When within a few miles of the château of Beauté, Armand Chauvin was sent forward to announce the near approach of the duchess; and she herself, though the weather was still intensely cold, notwithstanding the brightness of the sunshine, ordered the curtains of the litter to be looped up, in order that she might see the castle before she actually reached it. Her anxiety evidently increased as they came nearer and nearer the dwelling of her husband. And who is there, after being long absent from those they love, who does not, on approaching the place of their abode, feel a strange, thrilling anxiety in regard to all that time may have done? It is at that moment that the uncertainty of human fate, the hourly peril of every happiness, the dark possibilities of every moment of existence seem to rush upon the mind at once. I have often thought that, if man could but know the giddy pinnacle upon which his fortunes ever stand, the precipices that surround him on every side; the perils above, below, around, life would be intolerable. But he is placed in the midst of friendly mists, that conceal the abysses from his eye, and is led on by a hand--in those mists equally unseen--which guides his steps aright, and brings him home at length. It is only the intense anxiety of affection for those we love that ever wafts the vapors away, even for a moment, and gives us a brief sight of the dangers that surround our mortal being, while the hand of the Almighty Guide remains concealed, and but too often untrusted.
While still at some miles' distance from the castle, the towers and pinnacles were seen peeping over the shoulder of a wooded hill, and then they were lost again, and seen, and lost once more. The duchess then beckoned up Jean Charost to the side of her litter, conversed with him some time, and asked him many questions: how long he had been with the duke, who commended him to her husband's service, what was his family and his native place. She asked, too, more particularly regarding her husband's health, whether his illness had been sudden, or announced by any previous symptoms of declining health; but she asked not one question regarding his conduct, his habits, or any of his acts. She did not need to ask, indeed; but, even if she had not known too well, still she would have abstained.
At length the hill was climbed, the wood was passed, the gate of the château of Beauté was in view, with attendants already marshaled on each side of the draw-bridge, to honor the duchess's reception. As soon as the head of her little escort appeared upon the road, a page ran into the ward-room of the great tower, and the next instant another figure came forth with that of the boy, and advanced along the bridge. Greatly to Jean Charost's joy and satisfaction, he recognized the figure of the duke, and when he looked toward the duchess, he saw a bright and grateful drop sparkling in her eyes, which, in spite of a struggle to repress it, rolled over and moistened her cheek. Another moment, and the duke stood beside the litter; the mules stopped, and, bending forward, he cast his arms around his wife. She leaned her head upon his shoulder, and there must have shed tears; but they were soon banished, and all parties bore a look of joy. Jean Charost could not help remarking, however, that the duke was very pale, and looked older by some years than when he had last seen him. But still, there was one thing very satisfactory in his aspect to the eyes of the young man. There was a gladness, a lightness of expression, an affectionate earnestness in his greeting of the duchess which, from all he had heard and knew, he had not expected. There was great satisfaction, too, on the faces of all the elder attendants. Lomelini looked quite radiant, and even Monsieur Blaize forgot his ancient formality, and suffered his face to overrun with well-pleased smiles. He laid a friendly grasp, too, upon Jean Charost's arm, as the duke and duchess passed into the château, and walked on with him across the court, saying, in a low voice, "You have done a good service, my young friend, in bringing that lady back to this house, which might well atone for a great number of faults. She has not been here for four years."
"I hope I have not accumulated many faults to atone for, good sir," answered Jean Charost, smiling. "If I have, I am unconscious of them."
"Oh, of course, that is between you and your own conscience," answered Monsieur Blaize, in an off-hand kind of way. "It is no business of mine."
"I am glad to hear, at least, that it is not you I have offended," answered Jean Charost. "You were my first friend in the household, Monsieur Blaize, and I should be very sorry to give you any cause for reproach."
"Oh, no--no!" answered the oldécuyer. "You have done nothing against me at all. But as to the duchess--how has she passed the journey? Did she meet with any difficulty or misadventure by the way?"
"None whatever," answered the young secretary. "None were apprehended, I presume." And then, judging Monsieur Blaize more clear-sightedly than might have been expected in so young a man, he added, "Had there been any danger, of course the duke would have sent yourself or some gentleman of military experience."
Monsieur Blaize was evidently well satisfied with the reply; but still he rejoined, "Perhaps I could not well be spared from this place during his highness's illness. We were in great consternation here, I can tell you, my young friend."
"Has he been very ill, then?" asked the secretary.
"For two days after you were gone," replied Monsieur Blaize, "no one thought to see him rise from his bed again; and he himself evidently thought his last hours were coming. He sent for notaries, made his will, and was driven at length to get a leech from Paris--a very skillful man indeed. He consulted the moon, and the aspect of the stars; chose the auspicious moment, gave him benzoin and honey, besides a fever drink, and some drops, of which he would not tell the secret, but which we all believed to be potable gold. It is wonderful, the effect they had. He announced boldly that, at the change of the moon, on the third day, the duke would be better; and so it proved. His highness watched anxiously for the minute, and immediately the clock struck he declared that he felt relieved, to our very great joy. Since that time, he has continued to improve: but he can not be called well yet. And now, if you will take my advice, you will go and order yourself something to eat at the buttery, and then lie down and rest; for you look as haggard and worn as an old courtier. It was too heavy a task to put upon a boy like you."
