyond change. My fate is upon the die in myhand, and I will cast it boldly, let the chance be what it will. Sayno more! for no more will I hear! Quick! hasten those laggards withthe horses, and let us begone: each word of opposition but makes methe more eager to run my
course to the end."
The dwarfs lip curled into a more bitter smile than ever, but he madeno reply; and proceeded to obey the orders he had received to hastenthe preparations for departure. Those preparations were soonconcluded; for while the conversation detailed above had beenproceeding, the servants, with the aid of the horses, had dragged thecarriage out of the brake. With some difficulty, and some danger ofoverturning it, it was at length brought to the high road. Leonard deMonte entered; and, wrapping himself in a large cloak, cast himselfback with an air of gloomy thought. The rest mounted their horses,and, as fast as the nature of the rude vehicle, and the state of theroads would permit, the little cavalcade wound away towards Dreux,leaving the forest once more to silence and solitude.