It is very rarely, indeed, I believe, that human beings become, even by long habit, so hardened in evil as to commit crimes deliberately, without some shrinking reluctance, without some moments of hesitation and dismay. The voice of conscience may be reduced to a whisper; but still, if an interval of silence occurs in the tumult of the passions, that whisper is heard. If unattended to for reformation of purpose, it does, indeed, but serve to irritate the guilty mind to more culpable excess; for conscience, by those who are resolute in wickedness, is soon ranked amongst their enemies, as one of those to be overcome by the more vehement opposition; and in its defiance they go beyond even the point they at first desired, as a fierce and hard-mouthed horse leaps much farther than is necessary to clear an opposing fence.
As Madame de Chazeul walked to her room with her brother, a momentary glimpse, a vision as in a dream, a picture like the scene of a play, presented itself to her all at once, of the complicated intrigue in which she had involved herself, the difficulties which awaited her whichever way she turned, the consequences of the deceits she had practised, their ultimate exposure, and the contempt and suspicion which might follow her after-life, from the discovery of all the falsehoods she had told, and all the arts she had had recourse to.
For a single instant the question shot across her mind, like a flash of lightning, "If men will so judge me, how will judge me, God?" But that gleam of awful light she crushed out, in an instant, like a dying spark in a mass of tinder; and to all the rest she had a ready, and to her convincing, answer, "I shall have triumphed! That is enough! Success is justification!"
Hers was the philosophy of a great modern usurper, applied to domestic life; and the springs which moved her in many of her proceedings, were not very different from his own.
The next consideration was the government of her brother; and step by step, through the hall and up the stairs, the incredible rapidity of thought brought her to new conclusions; not a footfall but had its thousand questions and replies in her own breast, its examination of plans and results, its calculations of character, its meditation of weakness, and its application of the means to the end. Half a lifetime was spent between the court and her own apartments--I mean thoughts that would have filled half a lifetime better disposed; but when she reached her own door, her mind was calm and clear; and she entered with the full assurance of overruling all opposition, extinguishing all suspicion, working out her own schemes, in despite of every combination of circumstances against her, ay! and of taking revenge, and closing the tomb over one of the chief sources of doubt and anxiety for the future.
The large ante-room in which her maids slept was vacant, for they were engaged with their mistress's dress in the chamber beyond; and with a smiling countenance, as if all memory of the ceremony just past, had left her on the staircase, she invited her brother with somewhat formal courtesy to be seated, closed the door, and then began, without waiting to be questioned.
"Well, Anthony," she said; "I thoughtIknew every turn and wile of a woman's heart.--I have a good right to know; for I do not think there are many women who have dealt more in matters of policy, public and private, than I have done;" she added these words in a tone of gay candor, which she knew would not be without its effect. "But yet I have found one to go beyond me: and, for a time, to overpower me--till I discovered the truth. When I went from you to Rose d'Albret, I found her in a high and haughty mood, ready to treat remonstrance with contempt, and evidently wishing to be pressed, if not forced, so that she might cast any blame in point of haste on us, and justify herself. Her conduct and her tone provoked me,--foolishly I will allow, and I did,--sillily enough--what I ought not to have done. I told her of the discovery we have made, of Chazeul's visit to her chamber--which I should have studiously avoided; but I was off my guard--"
"I do not see that," said Monsieur de Liancourt: "why should you have avoided it? I should tell her the first thing, as the motive which made me urge the marriage upon her."
"Ay! that is very well for you, brother," replied Madame de Chazeul, "but you stood in a different position. You have a right, not only to speak such truths, but to command the only conduct which can take away the sting from them. I should have remembered that, for me to show I knew the fact, would but irritate her to resistance and denial, and to efforts for her exculpation, even to resistance, of the only remedy for the evil situation in which she has placed herself; just as mad people deny they are insane, and refuse the medicines which might soothe their brains. In an instant, she had a story ready. She had not slept in that room, she said; and gave me to understand that she had passed the night in the adjoining chamber. Seeing the error I had committed, I replied, that it might be so, but that the injury to her reputation was the same, and that the only remedy for that was her immediate marriage with my son."
"In which chamber did she say she slept?" demanded the Count.
But Madame de Chazeul did not wish to be brought to the point, and replied, "I do not well know; there is one on the right, and one on the left, you know. However, I told her that you took the same view that I did; and that you had sworn, in the most solemn manner, she should be Chazeul's wife before noon to-day."
"Did I swear?" asked Monsieur de Liancourt, in a low voice.
"As solemnly as ever man swore," replied the Marchioness; "you called heaven to witness; you vowed a vow to God; and that seemed to move her more than anything; indeed, it appeared that she was just going to say, when she found you were so resolute, that she was prepared to obey, when the door opened, and in walked,--who think you?"
"Nay, I cannot divine," said Monsieur de Liancourt; "not De Montigni?"
"No! no!" answered Madame de Chazeul; "it would take longer for a ghost to travel post from Chartres; and he is dead beyond all doubt No,--who but Helen de la Tremblade."
