CHAPTER XXXIII.
Satisfied that the presence of Helen de la Tremblade in the ch?teau,had not been discovered, father Walter sat in the sacristy without anyeffort to quit it, although as the reader must have divined, from hiswords, it was in his power so to do, notwithstanding all theprecautions of Madame de Chazeul's servants to prevent him. I had wellnigh said that he sat there calmly; for the exterior was so tranquiland still, that it was requisite to look into his heart ere one couldfancy that there was anything but repose within. Calm? Oh, no! There,all was agitated and turbulent. The clear precision of his thoughtsindeed soon gained their ascendancy; and the plan was speedily laidout for meeting the difficulties of the moment, for overcoming theobstacles presented to him, for thwarting the schemes of hisadversaries. All confusion of mere idea was speedily swept away; butmuch was still left behind: and that which did remain, was the tumultof conflicting passions, the struggle between strong convictions andhabitual feelings.
All that had taken place within the last few hours, had worked anextraordinary change in the sensations of Walter de la Tremblade. Newperceptions had forced themselves upon him, both in regard to his ownheart, and to the conduct and views of others. If I have at allsucceeded in conveying to the reader a just view of his character, itmust have been already made clear, that he was a man in whom strongpassions and great powers of mind, had been bowed down by theinfluence of the peculiar religious doctrines of the church to whichhe belonged--doctrines false and evil it is true--principles, which,in many instances besides his own, prostituted the highest qualitiesand most brilliant talents, to the support of an institution, raisedupon error, cemented by falsehood, covered over with crime; but stillhis devotion had been sincere and strong. He had believed all that hischurch told him; he had given up thought and judgment to her; his ownpassions, desires, and feelings, had been fused into her purposes;and, if they ever were individually brought into action, it was in thecourse which she had fixed for them.
But as I have said, a change had now come over him; the deep well ofthe heart's strongest emotions had been opened; the stream had gushedforth in a torrent; and many of the delusions which had encumbered theway of his understanding had been swept away. Many but not all. Thestern attachment to the church of Rome, and the blind submission toall her dogmas, which had taught him to believe that those whoattempted to try her doctrines even by the words of Christ himself,were worthy of nought but persecution and punishment, had been broughtinto contest with his love for her on whom all his tenderestaffections had centred--for her whom he had looked upon from infancyas his child; and they had given way. He felt that he had been ledwrong; he had learned, that ambition and the love of domination werepart of the creed of Rome, and that, in obeying her fiery dictates, hehad supported with his whole strength, the wicked and the base,against the good and noble.--He had learned it by his own sorrows;and, although perhaps he had in some degree perceived it before, andhad believed that it was only justifiable to do so, for the greatobject of the defence of the church, the anguish of his heart now madehim comprehend that the dreadful dogma, "the end justifies the means,"is always false, and that there is no truth but in the Apostle's ownwords, "thou shalt not do evil that good may come of it."
Many another feeling, many another conclusion, on which we cannotpause, rose in Walter de la Tremblade's heart and mind; and regret andself-reproach, and the dread of being hurried by the torrent ofpassions and circumstances into sin and crime, agitated himdreadfully. The truth and fervour of his religious feelings remainedthe same. Even his attachment to the church, in whose tenets he hadbeen educated, was unchanged, although he admitted that man's vicesand prejudices had obscured and perverted her real dogmas. By her hewas resolved to abide; but he determined at the same time, to removehimself for ever from the temptations to evil, to which he had beenhitherto exposed; and the conclusion to which he came, in the end, wasexpressed by words which he muttered to himself: "I will take nofarther part in this horrible strife; I will but frustrate the wickedarts of this bad woman and her base son, and then, in some far andrigid monastery, wear out the rest of life in prayer."
The time seemed short; for, of all the many terrible struggles thattake place within the breast of man, there is none so full of rapidcontention, as when the first convictions force themselves upon us,that all our previous course has been one grand error; and when theacts on which we have prided ourselves, the wisdom that has made usvain, the vigour that has proved weakness, the prudence that we havefound folly, the penetration that has been but blindness, the meannessof our ambition, and the darkness of our light, stand revealed intheir nakedness and deformity, under the bright beams of religioustruth. He could have gone on thinking thus for hours, and they wouldhave seemed but as a moment. The clock at length struck three; and thebell was still vibrating, when the sound of an opening door was heard,and then a step. The lock close upon his right hand, was then turned;and the next instant Estoc stood before him.
"Ah! Monsieur de la Tremblade," said the old soldier, "are you here?Have you seen your niece?"
