CHAPTER XXII.
For one moment--it could scarcely be more--the old Marchioness deChazeul gazed down upon the pavement of the hall after her brother hadleft them; and then looking up, with the demon smile which was notuncommon upon her countenance, when anything especially daring andevil was working in her mind, she took her son's arm, and gazing inhis face, said in a low sarcastic tone, "Do you know, my son Nicholas,you are but a fool after all?"
"Indeed, sweet mother?" said the worthy offspring of such a parent,with a look of supercilious indifference; "I am glad to hear you thinkso. Variety is charming in a family; and I have heard men say that youare no fool. But may I know how I have merited the pleasantappellation you so glibly bestow upon me? What have I done, said, orthought, which deserves that ancient and honourable title?"
"You have thought that this girl can be won by civility, flattering,coaxing, and tenderness," replied the Marchioness; "and therefore youare a fool, as well as my weak brother, your uncle. It needs but aglance of her eye; it needs but a word from her lip, to show that suchmeans are as vain as whistling to the wind. I tell you, Chazeul, and Itell you true, that force--force--do you mark me? force is the onlyengine you can employ against this haughty spirit. Ay, and it must beapplied quickly, if you would have your bride. She knows more than weimagine--she knows all, that is clear. There is now no stopping inmidway. You must overleap all idle barriers; rend to pieces allmorsels of black and white parchment. You must render yourself theonly man she can marry; and all will be soon yours."
"But what course would you have me pursue, my most politic mother?"asked Chazeul; "If one frightens and alarms her, she will only shrinkfrom me the more."
"Let her shrink," cried the Marchioness. "What matters her shrinking,to you? Do not pretend to things you do not feel. She must be yourwife, Chazeul, shrinking or willingly; and which, matters not much,either to you or me. She must be yours, I say; and as it is clear thatshe will not with her consent, it must be without."
"But how? but how is this to be accomplished?" demanded her son. "Hereare a thousand obstacles, good lady. We must work through my uncle,and you must see that it is vain to hope he will use any violentmeans. How weakly he answered me this morning, when Nemours' trumpetcame!"
"We must act through some one else," answered the Marchioness. "He isnot to be trusted, but when he considers his rights invaded; and 'tisuseless to think of employing him. We must find another, and get himto aid our plan."
"But what is that plan?" demanded the young nobleman. "Let me hear ina word what is the purport of all these hints?--How is it to be done?"
"By various ways," replied Madame de Chazeul. "First and above all,you must remove from this busy scene the man whom she fancies that sheloves."
"Remove him!" exclaimed Chazeul; "I know not how. He is surrounded bypeople devoted to him. I should find some difficulty.--He is now inthe hands of Nemours too, who would not suffer it. The Duke isscrupulous in such matters."
Such were the words of Chazeul. He expressed no surprise; he displayedno horror at the proposal; but in those days such thoughts werefamiliar to the minds of most men. In the preceding reign, privateassassination had been one of the means of war, so often reallycommitted by persons high in station and education, that rumour asusual exceeded the truth, and no death took place with circumstancesat all out of the common course, without being attributed to theagency of man. The revenge of individuals, the malignity of faction,the policy of states, all took the same direction; and kings andprinces prompted and paid for dark deeds of blood, as well as thecorrupt minions of the court, and the vicious women with whom it wasthronged. Each day some murder had stained the records of the country,and men had more cause to guard themselves against the covert enmityof the rival in ambition or in love, than against the open wrath ofthe acknowledged foe. So common, indeed, had such crimes become, thatcircumstances were supposed to justify, and custom to palliate them;and when they were discovered, no wonder or disgust was excited, andmultitudes who had taken no part in the deed itself, were found toconceal, protect, and plead for the assassin. It was an age of crime.
