Henry of Guise Volume Ii Part 8

"It is an antidote against all poisons," answered the Abbe coolly, "whether they be eaten in the savoury ragout, drunk in the racy cup, smelt in the odour of a sweet flower, or inhaled in the balmy air of some well-prepared apartment. My dear friends will not find me so tender a lamb as Jeanne d'Albret."

"No, I should think not," replied Villequier with a laugh, and still holding off from the original subject of conversation. "I should think not, if I may judge by some of your attendants, Monsieur de Boisguerin, for there is one of them at least, an Italian, whom I pa.s.sed in the court but now, who looks much more like the follower of a wolf than of a lamb. He was dressed somewhat in the guise of a wandering minstrel, with a good strong dagger, which I dare say is serviceable in time of need."

"I have not the slightest doubt of it," replied the Abbe de Boisguerin with the most imperturbable coolness, "though I have not had occasion to make use of him much in that way yet. But the man's a treasure, Monsieur de Villequier; and as to his garb the fact is, that I have not had time yet to have it changed and made more becoming. You shall see in a few days, Monsieur de Villequier, what a change can be effected by razors, soap, cold water, and good clothing. He's a complete treasure, I can a.s.sure you, and well worth any pains."

"But," said Villequier, "if you have had him so short a time as not to be able to clothe him yet, how do you know all these magnificent qualities?"

"It is a singular business enough," answered the Abbe. "I knew him long ago in Italy, where he was exercising various professions: but he had skill enough almost to cheat me, which, of course, made me judge highly of his abilities. One day, not long ago, he presented himself at the Chateau de Montsoreau, where it seems he had been upon some vagabond excursion a week or a fortnight before. He had on the first occasion seen and recognised me, and he now came back, having spent all the money he had gained by selling a young Italian pipe-player to my good cousin Charles, and being consequently in not the best provided state. He was in hopes that I would take him into my service, which, from ancient recollection of his character, I was very willing to do; dismissing, however, without much ceremony, another man and a low Italian woman whom he had brought with him. They seemed very willing to go, it is true, and he to part with them; and my good friend Orbi has already shown himself on more than one occasion fully as serviceable as I had expected he would prove. My former knowledge of him gives me means of binding him to me by very strong ties; and I will acknowledge that never was there man to all appearance so well calculated to remove a troublesome friend or a pertinacious enemy."

"Doubtless, doubtless," replied Villequier; "though he seems not to be particularly strong in frame."

"But he is active," answered the Abbe, "and full of skill, and thought, and ingenuity. But to return to what we were saying concerning the paper, Monsieur de Villequier, which we have left somewhat too long," added the Abbe, thinking this sort of farce had been carried quite far enough. "Every objection that you have raised can be overthrown at once. I ask this promise, not for my own sake, but to satisfy this youth Charles of Montsoreau. He will trust you as soon as the fox will the tiger; but he will trust to me implicitly, if he believes that I have the power to aid him in obtaining her he loves. Thus you see at once the means by which this promise is to work to the ends that we propose. Then, as to seeing clearly what the effect will be, I will show it to you in the very course of this night. Read that letter, written by the young Count of Logeres to his brother, no later than yesterday evening! You see," the Abbe continued, after Villequier had read, "he renounces all claim whatsoever to the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and this in favour of his brother. The letter was brought hither not two hours ago. Now, ere two hours more be over, you shall yourself see the whole feelings of this young man changed, and the pursuit renewed as eagerly as ever. If it be so, what say you? Will you go forward in the way I propose?--Yea or nay, Monsieur de Villequier? I trifle not, nor am trifled with."

"I will then go forward, beyond all doubt," replied the Marquis.

The Abbe thereupon took up the pen, wrote five lines on a sheet of paper, sealed them with some of the yellow wax which lay ready, addressed the note to Charles of Montsoreau, and placing it in the hands of Villequier, bade him to send it by a page, with orders to require an answer. The page seemed winged with the wind, and in a marvellous short time he returned, bearing a note from the young Count of Logeres, containing these few words:--

"My renunciation was entirely conditional. If it be as you say, nothing on earth shall induce me to yield the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut to any man. The time that you allow me for writing does not permit me to say more, but come to me as early as possible to-morrow, and let all things be explained; for a state of doubt and suspicion was always to me worse than the knowledge of real evil or real wrong."

The Abbe gave it to Villequier, and the Minister only replied by signing and sealing the paper which the Abbe had drawn up.

