CHAPTER XIX.
AFTERWARDS
Two days later we arrived at Hugues's house, and were received withgreat joy by him and Mathilde. Here the Countess, now happily improvedin health, resumed the attire of her sex, which she had there put off.My father then accompanied her to the Chateau de Lavardin, and made herknown to the guardsman in command, by whom she was treated with theutmost consideration. With Mathilde to attend her, she remained a fewdays at the chateau, and then removed with her personal possessions tothe house of Hugues, whose marriage to Mathilde was no longer delayed.
But meanwhile my father and I stayed only a day at Montoire, lodging atthe inn there. I did not go to the chateau, but my father took thitherthe two keys, and brought away my sword and dagger, which had beenhanging undisturbed in the hall. My farewell to the Countess was spokenin front of Hugues's gate when she started thence for the chateau, andnot much was said, for my father and Hugues were there, as well asMathilde, and the horses were waiting. But something was looked, andnever did I cease to carry in my heart the tender and solicitousexpression of her sweet eyes as they rested on me for a silent momentere she turned away.
My father and I, on our homeward journey, stopped at La Fleche andascertained that Monsieur de Merri's relations had learned of his fateand taken all care for the repose of his body and soul. It appeared thathe lived at Orleans, and was used to visit cousins in Brittany: thus,then, had he chanced to stop at Montoire and fall in with the Count deLavardin. Alas! poor young gentleman!
And now we arrived home, to the great relief of my mother; and BlaiseTripault would hardly speak to my father or me, for envy of theadventures we had passed through without him. But he spread greatreports of what I had done,--or rather what I had not done, for he mademe a chief hero in the destruction of the band of robbers. But thisunmerited fame scarcely annoyed me at all, for my thoughts wereelsewhere, and I was restless and melancholy. In a few days I resolvedto go to Paris,--by way of Montoire. But before I started, I took a walkone fine afternoon along the stream that bounded our estate: and, as Ihad expected, there was Mlle. Celeste on the other side, with her drowsyold guardian. She blushed and looked embarrassed, and I wondered why Ihad ever thought her charming. Her self-confidence returned in a moment,and she greeted me with her old sauciness, though it seemed a trifleforced:
"Ah, Monsieur, so you have come back without going to Paris after all, Ihear."
"Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered coldly. "But I have taken your adviceand looked a little into the eyes of danger; and I find it does make adifference in one."
"Oh, yes: I believe you fought a duel, and were present when somehighway robbers were taken; and now you have come back to rest on yourlaurels."
"No; I came back to give you these, as I promised." And I threw her thepacket containing the moustaches of Brignan de Brignan. She opened it,and regarded the contents with amazement. I laughed.
She looked at me now with real wonder, and I perceived I had grownseveral inches in her estimation.
"But don't think I took them against his will," said I. "I admit I nevercould have done that. He gave me them in jest, and the proudest claim Ican make in regard to him is that he honours me with his friendship.Good day, Mademoiselle."
I came away, leaving her surprised and discomfited, for which I was notsorry. She had expected to find me still her slave, and to expend herpertness on me as before: though she might have known that if dangerwould make a man of me, it would give me a man's eyes to see thedifference between a real woman and a scornful miss.
I went to Paris, careful this time to avoid conflict with bold-speakingyoung gentlemen at inns; and on the way I had one precious hour atHugues's house, wherein--upon his marriage to Mathilde--the Countess hadestablished herself, to the wonder of all who heard of it. She continuedto lodge there, her affairs turning out so that she was able to repayHugues liberally. She occupied herself in good works for the poor aboutMontoire, and so two years passed, each day making her happier and morebeautiful. Many times I went between La Tournoire and Paris,--always byway of Montoire. In Paris I saw much of Brignan de Brignan, whosemoustaches had soon grown back to their old magnitude. And one day whomshould I meet in the Rue St. Honore but that excellent spy of Sully's,Monsieur de Pepicot?
I begged him to come into a tavern. "There is something you owe me,"said I, when we were seated; "an account of how you got out of theChateau de Lavardin that night without leaving any trace."
