The small evils of life, against which, in the narrowness of our views, and the idleness of our heart, we so often pray, as if they were as hideous as unmasked sin, how often do they work for us the greatest benefits in ways we never dreamt of!--how often do they even forward us in the very course they seemed likely to obstruct! There is not a hair of our head that is not numbered; there is not a sparrow falls to the ground unmarked; so we were told by Him who is Truth; and surely there is not an act or incident of our life that has not its end and object in the great scheme of our being, and in the greater scheme of universal nature. Pleasant is it, and sweet to contemplate, for the eye of faith, that all is ruled and directed to its fixed purpose by Almighty wisdom, and infinite goodness.
"He is gone!" whispered De Montigni to Rose d'Albret, as Chazeul strode away. "You see it is fortunate, dear girl, that we did not find the sally port open, or we should have been passing just at the moment he was upon the walls above. He could not have stayed us, it is true, for we have a large party in the castle; but it might have occasioned strife, and that I would fain avoid."
"Oh yes, yes!" said Rose. "God grant that we may escape that,--but hark! it is raining, Louis."
"That is unlucky," replied De Montigni. Yet, in truth, it was far from unfortunate for the success of their scheme. The large drops which began to descend in a heavy shower, soon changed the purpose of Nicholas de Chazeul, who was lightly clothed, and somewhat careful of his own person; and instead of seeking Estoc, as he had intended, he hurried back to his own chamber, cast off his wet clothes, and retired to bed, keeping his indignation for the following morning.
In the meanwhile Louis de Montigni and Rose d'Albret, remained for some minutes longer under the archway; and, although apprehension and anxiety had a large share in the fair Lady's feelings, it must not be denied, that there were sweet and happy sensations too. With her arm twined through that of her lover, with her hand clasped in his, she felt all the joy, the thrilling and inexpressible joy of loving, trusting, confiding; and she felt it too for the first time. All the freshness of the young heart was there; that freshness which in all things is the point of perfection,--the moment of expansion to the flower; the hour of ripeness to the fruit, when colour, and beauty, and scent, and flavour, and delight, are all at their full before one petal has fallen or withered, before one tint has faded, before the bloom has been brushed off, before the enjoyment has palled, or the fine edge of sensation has been blunted. There are feelings in the human heart, and they are the brightest of those which have any reference to earth, which are like those small delicate flies, that live but an hour in their beauty, and then pass away, unable to sustain even the weight of the common air; and with Rose d'Albret that was the moment of their existence. She had never before known what it was to give the whole heart, to cling to another, as if in him she had a second life; to look to him for all her future joy; to trust in him for aid, protection and support; to fear for him more than for herself; to believe, her best gift, was to render him happy. The world in which she had lived, was a cold and dreary one; there had been no heart which had sympathies with hers; no voice to reciprocate kind words; no mind with which to exchange the thoughts that were busy in her own. All who surrounded her were different from her in years, in ideas, in feelings, in objects. It was a dark and shadowy state of being, whose only light had been memory, memory of him who now stood beside her till he himself had returned, like her morning star, and the day of love had dawned upon her heart, driving the shades away, and gilding even the clouds, that still hung over the sky.
Thus, though dread and apprehension still had some share in her feelings, poor Rose d'Albret was not now without a bright portion of happiness; and the gentle pressure of the hand, the mute caress, the word of tenderness and comfort from her lover's lips, produced sensations in her bosom which he did not know, which, perhaps man never fully knows, in his dealings with woman.
At length there came a hurried tread, as if more than one person were approaching, and De Montigni took a step forward before his fair companion, and loosened his sword in the scabbard. The rain was falling heavily; the night had become doubly dark; and he could only distinguish the forms of two men advancing quickly along thecoulisse, without being able to discover who they were. One he thought indeed was Estoc, but he was not sure, till at length the man on the right hand paused opposite the sally port, and appeared to unlock the door, while the other came on towards the spot where he stood.
"It is Estoc, dear Rose," he said; "it is Estoc with the keys."
"Be sure, be sure!" whispered Rose, laying hand upon his arm; but the next instant Estoc himself stood before them, saying, "Quick, Louis! quick! there are more people stirring in the château than we wot of."
"Chazeul was on the walls but a moment ago," replied De Montigni, "but the sentinel would not let him pass."
"I know, I know," replied Estoc. "I heard it all, but the rain has driven him in, the white-livered knave.--You will get sadly wet, sweet lady, I fear."
"Oh, I mind not a little rain," replied Rose d'Albret. "How often have you seen me drenched in hunting! Estoc; and it will not hurt me more now, that I am being hunted,--but what was the cause of the delay?"
"They had given the man the wrong key," replied Estoc, "and he knew not how to get the right one, without betraying that there was something secret going on,--the door is open now, however. Let us be quick.--Hark! there is two!--Moments are precious."
"I am quite ready," said Rose; but De Montigni, before he suffered her to issue forth into the rain, covered her as well as he could with his cloak, though the short mantles of those days, afforded but a very inefficient protection against a heavy shower. They then crossed the passage, and gliding along under the wall, found the door of the sally port open, and the guard holding it back.
"Ged bless you, Lady! God bless you, Sir," said the man as they passed. And the prayer of a plain and honest heart for our welfare, has always its effect in comforting, and reassuring.
