'If both fail?'
'Then I shall get myself killed.'
'Zounds! nay,' replied the Viscount; 'were I in your predicament, I should as soon think of hanging myself (like a certain Grecian blockhead when rebuked by Pythagoras) as of throwing away my life in battle. Life is a precious commodity, and we never know what a day may bring forth.'
'True,' said I.
'And the hand of Mademoiselle de Lorraine, deprived as her father is of land, fortune, rank, and authority, is no longer an object of gain to Pappenheim, or to any but such a Quixote as you.'
'But he is not the man to relinquish, without a struggle, a bride so beautiful and so nobly born.'
'We shall see.'
The order to form squadron, manoeuvre, executed from the rear at a rapid trot, cut short further conversation. De Brissac's dragoons formed four squadrons of double troops; we formedone, and were in their front about two hundred paces. The country around us seemed open; the moon had sunk behind the hills. A grove of trees in the valley before us, with a red light or two from a watchfire, marked the locality of the enemy, whose bivouac, disposition, and arrangements were explained to the Marquis, our leader, by a burgher of Zaberne, who acted as our guide; and who, as he had purposely misled us, received his fee, and vanished ere the fray began; for by this traitor the Counts Pappenheim and De Bitche had been duly informed of our intended attack, and had thus formed a counter-plan for cutting the whole of us off; though we had fully believed that nine hundred regular French cavalry were fully equal to the task of dissipating a thousand Walloon militia.
Pappenheim had brought up another body of at least a thousand horse, and placed them in a wood, on the extreme left of his bivouac, in front of which we found the original foe we had come to attack, the Walloons mounted and under arms, as we approached; their dark figures being distinctly defined against the sky, which was becoming lighter every moment, day having now begun to dawn. As we advanced in squadrons and formed line, they threw forward a body of skirmishers; we did the same, and there ensued a desultory firing of pistols and musketoons, by which several lives were lost, and, as usual in such cavalry encounters, a great quantity of ammunition was wasted; for when troopers contend against troopers with fire-arms, not one shot in fifty takes effect. During this skirmish, which absorbed all our interest, we did not perceive that another body of horse had defiled from the wood on our left, and taken up a position between it and the river Sarre, covering the highway, and completely cutting off our retreat to Zaberne. This was a fine body of imperial cuirassiers formed in line three deep, and led by Pappenheim. My amiable friend De Bitche commanded that corps of Walloons which held us in play while this artful and successful manoeuvre had been executed. The moment they had taken up their ground, the Walloons recalled their skirmishers by sound of trumpet, preparatory to charging our line in double columns of squadrons, and then we discovered the trap into which we had fallen.
'By heavens!' said Dundrennan; 'this game will cost some of us our lives.'
'Mordieu!' added the Marquis de Toneins, galloping furiously up to our leader, 'M. le Marquis de Gordon, Lavalette has been misled; instead of one, we have at least two thousand here to meet our nine hundred men!'
'This comes of having troops commanded by cardinals and holiday generals,' replied Gordon, bitterly.
'Then what remains to be done?'
'There is nothing for us, but to retire.'
'In what order?' asked De Toneins, impetuously.
'Form your dragoons in squadrons again, Marquis; we will cut a passage through those fellows in our rear, and fall back on Zaberne.'
'A passage?'—
'Of course,' said Gordon, loftily; 'I will open the ball with the gentlemen of the Scottish Guard.'
'So be it then—Vive le Roi!' cried the young Marquis, as he gave the order, which was executed at full speed, and before his dragoons attained their new formation, we were already riding full at this new enemy.
We, the cuirassiers, presented a front of about forty files only, while the body we were to break through, had its flanks so far extended, that they could have overlapped twenty times our number. In the rear rank, I was Lord Dundrennan's covering file. The foe, a black and solid line of dragoons, after firing from their carbines a volley, by which we lost several brave gentlemen (for their fire was given by a triple rank), got gradually into a trot, slinging their fire-arms and drawing their swords, as they advanced with all their trumpets sounding.
As the speed of our horses increased, so did our spirit fire up at the emergency and the danger; and with the confidence we felt, of being equal to anything that men might essay, we became closer and closer, more firm and compact in our formation, and more furious in our speed. A wild enthusiasm seemed to spread from heart to heart along our little line; and had even a coward been there, he must have caught a glow of courage from the glorious spirit around him.
'Close up—touch in—close up!' cried old Patrick Gordon, when the hot fire thinned our ranks and, as the old Border ballad says,—
'Closing up on every side,No slackness there was found;Though many a gallant gentlemanLay gasping on the ground'
Those who had the misfortune to fall, or be unhorsed, were doomed to immediate death; for the rear squadrons of the Marquis de Toneins trampled everything flat upon the turf. Goring our horses, riding knee to knee at racing speed, with our teeth set and our swords uplifted we rushed upon the Austrians. The Chevalier Livingstone was shot through the left thigh, but kept his place till his boot was full of blood; Patrick Gordon was wounded, and a ball took the plume from my helmet; but the foe had not time to fire another shot; for, with a reckless shout we were upon them,—and the shock of our meeting was tremendous, forcing many of the chargers to reel back upon their haunches.
'Vive le Roi! St. Andrew! St. Andrew!' cried the Marquis of Gordon; and while we all echoed the battle-cry of the Garde du Corps Ecossais, we bore the enemy back—cutting, hewing, slashing, and throwing horses and men to the earth. I felt many intended cuts and blows glide off my helmet, given I knew not by whom; and in the crush, confusion, and fury of the conflict, I actually forgot all about Pappenheim for a time, and scarcely knew at whom to strike, but hewed away at random. Swords were gleaming and clashing on all sides of me; and as they were whirled about, drops of blood were seen to fly through the air.
The Marquis of Gordon slew three men in succession; Dundrennan was unhorsed in the melée, but shot a German trooper by his girdle-pistol, and mounted his horse, almost in the time I take to write it. Our old Marechal de Logis was hewing away on all sides with his enormous bilbo, keeping three or four horsemen in play at once, for we had now become broken, involved among the foe, and, while still spurring and pressing towards the Zaberne road, were engaged in a series of desperate personal combats, in which every gentleman of the Guard had at least two swords opposed to his single weapon. Poor Sir Quentin Home, though faint with loss of blood, had rid himself of two antagonists, when a third passed a sword fairly through his body. He uttered a wild cry, and, grasping the right hand of the Austrian to prevent him withdrawing the blade, he actually thrust the shell close up to the wound, and, rising in his stirrups with the last energies of despair and death, clove his destroyer through helmet and skull down to the moustache, and then threw his sword into the air, crying,—
'A Home! a Home!True to the end!' and fell dead from his horse, with his foeman above him. It was the motto of his house he had cried aloud, and with it closed his life and his name, for—rest him, God!—Sir Quentin was the last of his race.