"I have," answered Walter de la Tremblade, taking his hand andpressing it with strong emotion in his own. "I have, and I know all.Deeply, deeply, my old friend, do I thank you for your fatherlykindness to my poor girl. God will bless you for it: God will rewardyou, if not here, hereafter. I have no time, however, to offer youthanks such as are your due."
"I want no thanks, good father," replied Estoc. "I promised the goodman who is dead there," and he pointed to the chapel, "to be a Fatherto her; and as long as old Estoc lives, she shall never want an arm tostrike for her, and a home to receive her. Where is she? I hope youhave not been harsh with her--"
The priest shook his head with a melancholy smile. "Harsh with _her!_"he said. "No, God forbid. She is with Mademoiselle d'Albret. But nowlisten tome, Estoc, and let us take counsel together, regarding whatis to be done. You see me here a prisoner."
"Ha!" cried Estoc, "a prisoner? How is that?"
"I will tell you," answered the priest; "but understand, it is but aprisoner in appearance. They think I am so, but that strong door,though locked, and double locked, would melt away at my touch, as ifit were thin air. But there is much for you to learn; dark deeds aregoing on within these walls, which must be prevented. First, however,there is an enterprize which you must achieve, connected with myconfinement here. From Helen's words I discovered some two hours ago,that there is, in a book of Hours lying in her chamber at Chazeul, theonly letter left unburnt by that incarnate fiend, Jacqueline deChazeul. If Helen's account be right, that letter amounts to what theycall in the French law, a promise,--_par paroles de future_, betweenher and Nicholas de Chazeul--in itself an absolute bar to his marriagewith any one else. I instantly roused the page of the Marchioness, andsent him off on horseback to bring the book."
"I saw him go," replied Estoc. "He passed me, as I lay waiting underthe bushes at the bottom of the hill."
"Then he is safe so far," replied the priest. "It seems, however, thatthe man who lies in the same room, while pretending to be asleep,overheard our words, and conveyed the tidings to his mistress. Shesent her men to place me in confinement, and will, beyond all doubt,cause the boy to be brought to her on his return, and burn the paper.You must undertake to stop him by the way, and to obtain that preciousdocument."
"That will be easily done," replied Estoc. "I will set about itinstantly."
"But there is more to be considered, much more," rejoined the priest."The boy must be instructed to carry the book on to his mistress,after you have taken possession of the letter you will find amongstits pages. He must be told to say nothing of his having been stopped,but to give it to her quietly, as if he had but gone and returned; forthe only way to deal with that woman, is to conceal from her closelyyour intentions and your power, or she will ever have ready a plan tofrustrate you."
"I may tell him," replied Estoc, "but will he obey?"
"I think he will," answered the priest. "I placed him wit
h theMarchioness. To me he owes his whole education. He has ever shownhimself attached with boyish devotion to my poor Helen; and she tellsme that, in the hour of her indignity and shame, he merited a blowfrom his fierce mistress, by showing her an act of kindness. If he bebut told, that he must do this for the sake of Helen de la Tremblade,I feel sure he will, at every risk."
"Write it down, write it down," said Estoc, dipping a pen in the inkthat stood upon the table, and holding it to the priest. "He willbelieve your word sooner than mine."
Walter de la Tremblade took the pen and wrote--"Philip de Picheau, Ibeseech you, if you have any regard for him who protected you inchildhood and in youth, or for your poor friend Helen de la Tremblade,to give up the book which you are bringing, to Monsieur Estoc, whomyou have often seen and know well, to let him take from it that whichhe thinks fit, and then to carry on the volume of Hours to Madame deChazeul, without telling her that you have been stopped by the way. Ibeg of you also to follow entirely the directions of Monsieur Estoc,if you would merit my regard and save Mademoiselle de la Trembladefrom deep grief--perhaps from death."
He signed his name, and gave the paper to Estoc, saying in a confidenttone, "He will do it."
"And how am I to act when I have got this letter?" asked Estoc.
"Ay, that is the question!" replied the priest. "As yet you do notknow all these people's intentions, and it is necessary that youshould be informed of all, in order that you should be prepared forwhatever it may be necessary to do. You are resolute and fearless, Iknow, and have before now done much with small means and a stronghand. You may be called upon before many hours are over, to use thesword in defence of right and justice."
"That I am quite ready to do," replied Estoc. "It is but wiles andcunning I fear, for there I am no match for your good Marchioness. Butlet me hear, father, what are her plans and purposes?"