Estoc led the way, along the stone-faced court, under the earthen mound, which there defended the wall, across a little bridge over the ditch, and through the gate beyond, which he unlocked to let them pass. Beneath the shadow of the gate, and three or four old trees, which grew beside it, stood a party of seven or eight men, with their hands upon their horses' bridles, ready to mount in a moment. Two other saddled horses were amongst them, and while De Montigni lifted Rose d'Albret lightly from the ground, and mounted her securely, old Estoc said, in a low voice, "It is your own limousin, Mademoiselle, so you know his mouth, and he knows your hand."
"Thank you, thank you for your kindness, Estoc," replied the lady; "these are moments never to be forgotten."
De Montigni pressed the old soldier in his arms; and then saying, "We shall meet again soon, Estoc, I hope in the King's camp," he sprang upon his horse's back, and laying his hand upon Rose's rein, to lead her forward through the darkness, set out upon the road to Dreux.
Estoc turned back into the castle, closed the gates behind him, made a turn upon the ramparts, listened for a few minutes till he could hear no more the retreating sound of horses' feet, and then retiring to the guard-room, under the principal gate, dried himself by the blazing logs upon the hearth. In a few minutes, however, he gave some orders to one of the soldiers, who was sitting near, and then stretching himself upon a camp bedstead in the corner, was soon sound asleep.
Everything remained quiet in the château during the night. Unconscious of what had taken place, those whose cunning schemes had been frustrated, remained in the tranquil slumber of imaginary success, dreaming of the coming day, and of seeing the seal put upon their intrigues by the voluntary renunciation of De Montigni's right, through which, not only the much coveted estates of Liancourt, but the hand of Rose d'Albret, and the inheritance which that hand conveyed, were, they thought, to be lost to him, for whom they were originally intended.
The only person who slept but little, was the old commander De Liancourt, who, partly on account of the pain of his wounds, and partly from anxiety for his nephew's safety and success, lay tossing on his bed till within an hour of morning, wondering if all had gone right, and repeating, a thousand and a thousand times, "All is quiet! They must have got off; otherwise, I should have heard something."
With the first dawn of day, some of the inferior servants began to stir in the house. The scullions proceeded to their abhorred task of scouring the brazen pots and kettles in the kitchen; the turnspit dog waddled slowly from the hearth, the scene of his daily toil, where he found warmth and repose during the night, to hide himself in some corner from the eyes of the persecuting cook; and various other drudges, well calledfemmes de peine, went through the different halls and chambers, clearing off that dust which rise from the decay of every earthly thing, and falls every hour--a memento, if we would but see it, of the perishable nature of all here below--upon the polish and the gilding with which we seek to cover all the coarse materials from our eyes.
Soon the higher functionaries began to appear upon the scene; cooks, and grooms of the chambers, and all the officers and attendants who, in those days, thronged the house of a French nobleman; and then the masters themselves. First, came father Walter, in his black garments, pacing up and down the hall, and gazing, from time to time, out of the high windows at the rainy sky. He was soon joined by Monsieur de Chazeul, followed, shortly after, by the Count de Liancourt. These three continued, stretching their limbs by a walk up and down the wide pavement, for near half an hour, conversing over all that had taken place the day before, and speculating upon the coming event. Chazeul related to his two companions the intelligence he had received from Blanchette on the preceding night, and the application which De Montigni had made for another interview with Rose d'Albret.
"That was not right," said Monsieur de Liancourt. "One interview was all he asked; that was granted, and he ought not to have sought more."
How boldly do we judge of what is right and wrong in the conduct of others! how boldly do we censure and condemn, very often when we are doing them the bitterest injustice! Monsieur de Liancourt totally forgot, when he talked of right, that Louis de Montigni was really entitled, not only to one interview with Rose d'Albret, but to every hour of her time, to her hand, to her heart, to her fortune,--he totally forgot it, I say, and thought that the schemes which he had so long nurtured, the ideas which he had so long indulged, formed the only standard by which to measure the conduct and the rights of others. Do not let the reader suppose this unnatural. Let him look around, he will find the same perversion of views in every country, in every house, in every family; let him look within, he will find it more or less in his own heart, whenever his own interests, wishes, prejudices, or passions, are placed in opposition to the rights of others.
At length, when about half an hour had passed, the Count began to think it strange that his fair ward, who was always an early riser, had not yet appeared, and asked if the others had seen anything of her.
"No," replied Chazeul. "I suppose, as she cannot take her favourite walk this rainy day, she keeps her own chamber, to be out of the way of De Montigni."
The priest looked down and mused, for he entertained some doubts as to Rose's feelings being exactly those which Chazeul's vanity led him to suppose, though, it must be remarked, he had not the slightest suspicion of the event which had just taken place.
"Have you seen Blanchette this morning?" inquired the Count.
"No," replied Chazeul; "but I will send my knave, Alphonso, to see after her. It will but be courteous to inquire for her mistress's health."
He was turning towards the door, when his mother entered, and asked at once, "Where is Rose?"
"She has not appeared yet," replied Chazeul. "I am just going to inquire after her, most noble dame."
"See, see yourself, Nicholas," cried the Marchioness, sharply. "One of my girls tells me, that, passing by her door just now, she heard a knocking, as if carpenters were at work. Is De Montigni absent, too? Why, it is near the hour of mass!"