"Ah! poor little Helen! I shall be, glad to see her," cried the Count; "she has not been here for three months or more; nay, it was in October, well nigh six months, upon my life."
"And in those six months, what events have happened," exclaimed Madame de Chazeul, "to blast all our regard for her, to show her the veriest--but I will not give her the name she deserves. Suffice it, my dear brother, that not long ere I came hither, I found, by letters I discovered, that I had been nourishing a serpent in my house. I found her base, unworthy--impure, ambitious, scheming.--Sickened and indignant, I gave way, as I am too apt, to the fierce burst of passion; for I can never conceal what I feel; and drove her out to carry her schemes and vices elsewhere. But I speedily repented; and sent out to seek her, intending to treat her kindly, and, if I could not forgive her faults, to put her in the way of repentance and atonement: but she had gone off at once; and has since come hither, when, or how long ago, I know not. She has evidently been here in secret, however, for some time, prompting Rose to all this resistance, prejudicing her mind against Chazeul, whom the vain girl thought to wed herself, and inspiring her with continual schemes for thwarting our purposes. She had clearly heard all that had passed between me and Mademoiselle d'Albret; and when she found Rose was beginning to yield, as I showed her how resolute you are, forth she came to dare me, thinking that she could frighten me by her influence over her uncle, and her threats.--I believe she would have struck me had she dared; but I taught her, I was not to be intimidated, laughed her menaces to scorn, and gave her to understand that I would now expose all to you, though I had hitherto carefully concealed her guilt and folly from all ears--even from her uncle's. It was wonderful to see how the girl's daring spirit was cowed before a little firmness, how she shrunk and quailed. She would have fled, indeed, perhaps to brew new mischief; but I resolved that should not be; and, like one of the men who tame the Lions at the Louvre, I assumed a commanding tone, and ordered her to retire into her uncle's chamber, fully resolved not to let her forth till the marriage is over. It was then that she tried to run past me; but I called loudly for my people, and finding it in vain to resist, she obeyed, though sullenly and gloomily."
"To the priest's chamber!" said Monsieur de Liancourt. "Will not all this rouse good father Walter? Why, there was noise enough to wake the dead."
"Oh! no!" replied the Marchioness, who had foreseen that such a question might be put, and was prepared with an answer. "It would have roused him, certainly, if he had been in his own chamber; but he was so faint and ill, with long watching, doubtless, fasting and prayer, that the people who were with him took him first into the sacristy, and then to a room on the ground floor, rather than carry him up stairs. There he sleeps quietly, and, doubtless, will awake quite refreshed and well. I only dread having to tell him this story of his niece, for I do not think he knows it yet. She looks very ill, poor wretch; and I should not wonder if her violent temper killed her; but, if possible, I will still keep the matter secret from all but her uncle."
"Do, do," replied the Count; "her violent temper! Why, she was the most gentle and timid of creatures, Jacqueline."
"Ay, so she seemed," replied Madame de Chazeul; "but vice and ambition have brought forth the natural character: and, if you had seen her just now, you would not have said that she was gentle. I thought she would have stabbed either me or herself; and yet, it made me laugh to witness her impotent rage.--But, to return to Rose. She now knows her fate fully: for, as soon as I told her you had sworn, it was easy to see, that her knowledge of your firmness, showed her that your word was quite irrevocable."
The Count looked gloomily down upon the ground; for he would fain have shrunk from the task she put upon him; and yet, like all weak people, endeavoured to assume the qualities that were imputed to him.
"Yes," he said; "having sworn it, I must do it; and it is certainly necessary for her own reputation, after what you have told me, and what the other people saw, that she should marry him at once. It must be done--that is clear."
"Ay!" answered Madame de Chazeul; "whether she slept in her own chamber or another. It is known, unfortunately, to so many people that Chazeul, like a rash and foolish boy, passed a great part of the night in her usual room that, for both their sakes, there must be no delay: and, besides, your word must be kept, as it always is."
"Certainly," replied the Count, working himself up to the pitch required; "and it shall be kept, by all I hold sacred."
The repetition of the oath was very pleasant to Madame de Chazeul, for she knew that her brother would not now shrink from its execution; and that, in order to guard against his own vacillation, he would assume an air of violence and sternness, calculated to intimidate all remonstrance, and overbear all opposition.
"Well, then, Anthony," she said, "as we have now but little time to spare, I will go and make some change in my apparel; and, sending for Rose's maid, Blanchette, give her orders for dressing her mistress in something like bridal costume."
"Do you think I ought to go and formally inform her of my resolution?" asked the Count.
"As you please," answered Madame de Chazeul; "and yet, perhaps, you had better not. I have told her already; and, if she have no further inducement to display a headstrong spirit, we shall find her less obstinate at the time of the marriage. We shall have some affectation of reluctance, beyond doubt: but it will be soon got over when she finds you firm; and if you then go and bring her from her chamber, it will be enough. You will thus have only one disagreeable scene instead of two."