"It was nothing," said the long-nosed man meekly. "I found an empty roomwith a mullioned window, on the floor beneath ours, and let myself downto the terrace with a knotted rope I had brought in my portmanteau."
"But I never heard that any rope was found."
"I had passed it round the inside of the window-mullion and lowered bothends to the ground, attached to my portmanteau. In descending I kepthold of both parts. When I was down, I had only to release one part andpull the rope after me. I found a gardener's tool-shed, and in it somepoles for trellis-work. I placed two of these side by side against thegarden wall, at the postern door, and managed to clamber to the top."
"But I heard of nothing being found against the wall."
"Oh, I drew the poles up after me, and also my portmanteau, by means ofthe rope, which I had fastened to them and to my waist. I let them downto a plank which crossed the moat there, as I had observed before everentering the chateau. I dropped after them, and was lucky enough toavoid falling into the moat. I hid the poles among the bushes: not thatit mattered, but I thought it would amuse the Count to conjecture how Ihad got away. One likes to give people something to think of.--As for myhorse, I had seen to it that he was kept in an unlocked penthouse.--Ah,well! that Count thought he was a great chess-player." And Monsieur dePepicot smiled faintly and shook his head.
At the prospect of war, I joined the army assembling at Chalons, but thelamentable murder of the King put an end to his great plans, and Iresumed my former way, swinging like a pendulum between Paris and LaTournoire. One soft, pink evening in the second summer after myadventure at Lavardin, I was privileged to walk alone with the Countessin the meadows behind Hugues's mill. Health and serenity had raised herbeauty to perfection, and there was no trace of her sorrows but thehumble dignity and brave gentleness of her look and manner.
"You are the loveliest woman in the world," I said, without any sort ofwarning. "Ah, Louise--surely I may call you that now--how I adore you! Icannot any longer keep back what is in my heart. See yonder where thesun has set--that is where La Tournoire is. It seems to beckon us--notme alone, but us--together. When will you come?--when may I take you tomy father and mother, and hear them say I could not have found a sweeterwife in all France?"
Trembling, she raised her moist eyes to mine, and said in a voice like alow sigh:
"Ah, Henri, if it were possible! But you forget the barrier: we are notof the same religion. I know your mother changed her faith for yourfather's sake; but I could never do so."
"But what if I changed for your sake?" I said, taking her hand.
"Henri! will you do that?" she cried, with a joy that told all I wishedto know.
In truth, I had often thought of going over to the national form ofworship. As soon, therefore, as I got to La Tournoire after thismeeting, I opened the matter to my father.
"Why," said he, "I think it a sensible resolve. The times are changed;since King Henri's death, there is no longer any hope of us Huguenotsmaintaining a balance. As a party, we have done our work, and are doomedto pass away. Those who persist will only keep up a division in thenation, from which they can gain nothing, and which will be a source ofuseless troubles. As for the religious side of the question, some peopleprefer artificial forms of expression, some do not. It is a matter ofexternals: and if one must needs subscribe to a few doctrines he doesnot believe, who is harmed by that? These things are much to women, andwe, to whom they are less, can afford to yield. I often fancy yourmother would like to go back to the faith of her childhood,--and if sheever e
xpresses the wish, I will not hinder her. When I married her, allwas different: I could not have become a Catholic then. Nor indeed can Ido so now. Blaise Tripault and I are too old for new tricks: we must notchange our colours at this late day: we are survivals from a bygonestate of things. But you, my son, belong to a new France. Our greatHenri said. 'Surely Paris is worth a mass': and I dare say this lady isas much to you as Paris was to him."
So the Church gained a convert and I a wife. Hugues and Mathilde came tolive on our estate. And Mlle. Celeste, in course of time, was married toa raw young Gascon as lean as a lath, as poor as a fiddler, and asthirsty as a Dutchman, but with moustaches twice as long as those ofBrignan de Brignan.
THE END.
Works of Robert Neilson Stephens
An Enemy to the King
The Continental Dragoon
The Road to Paris
A Gentleman Player
Philip Winwood
Captain Ravenshaw
The Mystery of Murray Davenport
The Bright Face of Danger