The Huguenot Part 16

"Well, then," said Riquet, shaking his head upon his shoulders with an important look, "what I mean is this; that if ever I saw a man who had an inclination to see the contents of a packet that did not belong to him, it was Monsieur le Cure de Guadrieul there. He knows very well that he talked to me for half an hour of how easy it would be to get the packet out of the bag, and he seemed to have a very great inclination to do it."

While he made this insinuation, the dull, fat, leaden-looking ma.s.s of the Cure de Guadrieul was seen heaving with some internal convulsion: his breath came thick, his cheeks and his breast expanded, his eyes grew red and fierce, his hands trembled with rage; and starting up from his seat he exclaimed,--

"Me? me? By the Lord I will strangle thee with my own hands," and he sprang towards Jerome Riquet, as if to execute his threat; while the governor exclaimed in a voice of thunder, "Sit down, sir; and, as you have joined in accusing others, learn to bear the retaliation, as indeed you must."

"Can he deny what I say?" demanded Riquet, stretching out his three fore-fingers, and shaking them in the Cure's face; "can he deny that he talked to me for half an hour about the easiness of purloining the commission, and told me of a thousand instances of the same kind, that have taken place before now? No, he cannot deny it!"

"I did talk to thee, base miscreant," said the Cure, still swelling with rage, "but it was to show why I always sat upon the bag, and slept with it under my head, ever after that affair with the robbers."

"Mark that, gentlemen," said the Count de Morseiul.

"Well, sir, we do mark it," said the Bishop; "that proves nothing against the Cure but extreme care and precaution."

"Nor can I prove any thing directly, Monseigneur," cried Riquet; "but still I have a strange suspicion that the very night I speak of did not go over without the fingers of Monsieur le Cure being in the bag.

Let me ask him another question, and let him mind how he answers it.

Was he, or was he not, seen by more than one person dabbling at the mouth of the bag?"

"That was only to see that the knot was fast," replied the Cure, glaring round him with a look of growing bewilderment and horror.

"Ay, ay," continued Riquet, with a glance of calm contempt that almost drove the man mad; "ay, ay, all I wish is that I had an opportunity of looking into your baggage as you have had of looking into mine."

"And so you shall, by Heaven," cried the Duc de Rouvre. "I will have it brought from his chamber this instant."

"I don't care," cried the priest; "let it be brought; you will find nothing there."

But the Abbe de St. Helie and the Bishop both interposed. Though Pelisson said nothing, and looked mortified and pained, the others urged every thing that they could think of for the protection of the baggage of the ecclesiastic, without the slightest consideration of equity or justice whatsoever; but the governor was firm, replying,--

"Gentlemen, I will be responsible for my conduct both to the King and to the King of kings; and, in one word, I tell you that this baggage shall be examined. You have brought back the Count de Morseiul, and his whole train, on charges and insinuations which you have not been able to establish; and you would now fain shrink from a little trouble and inconvenience, which ought to be taken, in order to clear one of yourselves of an imputation accompanied by a few singular facts.

Maitre Riquet, call one of my servants from the door, but do not leave the room yourself."

As soon as the servant appeared, the governor, notwithstanding the renewed opposition of the two ecclesiastics, ordered the whole baggage and effects of the Cure de Guadrieul to be brought down from the chamber that he inhabited. This was accordingly done, and besides a number of stray articles of apparel almost as miscellaneous in character and appearance as those which the opening of Riquet's valise had displayed, there was a large sort of trunk-mail which appeared to be carefully locked. The Cure had looked on with a grim and scowling smile while his various goods and chattels were displayed upon the floor of the governor's cabinet, and then turning to St. Helie with a growl, which might have been supposed to proceed from a calumniated bear, he said,--

"Don't be afraid. They can't find any thing;" and advancing to his effects he shook them one after the other, and turned out the pockets, when there were any, to show that there was nothing concealed. He then produced a large key, and opening the trunk-mail took out, one by one, the various things that it contained. He had nearly got to the bottom, and was displaying a store of tobacco pipes, some of which were wrapped up in pieces of paper, some in their original naked whiteness, when in the midst of them appeared what seemed a tobacco box, also wrapped up in paper.