Jean Charost, during the whole of this conversation, had been carrying on in his own mind, as we so continually do, a separate train or undercurrent of thought, as to what could be the faults which good Monsieur Blaize seemed to impute to him; and he came to conclusions very naturally which proved not far from the truth. There was but one point in his whole history in regard to which there was any thing like mystery, and he judged rightly that, if men were inclined to attribute to him any evil act, they must fix upon that point as a basis. He was determined to learn more, if possible, however; and, in reply to Monsieur Blaize's advice to get food and rest, he said, laughingly, "Oh no, Monsieur Blaize, before I either eat or sleep, I must go down to the hamlet, to see my baby."
"Well, you speak of it coolly enough," replied Monsieur Blaize.
"Why should I not?" answered Jean Charost, quickly. But the old gentleman suddenly turned away and left him; and Jean Charost was at once convinced that some calumny had been circulated among the household in regard to the child which had been so strangely thrown upon his hands. By early misfortunes and difficulties he had been taught to decide rapidly and energetically, and his mind was soon made up on the present occasion, to seek the first opportunity of telling his own story to the Duke of Orleans, and explaining every thing, as far as it was in his power to explain. In the mean while, however, as soon as he had given some directions to Martin Grille, he strolled down to the hamlet and sought out the house of Madame Moulinet. He knocked first with his hand, and there being no answer, though he thought he heard the voices of persons within, he opened the door and entered at once into the kitchen. Madame Moulinet was seated there, with the child upon her knee; but the door on the opposite side of the room was closing just as Jean Charost went in, and he caught a glance of a black velvet mantle, before it was actually shut.
"How thrives the child, Madame Moulinet?" asked Jean Charost, looking down upon the infant with a glance of interest, but with none of that peculiar admiration which grown women feel and grown men often affect for a very young baby.
The good woman assured him that the child was doing marvelously, and Jean Charost then proceeded to inquire whether any one, during his absence, had been to visit or inquire after it.
"Oh, a quantity of people from the castle, sir," answered the good dame; "that saucy young fellow De Royans among the rest, and old Monsieur Blaize, and the chaplain, and the fool, God wot! But beside that--" and she dropped her voice to a lower tone--"one evening, just as we were going to bed, there came a strange, wild-looking gentleman, with long gray hair, who seemed so mad he frightened both me and my husband. He asked a number of questions. Then he stared at the child for full five minutes, and cried out at length, 'Ah! she doubtless looked once like that,' and then he threw down a purse upon the table with fifty gold crowns in it. So the little maid has got her little fortune already."
"Did you not know him?" asked Jean Charost.
"I never saw him in my life before," replied the woman; "and, in truth, I did not know how to answer any one when they asked me about the child, as you were gone, and had not told me what to say; so all I could tell them was that you had brought her here, had paid well for nursing her, and had commanded me to take good care of her in the name of my good father's old lord."
"And was that wild-looking man not your father's old lord?" asked Jean Charost, in a tone of much surprise.
"Lord bless your heart, no sir," replied Madame Moulinet. "A hand's breadth taller, and not half so stout--quite a different sort of man altogether."
Jean Charost mused in silence; but he asked no further questions, and shortly after returned to the château.
In passing through the court-yard, the first person the young gentleman encountered was Seigneur André the fool, who at once began upon the subject of the child with a good deal of malevolence. "Ah, ha! Mr. Secretary," he said, "I want to roam the forests with you, and find out the baby-tree that bears living acorns. On my faith, the duke ought to knight you with his own hand, being the guide of ladies, and the protector of orphans, the defender of women and children."
"My good friend," replied Jean Charost, "I think he ought to promote you also. I have heard of a good many gentlemen of your profession; but all the rest are mere pretenders to you. The others only call themselves fools; you are one in reality;" and with these tart words, excited as much, perhaps, by some new feeling of doubt and perplexity in his own mind, as by the jester's evident ill will toward him, he walked on and sought his own chamber.
The rest of the day passed without any incident worthy of notice, except some little annoyance which the young secretary had to endure from a very general feeling of ill will toward him among those who had been longer in the service of the Duke of Orleans than himself. He was unconscious, indeed, of deserving it, but one of the sad lessons of the world was being learned: that success and favor create bitter enemies; and he had already made some progress in the study. He took no notice, therefore, of hints, jests, and insinuations, but sought his own room as soon as supper was over, and remained reading for nearly an hour. At the end of that time, one of the duke's menial attendants entered, saying briefly, "Monsieur De Brecy, his highness has asked to see you in his toilet chamber."
Jean Charost followed immediately, and found the duke seated in his furred dressing-gown, as if prepared to retire to rest. His face was grave, and there was a certain degree of sternness about it which Jean Charost had never remarked there before. He spoke kindly, however, and bade the young gentleman be seated.
"I hear from the duchess, my friend," he said, "that you have well and earnestly executed the task I gave you to perform, and I thank you. I wish, however, to hear some more particular account of your journey from your own lips. You arrived, it seems, at Blois sooner than I imagined you could have accomplished the journey. You must have ridden hard."
"I lost no time, your highness," answered Jean Charost; "but an event happened on the road which made me ride one whole night without stopping, although the horses were very tired. It is absolutely necessary, when you have leisure, that I should relate to your highness all the particulars of that night's adventure, as they may be of importance, the extent of which I can not judge."
The duke smiled with a well-pleased look. "Tell me all about it now," he said. "I shall not go to bed for an hour; so we shall have time enough."
Succinctly, but as clearly and minutely as possible, Jean Charost then related to the prince all that had occurred between himself and the Duke of Burgundy, and took especial care to mention his visit to the house of the astrologer, and his having been guided by a stranger on the way to Blois. The duke listened with a countenance varying a good deal, sometimes assuming an expression of deep grave thought, and at others of gay, almost sarcastic merriment. At length he laughed outright.