Just as he sank from sight among the frightful débris of this brief and rapid conflict, I perceived before me a familiar face, flushed with excitement, and having a pair of eyes that glared at me through the ribs of a triple-barred helmet. This was Wolfgang Count Pappenheim, and we were somewhat apart from the general melée. Not a word did we exchange; but there was a furious blow given, a fortunate parry made, and then a deadly thrust or two; after which we paused, surveying each other with the gloomy determination of two men who were never to part alive. By one lucky stroke I cut his reins, which placed him completely at my mercy, for both his pistols were empty; so, with an oath of rage, he hurled them at my head. I then levelled a pistol full in his face, saying,—
'Yield, Count—yield, or I kill you!'
He smiled disdainfully, and, with a glance full of spite and fury, proffered his sword by the hilt. I stretched forth my hand to receive it, when suddenly the traitor turned the point upon me, and would have run me through the body had not the blade been struck up by Raynold Cheyne, who was at my side. He then passed his own sword twice through the body of Pappenheim, who fell forward on his horse's neck, and, with blood gushing from his mouth, dropped dead beneath our horse's feet.
'Here ends our rivalry!' thought I, as the Garde du Corps pressed on, and dashed furiously along the Zaberne road, leaving the Marquis de Toneins and his dragoons to pass through the deadly gap we had made in the ranks of the German reitres; but in achieving that service nearly twenty of my noble comrades left their bodies on the field.
Of the hundred Scottish cuirassiers who marched from Paris, there were now only sixty under the king's standard. We had escaped the snare prepared for us, and slain Count Pappenheim; but while De Bitche was left alive, I deemed the work of that day but half done.
'Raynold's sword has done you a good service,' said Dundrennan, in a low voice, and with a grim smile, as he reloaded his pistols while we rode together at an easy trot along the path of rock that led to Zaberne. 'Pappenheim is removed for ever from your path.'
'That matters little, Viscount,' said I, bitterly. 'She is beautiful and nobly born, and will always find those who will love her and beg her love. I would that she were still but the little soubrette I first knew her! Pappenheim was brave, but foully treacherous, as the last act of his life proved amply. Yet 'tis said this fellow really loved Marie Louise.'
'He—then, if so, and common rumour be believed, he never loved anything else.'
'Save his wine-pot.'
'True; but the Count is a German.'
I looked back to the mountains, where a silver haze was rising in the sunshine from the valley, where poor Quentin Home of Redden with so many of our comrades lay.
'Twenty of our brother soldiers have gone this morning to their last account,' said the Marquis of Gordon, with emotion. 'Alas! how this cursed soil of Alsace soaks up our Scottish blood!'
Severe operations in Alsace, which luckily left me little time for reflection, followed this cavalry affair. Picardy was invaded by twenty thousand horse and ten thousand foot, all Spaniards, led by Piccolomini and Prince Thomas of Savoy. Hepburn's Scottish corps, now known as the Regiment de Douglas (their new colonel the Laird of Waughton was recently killed in Alsace), being commanded by Lord James, son of the first Marquis of Douglas, was withdrawn from the army to oppose them, and stopped their career on the banks of the Somme. I saw those gallant veterans no more; but the Scots of Ramsay and Leslie remained with us under the Duke of Weimar. The Austrians, led by Count Galias, broke into Franche Compte, but were driven back by the Vicomte de Turenne, with the loss of five thousand men; while De la Force defeated the troops of Colloredo on the Alsatian side of the Rhine, with the loss of twelve hundred slain and taken.
Moreover, to increase the general confusion and complete the ruin of Duke Charles of Lorraine, about the close of this year his friend and patron the Emperor Ferdinand II. died suddenly; and by an unexpected movement of the troops of Lavalette, the fine palace at Nanci was retaken, sacked, stripped, and destroyed; all the court of Duke Charles were dispersed or taken, and where Marie Louise found shelter, whether in a German convent near the Rhine, or at Vienna, I knew not; as in our camp we heard but little of the war in which we were engaged.
I feared at times that she might connect me with the death of Pappenheim, and conceive a repugnance for me in consequence. I shrunk from this idea, and longed to acquaint her that however great was my enmity to the Count, he did not—even on that honourable field—perish by my hand, but by the sword of a friend, who had at once avenged me, and averted a crowning act of treachery.
The Duke of Weimar turned all the energies of his combined force of French, Scots, and Swedes, to drive the Imperialists from his newly-gifted dukedom of Alsace, and with this view he invaded all the strong places. Thus, while serving with the Garde du Corps, I was at the siege of Colmar, a large town situated on the western bank of a rapid stream; there we stormed the breach into which my old acquaintance M. Schreckhorn and his petardiers fired thrice a cartouche from a mortar, which each time made a frightful slaughter among the stormers; as these cartouches are wooden cases, three inches thick, bound with marline, and hold ten iron balls of a pound each, with about four hundred musket-balls; but in spite of all opposition we took the town, which was afterwards ceded to France by the treaty of Munster in 1648, when its walls were demolished by Louis XIV.
We next assailed Hagenau, an imperial city which was defended by the Prince of Vaudemont. It is situated in the lower province, and was frequently the scene of contention, as it stands near the frontier, and was the seat of the Grand Bailiff of Alsace. While skirmishing with Colloredo's horse in the large forest near it six cuirassiers of the Garde du Corps were slain. One of these, Raynold Cheyne of Dundargle, was killed while rescuing the Chevalier Livingstone when fighting against great odds. On the night before this affair Cheyne dreamed that six soldiers bore him through a forest on their muskets; and singular to say, after receiving his mortal wound, six of Ramsay's Scots carried him thus to the rear, and he expired in their hands. His dream thus became prophetic; and we buried him with five others, who were all gallant Scottish gentlemen, under a large chestnut-tree near the bank of the Zorna. The defence of Hagenau was obstinate, and before surrendering the soldiers made a defence so resolute, 'that one of them,' says Vaudemont, 'after expending his bullets, fired all his teeth at the enemy.'
The Prince effected his escape; but after plundering the churches a gold crucifix worth three thousand pounds was sold by a Scots musketeer to a Jew for a rix-dollar and a bottle of brandy.
Then came the attack on Schlettstadt, a strong place, on one side protected by deep and swampy morasses, which, being full of willows and rushes, prevented all access. The defence was vigorous and the operations severe. Night after night we came back from the trenches to our tents as weary as if we had been rolling the stone of Sisyphus. As I seemed to exist without aim or purpose I was reckless of life, and exposed myself to so many dangers that my name was in the mouths of the whole army; and strange to say, though I was one of the stormers in three assaults, as the columns of the French 'Mercury' attest, and was honourably mentioned, too, in the despatches of the Marquis of Gordon, the Dukes of Weimar and Lavalette, I was never touched by sword or dagger, pike or bullet.
We captured Schlettstadt in the night, by means of a flying bridge across the morass; old Colonel Ramsay, with eight hundred of his Scots, led the way; our Marechal de Logis, Dundrennan, the Chevalier Livingstone d'Angoulême, and half the cuirassiers of the Guard being mingled with them on foot. The Austrians poured such a shower of round shot, shell, and grape that twice as we came near we were forced to lie flat on our faces, while the iron hail screamed and hissed over us to tear up the morass beyond; and as this fire destroyed our bridge, we had no alternative but to proceed and conquer or be hacked to pieces.