Chazeul, then, and his mother discussed the means of removing DeMontigni from their path, as calmly as if they had been laying outsome party of pleasure; there was no hesitation, no repugnance, notragic movings of remorse. The difficulties were all that wereconsidered and how to obviate them. It was of everyday deeds andevents they spoke, and they conversed over them in an every-day tone.
"I do not see," replied the Marchioness, "why that should prevent thebusiness. His being in the hands of Nemours, but fastens him to onespot, where he can always be reached."
"But there will be guards and people about him," said Chazeul, "whowould give him help. To accomplish it, we should need too many men, tobe able to introduce them quietly."
"Too many men!" cried his mother with a laugh; "why, you soldiersalways are thinking of violence, and swords, and daggers. You do notfancy, do you, that I would have recourse to means so rough? Outupon such coarse handy-work! One little cup of drink--one savouryragout--will do the deed better than bullet or steel, and put you inpossession of Liancourt as well as Marennes. But leave that to me, foryou seem unskilful in such matters. You must have both; and your taskmust be with the girl--leave me the man. We must have no moretrifling, Chazeul, or secrets may come out which it were well to hidetill you have obtained all that you can desire. The girl must be yoursbefore two days have past--did you not mark her words?"
"I marked many of them," replied Chazeul; "they were well worthy ofnotice.--But which do you mean?"
"Are you so dull?" asked his mother. "Did you not hear her say, thatyou had deceived others as well as herself? and did not your own mindread the comment?--Hark ye, boy! Did you ever see or know a person--asweet tender, delicate creature, called Helen de la Tremblade?"
Chazeul's cheek grew pale and then red; not from remorse; not fromshame; but from dread. It was dread, however, of only one human being.All the world might have been made aware of his baseness, withoutcausing him a care or anxiety, if he could have kept it from hismother. But he knew her well, the dark and fiendish nature of hercharacter, her remorseless seeking for her own ends, her vindictivehatred of all those who offended her, and the little regard she hadfor any tie, in pursuit of her own objects. Vanity, vice, andintemperate passions, had not yet altogether quenched every naturalfeeling in his heart; and some lingering affection for the unhappygirl he had injured, made him apprehensive for her, more than forhimself. His mother might use the knowledge she had obtained, to drivehim in the course she thought fit, or to frustrate his purposes if heopposed her, but she would do no more as far as he was concerned. Theresult to Helen, however, might be death, or worse than death; and,for a moment or two, he remained silent, considering how he shouldact.
The keen eye of Madame de Chazeul was upon his countenance all thetime, marking every change of expression, and translating all shemarked; but after waiting his answer for some time, she demanded, "Youhave heard of such a person, have you not?"
"Well," he replied somewhat impatiently, "what of her? What hasMademoiselle d'Albret to do with Helen?"
"Ha, ha, ha," cried Madame de Chazeul, with a bitter laugh. "What hasshe to do with Helen! Why, simply to tell Walter de la Tremblade, thatgay Nicholas de Chazeul has made a paramour of his niece, in order toraise a devil that will soon send all our projects flying to thewind.--You now see there is no time to be lost. The thing cannot longbe kept secret. This girl has got some inkling of the truth, and shemust be your wife before she can hint her suspicions to him, and heinquire into the facts."
Chazeul paused, and thought for a moment, and then repeated hismother's words. "The thing cannot long be kept secret!--why not?--Whathave you done with her, my good mother?--Something assuredly; forHelen would keep her own counsel.--You have not put her to death,surely?"
"Not I," cried Madame de Chazeul. "I am not called upon to punish suchsins as that. It's only when people stand in t
he way, that wise menput them to death. There, be satisfied,--be satisfied. I have done herno harm; but, as I told you, the thing cannot long be concealed. Rosed'Albret has obtained some intimation of it. Of that I am sure by hermanner. The old priest will wonder that his niece does not comehither, for I told him she was ill, or I would have brought her; andhe will go to see her, so that I say, it cannot be long concealed. Youmust use your time, therefore, busily."