"See what handles," he said, "men will make of very little things! But truth and honesty will put down all. I am glad you have frankly told me all this, De Brecy."
Then he paused again for a moment or two, and added, abruptly, "My good cousin of Burgundy--he was always the most curious and inquisitive of men. I do believe this was all curiosity, my friend. I do not think he meant you any evil, or me either. He wanted to know all; for he is a very suspicious man."
"I think, sir, he is one of the most disagreeable men I ever saw," replied Jean Charost. "Even his condescension has something scornful in it."
"And yet, De Brecy," replied the duke, "out of this very simple affair of your meeting with John of Burgundy, there be people who would have fain manufactured a charge against you."
Jean Charost gazed in the duke's race with some surprise, never having dreamed that the intelligence of what had occurred on the road could have reached him so soon. "I am surprised that Armand should attribute any evil to me, sir," he said; "for he must have seen how eager I was to escape."
"Acquit poor Armand," said the duke. "He had naught to do with the affair; but you have enemies in this house, De Brecy, who will find that their master understands courts and courtiers, and will never shake my good opinion of you, so long as you are honest and frank with me. They set on that malicious fool, André, to pick out some mischief from Armand Chauvin. He got him to relate all that had happened, and then, when I sent for the fool to divert me for half an hour, he told me, with his wise air, that you had had a secret interview with the Duke of Burgundy, which lasted several hours. It is strange how near half a truth sometimes comes to a whole lie! They have not been wanting in their friendship for you during your absence. Nevertheless, I doubt not you could explain all their tales as easily as you have done this--even if you have committed some slight indiscretion, I have no right to tax you. Well, well--good-night. Some day I will say something more, as your friend--as one who has more experience--as one who has suffered, if he has sinned."
"I thank your highness," replied Jean Charost, "and will not presume to intrude upon you further to-night; but there is one matter of much importance to myself--of none to your highness--which I would fain communicate to you for counsel and direction in my inexperience, when you can give me a few minutes' audience."
"Ha!" said the duke; but as he spoke the clock of the castle struck eleven, and saying, "To-morrow morning--to-morrow morning I will send for you," he suffered the young secretary to retire.
In the court-yard of the château of Beauté--a long, but somewhat narrow parallelogram--were assembled most of the male members of the Duke of Orleans's household, two days after the return of Jean Charost from Blois. Some were on horseback, and some on foot; and nine or ten of the younger men were armed with a long ash staff, shaped somewhat like a lance, while the rest of the party were in their ordinary riding-dresses, with no arms but the customary sword and dagger. All these were gathered together at one end of the court, while a trumpeter, holding his trumpet with its bell-shaped mouth leaning on his hip, was placed a little in advance.
At the other end of the court stood a column of wood, perhaps six feet in height, surmounted by a grotesque-looking carved image, representing the upper part of a man, with both arms extended, and a long, heavy cudgel in each hand. After a moment's pause, and a consultation among the elder heads, one of the inferior servants was sent forward for purposes that will speedily be shown, to act as, what was called, master of theQuintain; but he took care to place himself beyond the sweep of the cudgel in the hand of the image so called.
The sport about to begin was of very ancient date, and had been generally superseded by somewhat more graceful exercises; but the Duke of Orleans was very fond of old customs, and had revived many chivalrous sports which had fallen out of use. At a signal from Monsieur Blaize, who was on foot, the trumpeter put his instrument of noise to his lips, and blew a blast which, well understood, ranged the young cavaliers instantly in line, and then, after a moment's pause, sounded a charge. One of the party instantly sprung forward, lance in rest, toward the Quintain, aiming directly at the centre of the head of the figure. He was quite a young lad, and his arm not very steady, so that he somewhat missed his mark, and struck the figure on the cheek. Moving on a pivot, the Quintain whirled round under the blow, with the arms still extended, and, as the horse carried the youth on, he must have received a tremendous stroke from the wooden cudgel on his back, had he not bent down to his horse's neck, so that the blow passed over him. Some laughed; but Juvenel de Royans, who was the next but one to follow, exclaimed aloud, "That's not fair."
"Quite fair, I think," replied Jean Charost, who was near.
"What do you know about it?" cried the other, impetuously. "Keep yourself to pens, and things you understand."
"I may, perhaps, understand it better than you, Monsieur De Royans," replied Jean Charost, quite calmly. "It is the favorite game at Bourges, and we consider that the next best point to hitting the Quintain straight, is to avoid the blow."
"That's the coward's point, I suppose," said Juvenel de Royans.
"Hush! hush!" cried Monsieur Blaize. "Silence, sir. Sound again, trumpet!"
Another ran his course, struck the Quintain better, but did not dismount it; and De Royans succeeded striking the figure right in the middle of the forehead, and shaking the whole post, but still leaving the wooden image standing.
The great feat of the game was, not only to aim the spear so fair as to avoid turning the figure in the least, but so low that the least raising of the point at the same time threw it backward from its pivot. But this was a somewhat dangerous manœuvre; for the chest of the image being quite flat, and unmarked by any central point, the least deviation to the right or left swung round one of the cudgels with tremendous force, and the young gentleman did not venture to attempt it.
Jean Charost, however, who, as a mere boy, had been trained to the exercise by his father, aimed right at the breast; but he paid for his temerity by a severe blow, which called forth a shout of laughter from De Royans and his companions. Others followed, who fared as badly, without daring as much.
Each time the Quintain was moved, the servant who had been sent forward readjusted it with the greatest care, and when each of the young men had run his course, the troop commenced again.
