Henry of Guise Volume Ii Part 4

"You are very kind," replied the Count, "and I take advantage of your offer with the greatest pleasure. The matter is a very simple one. My elder brother, the Marquis de Montsoreau, set out some time ago to join the Duke of Guise, having under his charge and escort a young lady, named Mademoiselle de Clairvaut."

"Daughter of the Duke of Guise's niece," said Chapelle Marteau with some emphasis.

"I believe that is the relationship," answered the young n.o.bleman.

"But, however, the facts are these: I have reason to believe that my brother was interrupted in his journey by the attack of a party of reiters, and was obliged in consequence to put himself and Mademoiselle de Clairvaut under the protection of a body of the King's troops coming to Paris. Now, my wish is, to ascertain whether he or any of his party, either separately or together, are now in Paris, and where they are to be found."

The leaguer gazed in his face for a minute or two with an inquiring look, and then replied, "I can tell you at once, my Lord, that no considerable party whatever has entered the gates of Paris under the protection of the King's troops for the last ten days, no party of even ten in number having the ensigns of Valois having appeared during that time. But the party you mention may have come in by themselves without the King's troops; and I rather suspect that they have so done. However, I will let you know the exact particulars within four and twenty hours from this moment, and every other information that I can by any means glean regarding the persons you speak of; for I very well understand, my Lord, that there may be more intelligence required about them than you choose to ask for at once."

The young Count smiled again, but merely replied, "Any information that you can obtain for me, Monsieur Chapelle, will be received by me most gratefully; and in the mean time will you do me the honour of partaking my poor dinner which is about to be served?"

The leaguer, however, declined the high honour, alleging important business as his excuse; and, after having dined, the young Count rode out through the streets of Paris, endeavouring to make himself somewhat familiar with them, and feeling all those sensations which the sight of that great capital might well produce on one who had never beheld it before. On those sensations, however, we must not pause, as matters of more importance are before us. A couple of hours after nightfall he received a note to the following effect:--

"The Marquis de Montsoreau, with a body of hors.e.m.e.n, bearing no badge or ensign, entered Paris yesterday at about four o'clock, and lodged at the Fleur-de-lis. He is not there now, however, and is supposed to have quitted Paris. Mademoiselle de Clairvaut is not known to have entered the capital; but a carriage, containing ladies and waiting-women, was escorted to Vincennes this morning by a body of troops of Valois. The name of one of the ladies was ascertained to be the Marquise de Saulny."

Charles of Montsoreau received these tidings with a beating heart, and sleep did not visit his eyelids till the clock of a neighbouring church had struck five in the morning.

CHAP. IV.

Dark heavy clouds hung over the world, and totally obscured the face of the sky; the morning was chill, the air keen, and the eye of the peasant was often turned up towards the leaden-looking ma.s.ses of vapour above his head, as if to inquire whether their stores would be poured forth in lightning or in snow; and as Charles of Montsoreau rode on through the park to the Donjon of Vincennes, he felt the gloomy aspect of the whole scene more than he might have done at any other time.

There, before his eyes, with the whole face of nature harmonising well with its dark and frowning aspect, rose the grey gigantic keep, which the vanquished opponent of Edward III., the rash and half-insane founder of the race of Valois, erected at an early period of his melancholy reign. Story above story, the large quadrangular ma.s.s, with its flanking towers, rose up till it seemed to touch the gloomy sky above; but in those days it had at least the beauty of harmony, for no one had added to the harsh and solemn features of the feudal architecture the gewgaw ornaments of a later age. The gallery of Marie de Medici was not built, and nothing was seen but the antique form of the Donjon itself, with the ma.s.s of walls surrounding its base with their flanking turrets, a pinnacle or two rising above--as if from some low Gothic building within the walls--and the still dark fosse surrounding the whole.

We form but a faint idea to ourselves--a very very faint idea of the manners and customs of feudal times; but still less, perhaps, can we form any just idea of the every-day enormities, crimes, and vices, that were committed at the period we now speak of, and of what it was to live familiarly in the midst of such scenes, and to hear daily of such occurrences. The mind of most men got hardened, callous, or indifferent to acts of darkness and of shame, even if they did not commit them themselves; and the world of Paris heard with scarcely an emotion that this n.o.bleman had been poisoned by another--that the hand of the a.s.sa.s.sin had delivered one high lord of this troublesome friend or that pertinacious enemy--that the husband had "drugged the posset"

for the wife, or the wife for the husband--or that persons obnoxiously wise or virtuous disappeared within the walls of such places as Vincennes, and pa.s.sed suddenly with their good acts into that oblivion which is the general recompense of all that is excellent upon earth.

