The Huguenot Part 41

"Indeed!" exclaimed the King; "then we men must be certainly in the wrong. But what think you," he continued, "what think you, as a proof--what would yon fair girl Clemence de Marly say, were we to ask her? I saw her but now, as I pa.s.sed, reading with the Dauphine in somewhat melancholy guise."

"Well may she be melancholy, Sire!" replied the lady, somewhat sadly, "when the King hears not her prayers. But methinks it would be hardly fair to make her a judge."

"Why, why?" demanded Louis quickly; "because she is so proud and haughty?--Remember, you said the proudest in our court."

"So I say still, Sire," replied Madame de Maintenon in a gentle tone; "but I do not think her proud. She would be too favourable a judge; that was my sole objection. Her own station in the court is doubtful; and besides, Sire, you could not think of submitting that, on which none--no, not the wisest minister you have--can judge so well as yourself, to the decision of a girl."

"Fear not," replied the King; "I will but take her voice on the matter, without her knowing aught of that on which her opinion is called for. I would fain hear what a young and unpractised tongue would say. Let her be called in."

Madame de Maintenon hesitated for a moment. The risk seemed great; the object of long years was at stake; and her own fate, and that of France, might depend upon the words of a wild, proud girl. But she saw no means of avoiding the trial; and she rang the bell: even in the very act of doing so, remembering many a trait of Clemence, both in childhood and youth, which gave her some a.s.surance. A page appeared instantly, and was despatched to the apartments of the Dauphine to call Mademoiselle de Marly to the presence of the King.

The feet of Clemence bore her thither like light, though her heart beat wildly with fear and agitation; and the hue of her cheek, once so bright and glowing, was now as pale as death. She was glad, however, to find the King and Madame de Maintenon alone, for she had succeeded in interesting the latter in the fate of the Count de Morseiul, and she doubted not that she would exert herself, as much as she dared to do for any one, to persuade the King to deal with him gently. So many long and weary days had pa.s.sed, however, with but little progress, that she had well nigh sunk into despair, when the summons of this night made her suppose that her fate, and that of her lover, was upon the eve of being decided.

The page who conducted her closed the door as soon as she had entered, and Clemence stood before the King with feelings of awe and agitation, such as in former days she knew not that she could feel towards the greatest potentate on earth: but Clemence de Marly loved, and her whole feelings had been changed.

Not a little was her surprise, however, when the King addressed her in a tone half playful, half serious,--

"Come hither, spoiled beauty," he said, "come hither: and sit down upon that stool--or, in truth, I should give you up this chair, for you are going to act a part that you never performed before--that of judge, and in a matter of taste, too."

Clemence put her hand to her brow, as if to clear away the thoughts with which she had come thither. But, after gazing in the King's face for a moment with a bewildered look, she recovered herself, and replied,--

"Indeed, Sire, I am, of all people, the most unfit; but I will do my best to please your Majesty. What may be the question?"

"Why," answered the King, smiling at her evident surprise and embarra.s.sment, the real cause of which he had quite forgotten in his own thoughts and feelings, "why the matter is this; a new play has been submitted to us for approval by one of our best poets. It turns upon an ancient king becoming in love with one of his own subjects, and marrying her while his ministers wish him to marry a neighbouring queen. The question of the policy, however, is not the thing. We have settled all that, but the point in dispute between me and this fair lady is, whether the poet would have done better to have made the heroine turn out, after all, to be some princess unknown. I say not; but our sweet friend, whose opinion, perhaps, is better than my own, contends that it would have been better, in order to preserve the king's dignity."

Madame de Maintenon panted for breath, and grasped the book that lay on the table to prevent herself from betraying her agitation; but she dared not say a word, nor even look up.

She was almost instantly relieved, however, for Clemence exclaimed, almost before the King had done speaking,--"Oh, no! oh, no! Dear lady, you are wrong, believe me. Kings lose their dignity only by evil acts; they rise in transcendent majesty when they tread upon base prejudices. I know nothing of the policy; you tell me that is apart; and the only question is whether she was worthy that he chose. Was she, Sire--was she n.o.ble and good?"

"Most n.o.ble, and most excellent!" said the King.

"Was she religious, wise, well educated?" continued Clemence, eagerly.

"She was all!" answered Louis, "all in a most eminent degree."

"Was she in knowledge, demeanour, character, worthy of his love and of himself?" asked the enthusiastic girl, with her whole face glowing.

"In demeanour not inferior, in character equal, in knowledge superior--in all respects worthy!" replied the Monarch, catching her enthusiasm.

But he was stopped by the agitated sobs of Madame de Maintenon, who, sinking from her chair at his feet, clasped his knees, exclaiming, "Spare me, Sire! Spare me, or I shall die!"

The King gazed at her tenderly for a moment, then bent down his head, kissed her check, and, whispering a few brief words, placed her in the chair where he himself had been sitting. He then turned to Clemence de Marly, who stood by, astonished at the agitation that her words had produced, and fearful that the consequences might be the destruction of all her own hopes.