"The fewer the better," replied the Count. "But, where is Chazeul?--has he returned yet?"
"No," answered the Marchioness, "I fancy he is afraid to meet you: but I will send down to the village, and tell him to come up, if you will promise not to be too angry."
"I must reproach him," said the Count, putting on a firm and dignified air. "You must admit, Jacqueline, that he has been very much in the wrong."
"Well, I know he has," answered the Marchioness. "But, however, his fault will all be done away with by the marriage, and so there is no use of saying too much about it."
"Ay, but I must say something," answered Monsieur de Liancourt. "However, go and make your preparations, for it is now past ten; and, immediately after the marriage, I will see Helen de la Tremblade myself, and inquire into the whole case, that I may break the tidings to poor father Walter.--'Tis very odd that she should become such as you represent, for she was as sweet and gentle a girl as ever I saw."
Madame de Chazeul left him without reply and entered her bed-room, while the Count retired by the other door. But, ere she reached the dressing-table, she paused twice; and at length, after a few moments' meditation, murmured to herself, "No, that must be prevented."
When Madame de Chazeul entered the bed-room, she found the two maids busily engaged in ornamenting a dress, which she had ordered them to prepare against the marriage. It mingled, in a somewhat strange manner, the colours of mourning and rejoicing; and the two girls were tittering at some observations made by the page, who stood looking over their work, and who had just said, "Why, if Madam put on that, she will look like an old magpie." The boy's face was perfectly grave, but the maids could not recover a demure look quite so easily; and Madame de Chazeul, who was herself in deep and stern thoughts, gave them a fierce glance, saying, "What are the fools laughing at? Go both of you into the ante-room and let one tell the girl Blanchette to come to me; and you, Philip, run down to the kitchen, and fetch me two basins of soup. I am hungry," she added in a tone that she intended him to remark; "and that poor girl must have some food too."
The boy hastened to obey, and the maid went to call Blanchette: but the Countess remaining in her own chamber, opened a little bonbonnière which she carried, and shook out a small quantity of a white powder into a piece of paper, which she folded up carefully, but not indeed completely, for one end was left open. This packet she concealed between her first and second finger; and then, leaning her head upon her hand, she meditated for a moment or two, turning her own dark schemes in her mind, with some doubts and misgivings as to how she should carry the next step she purposed to take, into execution.
"If I carry it to her myself," she thought, "she will doubt something, and will not drink it. I'll send it by the maid Blanchette.--Yet, perhaps, if she knows that it comes from me, the same suspicions may arise: and I doubt that girl too. She has given me black looks and saucy answers. No--I had better take it myself: or, stay--I will send it by the page. He was always fond of her; and a light, thoughtless boy like that, one can make say what one will. He will suspect nothing, and the girl will not doubt him. Martin I dare not trust, for the fool thinks his conscience sufficiently burdened already with the imprisonment of the priest. He would not be so easily taken in either, to believe that I had any very tender consideration for the hunger of Helen de la Tremblade, any more than those two wenches in the ante-room. All my people know too much--I must get some new ones; and, if I can breed up this boy in perfect obedience, he may prove useful hereafter."
As she was going on with these pleasant meditations, the girl Blanchette presented herself and Madame de Chazeul, turning towards her, asked in a calm and complaisant tone, "How long has Mademoiselle de la Tremblade been here, Blanchette?"
"Really, Madam, I do not know," answered the maid; "I was not aware that she was here at all, till I found her with you and Mademoiselle d'Albret."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Madame de Chazeul with an air of surprise; "I thought you had known all about it."
"Not I, Madam," said Blanchette; "but she can't have been there long, or I could not have helped knowing. I think she must have come last night, for I saw the door of the priest's room open just before sunset, and I looked in. There was nobody there then: and I am sure nobody slept in the room the night before; for he was in the chapel all night himself, and the bed was untouched in the morning."
Before Madame de Chazeul could make any further observation, the page entered the room, bearing the two basins of soup which he had been commanded to bring; and his mistress ordered him to set them down on the table before her, and retire. The boy did as she bade him, but remained in the ante-room; and the Marchioness proceeded to talk farther with Blanchette, changing the subject of her conversation, however, to the approaching wedding, and the preparations for it, which were necessary.
"You will not have much time, Blanchette," she said; "but still, you must try to make your mistress's wedding dress look as gay as possible."
"I will do the best I can, Madam," replied Blanchette; "but I doubt very much whether she will put it on."
"Oh, nonsense," cried Madame de Chazeul. "She knows that Monsieur de Liancourt has sworn that she shall marry the Marquis before noon to-day; and she does not doubt that he will keep his word. She must, therefore, have made up her mind to it by this time; and I dare say we shall hear no more objections."
Blanchette shook her head, saying, "I think you will, Madam, as many as ever."