Chazeul saw that his mother did not tell him all; but he was wellaware, that it was impossible to obtain the straightforward truth fromher, when she, wished to conceal it, and accordingly following thebent which she gave to the conversation herself, he asked, "Buthow--how am I to use my time busily and to good purpose? I, unaided,cannot force Rose d'Albret to give me her hand. If my uncle wouldassist vigorously, we might indeed succeed. But he is timid, as youknow, in action, however bold he may be in words; and depend upon it,we shall need strong measures to induce her to yield."
"Ay, strong measures indeed," replied his mother, "but they may beused without my brother's will or consent; and, if you manage mattersrightly, you may make the lady less positive than she is at present.Hark ye, Chazeul, a word in your ear!" He bent down his head, and theMarchioness whispered to him a few brief words.
"No, no!--Impossible," he cried; "utterly impossible! The maid sleepsin the ante-chamber, the priest in the next room.--'Tis quite invain."
"Why, foolish boy," replied his mother, "I mean no violence--I mean nowrong. You do not comprehend me. Do you not know, how much store shesets upon virtue and reputation? She would never consent to carry toLouis de Montigni, a sullied name. Let but her fame be in your hands;let us but be able to prove that you have passed the night in herchamber; and we shall have no more idle resistance. The girlBlanchette will give you admittance, and be a witness also. Then keepas still as death for an hour or two, leave something on the table--aglove--a hat--anything in short, to mark that you have been there, andto show her herself that it is so, without your telling her."
Chazeul paused and meditated. He thought the scheme not unlikely tosucceed; and yet he feared to undertake it. If discovered, he knewthat it would prove his ruin with his uncle; and he did not see how hecould bring it to work upon the mind of Rose herself, withoutacknowledging the truth or more than the truth to Monsieur deLiancourt. Just as he was about to reply, the Count himself returnedwith father Walter; and one of the servants entered at the same timeto light the sconces in the hall. Madame de Chazeul held up herfinger; as a warning to be silent; and as soon as the attendant wasgone, the Marchioness turned to her brother, inquiring, "Well, whathave you done with this obstinate girl, Anthony?"
"In good faith, nothing," replied the Count; "she was more mild andgentle than with you; and I left her weeping; but she is as firm asever."
"Well," said Madame de Chazeul, in an indifferent tone, "if she willnot by fair means, she must by force. We have every right to compelher to do that which is good for her."
Monsieur de Liancourt shook his head doubtfully, saying, "I do notknow."
"Ah, my good brother," answered Madame de Chazeul in a bitter tone, "abattle lost makes great difference with doubtful friends. What sayyou, Monsieur de la Tremblade? Are you for giving up the Holy CatholicUnion, and bestowing the lands of Marennes and Liancourt upon asupporter of the heretics?"
"Far from it, Madam," replied Walter de la Tremblade. "If anything,this unfortunate defeat should make us more zealous, active, anddetermined. The party of the League is the party of truth andreligion; and doubtless it will ultimately triumph. It should be ourpart to promote it the more strenuously, as each new obstacle arises;and I must say that, conscientiously, no guardian could bestow thehand of his ward upon a man, who, like Monsieur de Montigni, has drawnhis sword against his religion."
"But that is a different thing," said Monsieur de Liancourt "fromforcing her to a marriage without her consent."
"Not altogether," answered the priest. "If you do not compel her towed the one, she will wed the other; and when she finds there is noescape, most probably her resistance will give way."
Madame de Chazeul watched the countenance of father Walter while hespoke, and listened, well satisfied, to words which showed her beyondall doubt, that neither her own conduct towards his niece, nor that ofher son, was ever dreamt of by Walter de la Tremblade. "If we canaccomplish this marriage," she thought "within a few hours all will besafe. He may rage then, as much as he will. It is amusing enough, tomake him aid in bringing about that, which he will wish undone, whenhe knows the truth."