The rivalry between De Royans and De Brecy was by this time a well-understood thing in the château, and little heed was paid to the running of the rest till it came to the turn of the former. He then, with a sort of mock courtesy, besought Jean Charost to take his turn, saying, "You are the superior officer, sir, and, to say truth, I would fain learn that dexterous trick of yours, if you venture upon it again."
"I certainly shall," replied Jean Charost, "and I shall be happy to teach you that, or better things. I will run first. The Quintain is not straight," he continued, calling to the master of the Quintain. "Advance the right arm an inch."
There was some little dispute as to whether the Quintain was straight or not, but in the end the trumpet again sounded. Jean Charost, with a better aim, hit the figure in the middle of the chest, and raising his arm lightly at the same instant, threw it back upon the ground. Then wheeling his horse, while the servant replaced it, he returned to his post. But no one said "Well done," except old Monsieur Blaize; and Juvenel de Royans bit his lip, with a red spot on his cheek.
Rash, confident, and angry, he took no pains to see that the figure was exactly straight, but dashed forward when the trumpet sounded, resolved not to be outdone, aiming directly at the chest. Whether his horse swerved, or the figure was not well adjusted, I do not know; but he hit it considerably to the right of the centre, and, as he was carried forward, the merciless cudgel struck him a blow on the back of the neck which hurled him out of the saddle to the ground.
Jean Charost did not laugh; but he could not refrain from a smile, which caught De Royans's eyes as he led his horse back again. The latter was dizzy and confused, however, and for a moment, after he had given his horse to a servant, he stood gnawing his lip, without uttering a word to any one. At length, as the others were running their course, however, he walked up to the side of Jean Charost, who was now a little apart from the rest, and some quick words and meaning glances were seen to pass between them. Their voices grew louder; De Royans touched the hilt of his sword; and Jean Charost nodded his head, saying something in a low tone.
"For shame! for shame!" said Monsieur Blaize, approaching; but, ere he could add more, a casement just above their heads opened, and the voice of the Duke of Orleans was heard.
"Juvenel de Royans," he said, "have you any inclination for a dungeon? There are cells to fit you under the castle; and, as I live, you shall enjoy one if you broil in my household. I know you, sir; so be warned. De Brecy, come here; I want you."
Jean Charost immediately dismounted, gave his horse to Martin Grille, and ascended to the gallery from which the Duke of Orleans had been watching the sports of the morning. It was a large room, communicating, by a door in the midst and a small vestibule, with that famous picture-gallery which has been already mentioned. Voices were heard talking beyond; but the duke, after his young secretary's arrival, continued for a few minutes walking up and down the same chamber in which Jean Charost found him, leaning lightly on his arm.
"I know not how it is, my young friend," he said, in a sort of musing tone, "but the people here are clearly not very fond of you. However, I must insist that you take no notice whatever of that peevish boy, De Royans."
"I am most willing, sir," said Jean Charost, "to live at peace with him and every one else, provided they will leave me at peace likewise. I have given neither him nor them any matter for offense, and yet I will acknowledge that since my first entrance into your highness's household, I have met with little but enmity from any but good Monsieur Blaize and Signor Lomelini, who are both, I believe, my friends."
The duke mused very gravely, and then replied, "I know not how it is. To me it seems that there is nothing in your demeanor and conduct but that which should inspire kindness, and even respect. And yet," he continued, after a moment's pause, his face brightening with a gay, intelligent smile, not uncommon upon it when that acuteness, which formed one point in his very varied character, was aroused, by some accidental circumstance, from the slumber into which it sometimes fell--"and yet I am a fool to say I do not know how it is. I do know right well, my young friend. Men of power and station do not enough consider that all who surround them are more or less engaged in a race, whose rivalry necessarily deviates into enmity; and their favor, whenever it is given, is followed by the ill will of many toward the single possessor. The more just and the more generous of the competitors content themselves with what they can obtain, or, at all events, do not deny some portion of merit to a more fortunate rival; but the baser and the meaner spirits--and they are the most numerous--not only envy, but hate; not only hate, but calumniate."
"I am most grateful, sir, for all your kindness toward me," replied Jean Charost; "but I can not at all attribute the enmity of Monsieur de Royans, or any of the rest, to jealousy of your favor, for from the moment I entered your household it was the same."
"Oil and water do not easily mix," answered the duke. "The qualities for which I esteem you make them hate you; not that your character and mine are at all alike--very, very different. But there be some substances, which, though most opposite to others, easily mingle with them; others which, with more apparent similarity, are totally repugnant. Your feelings are not my feelings, your thoughts not my thoughts, yet I can comprehend and appreciate you; these men can not."
"I am afraid, sir," said Jean Charost, "that I owe your good opinion more to a prepossession in my favor than to any meritorious acts of my own; for, indeed, I have had no opportunity of serving you."
"Yes, you have, greatly," replied the duke; "not perhaps by acts, but by words, which prove often the greatest services. He who influences a man's mind, De Brecy, affects him more than he who influences his mere earthly fortunes. I have often thought," he continued, in a musing tone, "that we are never sufficiently grateful to those by whose writings, by whose example, by whose speech, our hearts, our feelings, or our reason have been formed and perfected. The mind has a fortune as well as the body, and the latter is inferior to the former. But set your mind at rest; they can not affect my opinion toward you. There is but one thing which has puzzled me a little; this child, which they tell me has been placed by you at one of the cottages hard by, I would fain know who are its parents."
"On that subject I can tell your highness nothing," replied Jean Charost; "but the whole history, as far as I can give it, I will give."
"Hush!" said the duke, looking toward the picture-gallery, the door from which was opened by the duchess at that moment.