The moment the eyes of Riquet fell upon it he exclaimed, "Stop, stop, what is that? There is writing on that paper. Monsieur le Duc, I pray you to examine what is on that paper."

The eyes of the Cure, who had it in his hand, fixed for an instant upon the tobacco box and its envelope, and his fingers instantly relaxed their grasp and suffered it to drop upon the ground. Well, indeed, they might do so, for the very first words that were seen were, "I pray G.o.d to have you, Messieurs Pelisson and St. Helie, in his holy, care," with the signature of "Louis."

The governor unrolled the paper which, though it was but a fragment, left not the slightest doubt that it was part either of a commission or of a letter of instructions from the King to the two ecclesiastics.

With his mouth wide open, his eyes ready to start from their sockets, his face become as pale as death, and his limbs scarcely able to support him, the unfortunate Cure de Guadrieul stood gasping in the middle of the room, unable to utter a word. All eyes were fixed upon him, all brows were frowning upon him, and the only thing which could have roused him, if it had been possible for any thing to rouse him at that moment, was the extraordinary face which Jerome Riquet was making, in a vain endeavour to mingle in his countenance a certain portion of compa.s.sion with contempt and reprobation. n.o.body spoke for a moment or two after the governor had read the contents; but at length the Duc de Rouvre said, in a dry, severe tone,--

"Secretary, you have made a note of all this; you will keep also the fragment of paper. My Lord the Bishop, Messieurs Pelisson and St.

Helie, after the painful and distressing event of this examination, I shall make no comment whatsoever upon what has taken place. I beg that you would remove this personage the Cure de Guadrieul from my house, to do with him as you think fit. You will not, of course, be surprised when you remember the threatening language which you three were pleased to use towards myself, two days ago, in order to induce me to cause the arrest of the Count de Morseiul, upon a charge of crimes of which he was not guilty--Monsieur Pelisson, do not interrupt me: I know you were more moderate than the rest; but as you were acting together, I must look upon the words of one, your spokesman, to be the words of all--You will not be surprised I say, recollecting these facts, that I send off a special messenger to his Majesty this night, in order to give him my own statement of all these occurrences, and to beseech him to take those steps which to me seem necessary for maintaining the peace and tranquillity of the province. I, gentlemen, do not encroach upon the rights and privileges of others; and, so long as his Majesty is pleased to hold me in an official situation, I will not suffer any one to trench upon my privileges and legitimate authority. As the hour for the daily meeting of the states is now fast approaching, however, I will bid you farewell, begging you to take this personage with you, and, as I have said, deal with him as you think fit, for I wish to exercise no severity upon any ecclesiastic."

The persons he addressed had nothing to say in reply, though the Bishop thought fit to harangue the little party for a moment upon his own authority and high dignity, and Pelisson endeavoured to involve a bad business in a cloud of words. They were all, however, desperately mortified, and not a little alarmed; for there was no doubt that they had proceeded far beyond the point where their legitimate authority ended, in pressing the governor to severe measures against the Count de Morseiul. The loss of the packet, too, might now be attributed to themselves, instead of to him; the delay in executing the King's will, as it had been expressed, would be laid to their charge; the Duc de Rouvre was evidently highly irritated against them, and his representations to the throne on the subject were likely to be listened to with peculiar attention, as they were coupled with the announcement to the King that the states, by his skilful management, had voted at once a much larger sum as a gift than any one at the court had antic.i.p.ated. All these considerations alarmed the whole party, though indeed Pelisson, who had more knowledge of human nature than the other two, trusted, with some degree of hope, that the cloak of religious zeal would cover all other sins. His greatest apprehension proceeded from the supposition that the King would cast the blame of the loss of the packet on themselves, and would attribute the negligence which had caused it to want of respect to his person.

He therefore set himself straightway to consider how such a result might be obviated. The Bishop and the Abbe de St. Helie took an unceremonious leave of the governor and his friend, and pushing the culprit Cure of Guadrieul out before them, quitted the cabinet in haste. Pelisson paused for a moment to say a word or two more in order to mitigate, as far as possible, the severity of the governor's report; but Monsieur de Rouvre was in no very placable mood, and the conference soon terminated, leaving the governor and the Count to discuss the affair, half laughingly, half seriously.