Chazeul left the room instantly, by the door which led direct along the corridor, to the apartments of Rose d'Albret. All was still, however; the noise which his mother mentioned had ceased; and it was not till he came close to the ante-chamber that he thought he heard a sound of moaning, as if some one was giving way to the expression of pain or grief. He instantly knocked at the door, and called to Blanchette, who demanded, in a voice half-drowned by tears, "Who is there?"
"It is I," replied the Marquis. "What is the matter, Blanchette? Open the door; let me in."
"I cannot," replied Blanchette; "the door is locked, and I can't get out."
"How is your mistress?" asked Chazeul.
"I do not know," replied the girl.
"Well, go in and see, then," said the Marquis.
"I cannot," rejoined Blanchette again; "that door is fastened too."
A sudden suspicion of the truth flashed through the mind of Chazeul, and he stood for a moment, stupified with surprise and anger. Then, hastening back to the hall, he exclaimed, "Something is wrong! The girl Blanchette is locked into her room.--We must force the door."
"To the window! to the window!" replied the Marchioness; and, hurrying out to the flying bridge, they descended the stone steps into thecoulisse, Monsieur de Liancourt exclaiming,
"Quick! some one bring a ladder."
"There is no ladder needed, my wise brother," said Madame de Chazeul, the moment after, pointing with her hand to the spot where, underneath the window of Rose's chamber, might still be seen the instrument used in her escape. "You will find one ready. Those who like to go on in the rain, and see the nest of the flown bird, may go, I shall return to the hall." And thus saying, she ascended the steps, while the rest of the party hurried on.
By the ladder easy access was obtained to the room of Mademoiselle d'Albret; and it is not necessary to detail the state in which it was found. Rose, as the reader is aware, was no longer there; and all that remained for those that sought her, was to liberate Blanchette, and inquire when, how, and why, her mistress had fled.
The girl, however, could tell them nothing of the truth; and, though she made up for the deficiency by telling plenty of falsehoods, endeavouring, in the fear and agitation of the moment, to screen herself from suspicions which were never directed towards her, yet her information, of having heard her mistress move in her chamber about three o'clock in the morning, without thinking anything of it, of having visited her the last thing before she went to bed herself, and seeing her soundly asleep in bed, together with sundry other fanciful pieces of intelligence, proved not in the least satisfactory to the hearers.
After much wonder, and some consideration, and a good deal of examination in the apartments of Mademoiselle d'Albret, the party were obliged to make their egress by the window again, the outer door being locked and the key gone.
They found Madame de Chazeul in the hall, with an angry spot upon her cheek, and her brow knit, while the old commander, dressed as if for a journey, with his sword by his side, and the cross of his order round his neck, sat upon a bench at one side of the hall, tapping his leg deliberately with his staff.
"I am glad you are come, Count," said the Marchioness; "here is our brother Michael evidently knows all about this infamous abduction; but he will make no answer to my inquiries."
"Why, I told you I would not, Jacqueline, till Liancourt came," replied the Commander. "Now he is come, I will tell you all I know, and also perform the task I took upon me yesterday."
"Well, Sir, well, be quick," replied the Count. "I have borne your humours too long; and I will endure no tricks and treachery, depend upon it."
The old soldier's cheek grew warm. "No tricks but your own, Sir," he replied. "But we all know you are a tool in the hands of others, and therefore to be forgiven, like all weak men, who make themselves the instruments of knaves. Ay, you may stare, Jacqueline; but be good enough to remember, I was never afraid of those black eyes, even when the cheeks were round and soft, and am not more timid now, when they are shrivelled and skinny. The simple matter of fact is this, Anthony, you have all laid your heads together to deprive Louis de Montigni, the son of our poor sister Louise, of the inheritance which I renounced in her favour, and in favour of her children. I did not renounce it in your favour, Madame Jacqueline; for you were always able to take care of yourself, though Louise was mild and gentle, and consequently continually kept down, and deprived of just estimation."
"And may I ask, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, with a cold, and haughty air, "what business it was of yours, if Monsieur de Montigni choose to renounce also?"
"I don't know that," replied the old Commander; "he cannot renounce without my returning to my rights. However, I would have made no noise about that, if he had done so willingly, and with his eyes open. But I did not choose to have him deceived, and so I was resolved he should know all. The priest there, like an honest man, told him, that he had some right to the estates, and I told him what."
The Marchioness turned a fierce look upon father Walter, who met it with a calm and tranquil air, apparently in no degree taken by surprise or annoyed.
"But I told him, moreover, my good brother," continued the Commander, "that if he gave up the estates, he gave up his claim and right to the hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret,--to our sweet Rose. It is right that every one should know how he stands, and what he does, brother Anthony; and as you did not tell him, I did. I told him the contract was in his favour, not in that of yonder gentleman in ruffs and ear-rings, inasmuch as it engaged for the marriage of the young lady to the heir of Liancourt, which he is by my renunciation; and if he had given up his claim, I would have married her myself; for then I should be heir of Liancourt again. But as I am old, and somewhat battered in the wars, and should limp a little in following a bride through a ballroom, he thought fit to save me the trouble, and consequently determined to hold his own."