"Now, quick! Monsieur l'Abbe," said the Minister. "Go for a few minutes to your own apartments, and then join us at supper, which I hear is already served, as if we had not met during the evening. You will not need your ring, I can a.s.sure you."

The Abbe bowed low and retired in silence; but in his heart he said, "And this, the fool Henry holds to be a great politician."

No knave can be a great politician; but every knave thinks himself so.

The mistake they make is between wisdom and cunning. The knave prides himself on deceiving others, the wise man on not deceiving himself.

CHAP. VI.

When the Abbe de Boisguerin on the following morning entered the presence of Charles of Montsoreau, his mind was prepared for every thing he was to say and do, for every thing he was to a.s.sert or to imply. But there was one thing for which his mind was not prepared--all shrewd, keen, politic, and experienced as it was.

There are points in the deep study of human nature which those who would use that mighty science for selfish purposes almost always overlook. Amongst these are the changes, both sudden and progressive, which take place in themselves and in others, and the changes in relative situations which they produce. In this respect it was that the Abbe de Boisguerin, thoughtful and calculating as he was, had not prepared himself for the meeting with Charles of Montsoreau. The time was short since they had parted. Not above six weeks had elapsed, if so much; and the Abbe had come ready to deal with a youth of keen and penetrating mind, of quick perceptions and extensive powers; of all whose feelings and thoughts he fancied that he knew the scope and quality; whose mind he believed that he had gauged and tested as if it were some material substance. But he knew not at all, what an effect the s.p.a.ce of six weeks may have when spent in communication with great minds, and in dealing with great events; and the moment he entered the room he saw a change which he had never dreamt of--a change which through the mind affected the body, the countenance, and the demeanour.

Charles of Montsoreau, in short, had left him a youth high-spirited, feeling, intelligent, graceful,--he stood before him a man, calm, thoughtful, grave, dignified. There were even lines of care already upon his brow, which gave it a degree of sternness not natural to it; and the whole look and aspect of his former pupil was so powerfully intellectual, that the Abbe felt he must be more cautious and careful than he had prepared to be; that his words, his thoughts, and his looks would not alone be tested by old affection, nor even by the simple powers of an undoubting mind, but would be tried by experience likewise, and tried moreover with that degree of suspicion which is more active within us when we first learn the painful lessons taught by human deceit, than it is when we learn fully our own powers of separating truth from falsehood.

He saw that it would be necessary to be more cautious than he had proposed to be, and that, consequently, he must change much that he had intended to say and do. The very caution affected his manner, and his alteration of purposes caused occasional hesitation. Charles of Montsoreau, who remembered his whole character and demeanour during many years, found, without seeking it, a touchstone in the past by which to try the present, and the conclusion in his own heart was, "This man is not true."

The explanation given by the Abbe of all that had occurred on their route did not satisfy his hearer. He told him that he had remained with Mademoiselle de Clairvaut and the carriage till the reiters had pa.s.sed, and then had caused the horses to be turned into a bye-road, in the hope of escaping any returning parties: they had thus accidentally met with the King's troops, whose offered protection, of course, they could not refuse. But he touched vaguely and lightly upon the mission of Colombel to the young Marquis de Montsoreau; and the Count de Logeres did not press him upon the subject, for he felt sufficiently upon his guard, and had a repugnance openly to convict one whom he had loved of falseness and treachery.

He turned then to the note which he had received on the preceding evening.

"You tell me now," he said, "Abbe, that you have some reason to believe that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, as I at first supposed, has seen my affection, and did not intend to discourage it. What are those reasons?"

The Abbe stated vaguely that some words, dropped by Madame de Saulny, had produced that belief in his mind.

Charles of Montsoreau mused, and made no answer. The time had been when he would have replied at once, and have discussed the question fully with his former preceptor; but now he held counsel with his own heart in his own bosom, and said, "This man has some object in telling me this. Her own words were sufficiently conclusive, that she did not see, that she did not remark, the signs of affection which I had fancied undoubted."

He still maintained silence, however, towards the Abbe, in regard to his own views, his own purposes, and his own feelings. Nor could the other, though he used all his skill, draw from him the slightest indication of what he intended to do, except that he waited in Paris for the arrangement of some affairs, which were not yet concluded, with the King. He in turn, however, questioned the Abbe much concerning his brother, expressing not only a wish but a determination to see him.