"These," answered Walter de la Tremblade: "Some of them, I havealready frustrated; but I know that, failing these, she will haverecourse to force to effect the marriage of her base son withMademoiselle d'Albret; for she has built up a scheme for hisaggrandizement, which nothing will make her abandon, but death. Evenperhaps his pre-contract with Helen, she will attempt to pass over bybold authority;" and he proceeded succinctly to display to the eyes ofEstoc, the whole plans and purposes of Madame de Chazeul.
"But will Monsieur de Liancourt consent?" exclaimed Estoc. "He ishonest at heart--I believe on my life he wishes well."
"But he is weak," replied the priest; "weak as the water of thestream, which may be turned by art whithersoever we will; yet whenbent in a particular course, and concentrated within a narrow channel,moves mighty machines, and carries all before it. He is now entirelyin the hands of this woman. I am no longer near him to guide him andto counteract her, and you will see that he will do her bidding, likea servant or a dog."
"Force, against force, then," answered Estoc, "and I think myself welljustified in using the means I possess, to bring my men in hither. Thepassage through the wall between the two doors will hold us all, forwe are not so many as I could wish; but I will be ready to appear atthe first sign."
"How many are you?" asked the priest.
"Seventeen," replied Estoc; "but there are stout men amongst us, welltrained to hard blows."
"There are eight and twenty in the ch?teau," answered Walter de laTremblade, "and some of them good men at arms too."
"That matters nothing," cried Estoc, "if we can get in unperceived.Surprise doubles numbers. All the garrison could not act upon onepoint. We should seize the principal avenues to the chapel before theywere aware; and the Count and Chazeul once prisoners, they might frettheir souls to dust without preventing me from liberating Mademoiselled'Albret. I could wish, indeed," he added thoughtfully, "to have hadenough to overawe all resistance; for I would rather, if it werepossible to avoid it, not stain the consecrated floor of the chapelwith Christian blood."
The priest mused for a moment or two, and then replied, "And so wouldI. But theirs is the villany. Your enterprise is right and just. Ifthey draw the sword to carry out their own iniquitous schemes, theirsis the crime and the sacrilege. I absolve you of all offence in doingaught that may be necessary to prevent the act they meditate."
"It may be better in the hall," said Estoc in return, after a moment'sthought. "The contract must be signed there before the marriage, andthere the first scene of violence must take place. True, it is not soeasy to reach it, or to retreat from it, and we are there more open toattack; but if I can contrive it I will. I must think over the means,however, and I will be early here--as soon as I have got the letterfrom the boy. If we can lodge ourselves in the passage before it isfull daylight, it will be better. The bushes give some shelter, it istrue; and they cannot prevent my entrance, so long as I possess thekey; but it were better to take them by surprise."
"Far better," replied the priest; "and I calculate that if he makehaste, the boy may be back here by five. It was not much past one whenhe set out. Are you aware," he added laying his hand upon Estoc's arm,and pointing to a door in the sacristy, behind which the priest'svestments and various ornaments and relics were deposited, "Are youaware, that through that closet lies a passage in the hollow of thewall?"
"Oh, yes," replied Estoc, "it is necessary for the defence of thechapel port; but still that would only lead us to the court, and weshould have to pass the Corps de Garde, go through the lower hall, andmount the staircase. However, I will think it all over as I go, andlay my plan. I know the ch?teau well, and every nook and corner. Weshall find means no doubt. I have taken a stronger place than thiswith fewer men, and more to oppose us. Ere they should carry out theirscheme, I would blow in the gates with petards and force my way to thehall sword in hand."
"I trust it will not be necessary," answered the priest. "Indeed I donot believe that there will be aught like bloodshed. Monsieur deLiancourt himself, I should think, would not suffer the sword to bedrawn, especially as his heart must tell him that it is in a badcause."
"Ay, and many of the good fellows here," replied Estoc, "would nottake part against us, especially to force poor Rose into a marriagethat she hates. Chazeul is little loved by any one; and theMarchioness is hated even by her people. I have heard them speak ofher.--But now I will waste no more time. Farewell, Monsieur de laTremblade: I will be back as soon as I have got the paper."
"God give you success," answered the priest; and Estoc, retiringthrough the door, closed it after him. Then issuing forth into thecountry, he crept quietly away under cover of some bushes whichapproached the walls, till upon the verge of the wood he found two ofhis men waiting for him. With them he returned to the village, calledthe rest of his little band together, paid the cottagers, whom heroused from their slumbers, for the accommodation he had received, androde on towards Chazeul, giving out that it was not his intention toreturn.