"My son, my son, this is no jesting matter," said father Walter in a grave tone; "I beseech you, what you have to speak, speak seriously."
"If I speak seriously, sir priest," replied the old soldier, "I may have to say things not very palatable to many here present. But if it must be, so it shall be. In a word, then, brother, he found that he had been deceived, kept in ignorance, cajoled to part with rights concealed from him. Had it been but the estates, he would have given them up at a word, as I did; but he would not give up her he loved, except at her own request. In this, too, he discovered, he had been cheated. Instead of finding that she had freely and willingly promised her hand to a man who possessed her heart, he learned that she too had been misled into the belief that she was contracted to yonder gentleman, and that she was about, unwillingly, to yield to what she thought duty--poor thing!--without either loving, or having promised at all."
"But she did promise," exclaimed Chazeul. "I call upon all here to witness it."
"That's a lie!" answered the Commander sternly; "nor the first, good nephew, by many! She never promised; for only two days ago I heard her ask a short time to consider. You cannot deny it, priest."
"I cannot," said father Walter.
"Well then," continued the old officer, "he asked to see her alone, to learn her own mind--"
"We did not know that he was going thus treacherously--" cried Chazeul.
"To tell her the truth," interrupted the Commander; "or you would have taken care to prevent it. But when he had enlightened her on those subjects, and found that she very much preferred himself to you, he suggested to her that, to save needless trouble, and dispute, it would be better for her to take her departure at once with the husband of her father's choice, and, placing themselves under the protection of the King, demand his sanction to their immediate marriage. Ay,the King!nephew,--the King, father Walter--Henry the Fourth, King of France and Navarre, who is so, and will be so whether it pleases you or not!--But I forgot," he added, "the boy left a letter with me for you brother Anthony. Ho! Estoc there, get me that letter, pray."
While this delectable conversation had been proceeding, Madame de Chazeul had seated herself in the chair usually occupied by the Count, and, leaning her head upon her hand, had seemed more busied with her own thoughts than with anything that was going on around; but at the mention of the letter, she raised her head, with a bitter sneer upon her lip, asking, "Pray whose manufacture is the epistle? Is it an extract from Cæsar's Commentaries by the Commander de Liancourt, or a parody upon Ovid's Art of Love by Monsieur de Montigni?"
"Neither, Jacqueline," replied her brother, "but a good honest letter, from a youth whom you have not been able to cheat, with all your cunning. The letter,--the letter, Estoc," he continued, as his old comrade put his head into the hall--Where is Louis's letter? You had it.
"Oh ay! of course he had it," cried Chazeul, as the good soldier advanced with a paper in his hand; and then turning round, the Marquis whispered for an instant to the Count, who, after taking the letter from the hands of Estoc, made him a sign to stay.
"You know of all this affair, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, fixing his eyes upon him, "and gave aid and encouragement."
"I saw them at the last moment," replied Estoc at once, "and had they wanted encouragement would have given it to them; but they did not; and as to aiding them, I had no commands to stop any one quitting the castle."
"It was your duty, Sir, to stop any fugitives from authority," replied the Count; "and I have a great mind to punish you."
"To do that you have no power, Sir," answered Estoc; "you forget I am not your servant, Count of Liancourt, but a gentleman and a soldier, though a poor one. I have, at the desire of my good old commander here, aided you voluntarily to keep your château in these troublous times; but I have taken no wage nor pay from you or yours; and, let me tell you, he is a bold man that talks of punishing a French gentleman that has done no wrong."
"Come, come, Anthony," cried the Commander, "no folly, if you please. Estoc is myguidon; you have nought to do with him. If there be fault, it is mine. I aided, I encouraged them; I told them to go, and helped them to do it; and whoever says I had not a right to do so, lies in his teeth!--But read the letter, brother o'mine; for you may have something to say to it; and I am away this morning. My litter and my men are ready in the court."
"And the sooner you go, Michael, the better," said Madame de Chazeul.
"Not at your bidding, Jacqueline," replied the Commander, while his brother opened the letter and read it. "Ay, here comes your creature, Blanchette. On my life, this has been a pretty honest scheme from the beginning."
"What does he say?" inquired the Marchioness, as the Count read.