"What you say is very true, father," rejoined the Count, "but I seenot what means one can employ actually to force her. As she said to mebut now, we may drag her to the altar, but she will refuse the vow,and protest against it in the face of God and man."
"Such things have taken place," said Walter de la Tremblade, "and yetthe ceremony has proceeded."
"But then, the contract," said Monsieur de Liancourt. "If she will notsign it, how can we force her?"
"Oh, leave all that to me," cried Madame de Chazeul. "If you, brother,will only promise not to interfere, except by exerting your authorityon behalf of your nephew, and laying your commands upon her to marryhim, I will do all the rest."
"But I fear your violence, my good sister," replied the Count.
Madame de Chazeul was about to answer, when a servant again enteredthe hall; and Monsieur de Liancourt exclaimed impatiently, "what now?"
"A messenger is just arrived from Chartres, Sir," replied the man,"with orders for Monsieur de Mottraye who escorted Mademoiselle Roseback, to return without a moment's delay, as the town is menaced bythe King. He brings tidings, too, Sir, that a duel has been foughtbetween Monsieur de Montigni and my lord of Nemours."
"Nemours has killed him for a thousand crowns," cried Chazeul, asjoyfully as if De Montigni had shown himself his bitterest enemythrough life.
"What more? what more?" cried Monsieur de Liancourt; "which of themfell?"
"He knew little about it, Sir," replied the servant, "for he cameaway, before the matter had spread over the town."
"I will go and see him," exclaimed Chazeul. "Nemours has killed himwithout doubt."
Thus saying, he hurried away, and was absent for several minutes,during which time the Marchioness talked in a low voice to the priest.But the Count remained standing in the middle of the room, with hiseyes bent down and his heart sad. He could not but recollect the daysthat were passed. The boy whom he had brought up from early years, thegraces and high qualities he had displayed, and many a little act, andmany a little scene, forgotten till that moment, rose up reproachfullybefore his eyes, and for the time filled him with grief, and withremorse. The voice of conscience, which in its own hour will be heard,told him that the deed was his, that, had he not attempted to injureand deceive his sister's son, all the long train of dark and sadevents, which had filled the last few days, would not have happened,that joy, and peace, and mutual love, and kindly affection might havereigned, where strife and evil passion, violence and death, had beenintroduced, as the black followers of fraud. His brother and hisnephew, both were gone in a few short days; and his heart told him,that the virtuous and the good had been cut off, while the dishonestand the vile remained!
It was but during a few minutes, however, that such thoughts oppressedhim; for vanity, his besetting sin, the besetting sin of so many, thesalve with which the devil medicates all the wounds of conscience wassoon brought to his relief. He was too vain to believe, for any lengthof time, that he could do wrong, even though the warning angel of thehuman heart thundered it in his ear. "Had De Montigni done as he wasasked," he thought, after he had mastered the first impression,"nothing of this kind would have happened. It is all in consequence ofhis own obstinacy. What a sad thing it is, that men will not bepersuaded to their own good!"
As these comforting reflections passed through his mind, Chazeulre-entered the hall. "He is dead," he cried, "beyond all doubt he isdead. The man himself saw Nemou
rs come back into the city, alone anduninjured."
"Well, then," said Madame de Chazeul, "we are saved all farthertrouble; for now you are the only heir. You had better go and tell herthe news, Chazeul. Perhaps it may deliver her from as great anembarrassment as any one feels."
"Fie now, Jacqueline! Fie now!" cried the Count. "You know not herheart or feelings."
"I know very well, my good brother," replied Madame de Chazeul, "thatwomen if they have said a thing, often adhere to it with the constancyof a martyr, when they would give their right hand for a fair excusefor changing; but vanity keeps them to the point, with a much firmersort of resolution than conviction can supply. Do not tell me abouther feelings! I know my own sex far better than you do; and I am surethere is not one woman out often, who would not rejoice at the deathof her dearest friend, if it delivered her from a greatembarrassment."