Pressing on with a loud hurrah, while the very air seemed alive with shot of every kind, rockets, and fire balls, we plunged into the ditches, placed our echelles against the bastion, and sword in hand hewed a passage in. Even after that we had to fight every inch of the way along narrow streets, full of armed men, and swept by the fire of field-pieces, levelled over barricades of fallen houses and torn-up paving stones. In this defence a young knight of Malta distinguished himself so much that our soldiers declared he was visible in twelve places at once. But as the Duke de Lavalette said, 'The Scots fought here like Hectors and the Frenchmen fought like Scots—and the place was taken in an hour;' then, like Colmar and Hagenau, it was garrisoned by troops who were afterwards blockaded by the Spaniards; but our capture was ultimately confirmed to France by the treaty of Westphalia.
On the day following the fall of Schlettstadt, while passing through a solitary street which was less encumbered by dead bodies, exploded bombs, cold shot, and fallen houses than other thoroughfares of the town, I met several groups of brawling soldiers, and found an Imperial cavalier, whose sword-arm had been broken and bound by a scarf, feebly defending himself with his poniard against five or six drunken Switzers of Lavalette's corps. Drawing my sword I drove them aside, but not until I had given one a slash across the face which cooled his ardour and alarmed his comrades. I then gave my hand to the wounded gentleman, on whose black cuirass I perceived the gilded cross of Malta, and recognised the hero of the defence.
'I was wounded by your stormers during the assault, monsieur, and concealed myself in a house, hoping that I might escape: but was discovered by these Switzers who were in search of beer and plunder. As I have now only to surrender, I yield my sword without shame, since it is given to one of the Garde du Corps Ecossais.'
'I thank you for the compliment, monsieur; but beg of you to retain your sword, and allow me to have your wound attended to.'
'Do, for pity sake—the agony I suffer is unspeakable; so much so that I did not at first recognise you, M. Blane. Do you not remember me?'
I surveyed him attentively, and said,
'We have met in Paris, perhaps?'
'Nay, monsieur, have you forgotten the night you spent at the little chapel of St. Nicolas in the Wood, near Nanci, and the narrow escape you had from the ambush formed by Pappenheim and De Bitche?—Do you remember who visited you there?'
'René, the foster-brother of Marie Louise?'
'René, the knight of Malta—yes—I am he.'
'Pardon me, my kind friend, for amid the confusion of such scenes as those of yesterday and to-day, together with your change of costume, and your paleness, it is not surprising that I did not at first recognise you. Nanci was sacked?'
'And the ducal palace destroyed.'
'Where now is duke Charles?'
'Alas! we know not.'
'Vaudemont?'
'A fugitive with the remains of his garrison on the German side of the Rhine.'
'And—and mademoiselle?
'Dear Marie Louise!' exclaimed René, as his fine eyes filled with passionate enthusiasm, while his cheek grew, if possible, paler; 'she is now Madame la Duchesse d'Alsace.'
It was now my turn to tremble and grow pale.
'Pardon me, M. René; but did I hear you aright?'
'Yes,' said he, casting down his melancholy eyes; 'she is now married—married within a week after Pappenheim, her betrothed and her abhorrence, was slain.'
'Married!' I reiterated in a whisper, for I could scarcely speak, 'to whom?'
'Monseigneur le Duc d'Alsace.'
'This duke is but a boy—a child!'
'True.'
'But this union is impossible!'
'Nothing of that kind is impossible to dukes and princes.'
'I do not understand you,' said I, considerably ruffled by a mixture of anger and agitation which I laboured in vain to conceal. 'I remember a little boy named Duke of Alsace, who accompanied Charles IV. in his procession through Nanci.'
'With his coronet borne before him by a knight of Malta—myself. Well, that little boy is now the husband of Marie Louise,' said he, with a sneer on his pale lip.
'And this espousal—' I gasped.
'Is valid and true, though Louise is nearly twenty and her spouse is not yet ten years of age.'
'Infamous and absurd!'
'Absurd as it is cruel!' added René, with deep emotion; 'but such unions and such measures are justified by the crooked policy of princes and the stern pressure of war. This child is hereditary Duke of Alsace and Lord of the nine Bailiewicks of Leichtenbourg, Baron of Landau and Lauterbourg, of Ferette and Aultkirk; consequently to unite him more closely to the crushed house of Lorraine, duke Charles his guardian—sharp, short, and decisive in everything—arranged, and in three days executed the hitherto unconceived idea of espousing his daughter, in all the bloom of beauty and of womanhood, to a sickly little child.'
'And who performed this atrocious ceremony?' I asked, through my clenched teeth.
'The most reverend Father in God, the Lord Bishop of Strasbourg,' replied René, his dark eyes flashing with irony.
'And when did this happen?'
'About two months ago. I stood by the side of Marie Louise at this sacrifice—a most cruel and wicked sacrifice it was! Yet I would rather see her the bride of this harmless little boy, than of any living man,' continued René, with an emotion that too evidently was not caused by the pain of his wound. 'Yet what is it to me—this cross is my bride?'
'And how did Louise look?'
'Oh, lovelier and paler than ever, M. Blane!'
'Did she weep?' I asked, sternly.
'No—not a tear fell from her; she was pale as marble; and when her father—cold, stern, and proud—kissed her after the cruel ceremony, and whispered gaily (for I heard him), "Mademoiselle, your spouse will grow older, so remember the ancient rhyme,
"As your wedding-ring wears,So will your cares,'
a sickly smile flitted over her wan face; and her child-husband, who is attracted by her gentleness, and has for her all the love of a son for a mother, or of a brother for a pale and kind sad sister, clung to her robe as he left the altar by her side, confounded and perplexed by the strange ceremony in which he had borne a part so prominent; and more pleased evidently with a handsome falcon given to him by Vaudemont, than the beautiful bride just given him by God.'
'Do not say so!' I exclaimed, passionately.
'True—'tis almost blasphemous—by duke Charles then.'
Here was ample food for thought and sorrow!
I bit my lips, and strove to conceal from René the real emotions that stirred my soul; but had not a sudden giddiness and dimness of sight, consequent to his wound and loss of blood, assailed him at that moment, he must have detected it. I gave him my arm, and, propped on the other side by his long rapier, he walked beside me in search of a surgeon. Chancing to meet the physician of the Marquis de Toneins, I had his wound skilfully dressed, and he was soon pronounced, out of all danger. It was the barbarous custom of those wars, to exact ransoms from prisoners; so, on finding himself well enough to walk about next day, René, who lived with me at the quarters of the Guard, said,
'I cannot pay you a ransom, M. Blane, for I possess nothing in this world but my sword and the cross of my order.'
'You are my special prisoner, dear René,' said I; 'but never had the thought of ransom from you entered my mind. I shall obtain your release from Lavalette, with passports wherewith to cross the Rhine. You have been the faithful friend of Marie Louise—'
'All, yes—ever since the happy days at Nanci, where, as a boy and girl, we fed the golden fish in the fountains and played and shot together with the arbalest à jallet in the palace gardens.'
'Well; continue to be her friend: for in such times as these with a child for her husband, she will have much need of an ally so faithful as you.'