"Well, then," exclaimed Madame de Chazeul, "force must be used; that's all, for my brother will not break his oath for the whims of any girl in Europe. Fetch me that mantle, Blanchette," she continued, "that one which hangs by the wall there," and she pointed to a spot at the other side of the room, where a cloak was hanging from a hook on the wall. The direction was such that Blanchette, in going thither, must turn her back to the table at which the Marchioness was seated. The girl walked straight across to the spot, seemingly gazing at the crimson silk mantle before her, but as she did so, she turned her eyes quietly towards a small mirror that hung exactly opposite the fire-place. At first it presented nothing to her view, but the wide open hearth, and the curiously carved dogs, with some large pieces of wood burning upon them. The next moment, however, her own figure crossing was reflected from the glass, and then was seen, as the angle became greater, the form of Madame de Chazeul, seated at the table with the two basins of soup before her and with her right hand raised above one of them. She was shaking in the powder which she held wrapt up in the paper between her fingers; and Blanchette saw clearly the white substance fall into the liquid. She took no notice, however; but in order to give the Marchioness full time for what she was about, she affected to have some difficulty in unfastening the garment she was sent to fetch from the peg.
Madame de Chazeul turned round the next moment saying, "Untie the string, untie the string! How clumsy you are!"
Following her directions, Blanchette easily got down the mantle and returned with it to the lady's side, who began a long unnecessary explanation as to how certain knots of riband were to be placed on Mademoiselle d'Albret's dress, and Blanchette took out her scissors to unfasten one of those from the cloak, in order that she might see exactly how it was done,--affecting, to say the truth, a greater degree of stupidity than was natural to her.
"There that will do," said Madame de Chazeul; "you must understand it now. Oh, I forgot," she added aloud, "I must send something to Mademoiselle de la Tremblade. She has had no breakfast, I suppose? Here, Philip!"
The boy did not appear, and Blanchette still continued to fumble at the bow upon the mantle, without offering to call the page.
There was a good deal of tremor in the Marchioness's manner: she was agitated: her voice shook when she called; and at length rising, she went to the door to give her orders to the boy. He was not there, however; and the only person in the room was one of her women seated near the farther window, whom she directed in quick and eager words to call the page directly.
The whole of this proceeding occupied not a minute and a half; but the moment that the Marchioness's back was turned, Blanchette with dexterous rapidity, took the mantle between her teeth, and, employing both hands, changed the relative positions of the two basins of soup, but was busy at the knot again, with a dull face and a heavy unmeaning eye, before Madame de Chazeul turned round. Not the slightest sound had she made; and it was only a gentle undulation of the liquid in the two cups which could have betrayed to any eye that they had been moved. That, however, had nearly subsided before the Marchioness returned to the table, and Blanchette soon received her dismissal, with injunctions to make haste with what she had to do.
Scarcely was the girl gone when the boy Philip entered the room, and Madame de Chazeul asked sharply, "Where have you been, Sir?"
"I went to get some breakfast, Madam," replied the boy, "for I was very hungry, having ridden all night."
"There may be other people hungry as well as you are, young glutton," said the Marchioness; "however, here's a task for you, that I am sure you will like. Do you know that Mademoiselle Helen is here?"
"No," cried the page with well-feigned astonishment; "is she, indeed? Oh, I am so glad; and I am sure I hope you will forgive her, Madam, for she is so good and so kind."
"Not yet," replied the Marchioness in a significant tone; "but I may soon. In the mean time, I must not let her, for the world, know that I take any interest in her; for she is locked into her room, and must remain there till I think she is punished sufficiently. However, she must not be without food, so carry her this basin of soup, as if you had brought it for her yourself, without letting her know that I sent it. She will take it kind of you; but you must not stop a minute with her, and be sure to lock the door and bring me the key again directly. If you were to let her get out, I would have you flayed alive."
"I will take care, that shall not be the case," replied the boy; and, stretching out his hands, either from some suspicion or by accident, he was about to lift the basin farthest from him, when Madame de Chazeul thrust back his arm hastily, and laying her finger on the other, exclaimed, "This, I told you, this. Don't you see I have taken some of the other?"
The boy could not perceive that there was any difference in quantity between the two; but the quick eagerness with which Madame de Chazeul spoke, would have created doubts in his mind if there had been none there before; and he determined at once, to warn Helen against touching any food but that which he himself procured for her.
Madame de Chazeul then gave him the key; but she exacted a promise from him, that he would lock the door with it, and bring it back without suffering Helen to go out. "If she should try to master you, and be too strong for you," said the Marchioness in a low voice, "use your dagger."
"Oh! Madam," cried the boy with a look of horror.
"I mean, but to frighten her," replied Madame de Chazeul, "and at all events call out loudly should such be the case. I will place some one within hearing."
Carrying the soup in his hand, the page then left the room; and, descending that flight of stairs, he passed through the passage below, and ascended the others towards the priest's room. If Madame de Chazeul had reflected upon all the circumstances, she would have perceived that the boy was not altogether sincere with her; for he had affected not to know that Helen was in the château; and yet, without her ever telling him in what room the unhappy girl was confined, he went away towards it directly. But the truth is, that, as usual, the whole events of the morning had been talked over amongst the servants in the hall; and he had heard the fact of Helen's appearance, and where she was to be found.