After proceeding for five miles on the way, to a spot which the boywas obliged to pass on his road from the one ch?teau to the other, theold soldier halted his men, and ordered them to feed their horses withsome corn which they had brought in their bags. A vigilant watch waskept in the meantime upon the side of the high bare hill, down whichcame the road from Chazeul, and at the foot of which wandered theHuisne; but one half hour passed after another, and no one appeared.All was still and silent, the stars twinkling out above, and the lowwind whispering through the yellow grass that covered the wide extendof sloping land between them and a wood above. The road was scarcelyto be traced by the eye, except where its sandy banks, against thedeep back ground of the trees, marked the spot at which it issuedforth from the forest; but upon that point Estoc kept his eyes fixedwithout seeing any dark object cross the lines, till the sky overheadbegan to assume a reddish hue, and the light spread gradually around.The day at length fully dawned, and the old soldier was giving his mendirections to scatter themselves along the edge of the wood, and closeround the boy as soon as he appeared, when the figure of some one onhorseback suddenly issued forth u
pon the side of the hill, and camedown at a quick pace, apparently not remarking that there was any onebelow, till he was half way to the bottom of the descent. Then,however, the boy suddenly pulled in his bridle rein, and seemed tohesitate; but the next instant, instead of turning back to the wood,he darted off to the left, with the intention of crossing the Huisnefarther up. Estoc, however, detached three of his men along the lowground on the bank to cut him off there, while he rode up to deprivehim of his retreat into the wood, and the rest of the party swept overthe side of the hill in a semicircle, gradually drawing closer andcloser round the poor page, who doubled before them like a hare beforethe hounds. At length he saw that the attempt to escape was vain, andpulling in his horse, he stood still till Estoc rode up to him.
"Ah, Monsieur Estoc! is it you?" exclaimed the page with a glad smile,when he saw who was his captor. "You have given me a terrible fright."
"More than needful, Philip," replied Estoc, "for we do not want tohurt you. But, get off your horse, my good boy, and come hither apartwith me, for I have something to say to you."
The page did as he was directed; and Estoc, dismounting also, led hima little on one side, demanding, "Have you got it?"
"Got what?" rejoined the page, with a shy look of affectedunconsciousness.
"Come, come--no more of that, Master Philip!" exclaimed Estoc: "I meanthe book, as you know well enough."
"Yes, I have got it," answered the boy: "but you must not take it fromme indeed, Estoc, for my mistress will be so angry."
"Let me look at it," said Estoc: "you shall have it back again, uponmy honour! Have you opened it?"
"No!" cried the page with a look of surprise; "is there anything init?"
"Yes, prayers, to be sure," replied the old soldier, satisfied by theboy's countenance that he spoke the truth. "Come, let me look atit--you shall have it back, I tell you."
The page drew slowly and unwillingly from a pouch under his arm, thebook with its velvet cover and silver clasps, and placed it in Estoc'shand, saying, "You promise to give it back, mind."
"Ay!" answered the old soldier, "and I always keep promises;" and, ashe spoke, he unfastened with some difficulty the stiff clasps, whichseemed to be tightened in their hold by something swelling out thebulk of the volume.
"Ha, ha! you have done what the old gouvernante could not do," criedthe boy.
"What, did she try to open it?" asked Estoc, turning over the pages.
"Ay, that she did, the nasty old wolf," replied the page; "and shekept me for two hours waiting in the hall, because she did not chooseeither to get up and fetch it, or let me. Ah! what have you gotthere?"
"What I seek," answered Estoc, giving the boy back the book, andputting a letter, which he had taken from between the leaves, in hispocket. "Now, master Philip," he continued, "take the book on to yourmistress, and give it to her, without telling her that you have metwith any one, or that any one has looked into it."
"She will know that, without any telling," answered the boy in agloomy tone. "She will find out, in a minute, that the paper has beentaken out, and perhaps have me hanged for stealing it, as she didGabriel Houlot for robbing her of her gold bonbonni?re, which wasunder the pillow of the coach all the time."
"Fear not, fear not!" said Estoc; "she does not know that there wasanything in it: and it is to prevent her from knowing it, that I takethe paper."
"But father Walter knows," rejoined the boy; "and he will tell her."
"No, no, he will not," replied Estoc. "But, to satisfy you, read that,if you can read."
"Oh, yes, I can!" said the page proudly; "good father Walter had metaught to read:" and, taking the paper which the priest had written,and which Estoc held out to him, he ran his eye over it rapidly. "HaveI any regard for her?" he cried, as he saw the words referring toHelen, "Ah, that I have, poor thing! and would shed my blood to serveher, if it would do her any good. The old woman may hang me, if shelikes; I will tell her nothing, the tiger!"
"That's a good youth," answered Estoc; "but, read it through."