René grew pale and cast down his eyes, while my own breast heaved responsive to the sigh that escaped him; for the love of René, like my own, seemed one of the many misplaced affections that, in spite of reason, will ever exist in the world. We parted; but as we knew not where Marie Louise was residing—whether secluded in her father's conquered dukedom, or on the German side of the Rhine—he crossed the latter, and joined the army of Count Gallas, under whose command, he, poor fellow! perished soon after at the siege of St. Jean de Losne.
Poor René! in his heart were united the tenderness of a woman with the faith of a dog and the valour of a lion.
I was sad for many days after parting with René, for our mutual love for Marie Louise, which neither avowed but both suspected, formed a tie and community of spirit between us. Yet the tidings he had given me were not calculated to rouse my spirit or make me happy. She was indeed lost to me for ever; and now I had nothing to look forward to but steadily dedicating myself to the desperate profession of a soldier of fortune. At times a burst of anger and anxiety seized me—anger at the facility which made her yield to a union so absurd, and anxiety lest this mere child D'Alsace might grow up a very Pappenheim in temper and morality; one who might lead a wife, ten years his senior, a life of anything but happiness and peace. Amid such speculations as these, Patrick Gordon, the Marechal de Logis, found me one evening, and summoned me to the presence of the Marquis de Gordon, who occupied the house of the Bailiff of Schlettstadt, a comfortable mansion, which he shared with Dundrennan and some others of the Guard.
I found him seated at table, with several letters and a good bottle of Rhenish before him.
'Blane,' said he, 'I have the happiness to acquaint you that I have here letters from his Eminence Cardinal Richelieu, and from Sir Archibald Acheson of Glencairn, the Secretary of State in Scotland, announcing that your patrimonial estate of Blanerne is restored to you, together with the Bailerie of Tungland Abbey, and the Captainry of Carlaverock as possessed by your father Sir Arthur, and that now you are free to return and hang your sword under the roof where you first saw the light; but where I may warn you it will not hang long; for a day is coming—and coming fast, too—when Scotland will need all her sons and all their swords to defend her.'
'When that day comes, Marquis, I shall not fail her,' said I.
'Nor I,' added our white-headed Marechal de Logis, with a kindling eye.
'I give you my warmest thanks, dear Marquis, for these most welcome tidings.'
'What, of a probable war at home?'
'No; of the reversal of that most unjust and cruel act of proscription which was passed against me. So Madame la Comtesse d'Amboise did not forget me?'
'My dear fellow,' said the Marquis, laughing, 'Clara never forgets a lover so near the Rhine, and so far from the Bastille, if I may say so.'
'Marquis, I swear to you——'
'Do not swear, my friend,' continued the gay Gordon, 'for I will not even then believe you. The deuce! no woman would make such a fuss with a handsome young fellow as she did with you, and give him a Spanish barb worth six hundred crowns of the sun, without feeling something more than mere friendship for him. But I have nothing to do with all this. You are now free, Blane—free to leave the old Garde du Corps Ecossais of a thousand gallant memories—free to go home to Scotland, our dear fatherland, if you will.'
'Ah, Marquis, at present I have little desire to leave them and these exciting scenes, even for the pastoral home where my gallant father and his forefathers sleep.'
'How! You have another love affair in hand. (A blush and a sigh.) I am right, then. The devil, Blane! you are very lucky to have all these pretty amusements at this distance from the Louvre. But as a bribe to detain you among us——'
'My Lord Marquis, believe me, I require no bribe.'
'I have obtained for you from the Cardinal Duke de Lavalette the captaincy of Lutzelstein; you remember that old tower which commands an important defile of the Vosges, two or three leagues from Phalsbourg; and if you accept——'
'Accept, Marquis! I do so with gratitude; and if the enemy pass that way, Lavalette will find that his confidence has not been misplaced.'
'Good. An escort of thirty of the dragoons De Brissac will be given to you, and you will have to depart this very evening to assume this new command.'
'I shall be ready in an hour.'
'Adieu, then, till we meet again.'
'Farewell, my lord.'
And we parted. I left this brilliant, high-born, and high-spirited noble, little weening that I was never again to see either him, or my brave comrades of the Garde du Corps Ecossais!
With a mind full of chequered thoughts, I set out that evening for the scene of my new duties, duly furnished with all the papers given to me by the Marquis, and escorted by a party of Brissac's dragoons. I left Schlettstadt behind, and took the way towards the wooded Vosges.
I thought of Marie Louise, and of all that fate and fortune had so studiously, sternly, and unremittingly raised between us as barriers, after all the kindness, love, and adventure we had shared together; and I vainly strove to dismiss her from my mind with a prayer that she might be happy.
Then I thought of my home and the letters just received from Scotland—letters by which I was free to return whenever I wearied of war, and the service of king Louis. Then came a glow of honest pride for the trust reposed in me, by this appointment to command a fortress, however small, and I resolved to fulfil that trust to the utmost.
Alas, for the vanity of human resolves! How I obeyed king Louis, and how I fulfilled the trust of Lavalette, the sequel will show.
Lastly, I began to feel lonely in the new separation from the frank military spirits of the Guard, with whom, as brother Scotsmen (that endearing term) I had spent so many happy days, and with whom I had so many kindly associations and sympathies in common. I recalled those gallant men, whose manly forms were now mouldering in a soldier's grave—Sir Quentin Home of Ravendean, Raynold Cheyne of Dundargle, Sir Archibald of Heriotmuir, and Bruce of Blairhall, and pondered sadly on who might next be missing from the ranks, when again I saw the Garde du Corps: and so, full of thought, I rode on, increasing by every step the distance between my countrymen and me. With no sound near but the monotonous tramp of my French escort, we advanced towards the mountains of the Vosges, the darkness deepening, and the night casting its shadows over us.
The distance we had to ride, was, if I remember, only about twelve leagues; but we were all ignorant of the country, and by unnecessary detours, added to our journey.
We soon passed through Andiau, a little town upon the margin of a stream which is so named, and which rolls from the Vosges laden with the spoil of the forest. The ancient castle of the Barons of Andiau, who held the town as a fief from the abbess of a convent there, was, like the convent itself, garrisoned by a portion of our troops; though this pious establishment was founded only for dames who could show their sixteen quarters of nobility, their abbess having the title of princess of the empire, with a seat among the Rhenish prelates, old Sir Andrew Gray of Broxmouth, colonel of Swedish infantry, had now quartered himself and his staff among them, and, seated in the chair of the reverend mother, drank her wine, collected her rents, and made himself quite at home.
A ten miles' ride took us through Bar, in a district clothed with vineyards, and literally flowing with milk and honey; and next we came to Maltzheim, a town of the Bishops of Strasbourg, at the foot of the Vosges, ruined in after years by the Imperialists. Spurring on silently and rapidly, by the pale, chill light of the waning moon, I saw the tall grim tower of Phalsbourg, with all its memories so exciting to me, rising on its rock; but like other strong places, it was now garrisoned by the soldiers of Louis XIII. I could see the turret wherein I had that deadly struggle with De Bitche; I could see the arched gate, from which, with a desperate heart, I issued with the Austrian sortie; the place where I had concealed myself and where the arquebussiers fired over me; the dreadful spot where Schreckhorn bound me to the petard, and the cliff over which, in despair, I had flung myself into the river. At all these places I gave a dark and furious glance, and turning my back on them, urged my escort on, and dashed into a steep and dark defile, which led direct to the castle of the Counts Palatine of Lutzelstein.