No one noted such deeds; the sword of justice started from the scabbard once or twice in a century, but that was all; and the world laughed as merrily--the jest and the repartee went on--sport, love, and folly revelled as gaily through the streets of Paris, as if it had been a world of gentleness, and security, and peace.

Though of course Charles of Montsoreau felt in some degree the spirit of the day--though he thought it nothing at all extraordinary to be attacked by reiters in his own chateau, or stopped by fifty or sixty plunderers on the broad highway--though it seemed perfectly natural to him that man should live as in a state of continual warfare, always on his defence, yet the whole of his previous life having pa.s.sed far from the daily occurrence of still more revolting scenes, in spots where calm nature and G.o.d's handiwork were still at hand to purify and heal men's thoughts, he had very different feelings in regard to the events and customs of the day from those which were generally entertained by the people of the metropolis. Thus, when he gazed up at the gloomy tower of Vincennes, and thought of the deeds which had been committed within its walls, together with the crimes and follies that were daily there enacted, a feeling of mingled horror and disgust took possession of his bosom; and had he not been impelled by a sense of duty, he would not have set his foot upon the threshold of those polluted gates.

The order to appear before the King at Vincennes had been communicated to him early in the morning, and notice of his coming had been given to the officers at the gates of the castle. He was punctual to a moment at the appointed time, and was instantly led into the chateau, and conducted up a long, darksome, winding stone staircase in one of the towers. Everything took place almost in silence; few persons were to be seen moving about in the building; and, while winding up those stairs, nothing was heard but the footfalls of himself and the attendant who conducted him.

Charles of Montsoreau certainly felt neither awe nor fear as he thus advanced, though some of the warnings of the Duke of Guise might cross his mind at the moment; but at the end of what seemed to be the first story, the attendant said, "Wait a moment;" and, pushing open a door, entered a room to the right. There was another door beyond, but both were left partly unclosed, and the previous silence was certainly no longer to be complained of, for such a jabbering, and screaming, and yelling, and howling, as was now heard, was probably never known in the palace of a king, before or since.

Human sounds they seemed certainly not to be, and yet words in various languages were to be distinguished, so that conjecture was quite put at fault, till after an absence of several minutes the attendant returned, and, bidding the young n.o.bleman follow him, led the way once more into this den of noise and confusion.

The scene that then burst upon the eyes of Charles of Montsoreau was as curious as can well be conceived. Innumerable parrots, macaws, and c.o.c.katoos were ranged on perches and in cages along the sides of a large apartment, with intervals of monkeys and apes rattling their chains, springing forward at every object near them, mouthing, chattering, and writhing themselves into fantastic forms; six or seven small beautiful dogs of a peculiar breed were running about on the floor, snarling at one another, barking at the stranger, or teazing the other animals in the same room with themselves; baskets filled with litters of puppies were in every corner of the room; and several men and women were engaged in tending the winged and quadruped favourites of the King. Not only, however, were the regular attendants present, but, as one of the known ways to Henry's regard, a great number of other persons were always to be found busily engaged in tending the monkeys, parrots, and dogs. Amongst the rest here present, were no less than five dwarfs, four others being in actual attendance upon the King. None were above three feet and a half in height, and some were deformed and distorted in the most fearful manner, while one was perfectly and beautifully formed, and seemed to hold the others in great contempt. The voices of almost all of them, however, were cracked and screaming; and it was the sounds of their tongues, mingled with the yelping of the dogs, the chattering of the monkeys, and the various words repeated in different languages by the loquacious birds along the wall, which had made the Babel of sounds that reached the ears of Charles of Montsoreau while he stood without.

Pa.s.sing through this room, with the envious eyes of the dwarfs staring upon his fine figure, the young Count entered the chamber of the pages--where, as if for the sake of contrast, a number of beautiful youths were seen--and was thence led on into the royal apartments, in which every thing was calm splendour and magnificence. Here and there various officers of the royal household were found lounging away the idle hours as they waited for the King's commands; and at length, in an ante-room, the young Count was bade to wait again, while the attendant once more notified his coming to the King. He was scarcely detained a moment now, however; but, the door being opened, he was ushered into the monarch's presence.