"Oh, hear it, hear it!" answered Monsieur de Liancourt: "you will then see, how grateful he is for all the care and kindness I have bestowed upon his youth;" and he proceeded to read as follows:
"Sir, my Uncle,
"Before this reaches your hands, I shall be far distant, feeling myself compelled to take a step, which nothing but the desire of avoiding that strife and contention which must ensue, were I to stay and urge my rights in your house, would induce me to adopt. At the same time it is necessary, for my own justification, that I should give some explanation of my conduct. You were pleased on my arrival, to ask for my signature to certain papers, which, on examination of the documents themselves, and consultation with my uncle, the Commander, and others, I found implied a renunciation of my clear right to the estates of Liancourt, and the acceptance of certain benefices as an equivalent. Had that been the only question, I would not have scrupled to consent; but I found that by a contract between you and the late Count de Marennes, made while I was considered certain heir to those estates, the hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret was promised to the person inheriting them. You had given me to understand that the lady's inclination led her to an union with my cousin De Chazeul; and had it been so, my love for her is too sincere, not to have induced me at once to remove every obstacle that my prior claim produced. But certain circumstances led me to believe that in this there was an error; and I therefore required an interview with Mademoiselle d'Albret, that both she and I, might know our real situation, which, by your pardon, let me say, had been concealed from both. I found, during that interview, that she had been deceived into the belief that, in giving her hand to Monsieur de Chazeul, she was only fulfilling her father's contract. When the truth, however, was explained to her, I found that, far from desiring such an alliance, it was most repugnant to her, and that, on the contrary, she was willing to give her hand to him for whom it had been truly destined. We both saw, that to urge my rights in person here, would necessarily produce strife--nay, perhaps bloodshed; and we were well aware that it might be unsafe for her to remain after I was gone, as there are too many instances, in these days, of contracts forcibly violated, and compulsion used to produce alliances neither prompted by inclination nor justified by law. The course which had been pursued towards us for the last five years, led us to apprehend that such might be the case now; and to avoid such a result, Mademoiselle d'Albret consented to accompany me to the court of his Majesty; where, under his sanction and authority, I trust soon to fulfil with her the engagement between her father and yourself. As soon as that is accomplished, being in this matter moved by no sordid considerations, you will not find me indisposed, in gratitude for the care and protection which you bestowed on my early youth, to fulfil your wishes, whatever they may be, in regard to the disposal of your property, even to the sacrifice of what may be my own contingent rights. May God keep you in his holy guard!
"Your nephew,
"Louis de Montigni."
The latter part of the letter was but little attended to by Madame de Chazeul or her son, who were busily talking together in tones so low, that but a word or two only was distinguishable even by the quick ears of the priest, who stood near them.
"Impossible!" said Chazeul, in reply to something which his mother appeared to have suggested: "we have not men enough. He has fifteen of his own old soldiers here; and a number of the men of Liancourt would take his part. I have but seven in the castle.--No, it is impossible."
The Countess muttered something in return, and then added, "Stay, Chazeul: a better plan!" She then whispered a word or two, which escaped all ears but those of her son, adding, "You see to it: bid him come back at full speed when he has seen them housed. Send notice to Nemours, too, and Mayenne; so you will have them in a net. In the meantime, stop this farce as soon as possible. I have a word or two to say to another personage:--Good father, I would fain speak with you," she continued aloud, addressing Walter de la Tremblade, "either before or after mass."
"Which you please, daughter," replied Walter de la Tremblade; "we have still half an hour."
"That will be enough," answered the Marchioness, rising: "and so, good-day, good brother Michael. Like all fools who meddle with what does not concern them, you will one day rue the mischief that you have now made."
"Never, Jacqueline," replied the Commander. "I am not so famous for scheming as you are; but, be you sure that, whatever you may be now plotting, I will find means to put it out of joint with plain honesty and truth, as I have done to-day. Farewell, brother Anthony," he continued; "let us not part bad friends; for what I have done, has been as much to save your honour as anything else."
He held out his hand as he spoke; but the Count put his behind his back, saying, "My honour can take care of itself, Michael; and I do not thank you for this insolent meddling."
"Poor man," said the Commander; and, turning abruptly away, he strode out of the hall, followed by Estoc.
There are dull pauses in human life when the mind, however anxious it may be to speed forward upon its active career, is forced by circumstances to halt and deal with minor things; as a traveller on foot, however eager he may be to hasten forward upon his way, is sometimes obliged to stop and take a small stone out of his shoe, lest it should impede the whole after part of his journey: and thus, though we would willingly go on with those in whom we are more interested, we must linger for a moment or two with the priest and Madame de Chazeul, in order to proceed more rapidly when we have related some things which, though not very entertaining, are absolutely necessary to the right understanding of this history.
The lady led the way to her own chamber, with a step she intended to be perfectly calm and tranquil, but which, by its occasional irregularity and sharp jerking movement, betrayed the agitated and angry feelings which she struggled to conceal. The priest followed, with his still, even pace, his large dark eyes as usual bent down, and not a trace of any emotion upon his countenance. He seemed, indeed, like a moving statue, to the countenance of which the sculptor had successfully endeavoured to give an expression of great thought, of mind, and equanimity, but not of feeling or emotion.
When they reached the lady's chamber, the Marchioness de Chazeul took a seat, and pointed to another, with a somewhat haughty wave of the hand; but father Walter sat down deliberately, and crossing one foot over the other, remained in an easy attitude waiting for Madame de Chazeul to begin, as if totally unconscious that there were any angry feelings in her bosom towards himself. He made no inquiry, even by a look, in regard to the nature of the communication which he was about to receive, but calmly bent his head a little forward as if to listen, and waited for her to begin.
"Well, Monsieur de la Tremblade," said the lady at length, "so you have thought fit to commence this system of sweet candour towards Monsieur de Montigni, and to tell him that he has a right to the estates."
"I always advocated candour, Madam," replied the priest; "and if my advice had been followed, and the exact state of the case had been told him in Italy, with a request that he would remove all obstacles, he would have remained where he was, and you would not have been in such an unpleasant situation at present."
"And therefore, I suppose, because people judged differently from yourself," said the Marchioness, "you thought fit to spoil their plans, when yours were not adopted."