"There is nothing, sir, that I am afraid or ashamed to tell before the duchess," replied Jean Charost. "The case may be strange; but, as far as it affects me, it is a very simple one."
"Well, then," said the duke, turning to the duchess, who was advancing slowly and somewhat timidly, "you shall speak on, and your narrative shall be our morning's amusement."
His whole air changed in a moment; and, with a gay and sparkling look, he said to the duchess, "Come hither, my sweet wife, and assist at the trial of this young offender. He is charged before me of preaching rather than practicing, of frowning, like a Franciscan, on all the lighter offenses of love; and yet, what think you, I am told he has a fair young lady, who has followed him hither, and is boarded by him in one of the cottages just below the castle, when I do believe that, were I but to give a glance at any pretty maiden, I should have as sour a look as antique abbess ever gave to wavering nun."
The duchess looked in Jean Charost's face for an instant, and then said, "I'll be his surety, sir, that the tale is false."
"Not so, indeed, your highness," replied Jean Charost. "The tale is mostly true; but the duke should have added that this fair maid can not be three months old."
"Worse and worse!" cried the duke; "you can not escape penance for one sin, my friend, by pleading a still greater one. But tell us how all this happened; let us hear your defense."
"It is a plain and true one, sir," replied Jean Charost. "The very morning after our arrival here, I rode out for exercise, accompanied only by my lackey, Martin Grille. In a wood, perhaps four miles distant, we saw the smoke of a fire rising up not far from the road. My man is city born, and full of city fears. He fancied that every tree concealed a plunderer, and though he did not infect me with his apprehensions, he excited my curiosity about this fire; so--"
"Judging that a fire must have some one to light it," said the duke, "you went to see. That much has been told in every nook of the house, from the garret to the guest-chamber. What happened next?"
"I tracked the marks of horse's feet," said Jean Charost, "from the road through the wood, some hundred yards into the bushes, catching the smoke still rising blue among the dark brown trees, and, of course, appearing nearer as I went. I heard people talking loud, too, and therefore fancied that I could get still nearer without being seen. But suddenly, two men, who were lying hid hard by the path I had taken, started out and seized me, crying 'Here is a spy--a spy!' A number of others rushed up shouting and swearing, and I was soon dragged on to the spot where the fire was lighted, which was a small open space beneath an old beech-tree. There I found some three or four others lying on the snow, all fully armed but one. Horses were standing tied around. A lance was here and there leaning against the trees, and battle-axes and maces were at many a saddle-bow; but I must say that the harness was somewhat rusty, and the faces of my new acquaintances not very clean or trim. The one who was unarmed, and who I supposed was a prisoner like myself, stood before the fire with his arms crossed on his chest. He was a tall man of middle age, with his hair very gray, somewhat plainly dressed, but with an air of stern, grave dignity not easily forgotten."
"Had he no arms at all?" asked the duke.
"None whatever, sir," replied Jean Charost; "not even sword or dagger. One large, bulky man, lying as quietly on the snow as if it had been a bed of down, had his feet to the fire, and, resting between them, I saw, to my surprise, a young child, well wrapped up, with nothing but the face peeping out, and sleeping soundly on a bed of pine branches. I should weary your highness with all that happened. At first it seemed that they would take my life, vowing that I had come to spy out their movements; then they would have had me go with them and make one of their band, giving me the choice of that or death. As I chose the latter, they were about to give it me without much ceremony, when the unarmed man interfered, in a tone of authority I had not expected to hear him use. He commanded them, in short, to desist; and, after whispering for a moment or two with the bulky man I have mentioned, he pointed to the child, and told me that, if I would swear most solemnly to guard and protect her, to be a father to her, and to see that she was nourished and educated in innocence and truth, they would let me go."
"Did you know the man?" asked the Duke of Orleans, with a look of more interest than he had before displayed.
"No, sir," replied the young secretary. "A faint, faint recollection of having somewhere seen a face like his I assuredly did feel; but he certainly seemed to know me, spoke of me as one attached to your highness, and asked how long I had left Paris. His words were wild and whirling, indeed; a few sentences he would speak correctly enough; but they seemed forced from him, as if with pain, straining his eye upon the fire or upon the ground, and falling into silence again as soon as they were uttered."
"Was he some merchant, perhaps?" asked the duke; "some one who has had dealings with our friend, Jacques Cœur?"
"He was no merchant, sir," said Jean Charost; "but I think, if ever I did see him before, it must have been with Jacques Cœur, for he had dealings with many men of high degree; and I doubt not that this person, however plain his garb and strange his demeanor, is a man of noble blood and a high name."
The young man paused, as if there were more to be said which he hesitated to utter; and then, after giving a somewhat anxious glance toward the duchess, he added, "I may remember more incidents hereafter, sir, which I will not fail to tell you."
"Did he give you no sign or token with this child," asked the duke, "by which one may trace her family and history? Did he tell you nothing of her parents?"
"He said he was not her father," replied Jean Charost, gravely; "but that was all the information he afforded. He gave me this ring, too," continued the young man, producing one, "and a purse of gold pieces to pay for her nourishment."
The duke took the ring and examined it carefully; but it was merely a plain gold circle without any distinctive mark. Nevertheless, Jean Charost thought his master's hand shook a little as he held the ring, and the duchess, who was looking over her husband's shoulder, said, "It is a strange story. Pray, tell me, Monsieur de Brecy, was this gentleman the same who spoke to you at the inn-door upon the road?"
"The same, madam," replied Jean Charost.
"Who was he? Did you ever see him before?" asked the duke, turning toward his wife with an eager look.