"I am happy," he said, "that my letter reached him; for--by whom or for what reason instructed to falsify the truth, I do not know--the porter of Monsieur de Villequier denied the fact of your being in the house. As nothing could shake my own belief that it was Gaspar and yourself I had seen, and as both Gondrin and the page confirmed my opinion, I sent the letter at all risks: and now, good Abbe, if you love Gaspar and myself as you used to do, contrive that we may meet again to-morrow, in order that all these clouds may be cleared away from between us, and that we may feel once more as brothers ought to feel towards each other."

The Abbe promised to do as the young Count desired, beseeching him, however, not to press his brother to an interview too suddenly, and a.s.suring him that he would use every effort.

The still more important subject of what had become of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut remained to be discussed; and Charles of Montsoreau, though resolved to make the inquiry, approached it with distaste and with caution, from a feeling that the Abbe would not deal truly with him, and would only endeavour, in the course of any conversation upon that point, to discover what were his secret intentions, even while he concealed from him the true circ.u.mstances.

It was as he expected. The Abbe told him that, in some degree under the care, and in some degree under the guard, of the King's troops, the whole party had been brought to the neighbourhood of Paris, where a messenger from the monarch had conveyed to himself and the young Marquis an invitation to take up their abode at the house of Villequier, while Mademoiselle de Clairvaut was conveyed to Vincennes.

They had done all that was possible, he said, to prevent such a separation; but the King's commands were peremptory; and he had since learnt, or at least had reason to believe, that the young lady had been sent in the direction of Beauvais, to the care of some distant relations.

The young Count smiled, and said nothing; and the Abbe then, with an air of grave sincerity, proceeded to ask him what had best be done under such circ.u.mstances. He replied that he could give no advice; and many a vain effort was again made to discover what were his purposes in regard to Mademoiselle de Clairvaut. Finding that no indirect means succeeded, the Abbe, trusting to their former familiarity, asked the question directly, "What do you intend to do in this business, Charles."

"Indeed, my dear Abbe," replied the young Count, "it is difficult to tell you. I have no definite plan of action at present, and must be guided by circ.u.mstances as they arise."

Thus ended their interview; and it formed a strange contrast to that between the Abbe and Villequier,--showing how simple honesty may often baffle cunning which has succeeded against astuteness like itself. The following day pa.s.sed without any communication reaching the young Count, either from the Abbe or from his brother, from the King or the Duke of Guise; and expectation of receiving tidings from some one caused him to remain at home during the greater part of the day.

On the succeeding morning, however, he determined to proceed to the house of Villequier, and to demand peremptorily the fulfilment of the promise which the King had made. Ere he set out, however, he received a note in the hand of the Abbe de Boisguerin, informing him briefly that his brother, having determined to return to Montsoreau, was upon the very point of setting out. He, the Abbe, was to accompany him for two days' march upon the road, but would return to Paris in four or five days without fail.

Charles of Montsoreau read the note with a faint and melancholy smile, and again said, "This man is not true!"

He rode at once, however, to the hotel of Villequier, but found that the minister had once more gone to Vincennes. He inquired for the Marquis of Montsoreau of the same porter who had denied the fact of his being there. The porter, not at all discomposed, replied that the Marquis and the Abbe de Boisguerin, with their train, had set out fully two hours before for Montl'hery; which, being confirmed upon farther inquiry by an Italian confectioner on the opposite side of the street, was believed by the young Count, who returned home with a heart but ill at ease.

Another day was pa.s.sed in gloomy and impatient expectation; but at night Gondrin reappeared from Soissons, bringing with him a brief note from the Duke of Guise:--

"Your interview," it said, "was such as might be expected; your conduct all that it should have been; your view of the result right.

They are endeavouring to trifle both with you and me; but we must show them that this cannot be done. I send off a courier at once to Villequier, requiring that the King's authorisation shall be immediately given to you. If it reach you not before to-morrow night, I pray you set off at once with the pa.s.sports you possess for Chateauneuf; for I have information scarcely to be doubted, that our poor Marie has been conveyed thither. Show her the letter which I gave you, requiring her to follow your directions in every thing. Endeavour to bring her at once, with what people you can collect upon her lands, across the country towards Rheims, avoiding Paris. If any one stops you, or attempts either to delay your progress or dispute your pa.s.sage, show them my letter of authority, as well as the pa.s.sports that you already possess; and if they farther molest or delay you, they shall not be forgotten, be they great or small, when they come to reckon with your friend, Henry of Guise."