"Not exactly," answered father Walter, perfectly unmoved; "I only acted as was right and fitting on the occasion, I betrayed no secrets, lady; I gave no further information than was merely necessary to induce this young gentleman to do what was required of him. The very act of renunciation itself bore upon its face, the acknowledgment that he had rights; and I did not in any degree define them, but merely said, that it was necessary he should sign the papers, to guard against any legal contest hereafter."
"Pshaw!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "do you think I do not see your motives, Walter de la Tremblade? You would fain have so managed, that the greater part of the benefices, if not the whole, should fall into your hands. You were not content with the Abbey of Chizay--not you! You must have more: and now a fine business you have made of it, for you have lost all to yourself and to us too."
The slightest possible glow passed over the cheek of Walter de la Tremblade; but he replied, without the least alteration of tone, "You are wrong in your suspicions, daughter; and they are unworthy of you or me."
"Quite worthy of me," replied the Marchioness, "for I like to see to the bottom of men's hearts. Now, I will answer for it, you persuaded him that it was very improper for laymen to hold the property of the church; you showed him, that he could not conscientiously keep these benefices, if he got them, without taking the gown. Ha! have I touched you? can you deny it, Sir?"
"Entirely," replied father Walter. "He stated such objections himself; and it was not for me to argue against my conscience. I told him, however, that it was a constant practice in France for men, not ecclesiastics, to hold such benefices. The objections were his, not mine, though how you came to learn they were ever made, I know not, as his conduct turned upon very different feelings."
"How I came to learn!" exclaimed the Marchioness, with a scornful smile; "because I know you both right well--by no other means, good father. Oh! I understand the whole. Think you I have lived for fifty years, with my eyes open, in this busy world, and do not know how a calm, quiet priest, by a few soft, half-whispered words, can instil doubts, and insinuate his own views into the mind of a weak-hearted youth; how by a look, or even a faint denial of that which he seeks most strongly to impress, he can produce the effect desired, when seeming to oppose it."
"Madam, you are very learned in such arts," replied father Walter, with a slight sarcastic curl of the lip.
"I am," answered the Marchioness, boldly, "and I know that father Walter can make use of them as well as others. But there is such a thing as overreaching one's self, Sir; and methinks you have done so in this instance."
"Not in the least, daughter," replied the Priest. "I am quite contented, if you are."
"But I am not!" cried the Marchioness, vehemently, "and I will have no more of this. You think the game is lost; and, therefore, with the cunning of your cloth, you bear it tranquilly. I know that it is not so hopeless as you imagine; and for that reason I take the trouble of telling you, that if I recover the false steps taken, I will not be frustrated by you."
She spoke angrily and haughtily; and then, as if feeling that she had given too much way to passion, she rose, went to the window, gazed out for a moment, and played with the embroidery on her dress. Father Walter in the meanwhile remained calm and silent: not that thought--ay, and even passion, were less busy in his own bosom than in hers; but he was more habituated to command his own sensations, and to keep them, like those undercurrents of the sea which carry ships far astray without producing a ripple on the surface, from showing, by any outward sign, the course in which they were bent.
At length, the Marchioness returned, with a smoother brow and more placable look. "Come, father Walter," she said, "we must not quarrel; we are needful to each other. Let us act together, and, depend upon it, the interests of both will be better served by so doing, than if each pursued a course apart."
"I deny that I have ever acted otherwise, daughter," replied the Priest. "I am glad to hear you have hopes of retrieving what has gone wrong; and I will aid you to the very utmost of my power, not only to wrest from Monsieur de Montigni the estates of Liancourt, but also to unite Mademoiselle d'Albret to your son. There are a few things that I would not undertake to accomplish this; but not from the motives you imagine,--from very, very different reasons."
"What may they be?" inquired the Marchioness; "if you promote my views, boldly and unhesitatingly, and I can aid yours, I will, without scruple. What may they be, good father?"
"Listen, then, daughter," replied the Priest. "To an ecclesiastic of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, there are objects far higher, far nearer to his heart than any interests of his own. Indeed, rightly speaking, we should have no interest but one, though human weakness will occasionally have its share. When we enter into that body to which I belong, we lose our identity, we become but part of a great whole, we merge all our own passions, hopes, wishes, desires, all our personal feelings and views, in those of the church, and for her interests, as the highest object at which we can aim, we are justified in taking means, and performing acts, which we should consider culpable, were they undertaken for any individual end."
"Well, father," said the Marchioness, as he paused, "to what does this tend?"
"To a very important point, daughter," replied the Priest. "This young man, this De Montigni, boldly and straightforwardly acknowledges the heretic, Henry de Bourbon, as King of France. 'Tis but the day before yesterday, that, for the deliverance of the heretic named Chasseron, a man who, I hear, made himself bitterly obnoxious during what is called the Lover's War, he charged and put to death several good Catholics of the League. One of them was brought in here severely wounded, and I confessed him last night before his death. The youth is, even now, gone to join his heretic monarch, excommunicated by the head of the Christian church, and deprived by him of all right and title to the allegiance of any but heretics like himself. Think you, lady, that a priest of the true religion would willingly see estates and power in the hands of such a one? No, daughter, no; and I believe that any scheme would be justifiable to deprive him of the means of injuring the church, of upholding heretics and infidels, and of overthrowing all true religion in this realm. It is with great difficulty I have kept your brother--whose wavering weakness in such things I need not tell you--from acknowledging Henry of Bourbon; and, if his heir goes over to that side, all my pains are lost. It has been for these causes that I have joined heart and hand in endeavouring to bring about the marriage between Mademoiselle d'Albret and Monsieur de Chazeul, one of the brightest ornaments of the Holy Catholic Union; and you have done me great wrong in supposing that any private interest, whatsoever, would induce me to risk, even by a word, the great object I have in view."