"Never," answered the duchess; "but he was a very singular and distinguished-looking man. He was a gentleman assuredly, and I should think a soldier; for he had a deep scar upon the forehead which cut straight through the right eyebrow."
The duke returned the ring to Jean Charost in silence; but the moment after he turned so deadly pale that the duchess exclaimed, "You are ill, my lord. You have exerted yourself too much to-day. You forget your late sickness, and how weak you are."
"No, no," replied the duke. "I feel somewhat faint: it will pass by in a moment. Let us go into the picture-gallery. I will sit down there in the sunshine."
Without reply, the duchess put her arm through his, and led him onward to the gallery, making a sign for Jean Charost to follow; and the duke, seating himself in a large chair, gazed over the walls, still marked by a lighter color here and there where a picture had lately hung.
"Those walls must be cleaned," he said, at length; "though I doubt if the traces can be obliterated."
"Oh, yes," answered the duchess, in a tone of sportive tenderness; "there is no trace of any of man's acts which can not be effaced, either by his own deeds, or his friend's efforts, or his God's forgiveness."
She spoke to his thoughts rather than to his words, and the duke took her hand, and pressed his lips upon it. Then, turning to Jean Charost, he pointed to the picture of the duchess, saying, "Is not that one worthy to remain when all the rest are gone?"
"Most worthy, sir," replied the young secretary, a little puzzled what to answer. "The others were mere daubs to that."
"What, then, you saw them?" said the duchess.
"His hands burned them," replied the duke.
"That strange man whom we met," replied the duchess, "declared that he was faithful and true, where all were false and deceitful; and so he will be to us, Louis. Trust him, my husband--trust him."
"I will," replied the duke. "But here comes Lomelini."
The duchess drew herself up, cast off the tender kindliness of her look, and assumed a cold and icy stateliness; and the duke, inclining his head to Jean Charost, added, "Leave us now, my young friend. This afternoon or evening I shall have need of you. Then we will speak further; so be not far off."
Jean Charost bowed and retired; and, turning to the maître d'hôtel, the duke said, in a low voice, "Set Blaize, or some one you can trust, to watch that young man. There have been high words between him and Juvenel de Royans. See that nothing comes of it. If you remark any thing suspicious, confine De Royans to his chamber, and set a guard."
"Does your highness mean De Royans alone or both?" asked Lomelini, softly.
"De Royans," answered the duke, sharply. "The one in fault, sir--the one always in fault. See my orders in train of execution, and then return."
All great events are made up of small incidents. The world is composed of atoms, and so is Fate. A man pulling a small bit of iron under a gun performs an act, abstractedly of not much greater importance than a lady when she pins her dress; but let this small incident be combined with three other facts: that of there being a cartridge in the gun; that of twenty thousand men all pulling their triggers at the same moment; that of there being twenty thousand men opposite, and you have the glorious event of a great battle, with its long sequence of misery and joy, glory and shame, affecting the world, perhaps, to the end of time.
Two little incidents occurred at the château of Beauté during the day, the commencement of which we have just noticed, not apparently very much worthy of remark, but which, nevertheless, must be noted down in this very accurate piece of chronology. The first was the arrival of a courier, whose face Jean Charost knew, though it was some time before he could fix it to the neck and shoulders of a man whom he had seen at Pithiviers, not in the colors of the house of Burgundy, but in those of fair Madame de Giac. The letter he bore was addressed to the Duke of Orleans, and it evidently troubled him--threw him into a fit of musing--occupied his thoughts for some moments--and made the duchess somewhat anxious lest evil news had reached her lord.
He did not tell her the contents of the note, however, nor return any answer at the time, but sent the man away with largesse, saying he would write.
The next incident was another arrival, that of a party of three or four gentlemen from Paris who were invited to stay at the château of Beauté that night, and who supped with the duke and duchess in the great hall. The duke's face was exceedingly cheerful, and his health was evidently-improved since the morning, when some secret cause seemed to have moved and depressed him a great deal.
The conversation principally turned upon the events which had lately taken place in Paris. They were generally of little moment; but one piece of intelligence the strangers brought was evidently, to the duke at least, of greater importance than the rest. The guests reported confidently that the unhappy king, Charles the Sixth, had shown decided symptoms of one of those periodical returns to reason which checkered with occasional bright gleams his dark and melancholy career. The duke seemed greatly pleased, mused upon the tidings, questioned his informant closely, but uttered not his own thoughts, whatever they might be, and retired to rest at an early hour.
During the whole of that day, without absenting himself for any length of time from his own apartments, Jean Charost wandered a good deal about the castle, and, to say sooth, looked somewhat impatiently for Juvenel de Royans in every place where he was likely to be met with. He did not find him any where, however; and, on asking Signor Lomelini where he should find the young gentleman, he was informed, dryly, that Monsieur De Royans was particularly engaged in some affairs of the duke's, and would not like to be disturbed.
The evening passed somewhat dully for Jean Charost, for he confined himself almost altogether to his own apartments, expecting every moment that the prince would send for him; but in this he was disappointed. He did not venture to retire to rest till nearly midnight; but then he slept as soundly as in life's happiest days; and he was only awakened in the morning by the sound of a trumpet, announcing, as he rightly judged, the departure of the preceding evening's guests.
He was dressing himself slowly and quietly, when Martin Grille bustled into the room, exclaiming, "Quick, sir, quick! or you will have no breakfast. Have you not heard the news? The duke sets out in half an hour for Paris, and you will be wanted, of course. Half the household stays here with the duchess. We go with twenty lances and the lay brethren, of which class--praised be God for all things!--you and I may consider ourselves."
"I have had no commands," replied Jean Charost; "but I will be ready, at all events."