Henry on the present occasion presented an aspect different from that which the young Count had expected to behold. The Monarch had recalled, for a moment or two, the princely and commanding air of his youth, and received the young Count with dignity and grace. His person was handsome, his figure fine, and his dress in the most exquisite taste that it was possible to conceive. It was neither so effeminate nor so overcharged with ornament as it sometimes was; and the black velvet slashed and laced with gold, the toque with a single large diamond on his head, the long snowy-white ostrich feather, and the collar of one or two high orders round his neck, became him well, and harmonised with the air of dignity he a.s.sumed.

There were two or three gentlemen who stood around him more gaudily dressed than himself, and amongst them was the Duke of Epernon, whom Charles of Montsoreau remembered to have seen at his father's chateau some years before. All, however, held back so as to allow the monarch a full view of the young cavalier, as he advanced.

"You are welcome to Vincennes, Monsieur de Logeres," said the King.

"Our n.o.ble and princely cousin of Guise has notified to us that he has sent you to Paris on business of importance; and, having given you that praise which we are sure you must merit, has besought us to put every sort of trust and confidence in you, and to listen to you as to himself, while you speak with us upon the affairs which have brought you hither. We beseech you, therefore, to inform us of that which he has left dark, and tell us how we may pleasure our fair cousin, which is always our first inclination to do--the good of our state and the welfare of our subjects considered."

"His Highness the Duke of Guise, Sire," replied Charles of Montsoreau, not in the slightest degree abashed by the many eyes that were fixed upon him, scrutinising his person and his dress in the most unceremonious manner, "his Highness the Duke of Guise, Sire, has sent me to your Majesty, to ask information regarding a young lady, his near relation, who, he has reason to believe, was protected by a body of your Majesty's troops in a situation of some difficulty, for which protection the Duke is most grateful. She was then, he understood, conducted to this your Majesty's castle of Vincennes, doubtless for the purpose of affording her a safe asylum till you could restore her to his Highness, who is her guardian."

Henry turned with a sneering smile towards a dark but handsome man, with a somewhat sinister expression of countenance, on his left hand, saying, in an under tone, "Quick travelling, Villequier! to Soissons and back to Paris in four and twenty hours, ha! Had the swallow ever wings like rumour?"

This was said affectedly aside, but quite loud enough for the young n.o.bleman to hear the whole. He, of course, made no reply, as the words were not addressed to him; but waited, with his eyes bent down, apparently in thoughtful meditation, till the King should give him his answer.

"You have given us, Monsieur le Comte de Logeres," said the King, "but a faint idea of this business; and, as unhappily the commanders of our troops are but too little accustomed to afford us any very full account of their proceedings, we are ignorant of the occasion on which any one of them rendered this service to the young lady you mention."

This affected unconsciousness, displayed absolutely in conjunction with a scarcely concealed knowledge of the whole affair, Charles of Montsoreau felt to be trifling and insulting: but he lost not his reverence for the kingly authority; and he replied, with every appearance of deference, "I had imagined, Sire, that the quick wings of rumour must have carried the whole particulars to your Majesty, otherwise I should have been more particular in my account. The service was rendered to the young lady very lately, between Jouarre and Gandelu. I am not absolutely aware of the name of the officer in command of the troops at the time, but one gentleman present bore the name of Colombel."

"And pray what was the name of the young lady herself?" demanded the King, with a sneer. "The Duke of Guise has many she relations, as we sometimes find to our cost. It could not be our pretty, mild, and virtuous friend, the d.u.c.h.ess of Montpensier, nor the delicate and fair-favoured Mademoiselle de St. Beuve; for the one is staying in Paris in disobedience to the orders of the King, and the other is remaining there, waiting for the tender consolations of the Chevalier d'Aumale."

The young Count turned somewhat red, both at the coa.r.s.eness and the scornfulness of the King's reply. "The young lady," he answered, however, still keeping the same tone, "is named Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, daughter of the late Count de Clairvaut."

"Your first cousin, Villequier," said the King, turning to his minister. "You should know something of this affair?"

"Not more than your Majesty," replied Villequier, bowing low, and perceiving very clearly that Henry had maliciously wished to embarra.s.s him.

The King smiled at the double-meaning answer, and then, turning to the young Count, replied, "Well, sir, you have fulfilled your mission, and may tell the Duke of Guise, our true and well-beloved cousin, that we will cause immediate inquiry and investigation to be made into the whole affair; and let him know the particulars as soon as we are sufficiently well-informed to speak upon it with that accuracy which becomes our character. You may retire."