"Perhaps I have," replied the Marchioness; "but yet, father, it was imprudent to let this youth know that he had any rights."
"Not at all," replied the Priest, somewhat sternly. "That fact could not be concealed. The very papers showed it, and the attempt to keep it back naturally produced suspicion and inquiry. If others had played their part as well as I did, and had watched carefully to prevent all communication between your brother Michael and his nephew, till De Montigni had signed, no harm would have arisen; but my advice was ill followed; they were suffered to meet in private--how, and when, I know not; but five minutes was sufficient to do all the mischief. And now it is necessary that I should know what you are about to do--what are your hopes of retrieving this affair--and what scheme is to be followed for the future."
"What would you advise yourself, father?" inquired the lady, willing to test his sincerity.
"Methinks," answered the Priest, "there is but one course to be taken. Lose not a moment longer in vain deliberation, surprise, and recrimination, but raise all the men of Liancourt, and send them out to overtake this runaway ward. A thousand things may occur to stop her. Dispatch messengers to Mayenne, Nemours, Aumale, with information of the circumstances. Tell them to cut her off from the King's camp and send her back. Once here, we will find means to deal with her. This is your only chance; but a clue to her course may be gained by the road which the old Commander follows. Be you sure that he is going to join them; and it is even not improbable, that they are waiting for him, at no great distance."
"Give me your hand, father Walter," cried the Marchioness. "All that you propose is already ordered; and, if we succeed by your assistance, not only Chizay, but another abbey, richer still, shall show our gratitude--"
The priest waved his hand, and she added, with a smile, "to enable you to promote the true interests of the Roman Catholic religion."
Father Walter was about to reply; but at that moment one of the Marchioness's women entered the room, saying, "Madam, here are Theodore and one of the men you sent back to Chazeul, who wish to speak with you directly."
Her mistress made her a sign to be silent, and father Walter, observing her gesture, took his leave and retired.
The night was as black as Acheron. The rain poured down in torrents. The melting of the snow rendered the roads in the lower parts one mass of mud and water, while the higher ground, where the temperature was colder, afforded nothing but a slippery and uncertain footing for the horses, over which they had the greatest difficulty in making their way. There was no possibility of seeing more than four or five yards in advance; the wind blew the falling deluge in the eyes of the whole party; and the heart of Louis de Montigni sank, when he thought of all that Rose d'Albret was exposed to for his sake. He strove to cheer her, however, as she rode beside him; he guided and supported her horse in all the more difficult parts of the way; and often he expressed his fears and apprehensions regarding her, almost regretting that any inducement had led him to bring her forth in such a night as that.
Rose spoke little in return, for her heart was too full of manifold sensations, her mind too busy with thought for many words; but all that she did say was kind, and even cheerful; for she perceived clearly his deep anxiety for her, and strove to lighten the load as much as possible. She assured him that she did not mind the tempest, that she was accustomed to endure such things frequently, that her jennet was the most sure-footed beast on earth, that she doubted not the sky would soon clear; and when she saw how he reproached himself for all that she was enduring, she reassured him by expressing her joy and thankfulness at having escaped from an union, which every moment's thought rendered more odious in her eyes. Thus they rode on for nearly an hour and an half, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly, according to the nature of the ground: the horsemen who accompanied them, keeping as close around them as possible, for even such a dark and stormy night was not without dangers of another kind, from the state of turbulent anarchy into which the country was plunged.
At length, however, the rain suddenly ceased; the air became hot and sultry; the wind died away; and Rose, turning to her lover, exclaimed, "I told you, Louis, it would be finer soon."
Almost as she spoke, a bright blaze flashed over the whole sky, illuminating the prospect on every side, which had before been hidden under the dark veil of night. The trees of the forest on the right, the wide undulating country on the left, the village and the spire in the distance, the valley into which they were descending in front, were all seen for a single instant, as clearly as if the day had suddenly dawned; while, across the very midst of the glare which blazed over the whole heaven, was seen a thin and quivering line of more intense light, beginning near the zenith, and ending apparently at a tree, some two or three hundred yards in advance, several large limbs of which, were seen falling to the earth, with a rending and a crashing sound, just as the darkness swept over the sky again, and all was night once more.
The horses started at the blaze; and Rose d'Albret covered her eyes with her hand, while Louis de Montigni checked the speed at which they were proceeding, saying, "We must go more slowly, dear Rose. This is unfortunate indeed."
"It may be so, Louis," replied his fair companion, "but storm, and tempest, and the fierce turbulence of such a night as this, are nothing in my eyes, compared with the slow and lengthened misery of, a home without affection, and the living death of, a marriage without love."