The invitation of the Duc de Rouvre was now pressing and strong, that the young Count de Morseiul should remain at least two days longer at Poitiers, and he coupled that invitation with the direct intimation that it was most necessary he should do so, as he the Duke had yet to learn in some degree the temper of the states in regard to the important questions between the Catholics and Protestants. The young Count consequently agreed to remain; taking the precaution, however, of writing at full to Claude de l'Estang, and sending off the letter by one of his own trustworthy servants, beseeching him to draw up the pet.i.tion which the Protestant gentry had agreed upon, and to have it ready by the time at which he proposed to arrive at Morseiul.

During the greater part of those two days which followed he saw little of Clemence de Marly. Without any cause a.s.signed, she had been absent from all the spots where he was most likely to see her, except on those occasions when she was necessarily surrounded by a crowd. After breakfast, she remained but a moment in the salle: on the first day she did not appear at dinner; and on the second, she was absent from the breakfast table. The Chevalier d'Evran was also absent, and every thing tended to confirm, in the mind of the young Count de Morseiul, the impression which he had received, that his friend was the lover of her whom he himself loved, and that some cause of disagreement, either temporary or permanent, had arisen between them. Nothing, however, tended to confirm this idea more than the appearance of Clemence herself when she was present. There was an anxiety in the expression of her eyes; a thoughtfulness about her brow; an impatience of society; an occasional absence of mind, which was hardly to be mistaken. Her whole appearance was that of a person struggling with strong feelings, which were in reality getting the mastery.

She showed no particular inclination after his return--except as we have seen on the first evening--to speak with the Count de Morseiul, either in public or in private. Words of civility pa.s.sed between them, of course, and every little courtesy was, perhaps, more scrupulously observed than usual with her; but on that evening which closed the last day of the young Count's proposed stay, a change took place.

A large party had a.s.sembled at the governor's house; and though he himself looked both grave and anxious, he was doing the honours of his dwelling to every one with as much courtesy as possible, when suddenly, seeing the Count de Morseiul standing alone, near the doorway of the second room, he crossed over to speak with him, saying, "Albert, Clemence was seeking for you a moment ago. Where is she? have you seen her?"

Ere the young Count could reply, Clemence de Marly herself came up, as if about to speak with the Duke, whose hand she took in hers, in the sort of daughter-like manner in which she always behaved to him.

"Monsieur de Morseiul," she said, with a thoughtful l.u.s.tre shining in her eyes, and giving a deeper and brighter expression to her whole countenance, "I have come to take refuge with you from that young De Hericourt, who evidently intends to persecute me during the whole evening.--But stay, stay, Monseigneur," she added, turning to the Duke, who seemed about to leave them, to speak with some one else: "before you go, hear what I am going to say to Monsieur de Morseiul.

You are going, Count, I hear, to take your departure to-morrow morning early: if you would walk with me for half an hour in the gardens ere you leave us, you would much oblige me, as I wish to speak with you.--Now, dear King of Poitou," she continued, turning to the Duke, "you may go. I have no more secrets to make you a witness of."

The Duke replied not exactly to her words, but seemed fully to comprehend them; and saying, "Not to-night, Clemence! remember, not tonight!" he left her under the charge of the Count de Morseiul, and proceeded to attend to his other guests.

Placed in a situation somewhat strange, and, as it were, forced to appear as one of the attendant train of the bright and beautiful girl, from whose dangerous fascinations he was eager to fly, for a single instant Albert of Morseiul felt slightly embarra.s.sed; but unexpected situations seldom so much affected him as to produce any thing like ungraceful hesitation of manner. Clemence de Marly might not, perhaps, even perceive that the Count was at all embarra.s.sed, for she was deeply occupied with her own fancies; and though she conversed with him not gaily, but intelligently, there was evidently another train of thought going on in her breast all the time, which sometimes made her answer wide from the mark, and then smile at her own absence of mind.