The first sound of his step upon the stairs brought out Blanchette from the neighbouring room. Her face was as pale as ashes, and her limbs trembled, but she stopped the boy at the top of the stairs, asking in a whisper, "Which of the two basins is that? The one on the right or the other on the left?"
"The one on the right," replied the boy. "I am taking it to Mademoiselle Helen. Do you know anything about it? You look very white!"
Blanchette still held his arm, though she murmured, "That is right. Well, however," she continued, as if speaking to herself, "it will be better to be quite safe. Tell her not to take the soup, Philip; let her throw it away; and you find means to give her food that you know is--is--is wholesome."
"How?" demanded the boy. "How is that to be done?"
"Throw a ball of twine into the window from below," replied the girl. "Then while they are all at the wedding, you can tie a basket to it, and let her pull it up."
"Thank you, Blanchette," replied the boy with a nod, "I will do so. But hark, I hear steps along the passage below; I must go on."
Blanchette instantly disappeared; and the boy, unlocking the door of the priest's room, went in. He found Helen de la Tremblade gazing eagerly towards him from the other side of the room, with a look of terror in her eyes, like that of the wounded bird when approached by the retriever. It was changed instantly to joy, however, when she saw the boy, and she ran forward a few steps to meet him. But then the poor girl stopped, and shook her head sadly, exclaiming, "Ah, Philip, you should not have come. You do not know to what you expose yourself. That woman will never forgive any one who shows a kindness to poor Helen de la Tremblade."
"I know she will not, Ma'am'selle Helen," answered the page, setting down the soup upon the table and kissing her hand; "but she sent me to bring you that. But I have much to say to you, and am afraid to stay more than a minute; and I have promised to lock the door too, and take back the key."
"Oh, let me out, Philip! let me out!" exclaimed Helen clasping her hands.
"I cannot! I cannot! even if I had not given my word," cried the boy.
"If I could but see my uncle for one minute," urged Helen, "it might save many from destruction."
"Impossible now, dear lady," replied Philip, "there are her men at the bottom of the stairs. Your uncle too is confined below--so I have gathered from the talk of Martin and the rest; and I pledged my word also, when she gave me the key; but I did not pledge my word not to contrive to free you afterwards. So listen to me, and I will do it."
"Well, speak, speak," said Helen; "what have you to say? I know you are a good kind boy, and wish me well."
"I would give my life to serve you," replied the page. "First, you must not touch that soup. It is poisoned."
Helen shrunk back in horror, exclaiming, "Oh! wretched woman!"
"Next," continued Philip, "here is my dagger. It may be useful to you in case of need; and besides," he added, significantly, "the locks are all on the inside. The blade of the dagger would soon force them back. But do not try it yet, for you will find people in every corner. In half an hour the marriage contract is to be signed--"
"She will never sign it!" cried Helen vehemently. "She will never, never sign it."
"They will use force," answered the boy; "but at all events they will drag her to the hall, and to the chapel. If I can, I will come under your window the moment they are all in the hall. Look out and speak to me; but if I do not come within three minutes after you hear all quiet in the next room, you can open the door easily with the dagger, and get out. Your uncle is in the room on the left at the foot of the great staircase--the little room with the low door. I am sure he is there, for I have seen Martin and René go in there twice to-day. But, if I can, I will fetch the key of his room, and--Hark! Was that some one calling?"
"No, no!" cried Helen; "go on, go on Philip."
"And then when I come under the window," continued the boy, "I will bring it with a basket of provisions, and throw you up a ball of string, with which you can draw them all up, so keep the window wide open that I may cast it in."
"Oh good, dear boy!" cried Helen.
"I met your friend, Monsieur Estoc," said the page, "this morning, as I was coming back from Chazeul; and I promised him that I would do whatever you or father Walter told me, if it cost me my life. So, you think, dear lady, what I am to do, till you see me under the window, and then tell me quickly, and I will do it, upon my honour."
As he spoke he retreated towards the door; and while opening it, he said, pointing to the soup, "Mind you do not touch it! I was to tell you that I brought it for you myself, out of kindness. They will perhaps want me to do other such deeds; but I cannot, and I will not for any one!"
The last few words were spoken vehemently, with the door open in his hand; and when he had uttered them, he went out, closed, and locked it. Then turning round to descend the stairs, he beheld Madame de Chazeul standing a few steps down, with one of her men a little behind her. The boy's heart sunk, fearing she might have heard too much; but it had happened otherwise. All that had caught her ear was, "I cannot, and will not for any one;" and as he approached she asked, "What was it she wanted you to do, Philip?"
"To let her out," replied the boy readily.
Madame de Chazeul put her hand approvingly upon his shoulder, saying, "You are a good lad--an excellent lad! That is the way I love to be served; and if you behave so, you shall have more advancement than you think of. There's a gold crown for you, Philip.--Did she take the soup?"