We soon reached the tower by a zig-zag ascent, up which our horses wound with no little difficulty. The noise of our approach was concealed by the roar of the cascade which thundered over a wall of rock into the ravine below; but on our appearance at the little stone bridge which spanned that tide of foam, we were immediately challenged by the sentinel; a drum was beaten within, and the garrison, which was still composed of a detachment of Ramsay's Scots, commanded by Lieutenant Ruthven, stood to their arms; and after due inquiries and explanations, the gates were opened, and about sunrise, I found myself duly installed Governor of Lutzelstein; and seated at table in the hall, discussing with Ruthven a breakfast of hot coffee, with pickled carp from the Rhine, with ham, eggs, and schnaps.
The Lieutenant, Francis Ruthven of the house of Redcastle, was an active and brave young officer, nephew of the Marshal Earl of Forth, and in after years colonel in the Dutch service, and Governor of Monell. He proved a very pleasant companion, and seemed glad of my arrival to relieve the monotony of his command in that lonely castle, among those wood-covered mountains that form the great barrier between France and the Empire, and which are usually capped with snow during half the year.
There a month stole tediously away, and save an occasional alarm, which gave me some anxiety, and beat us up in our shirts in the night, I had nothing to disturb the somewhat moody current of my thoughts, and I fear that my companion the lieutenant must have deemed me a very dull fellow, to be one of Gordon's cuirassiers.
'You have an estate,' said he to me, one day, 'while I have nought in this world but my sword; yet I am a jollier fellow than thee—how is this?'
'I know not,' said I, briefly.
'I am somewhat of a philosopher,' said he, smoothing his fine black moustache, 'and at college learned to deem a rich man in some respects a greater slave than a poor one.'
'How?'
'Was not Seneca right, when he termed a great wealth a great servitude?'
'Perhaps; yet believe me,' said I, with a smile, 'it is not the load of wealth that oppresses me.'
Lutzelstein was the scene of one of De Bitche's greatest atrocities—the abduction of its widowed countess. It was a true old German castle, the abode of gloom and superstition; moreover, it was, I know not how, associated with the memory of fair Agnes Sorel, the Lady of Beauty, the hapless mistress of Charles of France; and on the wall of the room I occupied hung a tapestry said to be worked by her, and which represented one of those most authentic scenes which enrich the ancient history of France, to wit—King Pepin la Bref laying at the feet of his queen, Bertha the giantess, the head of a lion, which he had cut off by one blow of his sword, and with the ears of which a chubby brat, supposed to represent the future Charlemagne, was playing.
Towards the latter end of October, when the brown or ruddy autumnal tints were stealing over the chestnut forests of the Vosges, a day of gloom had closed, and, as the night drew on, the red lurid light behind the mountains to the westward of Lutzelstein denoted a coming storm. There was a solemn stillness in the valley, and the hoarse brawl of the cascade beneath the castle-wall rang clearly on the dewy air. Smoking a Dutch pipe, I sat on the platform of the keep, immersed in reverie, and hoping a storm might come on, as a little variety, when the form of a horseman, far off, galloping along the defile below, caught my eye; and as every stray passenger became an object of interest and source of speculation in that solitary place, I watched him as long as the light made him visible. I soon discerned that he was armed, and wore a helmet, and that he seemed to have come by the road which led towards the Rhine. He was well mounted, for he rode swiftly; yet the light faded away, and the moon had risen, amid black and flitting clouds, which afforded momentary gleams of witchlike light, before he halted at the gate of Lutzelstein, and with a Scottish tongue replied to the challenge of the Scottish sentinel. Ruthven summoned me from the usual scene of my meditations, and on descending to the arched hall, wherein ten huge candles in sconces of tin flared like torches in the wind, I saw a tall and handsome cavalier, completely armed in the trappings of the Guard. He was Dundrennan, who turned and embraced me.
'Viscount—you here!' I exclaimed.
'Why not?' said he, throwing aside his sword and gloves; 'am I not welcome to this new castle of king Louis?'
'But, here without an escort!'
'Tush! the whole country is clear of men now, and, unfortunately, of women too, which I find much more insupportable; but get me some wine if you have any, for I am sorely athirst by my long ride. By Jove! they have capital wine at Maltzheim, and you are certain to have some of the same stuff here.'
'And you have come from——'
'Seltz, twenty-seven miles north of Strasbourg, where we are blocking up a body of fugitives under De Bitche, and pouring such a fire of shot and shell upon them, that those who die there will not deem the lower world quite so hot as people say.'
'And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?'
'A despatch for you, M. le Gouverneur, and here it is; but while you con it over, Ruthven, like a good fellow, will assist me to get some of my iron shell off, for I have ridden eight good leagues since I mounted.'
I tore open the letter which he gave me, and found it to run as follows:
'Trenches before Seltz,10th October, 1637.
'NOBLE COMRADE,
'I have just ascertained that a coach containing certain Imperialists of high rank is proceeding from the neighbourhood of Toul, towards the German frontier; and that, guided by a spy who is in our interest, it will, on the night of the 11th, pass through a defile of the Vosges, two miles north of your garrison. These Imperialists it behoves you to capture, and as you value the service of the most Christian King, to seize at all hazards. They have a slender escort, to avoid notice; but kill or capture them all, and my good Lord Dundrennan will return to me for further orders. Meantime, accept the assurance of my utmost esteem.
'GORDON,'Captain of the Garde du Corps Ecossais.
'For Blane, of that Ilk,'Captain of Lutzelstein,'These.'
'Well, Arthur, what is to be done?' asked Dundrennan, stretching out his legs and draining a long horn of purple Rhenish, after scanning over the Marquis's letter.
'Obey.'
'Of course; I never doubted that: so we shall have a little affair with sword and pistol.'
'Who may those Imperialists be? Duke Charles, perhaps?'
'Nay, he is supposed to be with Count Gallas beyond the Rhine.'
'De Bitche probably?'
'Wrong again: he is shut up by our troops in Seltz.'
'This coach passes on the evening of the 11th.'
'To-morrow.'
'I will undertake this duty; and you, Dundrennan, will keep the castle for me in my absence.'
The Viscount demurred loudly against this arrangement; but in case the whole affair might be a decoy, a snare to lure off my garrison and recapture the castle of the Counts Palatine, he ultimately agreed to keep the place in my absence, and secure a retreat for me in case of my falling into an ambush.
With ten of Brissac's dragoons, each having a Scottish musketeeren croupebehind him, I mounted and rode from Lutzelstein about sunset on the 11th, having previously, since mid-day, beset the defile by men disguised and armed, to warn me in case of being anticipated or foiled by an earlier passage of the expected vehicle.