The eyes of the young Marquis de Hericourt followed her wherever she turned, and certainly bore not the most placable expression towards the Count de Morseiul; but his anger or his watching disturbed neither Clemence nor her companion, who both had busy thoughts enough to occupy them. After some time the excitement of the dance seemed to rouse Clemence from her musing fit; and, though confined to subjects of ordinary interest, the conversation between her and the Count became of a deeper tone and character, and her heart seemed to take part in it as well as her mind. Albert of Morseiul felt it far more dangerous than before; for though they might but speak of a picture, or a statue, or a song, with which he could have conversed with a connoisseur of any kind, perhaps with more profit, as far as mere knowledge of the subject went, yet there was a refinement of taste evident in the manner in which Clemence viewed every thing, a sparkling grace given by her imagination to every subject that she touched upon, when her feelings were really interested therein, which was very, very winning to a mind like that of Albert de Morseiul.

Is it possible, under such circ.u.mstances, always to be upon one's guard? Is it possible, when the heart loves deeply, always to conquer it with so powerful an effort, as not to let it have the rule even for an hour? If it be, such was not the case with the young Count de Morseiul. He forgot not his resolutions, it is true; but he gave himself up to happiness for the moment, and spoke with warmth, enthusiasm, and eagerness, which can seldom, if ever, be displayed to a person we do not love. There was a light, too, in his eye when he gazed on Clemence de Marly--a look in which regret was mingled with tenderness, and in which the cloud of despair only shadowed, but did not darken the fire of pa.s.sion--which might well show her, unless her eyes were dazzled by their own light, that she was loved, and loved by a being of a higher and more energetic character than those which usually surrounded her.

Perhaps she did see it--perhaps she did not grieve to see it--for her eyes became subdued by his; her mellow and beautiful voice took a softer tone; the colour came and went in her cheek; and before the end of the dance in which they were engaged, her whole appearance, her whole manner, made the Count ask himself, "What am I doing?"

Clemence de Marly seemed to have addressed the same question to her own heart; for as soon as the dance was over, the cloud of thoughtful sadness came back upon her brow, and she said, "I am fatigued. I shall dance no more to-night. All the people are doubtless come now, and dear Madame de Rouvre will move no more; so I shall go and set myself down in state beside her, and get her to shield me from annoyance to-night."

The Count led her towards the d.u.c.h.ess, intending himself to seek his chamber soon after; but as they went, Clemence said to him in a low tone, "Do you see that pretty girl sitting there by her mother, old Madame de Marville, so modest, and so gentle and retiring. She is as good a little creature as ever breathed, and as pretty, yet n.o.body leads her out to dance. If I had a brother, I should like him to marry that girl. She would not bring him fortune, but she would bring him happiness. I wish, Monsieur de Morseiul, you would go and ask her to dance."

Though he was anxious to retire, and full of other thoughts, Albert of Morseiul would not have refused for the world; and Clemence, leading him up to her friend, said, "Annette, here is Monsieur le Comte de Morseiul wishes to dance with you: I am sure you will, for your friend's sake."

The young lady bowed her head with a slight timid blush, and rising, allowed the Count to lead her to the dance.

No great opportunity of conversing existed; but Albert of Morseiul took especial pains to show himself as courteous and as kind as possible. Annette de Marville led the conversation herself to Clemence de Marly, and nothing could exceed the enthusiastic admiration with which she spoke of her friend. Perhaps a little to the surprise of the Count, she never mentioned Clemence's beauty, or her grace, or her wit; matters which, in those days, and at the court of Louis XIV., were the only topics for praise, the only attractions coveted. She spoke of her high and n.o.ble feelings, her enthusiastic and affectionate heart; and, in answer to something which the Count said not quite so laudatory as she would have had it, she exclaimed,--

"Oh! but Clemence does not do herself justice in the world. It is only to those who know her most intimately that her shy heart will show itself."

The words sunk into the mind of the Count de Morseiul; and when the dance was concluded, and he had led back his fair companion to her seat, he retired speedily to his own apartments, to meditate over what he had heard, and what had taken place.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

London: Printed by A. Spottiswoode, New-Street-Square.

THE HUGUENOT.