"No," answered the page; "and I do not think she will till she is very hungry; for she seemed afraid of something."
"Then she shall be hungry enough," muttered Madame de Chazeul. "But come, Philip, give me the key."
The boy delivered it unwillingly, and his mistress proceeded, "Now run, wash your face and hands, and put on your gay satin pourpoint as quick as may be; for the marriage is to take place in ten minutes, and I shall want all my people with me in the hall."
Philip thought to himself, "I will contrive to slip away, however," and proceeded to his own chamber, while Madame de Chazeul retired to put the key by, and then sought her brother the Count, to speak with him once more before the last trial of his resolution with Rose d'Albret.
The Count was in a different frame of mind, however, from that in which his sister expected to find him. He had employed the time during her absence in working himself up to the necessary pitch of determination, and had, as is not uncommon, gone even beyond the point. He talked loud and high of the privileges and power of guardians, and spoke angrily of those who ventured to oppose them.
"I have always understood, Jacqueline," he said, in a sharp tone, as if the Marchioness herself had been one of those who sought to prevent him from exercising his proper authority, "I have always understood, that a guardian stands exactly in the position of a parent; and who ever heard of a daughter daring to object to the man whom her father has chosen for her?"
"Never that I have heard of," replied Madame de Chazeul; "nor of a ward objecting either, when her guardian has provided for her a suitable alliance."
"Never! never!" cried the Count vehemently. "I have suffered myself to be set at nought by this girl too long, Jacqueline; and I will do it no longer. Even if I had not sworn as I have. I would not suffer this to go on another hour. The notary has arrived, and the contract is drawn up correctly, except the names.--I will go to her at once.--I have seen Chazeul, too, and spoken to him seriously on his conduct."
"What did he say?" demanded the Marchioness, with an eager look. "He was penitent, I am sure."
"Yes," replied the Count. "I have nothing to find fault with in his demeanour. He expressed his sorrow for what he had done, assured me that he had never considered it in the light of an insult to me, and that he had no bad intentions at all; but merely wished to speak to Rose in private for a short time, to persuade her to yield calmly to all our wishes this day, as he had every reason to believe, that her inclinations were really not opposed to him, and he knew that, if she did attempt to resist, it would give me pain."
"Persuasions are all in vain, my dear brother," said Madame de Chazeul; "when a woman's vanity is engaged in a particular course, you may argue till you expire without moving her. Firmness is the only thing under such circumstances, and she will at her heart feel obliged to you for forcing her to that, which she does not choose to admit that she wishes. If I were you, I would neither attempt to use any solicitations, nor listen to any replies, but assume at once the tone of authority. Tell her that she must submit, and that you will not suffer her to say one word, in regard to your right of disposing of her hand as you think fit."
"Such is the course I intend to pursue," answered Monsieur de Liancourt. "She has offended me enough by resisting my commands; and, indeed, I do not propose to suffer anything further to be said upon the subject. If she will not sign, I will put the pen in her hand, and guide it by force over the paper. If she says 'no' at the altar, I will say 'yes' for her. I will not be thwarted and conquered by the obstinacy of my own ward, in my own château."
"Well then, go to her, Anthony," cried the Marchioness, who knew well that, as long as this mood lasted, all was secure, and that any opposition on the part of Rose would but drive him to violence, though she had seen such fits in full force in the morning, and pass away before nightfall. "I will wait for you in the hall," she added, "and we will have as many of the people gathered together as possible, to overawe her by the crowd."
"Few or many, it will be the same to me," replied the Count; "but yet, the more the better; for I am quite firm and resolute, and am sure that I have every right to do as I am doing. Therefore there cannot be too many witnesses, and I care not who they may be. They shall see me act the part that becomes me, without the slightest wavering or hesitation, for there is nothing so contemptible as a man who suffers himself to be influenced by a little resistance to his authority.--Now, Jacqueline, let us proceed, for the sooner it is done, the less painful will it be:" and thus saying he led the Marchioness from the room.
She was now satisfied; for a few hours she could calculate upon her brother's firmness; all those whom she feared were in her power; and the moment of her triumph seemed at hand.
Parting with his sister at the bottom of the stairs which led up to the apartments of Rose d'Albret and the priest, Monsieur de Liancourt mounted in haste. It might be that, as he said, he was anxious to have a painful scene over as speedily as possible; it might be that, like a certain stage hero, of the name of Acres, he began to feel his courage oozing out of the tips of his fingers. It were vain to deny that, ere he came to the first landing, his heart beat quick and his breath began to fail; but finding the man Martin sitting there in an idle attitude, he found an excuse in that fact to pause for an instant, asking his sister's servant, why he did not go and join the rest in the hall, and ordering him to do so.
The man obeyed without reply; for, in the first place, he was tired of his post; in the next place, he never knew how far any one was trusted by the Marchioness, so that one indiscreet friend might do much mischief by chattering to another; and, in the third place, he could not well refuse or neglect to obey the orders of Monsieur de Liancourt in his own house.