The country around was so solitary that we reached the valley unseen, and I concealed my men in a wood on each side of the way, after throwing across it several large trees as a complete barrier to the coach passing without a desperate struggle on our part. The musketeers piled arms, five on each side of the way; the dragoons unbitted their horses, and, apart from all, I lay under a thick hazel bush, with my sword and pistols beside me, watching the far-stretching vista of the narrow defile, which was gradually growing darker and more gloomy as the light of the set-sun faded beyond the summits of the foliaged hills. I had seldom seen a place more silent or solemn than that sequestered dell as its shadows deepened in the night. It was the scene of our conflict with Pappenheim; and near me lay a human skull—a ghastly relic of that day's conflict; torn perhaps by wolves from the grave where the dead were buried, and left there to be bleached upon the soil, in which it was partly sunk. It was full of earth, and amid that earth some tiny flowerets bloomed. This sad relic of war and mortality imparted an additional gloom to the scene of our night-watch, and the lines of the Spanish poet, beginning Bella Flor, on a similar incident, occurred to me, and may be rendered thus:—
'Ah, beauteous flower! where hast thou grown?How early is thy blight and bloom!Thy scented blossoms scarce are blown,When destined to this ghastly tomb!'Tis hard to pluck thee at thy birth;And sad to leave thee in this bed;To leave thee in thy native earth,Is but to leave thee with the dead!'
Just as the moon, clear, white, and full, began to rise above a shoulder of the Vosges, one of my scouts came hurrying up to announce that a coach, escorted by a party of horsemen, had entered the defile and was approaching.
'By horsemen, you say: how many?'
'I counted six; three in front and three in rear.'
'Armed?'
'Doubtless, monsieur. I saw the butts of their slung carbines gleam in the moonlight.'
'How far are they distant?'
'About a mile.'
'Bravo, M. le Caporal! get your dragoons on horseback. Musketeers, unpile arms, and look to your matches; though I believe the troopers and I will save you all trouble in this matter.'
While the dragoons were bitting their horses and mounting, and while the musketeers stood to their arms, the moon rose fully above the mountain ridge, pouring a clear, cold, steady light into the narrow vale, along which I could see certain dark and indistinct objects approaching; and as they drew near, six horsemen became visible, escorting a large coach, which was drawn by four black horses, and had two valets behind it. The horsemen were accoutred with holsters, swords, and carbines: three appeared to be gentlemen, having feathers in their hats. With my sword in one hand, and a cocked pistol in the other, I dashed forward at the head of my ten dragoons to bar the passage.
'Halt!' I exclaimed: 'halt, and surrender!'
'In whose name?' demanded a gentleman, drawing a pistol from his holster.
'In the name of Louis of France and Navarre.'
'Perish thou and he together!' replied the other, firing his pistol full in my face; but, fortunately, I made my horse plunge, and so disturbed his aim that the ball whizzed harmlessly past me. 'Forward, messieurs,' he added; 'break through these marauders!'
'Advance,' I exclaimed; 'cut down all who resist.'
'France—France and Navarre!' shouted my troopers, as they fell on with sword and pistol.
I heard the screams of women inside the huge lumbering coach, which was immediately stopped, for the traces were cut, the reins wrenched from the hands of the driver, and two of the horses were shot. A confused firing of pistols, and clashing of swords, with a vast display of kicking, spurring, and hallooing ensued in the moonlight; but in a trice the carriage was ours; three of the attendants were shot, and six, including the valets and driver were taken, dismounted, disarmed, and handed over to the musketeers, who freed the traces from the dead animals, and immediately put the wheels once more into motion; but now, in the direction of Lutzelstein.
All this uproar and loss of life ensued, and was over, almost in the time I have taken to narrate it.
The coach was very old-fashioned, being shaped like an enormous pie-dish, with an elliptical roof, surmounted by a coronet. It was so large that it might have passed for a small cottage on carved and gilded wheels. It was covered by heraldic and allegorical devices, stars, clouds, suns, moons, and elaborate gildings. It had three large glass windows on each side. Perceiving faces at them, and being anxious to learn who these important persons were, of whose progress towards the Rhine, Gordon had been apprised so far off as the trenches at Seltz, and for whose capture the lives of three human beings had been sacrificed, I cantered forward to one of the windows, as the enormous conveyance rumbled up the steep, rocky road, and knocked on the pane with my ungloved hand, in token of amity. It was opened, and a female face, fair as beauty and pale as terror could make it, looked at me imploringly, with eyes whose blue seemed unnaturally bright in the moonbeams, which edged with light the thick masses of her golden hair; and the sentences of apology and inquiry which I had been framing died away on my lips when I recognised the soft features, and heard the beloved voice of—Marie Louise of Lorraine!
I checked my horse, and stricken to the soul, like one who had been guilty of a great crime, shrank to the rear of all my party; nor did I again approach her, till we had surmounted the ascent to Lutzelstein; till the coach had rumbled over the castle bridge, and halted in the inner court, where the loud and hearty voice of Lord Dundrennan in warm congratulation, recalled me to the task I had to perform.
'Blane,' said he, 'zounds! there are women in this huge tumbril. Whose better half have you abducted to-night?'
'Hush, for heaven's sake, hush! 'tis Louise of Lorraine.'
'The Duchess D'Alsace—where?'
Torches were brought, and the doors of the carriage were opened. There sprang out a little boy clad in a rich coat of white satin, laced with gold, his fair hair tied with a blue ribbon. His air was haughty, but evinced alarm; for the brave child kept his hand on his tiny dagger. Then followed an old priest, in whom I immediately recognised Father Colville of the Scottish College at Pontamoussin, keeper of St. Lucy's reliques at St. Michel. Hat in hand I stood by the steps to assist Marie Louise; but disdaining my proffered courtesy, she sprang lightly to the ground. A young lady, her attendant, respectfully followed, with a countenance as expressive of terror, as that of her mistress indicated sorrow and anger.
'Messieurs, to what place is this we have been brought?' she asked.
'Lutzelstein, a castle on the Vosges,' I replied.
'And you command here?' she asked upbraidingly, as she bent her beautiful eyes upon me, with an expression which made my heart tremble.
'I do—but mademoiselle—'
'I am Madame la Duchesse d'Alsace!'
'Pardon me—alas! I had forgotten it.'
'Well, monsieur.'
'I wish to explain—'
'What?'
'This most unpleasant affair,' I urged.
'Is it thus, M. Blane, that you designate a brutal brawl devised by yourself, for my capture? Oh Arthur! Arthur! there was a time when I hoped for better deeds from you.'
'Marie Louise, I swear to you—'
'Monsieur!'
'Pardon me, and oh madame! do not pierce my heart with reproaches. Do not unheard condemn me to a life of sorrow and regret. I have acted to-night but in obedience tothis written order, sent by the Marquis of Gordon from the trenches before Seltz, and delivered by Viscount Dundrennan, a gentleman of the Garde du Corps Ecossais.'
'Well—we are your prisoners—my husband and I,' said she, taking by the hand the child, who shrank close to her side as if for protection.
'So this is the Duke d'Alsace?' said I, regarding the poor urchin with a glance of a very mingled nature.
'Myhusband, and as such to be respected,' said Marie Louise, blushing to her white temples, and by hauteur vainly endeavouring to veil the shame of this absurd avowal, which was made before so many persons.
'You are indeed prisoners,' said I, sadly; 'prisoners whom I dare not release.'