Not many minutes elapsed, however, ere a notification reached him that he would be required to accompany the prince to the capital. All speed was made, and breakfast hastily eaten; but haste was unnecessary, for an hour or two elapsed before the cavalcade set out, and it did not reach Paris till toward the close of the day. The duke looked fatigued; and, as he dismounted in the court-yard of his hotel, he called Lomelini to him, saying, "Let me have some refreshment in my own chamber, Lomelini. Send to the prior of the Celestins, saying that I wish to see him to-morrow at noon. There will be a banquet, too, at night. Twelve persons will be invited, of high degree. De Brecy, I have something to say to you."
He then walked on up the steps into the house, Jean Charost following close; and after a moment or two, he turned, saying in a low voice, "Come to me as the clock strikes nine--come privately--by the toilet-chamber door. Enter at once, without knocking."
Several of the other attendants were following at some distance; but the duke spoke almost in a whisper, and his words were not heard. Jean Charost bowed, and fell back; but Lomelini, who had now become exceedingly affectionate again to the young secretary, said in his ear, "Come and sup in my room in half an hour. They will fare but ill in the hall to-night; for nothing is prepared here; but we will contrive to do better."
A few minutes afterward, the duke having been conducted to his chamber door, the attendants separated, and Jean Charost betook himself to his own rooms, where Martin Grille was already busily engaged in arranging his apparel in the large fixed coffers with which each chamber was furnished. There was a sort of nervous anxiety in the good man's manner, which struck his master the moment he entered; but laying his sword on the table, and seating himself by it, Jean Charost fell into a quiet, and somewhat pleasing fit of musing, just sufficiently awake to external things to remark that ever and anon Martin stopped his work and gave a quick glance at his face. At length the young gentleman rose, made some change in his apparel, removed the traces of travel from his person, and buckled on his sword again.
"Pray, sit," said Martin Grille, in a tone of fear and trepidation. "pray, sir, don't go through the little hall; for that boisterous, good-for-nothing bully, Juvenel de Royans, is there all alone, watching for you, I am sure. He was freed from his arrest this morning, and he would have fallen upon you on the road, I dare say, if there had not been so many persons round."
"His arrest?" said Jean Charost. "How came he in arrest?"
"On account of his quarrel with you yesterday morning. Monsieur De Brecy," replied Martin Grille. "Did you not know it? All the household heard of it."
"I have been deceived," answered Jean Charost. "Signor Lomelini told me he was engaged when I inquired for him. But you are mistaken, Martin: a few sharp words do not make exactly a quarrel, and there was no need of placing De Royans under arrest. It was a very useless precaution; so much so, indeed, that I think you must be mistaken. He must have given some offense to the duke: he gave none to me that could not easily be settled."
He then paused for a moment or two in thought, and added, "Wait here till I return, and if De Royans should come, tell him I am supping with Signor Lomelini, but will be back soon. Do as I order you, and make no remonstrance, if you please."
Thus saying, he left the room, and bent his steps at once toward the little hall, leaving at some distance on the right the great dining-hall, from which loud sounds of merriment were breaking forth. He hardly expected to find Juvenel de Royans still in the place where Martin Grille had seen him; for the sound of gay voices was ever ready to lead him away. On opening the door, however, the faint light in the room showed him a figure at the other end, beyond the table, moodily pacing to and fro from one side of the room to the other; and Jean Charost needed no second glance to tell him who it was. He advanced directly toward him, taking a diagonal line across the hall, so that De Royans could not suppose he was merely passing through.
The young man instantly halted, and faced him; but Jean Charost spoke first, saying, "My varlet told me, Monsieur De Royans, that you were here alone, and as I could not find you yesterday, when I sought for you, I am glad of the opportunity of speaking a few words with you."
"Sought for me!" cried De Royans. "Methinks no one ought to have known better where I was than yourself."
"You are mistaken," replied Jean Charost. "I asked Signor Lomelini where I could find you, and he told me you would be occupied all day in some business of the duke's."
"The lying old pander!" exclaimed De Royans, bitterly. "But our business may be soon settled, De Brecy. If you are inclined to risk a thrust here, I am ready for you. No place makes any difference in my eyes."
"In mine it does," replied Jean Charost, very quietly.
"You are not a coward, I suppose," cried the young man, impetuously.
"I believe not," replied Jean Charost; "and there are few things that I should be less afraid of than risking a thrust with you, Monsieur de Royans, in any proper place and circumstances. Here, in a royal house, you ought to be well aware we should subject ourselves, by broiling, to disgraceful punishment, and we can well afford to wait for a more fitting opportunity, which I will not fail to give you, if you desire it."
"Of course I do," replied Juvenel de Royans.
"I do not see the of course," replied Jean Charost. "I have never injured you in any thing, never insulted you in any way, have borne, perhaps too patiently, injury and insult from you, and have certainly the most cause to complain."
"Well, I am ready to satisfy you," exclaimed De Royans, with a laugh, "on horseback or on foot, with lance and shield, or sword and dagger. Do not let us spoil a good quarrel with silly explanations. We are both of one mind, it seems; let us settle preliminaries at once."
"I have not time to settle all preliminaries now," replied Jean Charost; "for I am expected in another place; but so far we can arrange our plan. The day after to-morrow I will ask the duke's permission to go for three days to Mantes. I will return at once to Meudon. You can easily get out of Paris for an hour or two, and join me there at theauberge. Then a ten minutes' walk will place us where we can settle our dispute without risk to the survivor."
"On my life, this is gallant!" cried De Royans, with a considerable change of expression. "You are a lad of spirit after all, De Brecy."