"I find the church is merciful as well as wise, in imposing celibacyupon its priesthood," said father Walter, with a cold sarcastic smile."But, indeed, I think it would be better, not to tell Mademoiselled'Albret to-night. She must be fatigued; her mind depressed withdisappointment and anxiety; and she should be allowed some time forrepose."
"No, father, no!" replied Madame de Chazeul. "She must know itto-night, for the marriage shall take place to-morrow, or, atfarthest, the next day. Let her have to-night for grief--for I do notsay she will not weep--to-morrow her mind will be made up, and theaffair can proceed with decency."
"Will you tell her, father Walter?" said Monsieur de Liancourt.
"Nay," exclaimed the Marchioness, "why give him that trouble? I willdo it in a moment."
"No, Jacqueline, you shall not go," cried the Count. "You are tooharsh and fierce to bear such tidings.--Go, Father, go!--It is anoffice of Christian charity."
"She is more likely to believe it from my lips, than yours, Madam,"said father Walter, "and therefore I will undertake the task; but Imust be quick, for I have my watch to commence in the chapel."
"Let us hear how she bears it," said the Count de Liancourt. "I grievefor the poor girl."
"Pshaw!" cried Jacqueline de Chazeul; and the priest quitted the hall,leaving the Marchioness evidently uneasy.
A chamber had now been assigned to Rose d'Albret, higher in thebuilding than that which she had formerly tenanted, and next to theroom of father Walter himself. It opened first into an ante-chamber,somewhat smaller than the other, and thence upon a large landingplace, separated from the stairs by a balustrade. The ante-room, asbefore, was occupied by the maid Blanchette, who, well warned andtutored, was kept as a spy upon all her mistress's actions; and, onentering this little suite of apartments, the girl was the firstperson whom father Walter encountered.
She was sitting at a table, knitting, with a sullen brow and poutinglips; and, notwithstanding deep habitual reverence for the priest, sheseemed scarcely willing to answer him civilly, when he inquired, if hecould speak with her mistress.
"I cannot tell," replied the girl, rising for a moment, and resumingher seat; "I really do not know what she is doing,--she does not wantmy services, she says; she would rather be alone."
"Go and see, daughter!" said the priest. "Doubtless Mademoiselled'Albret is grieved and perhaps angry; but that does not exempt youfrom respect and obedience towards her in all things, where otherduties do not require you to oppose her wishes."
"Indeed, father," answered the girl sullenly, "I cannot undertake allthis.--Here, I am told not to quit her ante-room, from the moment sheenters her chamber, till the moment she leaves it, which is making meno better than a prisoner; and then, I am to be rated, and frownedupon by the Lady, as if I had behaved very ill to her.--I don't seewhy I should bear all this."
"Because you are ordered to do so," said the priest somewhat sternly:but he added the next moment, "It will not be of long durationhowever. Now go and tell her I am here, seeking to speak with her on amatter of deep moment."
Before Blanchette could obey, however, the door of the ante-chamberopened, and Madame de Chazeul entered, saying, "I have come to tellher myself, good father. I can then better judge of her frame of mind;and, as the Count tells me, you have to keep vigil by the body of mypoor old brother Michael, which I did not understand before, I willnot keep you."
"Nay," replied the priest, "I have time, and will never shrink fromdoing my duty. This poor child will need consolation, and it must bemy task to give it to her, as far as my poor voice can do so."
The Marchioness was evidently not well pleased with this reply; and,though she masked her embarrassment as well as she could, yet acertain air of anxiety and uneasiness, did not escape the calm butpenetrating eye of Walter de la Tremblade. "She doubts me," bethought."She is one of those who have no confidence in any one. What must herown heart be like!"
As he thus pondered, Blanchette returned, and bade him enter, which hedid, making way, however, for Madame de Chazeul to pass in first.