The countenance of Louis, as he turned towards her, somewhat re-a.s.sured her; but still she could not help exclaiming with no slight anxiety, "I hope, Sire, I have not offended. I fear I have done so unintentionally."

"If you have," said the King, smiling upon her graciously, "we will find a punishment for you; and as we have made you act as a judge where you little perhaps expected it, we will now make you a witness of things that you expected still less, but which your lips must never divulge till you are authorised to do so. Go as fast as possible to my oratory close by the little cabinet of audience, there you will find good Monsieur la Chaise: direct him to ring the bell, and--after having told Bontems to summon Monsieur de Montchevreuil and the Archbishop, who is still here, I think--to come hither himself as speedily as possible. You will accompany him."

What were the King's intentions Clemence de Marly scarcely could divine; but seeing that her words had evidently given happiness both to the King and to Madame de Maintenon, and judging from that fact that her own best hopes for the deliverance of him she loved might be on the eve of accomplishment, she flew rather than ran to obey the King's directions. She found the King's confessor, La Chaise, waiting, evidently for the return of the King, with some impatience. The message which she brought him seemed to excite his astonishment greatly; but after pausing for a moment to consider what kind of event that message might indicate, the old man clasped his hands, exclaiming, "This is G.o.d's work, the King's salvation is now secure."

He then did as he had been directed, rang the bell for Bontems, gave the order as he had received it, and hurried after Clemence along the corridor of the palace. At the door of Madame de Maintenon's apartment the young lady paused, for there were voices speaking eagerly within, and she feared to intrude upon the monarch. His commands to return, however, had been distinct, and she consequently opened the door and entered. Madame de Maintenon was standing by the table with her eyes bent down, and her colour much heightened. The King was also standing, and with a slight frown upon his countenance was regarding a person who had been added to the party since Clemence had left it. This was no other than the minister Louvois, whose coa.r.s.e harsh features seemed filled with sullen mortification, which even the presence of the King could scarcely restrain from breaking forth in angry words. His eyes were bent down, not in humility but in stubborness, his shoulders a little raised, and he was muttering rather than speaking when Clemence entered. The only words, however, that were audible were, "Your Majesty's will must be a law to yourself as well as to your people. I have ventured in all sincerity to express my opinion, and have nothing more to say."

The opening of the door caused Madame de Maintenon to raise her eyes, and when she saw Clemence and the confessor a glad and relieved smile played over her countenance, which was greatly increased by the words which the confessor addressed to the King immediately on his entrance.

"Sire," he said, without waiting for Louis to speak, "from what I have heard, and from what I see, I believe--nay, I am sure, that your Majesty is about to take a step which will, more than any that I know of, tend to insure your eternal salvation. Am I not right?" and he extended his hand towards Madame de Maintenon, as if that gesture were quite sufficient to indicate his full meaning.

"You are, my good father," replied the King; "and I am happy to find that so wise and so good a man as yourself approves of what I am doing. Monsieur Louvois here still seems discontented, though I have conceded so much to his views of policy as to promise that this marriage shall remain for ever private."

"What are views of policy," cried Pere la Chaise, "to your Majesty's eternal salvation? There are greater, there are higher considerations than worldly policy, Sire; but even were worldly policy all, I should differ with Monsieur Louvois, and say that you were acting as wisely in the things of this world as in reference to another."

"G.o.d knows, and this lady knows," said Louvois, "that my only opposition proceeds from views of policy. For herself, personally," he added, feeling that he might have offended one who was more powerful than even himself, "for herself, personally, she well knows that I have the most deep and profound respect; and, since it is to be, I trust that his Majesty will allow me to be one of the witnesses."

"a.s.suredly," replied the King. "I had so determined in my own mind, Monsieur de Louvois; and as we need not have more than three, we will dispense with this young lady's presence. Oh, here comes the Archbishop and Montchevreuil; my good father La Chaise, let me beg you to prepare an altar, even here. I have determined that all doubt and discussion upon this subject shall be over to-night. Explain, I beg you, to Monsieur de Harlay what are my views and intentions. One word, belle Clemence," he added, advancing to Clemence, and speaking to her with a gracious smile, "we shall not need your presence, fair lady, but you shall not want the bridemaid's presents. Come hither to-morrow half an hour before I go to the council; and as you have judged well and wisely in this cause to-night, we will endeavour to judge leniently on any cause that you may bring before us to-morrow."

Although the King spoke low, his words did not escape the keen ear of Louvois; and when Clemence raised her eyes to reply, they met those of the minister gazing upon her with a look of fiend-like anger, which seemed to imply, "You have triumphed over me for the time, and have thwarted me in a matter of deep moment. You think at the same time you have gained your own private end, but I will disappoint you."

Such at least was the interpretation that Clemence put upon that angry glance. For an instant it made her heart sink, but, recollecting her former courage the next instant, she replied boldly to the King, "My trust is always in your Majesty alone. I have ever had that trust; and what I have seen to-night would show me clearly, that let us expect what we may of your Majesty's magnanimity and generosity no disappointment will await us."