"You have insulted my father's memory by supposing otherwise," replied Jean Charost. "But do not let us add bitterness to our quarrel. We understand each other. Whenever you hear I am gone to Mantes, remember you will find me the next day at Meudon--and so good-night."
Thus saying, he left him, and hurried to the eating-room of Lomelini, who would fain have extracted from him what the duke had said to him as they passed into the house; but Jean Charost was upon his guard, and, as soon as supper was over, returned to his own chamber.
Martin Grille, though he had quick eyes, could discover no trace of emotion on his young master's countenance; and desperately tired of his solitary watch, he gladly received his dismissal for the night. A few minutes after, Jean Charost issued from his room again, and walked with a silent step to the door of the duke's toilet-chamber. No attendants were in waiting, as was usual, and following the directions he had received, he opened the door and entered. He was surprised to find the prince dressed in mantle and hood, as if ready to go out; but upon the table before him was lying a perfumed note, open, and another fastened, with rose-colored silk, and sealed.
"Welcome, De Brecy," said the duke, with a gay and smiling air; "I wish you to render me a service, my friend. You must take this note for me to-night to the house of Madame De Giac, give it into her own hand, hear what she says, and bring me her answer. I shall be at the queen's palace, near the Porte Barbette."
The blood rushed up into Jean Charost's face, covering it over with a woman-like blush. It was the most painful moment he had ever as yet experienced in existence. His mind instantly rushed to a conclusion from premises that he could hardly define to his own mind, much less explain to the Duke of Orleans. He fancied himself employed in the basest of services--used for the most disgraceful of purposes; and yet nothing had been said which could justify him in refusing to obey. Whether he would or not, however, and before he could consider, the words "Oh, sir!" burst from his lips, and his face spoke the rest plainly enough.
The Duke of Orleans gazed at him with a frowning brow and a flashing eye, and then demanded, in a loud, stern tone, "What is it you mean, sir?"
Jean Charost was silent for an instant, and then replied, with painful embarrassment, "I hardly know what I mean, your highness--I may be wrong, and doubtless am wrong--but I feared that the errand on which your highness sends me might be one unbecoming me to execute, and which your highness might afterward regret to have given." He had gone the step too far, so dangerous with the spoiled children of fortune.
The anger of the duke was excessive. He spoke loud and sharply, reproached his young secretary for presuming upon his kindness and condescension, and reproved him in no very measured terms for daring to intermeddle with his affairs; and Jean Charost, feeling at his heart that he had most assuredly exceeded, perhaps, the bounds of due respect, had come to conclusions for which there was no apparent foundation, and had suffered his suspicions to display themselves offensively, stood completely cowed before the prince. When the duke at length stopped, he answered, in a tone of sincere grief, "I feel that I have erred, sir, greatly erred, and that I should have obeyed your commands without even presuming to judge of them. Pray remember, however, that I am very young, perhaps too young for the important post I fill. If your highness dismisses me from your service, I can not be surprised; but believe me, sir, wherever I go, I shall carry with me the same feelings of gratitude and affection which had no small share in prompting the very conduct which has given you just offense."
"Affection and gratitude!" said the duke, still in an angry tone. "What can affection and gratitude have to do with disobedience to my commands, and impertinent intrusion into my affairs?"
"They might, sir," answered Jean Charost; "for your highness communicated to me at a former time some regrets, and I witnessed the happiness and calm of mind which followed the noble impulses that prompted them. Gratitude and affection, then, made me grieve to think that this very letter which I hold in my hand might give cause to fresh regrets, or perhaps to serious perils; for I am bound to say that I doubt this lady; that I doubt her affection or friendship for your highness; that I am sure she is linked most closely to your enemies."
"You should not have judged of my acts at all," replied the Duke of Orleans. "What I do not communicate to you, you have no business to investigate. Your judgment of the lady may be right or wrong; but in your judgment of my conduct you are altogether wrong. There is nothing in that note which I ever can regret, and, could you see its contents, you would learn at once the danger and presumption of intruding into what does not concern you. To give you the lesson, I must not sacrifice my dignity; and though, in consideration of your youth, your inexperience, and your good intentions, I will overlook your error in the present instance, remember it must not be repeated."
Jean Charost moved toward the door, while the duke remained in thought; but, before he reached it, the prince's voice was heard, exclaiming, in a more placable tone, "De Brecy, De Brecy, do you know the way?"
"As little in this case as in the last," replied Jean Charost, with a faint smile.
"Come hither, come hither, poor youth," cried the duke, holding out his hand to him good-humoredly. "There; think no more of it. All young men will be fools now and then. Now go and get a horse. You will find my mule saddled in the court. Wait there till I come. I am going to visit my fair sister, the queen, who is ill at the Hôtel Barbette, and we pass not far from the place to which you are going. I will direct you, so that you can not mistake."
Jean Charost hurried away, and was ready in a few minutes. In the court he found a cream-colored mule richly caparisoned, and two horses saddled, with a few attendants on foot around; but the duke had not yet appeared. When he did come, four of the party mounted, and rode slowly on through the moonlight streets of Paris, which were now silent, and almost deserted. After going about half a mile, the duke reined in his mule, and pointing down another street which branched off on the right, directed Jean Charost to follow it, and take the second turning on the left. "The first hotel," he added, "on the right is the house you want. Then return to this street, follow it out to the end, and you will see the Hôtel Barbette before you. Bring me thither an account of your reception."
His tone was grave, and even melancholy; and Jean Charost merely bowed his head in silence. He gave one glance at the duke's face, from which all trace of anger had passed away, and then they parted--never to meet again.