Rose had been weeping, but her eyes were now dry; and the usual mildand gentle expression was upon her countenance, till her eye lightedupon Madame de Chazeul; and then she turned away her head, with a lookof shuddering horror, which the Marchioness did not fail to mark,though with less anger, than might perhaps have been expected. It washer wish to overawe and to command, both at present and in future andthe age of wishing to be loved, had long passed by with her. Rosehowever, soon added to the offence; for, turning towards Walter de laTremblade, she said, "The girl merely mentioned your name, father; andI was willing and even glad to receive you; but the conversation whichhas already taken place between this lady and myself, was not of sucha character as to make her society very desirable to me."
"You must have it, nevertheless, pretty minion," replied Madame deChazeul. "I know you are as ungrateful, as you are self-willed; but Icame to break to you a piece of news which has just arrived, andwhich, as you must hear it sooner or later, we have thought fit tocommunicate at once."
"The sooner it is communicated the better," answered Rose; "I beseechyou to make no delay; for I am anxious to retire to rest."
Madame de Chazeul turned towards the priest with a sign for him toproceed; and father Walter taking up the tale, addressed Rose in agentle and a kindly tone, saying, "I fear, my poor daughter, what wehave to communicate may grieve you more than you expect; and I wouldtherefore have you prepare your mind, by thinking of how God tries allmen in this world, with various deep afflictions, making themsometimes his chastisements for errors past, sometimes warningsagainst future faults, often depriving us of those things most dearwhich might prove snares to us, often frustrating our most anxiousdesires, which, if we knew all, might in their gratification producemisery, instead of joy."
Rose listened attentively, anxious to hear what was to come next; butMadame de Chazeul waved her hand impatiently, exclaiming, "You are notin the pulpit, my good father. Do you not see she is quite preparedfor anything you have to say? The truth is this, Mademoiselled'Albret, a messenger has just arrived from Chartres bringing ordersfor the men who accompanied you, to return immediately, and with thatorder they conveyed intelligence that a duel has been fought betweenMonsieur de Nemours, and your late lover De Montigni, in which thelatter has met with the chastisement which his presumption deserved,and has been killed on the spot."
Rose started up and clasped her hands, while her face grew pale asashes, and for a moment she seemed about to faint. The next instant,however, she passed her hand across her brow, gazed for a momentanxiously upon the ground, and then suddenly raised her head with asmile full of scorn, while the blood came back into her cheek and lip,exclaiming, "It is false! I know that it is false!"
"The poor creature is mad," said Madame de Chazeul. "You know it to befalse, when we know it to be true! You must have wonderfully cleverinformation. The man is in the ch?teau at this moment, who brought thetidings from Chartres."
"Let me see him!" said Rose d'Albret.
Madame de Chazeul paused, and saw that, by mentioning the messenger,she had committed a
mistake; for it was her object to represent thedeath of De Montigni as certain, and she was aware that her son hadrun on to that inference, much more rapidly than the man's own accountmight justify.
"No," she replied, "you shall not see him. I pledge my word that theinformation is true. Here is father Walter ready to do the same.Monsieur de Liancourt will tell you the like story. If you insult usby doubting our word, it does not become us, to take any trouble toconvince you."
"Madam, I have been deceived in more than one thing already," repliedRose, bending her head gravely; "and consequently, I do not lend mymind easily to everything that is told me. Father Walter, I beseechyou, by your duty to God, by your sacred calling, as you shall answerfor it hereafter, to let me know, has this information truly arrived,and is it certain?"
"That it has arrived, is beyond doubt," answered the priest, "but inregard to the certainty or the particulars--not having spoken with themessenger myself--I cannot say anything."
Rose waved her hand. "Enough," she said, "enough; I will beseech younow to leave me.--Nay, I can endure no more to-night."
Madame de Chazeul was going to add something; but the priest laid hishand upon her arm, saying, "Nay, Madam, let us not press upon herhardly. Give her till to-morrow to think over it;" and he led theMarchioness away, leaving poor Rose to her meditations.