Thus saying she retired; and what farther pa.s.sed in the chamber that she quitted--though it affected the destinies of Louis, and of France, and of Europe, more than any event which had taken place for years--remains in the records of history amongst those things which are known though not proved, and are never doubted even though no evidence of their reality exists.

CHAPTER V.

THE ESCAPE.

The hope delayed, which maketh the heart sick, had its wearing effect upon the Count de Morseiul. His countenance showed it in every line; the florid hue of strong health was beginning to pa.s.s away; and one morning, in taking his usual walk up and down the court of the Bastille in company with the bluff old English officer we have mentioned, his companion, after gazing in his face for a moment, as if something therein had suddenly struck him, said, "You look ill, young gentleman; what is the matter?"

"How is it possible that I can be otherwise," said the Count, "confined as I am here, and lingering on from day to day, without any knowledge of what is pa.s.sing regarding myself, or of the fate of friends that I love, or of the condition of all those in whose happiness I am interested?"

"Poo! you must bear things more lightly," answered the old soldier.

"Why here, you, a youth, a mere boy, have plenty of time before you to spare a year or two for imprisonment. Think of what a difference there is between you and me: here am I without a day too much to spare in life; while to you neither months nor years are any thing. As to your friends without, too, trouble not your brain about them. The world would go on just as well without you and I, if we were put out of it to-morrow; friends would find new friends, sweethearts gain new lovers, servants betake them to new masters, and the roses would grow, and the birds would sing, and love, and war, and policy, and the wind of heaven, would have their course as if nothing had happened. There might be a few drops in some eyes which would fall like a spring shower, and be dried up again as soon. However," he added, seeing that his philosophy was not very much to the taste of the young Count, "you must live in the world as long as I have done ere you can take such hard lessons home; and if it be but communication with your friends without that you want, I should think that might be obtained easily."

"I see not how that is to be done," replied the Count. "If they had allowed me to have my valet here there would have been no difficulty, for I do not think that even stone walls would keep in his wit."

"Oh, we can do without him, I dare say," replied the old man. "If you write me down a note, containing few words, and no treason, doubtless I can find means, perhaps this very day, of sending it forth to any one that you will. In my apartment we shall find paper, which I got not long ago; some sort of ink we will easily manufacture for ourselves. So, come: that will revive hope a little for you; and though I cannot promise you an answer, yet perhaps one may be obtained too. There are old friends of mine that sometimes will drop in to see me; and what I propose to do, is to give your note to one of the prisoners I have spoken with, who expects to be liberated to-day or to-morrow, and direct the answer to be sent by some one who is likely to come to see me."

The young Count gladly availed himself of this proposal; and the means of writing having, by one prison resource or another, been obtained, he wrote a few brief words, detailing the anxiety and pain he suffered, and begging some immediate information as to the probability of his obtaining his freedom, and regarding the situation of those that he loved best. He couched his meaning in language as vague as possible, and addressed the note to his valet, Jerome Riquet, fearing to write to Clemence, lest he should by any means draw suspicion and consequent evil upon her. The old English officer undertook to give all the necessary directions for its delivery, and when they met again in the evening, he a.s.sured him that the note was gone.

At an early hour on the following morning the Englishman was called away from him to speak with some one admitted by an order from the minister; and in about ten minutes after he joined the Count, and slipped a small piece of folded paper into his hand, saying, in a low voice, "Do not look at it now, or leave me immediately, for there are several of these turnkeys about, and we must not create suspicion."

After a few more turns, however, the old man said, "Now, Monsieur de Morseiul," and the Count hastening to his chamber, opened the note which was in the handwriting of Riquet.

"I have been obliged," it said, "to keep out of the way, and to change my shape a dozen times, on account of the business of the Exempt; but--from what the Count says, and from hearing that Monsieur de Louvois swore last night by all the G.o.ds that he worships, that, on account of some offence just given, he will bring the Count's head to the block within a week, as he did that of Monsieur de Rohan--a bold stroke will be struck to-day. The Count will be set at liberty about two o'clock, and the moment he is at liberty he must neither go to King nor ministers, nor to his own house, either in Paris or at Versailles, but to the little inn called the Golden c.o.c.k, in the Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine, call himself Monsieur du Sac, and ask for the horse his servant brought. Having got it, let him ride on for Poitou as fast as he can go. He will meet friends by the way."

This was all that the note contained, and what was the bold stroke that Riquet alluded to the Count could not divine. He judged, indeed, that perhaps it was quite as well he should be ignorant of the facts; and after having impressed all the directions contained in the note upon his mind, he destroyed the paper, and was preparing to go down again into the court.

It so happened, however, that he paused for a moment, and took up one of the books which he was still reading, when an officer, who was called the Major of the Bastille, entered the room, and summoned him to the presence of the governor. The Count immediately followed, and pa.s.sing through the gate into the Court of Government, he found Besmaux waiting in the corps de garde, with a blithe and smiling countenance.