'Very well, M. Blane, enough of this! lead us to our apartments for to-night—farewell!'
'Adieu, madame,' said I, bowing low, and while my heart seemed crushed or withered up within me, I gazed after her figure as it disappeared into the tower, where Lieutenant Ruthven escorted her and the female attendant to well-secured apartments, and placed sentinels at the doors and in the passages. The other prisoners, who proved to be Duke Charles's masters of the horse and household, with a councillor of the chamber of accounts at Nanci, and two valets, we secured elsewhere in one chamber, where, as they bear no other part in this narrative, we shall politely bid them adieu.
'Come, Blane,' said Dundrennan, proffering to me a huge cup of wine; 'be a man for the honour of Galloway. Drain off this—then away to bed and sleep. To-morrow you will awake more placid and composed.'
'Sleep!' I reiterated; 'she has a husband, Dundrennan.'
'Bah!' replied the wild young Lord; 'in your place, I would soon teach her to forget that trifling circumstance.'
'For shame, my Lord.'
'Well, this capture of to-night is most unpleasantly important.'
'How, Viscount?'
'I must, in obedience to orders, ride back to Seltz, that the Duc de Lavalette may be duly informed of it.'
'True—I had forgotten,' said I, biting my nether lip with anger, that any one, save myself, presumed to have an interest in the person of Marie Louise; but in about an hour after this, with four of Brissac's dragoons as an escort, Dundrennan left me for the French camp to report this seizure, which was deemed so important, that he was next day despatched to Paris for the special orders of King Louis concerning the disposal of my prisoners.
Meanwhile let me relate how it fared with us at the solitary castle of Lutzelstein.
Three days passed over, during which my fair prisoner remained in her apartments and I saw nothing of her. The little Duke, however, I met frequently, playing with the watchdog in the castle-yard, or with a hawk which was his favourite companion, and which, from the tower-head, he plumed and urged to fly at every feathered biped that came in view. He seemed a good-humoured, happy little boy, and handsome withal; but as he never approached me, and I—for my own reasons—cared not to cultivate his acquaintance, we never spoke, though he saluted me very courteously whenever we passed.
On the fourth day Marie Louise came to the bartizan with her attendant; and on perceiving that I studiously avoided her, she promenaded there daily, and consequently I daily witnessed the little boy-husband toying with her, and hanging about 'his duchess,' for whom he evinced all the love of a child for a mother or for an elder sister; for Marie Louise was an incarnation of all gentleness and sweetness. Moreover she was kind and even affectionate to the boy, affecting to take an interest in his prattle, and in the playthings he hastened from time to time to show her; and more than once, when surprising them engaged in a game of romps, or playing with shuttlecock and battledore on the terrace, I have seen how Marie Louise grew deadly pale, and withdrew with a bow of sorrow and confusion.
Then I would reflect, that in ten years more this child would be a youth of twenty, perhaps strong, brave, and impassioned; and that Louise would still be young and beautiful.
My position became insupportable! I could not desert my command, nor retire from it until regularly relieved from head-quarters; but in a transport of bitterness I wrote to the Marquis of Gordon and to the Duke de Lavalette, praying them to appoint another captain of Lutzelstein, and allow me to rejoin my comrades in the field. Daily I looked for a reply; but weeks passed on, the brown autumnal woods were becoming bare and stripped; but no horseman came from the Rhine—no letter from the trenches before Seltz.
Marie Louise—the ignes fatus, the hope of happier days, the star that had shone before me so long, the sole object of my thoughts—was living under my care, under the same roof with me; but separated from her by the peculiarity of our relative positions, we might as well have had the wall of China between us.
One day I came somewhat abruptly upon her. She was seated thoughtfully on an angle of the terrace or rampart which surrounded the tower. Her white cheek rested on her whiter hand, and her eyes were fixed vacantly upon the foot of the valley which was traversed by the road that led towards Zaberne, and through which meandered a tributary of the Ell, and from its banks a haze was rising in the sunshine through the leafless woods. Her expression was mournful, yet from her eyes there fell no tears. Perhaps she felt the humiliation of being a captive in her own duchy of Alsace. She was dressed in a robe of light-blue Amboisienne, having sleeves trimmed with the richest white Mechlin lace—a dress that admirably became her pale complexion and bright golden hair, which was shaded by a beaver, and single ostrich feather white as snow. The little Duke was seated near her, absorbed in fitting and preparing for sea a toy-ship which one of Ruthven's soldiers had made for him—a fatal gift as it afterwards proved; and, impelled by an irresistible desire to hear her speak, and once more meet her winning eye in kindness, I drew near. She bowed to me; and then I became deeply moved when perceiving that large tears began to roll in slow succession down her face.
'Madame,' said I, 'pardon me; but the sight of this silent grief fills me with compassion. Is there aught in which I can serve you?'
'Nothing; yet I thank you, M. Blane,' was the gentle reply. 'M. le Duc,' she added, to the little boy, who, on my approach, had crept close to her side with childish curiosity, 'leave me, I have somewhat of importance to say to this gentleman—to M. le Chatelain, whom you know.'
'Then will M. le Chatelain allow me to sail my new ship in the lake, and send a soldier to take care of me?'
'Certainly, if you wish it.'
'Oh! thank you, M. le Chatelain.'
Anxious to be rid of him, I had consented, and he withdrew to float his mimic argosie in the mountain lake that rippled against the rampart below us.
'Hark you, M. le Duc,' said I, just as he lifted his little ship and was running away, 'take care of yourself.'
'Why, monsieur?'
'For many reasons; you love your Duchess, do you not?'
'Oh! yes, monsieur; are not her eyes so soft and gentle?'
'Alas, yes!'
'Whyalas?' said the child with surprise, 'I assure you, M. le Gouverneur, she gives me twice as many sugarplums as ever my old nurse at Toul did, especially when she begs me not to tell any one that she has been weeping, for she weeps very often.'
'And this is your husband, Marie Louise?' said I, as the boy left us.
'Alas! poor child. He is very loveable, and reminds me much of what my foster-brother, René, and Vaudemont, were at his age; for this I love him.'
'Unhappy girl!'
'I am indeed a most unhappy girl; yet less so than if fate had united me to Pappenheim.'
'But this boy will be a man in time to come.'
'Ere that comes to pass I shall be—'
'Where?' 'In my grave, beside my mother.'
Her voice stirred all my old love within me, and her grief became painfully sympathetic. I took her soft velvet hands in mine. She allowed me to retain them, and, fortunately, where we stood no eye could overlook us. I was about to yield to the intoxication of the moment, and press her to my breast, when a step rang on the gravel, and the little Duke came running back in high glee to announce that his 'ship was afloat, and that we could see her by simply looking over the parapet.'
'Ah! M. le Chatelain,' said he, joyously, 'I see you are very fond of talking to Madame la Duchesse. So am I, for since I lost my mother, no lady has been so kind to me as dear Louise. I am her husband, to be sure, but you see, monsieur, that I am still a very little boy. Do you love my wife? I am sure thatIdo; but she weeps often, and that makes me sad. I wish monsieur could cure her of weeping. She kisses me at night, when the master of the household puts me to bed in yonder lonely turret; but I always steal to her room in the morning, though I am sure to find her weeping.'