In a postscript was written at the bottom--"In going, avoid Dreux and Montfort, for the plague is raging there. If there be any force stationed at Chateauneuf to prevent the removal of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, only ascertain distinctly the fact of her presence in the chateau, and come back to rejoin me with all speed."

The tidings brought by Gondrin showed Charles of Montsoreau that great events of some kind were in preparation. Various bodies of troops attached to the House of Lorraine were moving here and there in Champaign and the Ardennes; daily conferences were held between the Duke of Guise, the Cardinal of Bourbon, the Cardinal of Guise, and a number of other influential n.o.blemen; the propriety of deposing the King was said to be openly discussed at Soissons, and ridicule and hatred were unsparingly busy with the names of Epernon, Villequier, and others. Couriers, totally independent of those which were sent upon the business that brought the young Count to Paris, were almost hourly pa.s.sing between the capital and Soissons; and it was daily whispered in the latter city, that experienced officers and small bodies of troops were daily gliding into the capital from the army which the Duke had led to victory on so many previous occasions.

Early on the following morning, Charles of Montsoreau again proceeded to the Hotel de Villequier, in order that nothing might be wanting on his part. But the reply once more was, that the minister was absent; and the day pa.s.sed over without any tidings from either the King or his favourite. As he pa.s.sed through various parts of the city, however, the young Count remarked many things that somewhat surprised him. He had hitherto ridden amongst the people quite unnoticed, but now many persons whom he met bowed low to him, and those seemingly of the most respectable cla.s.ses of citizens. On two or three occasions the burgher guard saluted him as he pa.s.sed; and in one place, where several people were collected together, there was a cry of "Long live the Duke of Guise!"

All these indications of some approaching event of importance at any other moment might have given him an inclination to remain in Paris: but he had other interests more deeply at heart; and having waited till the last moment to make sure that the King's authorisation was still delayed, he prepared to set out that very night, taking with him only the number of persons specified in the pa.s.sports which he had brought from Soissons.

In a brief and hurried note which he wrote to Chapelle Marteau, he informed him that he was about to absent himself from Paris for a short time on business of importance; and begged him, as it was his intention to pa.s.s out of the city by the Faubourg St. Germain that very night, to facilitate his so doing as quietly as possible. That his absence might remain for some time concealed from those who might obstruct his proceedings, he retained his apartments at the inn, and the servants he had hired, paying the whole for some time in advance, and directing that if any inquiries were made, the reply should be, that he was only absent for a few days.

When all was prepared he set out, and at the gates found his friend of the Seize, with another personage, who seemed to consider himself of great importance. No words, however, were spoken, no pa.s.sports were demanded, the two Leaguers bowed lowly to the Count, the gates opened as if of themselves, and, issuing forth, the young Count rode on upon the way, anxious to place as great a distance between Paris and himself ere the next morning as possible.

It was a soft calm night in April, the sky was unclouded and filled with stars, the dew thick upon the gra.s.s, and the air balmy; and the young n.o.bleman pursued his way with a mind filled with thoughts which, though certainly in part melancholy, were still tinged with the soft light of hope. His horses were strong and fresh, and just in the grey of the morning, on the following day, he reached the small town of Rambouillet.

The signs and indications of the disturbed and anxious state of society in France were visible in the little town as the young Count gazed from the door of the inn, after seeing that his horses were well taken care of. There were anxious faces and eyes regarding the stranger with the expression of doubt, and perhaps suspicion; there were little knots gathered together and talking gloomily at the corners of different streets; the whistle of the light-hearted peasant was unheard; and the cart or the flock was driven forth in silence.

The Count's horses required rest; none were to be procured with which he could pursue his journey, and he determined to take what repose he could get ere he proceeded on his way. Casting himself down then upon a bed, he closed his eyes and sought to sleep: but suddenly something like a wild cry sounded from the other side of the street, and springing up he looked out of the window. He could almost have touched the opposite house, so narrow was the way, and he saw completely into a room thereof through the window that faced his own.

There was a woman in it of about the middle age, kneeling by the bedside of a youth who seemed just dead; and on looking down a little below he saw a man, dressed in a black serge robe, standing on a ladder, and marking the front of the building with a large white cross. On the impulse of the moment, Charles of Montsoreau ran down stairs, and approached the door of the house, intending to enter. But he was stopped at the door by two of the guards of the city. "Do you not see the mark of the plague?" they said. "You must not go in; or, if you go in, you must not come out again."