As soon as he was gone, the Count resumed the ascent, and, in a moment or two, reached the door of the ante-room. He gave a gentle knock, and, entering, found Blanchette sitting with a pale cheek, a clouded countenance, and some piece of female apparel lying on her knee, apparently scarcely touched.
"Well, Blanchette," he said, as he went into the room, "is your mistress ready to accompany me?"
"I am sure, Sir," replied the maid, "I do not know. I got all her things ready, and told her what Madame de Chazeul said; but she answered me, as bold as a lion, that she would put on no other things than her ordinary clothes, as the idea of forcing her to a ceremony with a man she hates, was quite vain and foolish."
"She shall learn that it is not so," answered the Count, in a sharp and angry tone; "whether dressed as becomes a bride, or like a wandering vagrant as she returned hither, she shall be wedded this day, if my name by De Liancourt. Go, tell her I am waiting for her."
The maid went into the inner chamber; and the Count could hear the murmur of voices speaking for some moments; but yet Rose d'Albret did not appear.
"She mocks me," he said, at length; "she will not even come forth to speak with me. Then I must seek her," and, advancing to the door of her chamber, he entered without ceremony.
Rose was seated at the very farthest part of the room, with her hands clasped over her eyes, and the bitter tears rolling down her cheeks. The moment she heard his step, however, she dried them hastily, rose from her seat, and, advancing a step or two towards him, cast herself at his feet, clasping his knees.
He felt his resolution begin to waver; but, making an effort, he exclaimed, "How now! how now! No more of this! You know my determination. I announced it to you the day before yesterday, I have solemnly sworn to keep it; and I insist upon obedience."
"Hear me, hear me, Sir!" cried Rose; "if you have no pity, if you have no regard for me, hear me for my father's sake, hear me for the memory of your dead friend, and have some compassion on his child."
"It is no use hearing," answered the Count; "the matter is determined. It is to be done. Rise, and follow me! I command, I insist."
"Not till you have heard me," answered Rose; "that, at least, I may require. Would you, Monsieur de Liancourt, not only break your contract with my father, by which my hand was promised to Louis de Montigni--"
"Pshaw! that contract, if it referred to him at all, is at an end by his death," cried Monsieur de Liancourt; "talk not to me of that any more."
"But he lives, he lives!" exclaimed Rose, vehemently. "You have been deceived, indeed you have, by the tale they invented to deceive me; and I have more wrongs, more deceits to tell you of, from which I know your noble mind will shrink with horror--schemes which none but the basest of men could conceive or execute."
"It is all in vain, Rose, it is all in vain," answered the Count. "Nothing you can say will make the least difference. I know all that has taken place; Chazeul's folly, which has compromised your character, and all the rest. But he is sorry for it, is willing to do all that is right to justify your fame, by wedding you this moment, and--"
"Is willing, you mean to say, Sir," cried Rose, "to profit by his villany, to gain the very object he had in view, by the very means he employed. Why did he come here, but to injure my reputation, with the hope of forcing me to marry him, and inducing you to drive me to such a course? But I heard it all beforehand and escaped the snare. Helen de la Tremblade was sent by good father Walter to tell me of the base treachery, to warn me of my danger, and show me the means of escaping from it."
"She came here because she wants to marry him herself," replied the Count. "Once more I say, Mademoiselle d'Albret, I command you, as your guardian, to rise and follow me, without farther words, to give your hand to Monsieur de Chazeul, for whom I have long destined you, and to forget Louis de Montigni, who misled you to quit this house, and has since paid for some other imprudence with his life."
"He is living! Indeed, indeed, he is living!" cried Rose "Give me but an hour and a patient hearing, and I will show you, Sir, that he is living, and that it is you who have been deceived, not I."
"Thank God! I am not so easily deceived Mademoiselle d'Albret," replied the Count. "I cannot grant your request. The contract lies ready for signature; every one is waiting for you in the hall; they cannot be disappointed; my word shall not be broken, and I insist that this vain, this stupid, resistance cease instantly."
"The contract may lie there, Sir, for ever," replied Rose, rising and seating herself again. "I will never sign it, so help me God! You refuse to hear reason and truth; you listen to falsehood and wrong; you may kill me, place me in a convent, do aught with me you like; but make me the wife of Nicholas de Chazeul, of so base, so bad, so contemptible a being, you never shall, while I have breath."
"Now listen to me, Rose d'Albret," replied the Count, advancing angrily towards her. "I am your guardian; am I not? You are my ward; is it not so? By the power given me by the law, I have promised your hand to Nicholas de Chazeul--"
"In violation of the contract from which your only power is derived," replied Rose. "That contract, in which you are named my guardian, promises my hand to De Montigni."
"The girl will drive me mad!" exclaimed Monsieur de Liancourt. "Once more I tell you he is dead; and if you refuse yourself to sign the marriage contract, I will sign it for you. Rise, and come with me without another word, or you will compel me to force you."