"Well, what am I to do, Monsieur Estoc?" asked the page as heconcluded. "I always promised to obey good father Walter; and, as hetells me to do what you direct me, I will do it. But, what does hemean about saving Mademoiselle Helen from death?--Where is she?--Whathas happened to her?"
Estoc paused thoughtfully for a moment; and the idea of telling thepage that Helen was in the Ch?teau de Marzay, and directing him tohelp her, crossed his mind. The boy's regard for her, and hiswillingness to serve her and obey the priest, were too evident to bedoubted; but discretion, seldom the quality of youth, was too likelyto be wanting. "The priest has means of communicating with Helen, bythe passage from the sacristy, he thought; and I suppose from what hesaid, that he has another key of the door. But yet he might bestopped. Most likely the Marchioness does not know where they haveplaced him. She is not one to overlook such chances, and a thousand toone, she has him removed when she wakes. Then the boy's wit might beof service if he knew all. I will risk something. It cannot do muchharm.--Hark ye, Philip," he said aloud, "can you keep a secret withouteither blabbing it behind the door to a soubrette, or carrying itabout in your face as plainly as if your tongue told it?"
"That I can," answered the page. "I have learned that in our house.There have been secrets enough there within the last two years, I cantell you."
"Well then," continued Estoc, "the truth is, that your companion inyour room, heard good father Walter tell you to go upon this errand.He went directly and informed your mistress; and she, suspecting therewas something in the book which she wished father Walter not to have,has caused him to be confined--locked up--so that he cannot stir."
"I will let him out," cried the boy eagerly.
"At all events be on the watch to serve him," replied the old soldier."You may in the course of this morning have an opportunity ofrendering him a great kindness, if you use your eyes and ears aright,and be ready to do so whenever he asks you."
"That I will!" exclaimed the page; "but pray tell me, Estoc, where isMademoiselle Helen? What has become of her? I am sure you know morethan you say.--Oh, Madame treated her cruelly--terribly."
"She is well," answered Estoc in a grave tone, "and so far in safety,that, if undiscovered, all will go right; but if she be once found byher enemies, her life will be held by a poor tenure, against that badwoman's malice."
The boy cast down his eyes and thought; then looking up, he cried,"She is in the Ch?teau of Marzay!"
"Ha!" exclaimed the old soldier, "what makes you think that?"
"Why, whom should she fly to, but Monsieur de Chazeul?" asked thepage.
"Fly to him!" replied Estoc in a sharp tone. "She would fly from himto the farthest part of the earth. She abhors him. She hates him. Poorsilly boy, you are mistaken."
The page looked puzzled. "He loved her once," he said in a meditativetone, "and she him. Of that I am very sure; for I took the letters."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the other, "then you owe her some gratitude; forshe would not tell who brought them, for fear of injuring you, thoughdear enough it cost her."
"Ah, sweet lady!" cried the boy, "that is so like her.--PoorMademoiselle Helen, I would die for her willingly," and the tears rosein his young eyes.
"Well, then," said Estoc, "watch for the opportunity of proving howyou love her. You may find it soon also. Look well about you; markevery word, and yet seem unconscious; be ready to obey her in aninstant: and above all remember, that, of all beings she has mostcause to hate and dread, it is Monsieur de Chazeul. There is no onewhom you can trust within the Ch?teau of Marzay, except father Walter,but least of all Nicholas de Chazeul. Her life may depend upon you,upon your prudence, upon your courage, and upon your quickness; and ifyou be driven forth, as she was, for serving her, come to me, and Iwill take you into my band, and make a soldier of you--I shall not befar distant."
The boy clapped his hands gladly; but Estoc went on, "No more, my goodlad, at present. Go back to the ch?teau with all sp
eed; say not a wordto any one of having seen me; but tell the Marchioness how the oldwoman kept you before she would get the book."
"Stay, stay," cried the page; "I am not to know that Madame did notsend me; is it not so?"
"Certainly," replied Estoc; "you are to forget all that I have toldyou, and only to remember that father Walter sent you for the book,and that you have brought it. That is all.--Now to your horse's backand away."
The boy obeyed at once, remounted, and rode off.
Estoc and his band soon followed; but at the distance of about a mileand a half from Marzay, he gave the word to halt; and then turning tohis men he said, "We must take to the wood, my children.--Then for ashort council of war; and after that for action!" Thus speaking, hehimself dismounted, and led his horse through the brush-wood into theforest, followed by all his companions; but scarcely had he reachedthe thicket to which his steps were directed, when his ear was greetedby a loud flourish of hunting horns at no great distance.