This was of course not the conclusion of the affair to which Charles of Montsoreau was inclined to submit; and it was evident to him that the King and his minions presumed upon his apparent youth and inexperience. But there was a firm decision in his character which they were not prepared for; and after pausing for a moment in thought, during which time the King's brows began to bend angrily upon him, he raised his eyes, looking Henry calmly and stedfastly in the face, and replying, "Your Majesty must pardon me if I do not take instant advantage of your permission to retire, as you have conceived a false impression when you imagine that my mission is fulfilled."

The King looked with an air of astonishment, first to Epernon and then to Villequier: but the former turned away his head with a look of dissatisfaction; while the latter bit his lip, let his hand fall upon a jewelled dagger in his belt, and said nothing.

Charles of Montsoreau, however, went on in the same calm but determined tone. "His Highness the Duke of Guise," he said, "directed me to inform your Majesty of the facts I have mentioned, and to beg in general terms information regarding them; but in case the general information that I obtained was not sufficiently accurate to enable me to write to him distinctly that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut is in this place, or in that place, he further directed me humbly to request that your Majesty would answer in plain terms the following plain questions:--Is Mademoiselle de Clairvaut in the chateau of Vincennes?

Is she under the charge and protection of your Majesty? Does your Majesty know where she is?"

"By the Lord that lives," exclaimed Henry, "this Duke of Guise chooses himself bold amba.s.sadors to his King!"

"Do you dare, malapert boy," exclaimed Villequier, "with that bold brow, to cross-question your sovereign?"

"I do dare, sir," answered Charles of Montsoreau, "to ask my sovereign, in the name of the Duke of Guise, these plain questions, which, as he is a just and n.o.ble monarch, he can neither find any difficulty in answering, nor feel any anger in hearing."

"And what if I refuse to answer, sir?" demanded the King. "What is to be the consequence then? Is the doughty messenger charged to make a declaration of war on the part of our obedient subject, the Duke of Guise?"

The young Count was not prepared for this question, and hesitated how to answer it, though a full knowledge of how terrible the Duke of Guise was to the weak and effeminate monarch he addressed, brought a smile over his countenance, which had in reality more effect than any words he could have spoken. After a pause, however, he replied,--"Oh no, Sire. The Duke of Guise is, as you say, your Majesty's most devoted and obedient subject; and never conceiving it possible that you would refuse to answer his humble questions, he gave me no instructions what to say in a case that he did not foresee. I can only suppose," he added, with a low and reverent bow to the King, "that the Duke will be obliged to come to Paris himself to make those inquiries and investigations, concerning his young relation, in which I have not been successful."

Charles of Montsoreau could see, notwithstanding the paint, which delicately furnished the King with a more stable complexion than his own, that at the very thought of the Duke of Guise coming to Paris the weak monarch turned deadly pale. The same signs also were visible to Villequier, who whispered, "No fear, Sire; no fear; he will not come!"

The King answered sharply, however, and sufficiently loud for the young n.o.bleman to hear, "We must give him no excuse, Rene! we must give him no excuse! Monsieur de Logeres," he continued, putting on a more placable air than before, "we are glad to find that neither the Duke of Guise nor his envoy presumes to threaten us; and in consideration of the questions being put in a proper manner, we are willing to answer them to the best of our abilities."

Villequier, at these words, laid his hand gently upon the King's cloak; but Henry twitched it away from his grasp with an air of impatience, and continued, "I shall therefore answer you frankly and freely, young gentleman; telling you that the Lady whom you are sent to seek is in fact not at Vincennes; nor, to the best of our knowledge and belief, in our good city of Paris; neither do we know or have any correct information of where she may be found, though it is not by any means to be denied that she has visited this our castle of Vincennes."

The first part of the King's speech had considerably relieved the mind of Villequier; but when he proceeded to make the somewhat unnecessary admission, that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut had visited Vincennes, the minister again attempted to interrupt the King, saying, "You know, Sire, her pause at Vincennes was merely momentary, and absolutely necessary for those pa.s.sports and safeguards without which it might be dangerous to travel, in the distracted state of the country."

"Perfectly true," replied Henry: but the King's apprehension of the Duke of Guise appearing in Paris was much stronger than his respect for his minister's opinion; and he proceeded with what he had to say, in spite of every sign or hint that could be given him.

"You must know, Monsieur de Logeres," he said, "that, as I before observed, she did visit Vincennes for a brief s.p.a.ce; but, there being something embarra.s.sing in the whole business, we were, to say the truth--albeit not insensible to beauty--we were not at all sorry to see her depart."