'You perceive, Arthur, that even this child observes my misery.'
I pressed her hands, and felt almost stifled by her emotions and my own.
'See, madame! see, M. le Chatelain, how bravely my ship crosses the lake!' exclaimed the little Duke, while clapping his hands in boyish glee he left us, and rushed again to the postern gate, which opened close to the water.
'Leave me now, Arthur; what more could you eay to me now, now when—all is over?'
'My God! I know not unless—' 'Unless what?'
'That I have the misfortune to be one of those, who, if noticed by princesses, are seldom happy enough to be long remembered by them.'
'Ah! why did you come near me again—and with these reproaches, too?'
'We cannot at all times control our hearts; and though mine is all but broken, I cannot remain separate from her who wrought me all this suffering and calamity.'
'Do you forgive me?' she sobbed.
'Forgive you—Oh, Marie Louise!'
'Alas, Arthur—you must—you would, indeed, if you knew all I have undergone.'
To resist the impulse that inspired us both to indulge in one mute embrace, was impossible; but how terribly was it interrupted!
At that moment there was a piercing cry from the rocks below. I sprang upon the parapet, and saw the little Duke d'Alsace struggling wildly with the waters of the lake into which he had fallen from a point of rock, when stooping over it, to land that fatal toy, his ship. The soldier who had accompanied him was hallooing vehemently for assistance, and a loud uproar of voices shook the whole castle. The Duke was fully three hundred yards from me, and I stood gazing at him, overwhelmed by many terrible emotions.
If that child was drowned, Marie Louise would be FREE; but if I permitted him to perish without a struggle, then would I be guilty of a wicked murder, and a dereliction of duty. Without longer hesitation I flung my sword, belt, and pourpoint upon the terrace, and springing over the rampart, to which Marie Louise was clinging, and looking paler than white marble, I plunged headlong into the lake, and on rising to the surface, struck out boldly for the drowning boy, who had now risen, and sunk thrice.
'Oh, yours is indeed a noble heart!' I heard Marie Louise cry from the wall above me, while, half blinded and suffocated by emotion and exertion, I swam with all my force. I saw another person spring into the lake with a loud halloo; but knew not, until afterwards, that he was Frank Ruthven, of Ramsay's Musketeers, who, being a swimmer more able than I, first reached the spot where the boy had now sunk, and it was fatally near the brink of the cascade, over which, despite all our efforts, the poor victim was swept and drowned.
Succeeding events passed with such rapidity, that I may be pardoned in noting them briefly.
Next day, my soldiers found the body of the Duke in the stream below the tower, and bore it into Lutzelstein.
Marie Louise, being naturally warm-hearted and affectionate, wept for the poor boy's death, and wreathed a chaplet of white roses for his head when we coffined him; and with every honour that the emergencies of the time, and the slender nature of my garrison would admit, we buried him at a little chapel of St. Nicolas that stood on the mountains, about three miles distant; and there Father Colville said all the necessary prayers.
During three or four days after the funeral, I left Marie Louise in undisturbed seclusion, to recover her composure, after the excitement consequent to this (in conventional phraseology) fatal event, which set herfree; and which, I fear me, I was too selfish to wish undone; though salving my conscience by the reflection that I had left nothing unattempted to save the child who had perished; and from my soul I thanked heaven, that in the first natural impulse of generosity and humanity, I had plunged into the lake, and been the first to attempt his rescue.
Without other emotion than tenderness and respect, I had beheld Marie Louise kiss the white brow of the dead child—her spouse—as the poor little fellow lay in the rough coffin my soldiers had fashioned for him.
As captain of Lutzelstein I acted chief mourner.
So ended this tragedy!
I was now, however, less anxious for the arrival of my successor, and hoped that my application might be overlooked by the Marquis, or rejected by Lavalette. So true it is, that we never know the events a day may bring forth!
My new wishes in the matter proved futile; for one morning I was awakened at daybreak, by my chamber-door being noisily opened, and the tall form of Dundrennan, in the cuirass and helmet of the Garde du Corps Ecossais, stood before me. The words of welcome I would have spoken, died away on my lips, unuttered; for I knew that his arrival announced an indefinite separation from Marie Louise.
'What,' said he, 'still a-bed, as if you were in Paris!'
'I have so little to care for here, at Lutzelstein.'
'How, so little say you, when your fair friend—a veritable princess—is here, and a widow too!'
I shrugged my shoulders.
'How French you have become,' said the jovial Viscount; 'but say, has not your suit prospered since the drowning of her juvenile spouse?'
'Hush!' said I; 'do not speak thus, for heaven's sake!'
'Devil take me, if I understand thee, Arthur Blane!' grumbled the Viscount, biting his dark moustache; 'but rouse thee, man, truss thy points, and let us to breakfast. I have had a long ride overnight from Seltz, which we captured at our swords' point three days ago. Old Patrick Gordon lost an ear by a pistol-shot, in the assault; but the cuirassiers expect you anon; for it seems that I am to be your successor, for a little time, in this detestable place. Ouf! But Madame la Duchesse d'Alsace—by Jove! itwillbe awkward for me to have such a charming prisoner in my care—one who is another's lady love, too!'
'Dundrennan, your gabble tortures me,' said I, springing from bed, and proceeding hurriedly to dress.
'I had a narrow escape in the assault, for Ramsay's Scots blew up the powder-magazine—a pleasant little piece of excitement, which cost twenty of them their lives. But how have you wearied of your captaincie?'
'Because I am weary of my life.'
'With a prisoner so fair in ward—a widow, a virgin widow too—lovely in her weeds and tears!'
'Dundrennan, I will kill you!'
'No, you will not; but you shall listen to me and to reason.'
'Reason from you, Viscount?'
'Yes,' said he, becoming grave; 'is your passion real?'
'Alas, too real!'
'Then conquer it, if it cannot prosper.'
'Folly, Viscount—a real passion cannot be conquered; a fanciful one can alone be stifled.'
'This love affair has been a misfortune to you both, Arthur.'
'True, Viscount; but we cannot control our hearts.'
'We—then the lady fully responds?'
'Oh, yes—as much as lover could desire.'
'You are riddles! She must be won by a coup-de-main, or she will soon be taken from you, and then you will be compelled to forget her.'
'Impossible!' said I, buckling my sword-belt over my pourpoint.
'So you think; but nothing is impossible to time. Learn to love her at a distance; her image will then fade gradually, while another may soon supplant it; for the human heart cannot remain long vacant.'
I shook my head sorrowfully.
'Well—I have but one other advice to offer.'
'And that is—'
'To carry her off while there is yet time. With such a prize to win, and such a love already won, with swords enough to back me, I would bear her off before the assembled kings of Europe.'
'You counsel boldly, Dundrennan.'
'Because I counsel wisely. Women will forgive everything that has love for an excuse. Let us be bold in love as in war. A little modest assurance in the flowery field of Venus will carry one on, when modest merit fails to win the day.'
'You talk like the ruffs and gallants of the Boulevards. But ah, Viscount! you do not know Marie Louise. Every thought of hers is full of innocence—every action full of charm and grace.'