"Never!" answered Rose. "Louis de Montigni is not dead. I have offered to prove it to you; but you will not even hear in what the proof consists, although you know that, until he has resigned his claim to the succession of De Liancourt, not even a doubt can exist that he is the person specified in the contract."
The Count seemed not shaken--no not in the least--but embarrassed; for his own doubts of De Montigni's death were strong upon the side of Rose d'Albret; and the certainty that, if his nephew still lived, he was committing a gross violation of the contract with her father, left him but little to say in his own defence. He was not shaken, for he had before made up his mind to overleap his own doubts upon that score, to take advantage of the bare report which had reached him, in order to justify the course to which he had been led by others, and resolutely to believe that report true, in despite of all that could be said to prove it false. The combat of weak people is with themselves, more than with any external things. They wish to convince themselves they are acting right, while they know they are acting wrong; and their labours for that object are not light. But Monsieur de Liancourt had no reply ready, no reason to assign for not listening to the proofs Rose offered, and he paused, for a full minute, in painful hesitation as to what he should say.
"This is all an artifice to gain time," he answered at length "and I will not yield to it. It is ascertained, beyond all doubt, that Louis de Montigni is no more, and has justly paid for insulting a prince like the Duke of Nemours."
"Oh! Sir," cried Rose, in a tone of mingled indignation and grief, "how can you suffer your own nature to be thus changed by the base counsels of others, so to speak of your sister's son? He is not dead! he will yet live to shame those who calumniate him. Were he indeed laid in the tomb, I still say, nothing should ever lead me to marry Nicholas de Chazeul; but, as long as Louis de Montigni lives, I shall regard him as my husband. Show me that he is indeed, gone; and I am willing to resign everything that this man really covets--my wealth, my lands--and to retire to a life of seclusion and prayer; but I am not willing, and never shall I be willing, to wed one whom I so much despise and abhor."
"You will have no choice," replied the Count. "You shall be his wife this day ere noon. These are all evasions and affectations.--I know right well which way your mind inclines. You would save your credit, Rose, appear reluctant, and only yield to force; but force shall not be wanting, and perhaps more than you expect or like.--Yes, you may weep!--We are prepared for such things; but you had better dry your eyes; and, as you must appear before a large assembly of witnesses, look your best."
"Sir, you are ungenerous and unkind," replied Rose d'Albret; "but I know whence your impulses are derived; and shame upon them who fill a noble mind with such base suspicions. Use what force you like; the power has not yet appeared on earth that shall make my hand or my tongue so belie my heart, as to promise aught like love, attachment, or obedience, towards Nicholas de Chazeul."
"Oh, is it so?" exclaimed the Count. "This is carrying the matter too far, Mademoiselle d'Albret. Will you, or will you not accompany me, in obedience to my commands, quietly and decently?"
Rose was silent; her mind agitated with many conflicting thoughts. She feared to yield the least point, lest it should be accepted as a promise of farther compliance; and yet she naturally shrunk, with all a woman's timidity, from driving those who oppressed her to have recourse to violence.--She dreaded the moment when it was to begin; she would fain have procrastinated: every minute seemed something gained ere the actual struggle commenced.
She was silent; but, after waiting a few moments, the Count seized her by the wrist, exclaiming, "Come, I insist.--Not one moment more!"
"Well, Sir, well," cried Rose d'Albret, trying to withdraw her hand, "I will go with you to the hall: but remember, it is but to refuse most resolutely to do that which would be equally against my duty and my heart."
"Duty!" cried the Count with a scoff, unloosing her arm. "Talk not of duty, after all that you have done! As to the course you intend to pursue, be it what it may, mine is determined. We shall see what is your conduct, and I will answer for it, I will match it.--Go on, Mademoiselle. You know your way to the hall, I think."
With a slow step and trembling limbs, Rose d'Albret proceeded through the ante-room, and down the stairs. She felt at every moment as if she should faint, but yet, remembering that if such a weakness overcame her, they might take advantage of her insensibility, to proceed rapidly in whatever course they thought fit, she nerved her heart to the best of her power, and paused for a moment before entering the hall, to make one more appeal to the Count de Liancourt.
But he would not hear her speak, and throwing open the door violently, he waved her to go in.
All seemed confusion, and dim indistinctness to her sight. There was a crowd of faces, some of which appeared strange, and some familiar; but they were almost all those of men. There was wine, and meat, and laughter, and flowers, and everything the most dissonant to all the feelings of her heart; while, through the whole mass of misty images was seen, in terrible prominence, like some colossal statue in an eastern temple, the tall rigid form, and stern sarcastic features of Madame de Chazeul.
She was leaning upon a table just opposite the door; her complexion, where not besmeared with rouge, was unusually pale; there was an expression of weariness, and even of pain in her face. But when Rose appeared, that harsh countenance lighted up with a look of scornful triumph; and the poor girl's eyes grew dim, her head turned giddy with the thought of all she was to encounter in that hall.