"Look! look, Sir! look!" cried one of the men, pointing forward to the sky: but the eyes of his master, and of all the party were already fixed on the same spot, where, in the midst of the heaven, one of the most extraordinary phenomena of nature was suddenly presented to them. For a space of several degrees the clouds seemed to have rolled back, and were seen piled up, in enormous masses on either hand, like the scenes flanking a wide stage, while between them spread out an expanse of pale whitish light, with a red wavy streak below, resembling a plain which has caught the purple rays of the setting sun. On either hand, from amongst the masses of vapour, appeared to dash forth bodies of fiery combatants, horse and foot mingled together, rushing, charging, overthrowing each other, now mixed in furious combat, now separating for a moment, now chasing each other over the field. Again and again the squadrons met, as if in deadly shock, and balls of fire, as of some unearthly cannonade, crossed the sky in the midst of that strange scene, till at length, while the fight seemed still going on, the clouds once more rolled over the whole, and all returned to darkness.[1]
"This is very strange," exclaimed Louis de Montigni: "I have heard of such a thing; but I never believed it before."
"We shall have a battle soon, Sir," said one of the men. "I wish we could have seen which party won the day."
"The King's, to be sure," replied another; "did you not see how he drove them back?"
"And which do you call the King's?" asked the young Baron, smiling to see how readily imagination had seized upon the strange sight they had beheld, to turn it to the purposes of superstition.
"That on the right, Sir," answered the man. "The King has the right, I am sure; and besides, I saw him in the front rank with a large plume in his casque."
"My eyes were not so good," said De Montigni. "Did you ever see the King, Hugh?"
"Not I, Sir," replied the attendant; "but I am certain that was he, and his horse was as red as blood."
His master said nothing in return, but rode on slowly, conversing in a low tone with Rose d'Albret, while from time to time the lightning flashed across their path, but less vividly than before; and ere long the rain began to fall again, and the thunder ceased.
Now came the most fatiguing part of the journey, for the narrow path which they were following entered the hilly and wooded country about Montlandon and Champrond en Gatine, and they were forced to climb and descend continually, over a road on which the snow was but half melted and the mud up to the fetlocks of their horses, while still the torrents poured down from the sky, drenching their garments through and through. The wind had totally ceased, but the air was more sultry and close than ever; and both horses and riders suffered much from its oppressive warmth.
Rose d'Albret became silent from fatigue, for the agitation of the last twenty-four hours now had its full effect upon her; and fears lest her bodily strength should give way, added to what she suffered. There is a calm and persevering endurance which goes far; there is a light-hearted and hopeful energy which carries one through innumerable evils; but the greatest burden upon all exertion is the fear of failing--if once we let apprehension take possession of us. Rose knew that it is so, and she strove hard, for De Montigni's sake, to banish all such alarm; but the time seemed very weary, the way interminably long. She looked anxiously for the first, grey light of morning. More than once--when at the bottom of a hill--she thought she saw some streaks of light over the brow; and as often she was disappointed, till at length, as they issued forth from a thick forest that then lay between Marolles and the edge of La Beauce, her lover exclaimed gladly, "There, there is the daylight, Rose;" and looking forward, she perceived distinctly the faint hues of coming day stretching over the eastern sky, and the dark walls and towers of the castle of Montlandon on its wooded height, standing out in strong relief.
That castle offers now nothing but a picturesque ruin to the eye of the passing traveller; but, at the time I speak of, it was inhabited; and a beacon fire on one of the turrets, waning in lustre with the rising light, told that its owner took part for one side or the other in the civil war.
"If I remember right," said Louis de Montigni, speaking to the man who acted as their guide, "that is Montlandon; cannot we get shelter there?"
"No, Sir, oh no!" replied the soldier. "We must change the colour of our scarfs if we do; for Monsieur de Montlandon is furious for the Union, and a great friend of Monsieur de Chazeul's."
"That is unfortunate indeed," said De Montigni. "Alas! dear Rose, I fear you are well nigh exhausted. Can you go on, my beloved?"
"Oh, yes!" answered Rose, in as cheerful a tone as she could assume; "for another hour, Louis--or two, should it be needed."
"It will not be safe to stop, Mademoiselle, till we get to Les Châtelets," observed the attendant, who was one of the old followers of the good Commander de Liancourt, "and that is near three leagues; but the road is better here in Beauce; and we can go faster in the daylight. But we had better use speed, Sir, and pass this village and Champrond before the people are awake, or we may find enemies."
"With all my heart," cried Rose d'Albret; "this slow travelling in the darkness is more fatiguing far than a quick pace;" and putting their horses into a brisk canter, they hurried through Montlandon, before any of the cottage windows showed signs of waking life. When they reached Champrond, however, a good many of the villagers were standing out under the shelter of their doors. The greater part, indeed, seemed more terrified at the sight of the body of horsemen, than desirous of impeding their progress, and retreated into their houses as soon as the white scarfs appeared. But one stout blacksmith stood before his forge, and shouted as they passed, "What news from the armies?"
"The King has taken Dreux," replied one of the attendants, in the same loud tone, "and is marching upon Chartres."
"Curses on the Maheutre!" cried the blacksmith, and retired grumbling into his dwelling.
No opposition, however, was offered to their passage; and at a quick pace they hurried on; but the anxious eye of De Montigni saw that Rose's cheek was very pale, her fair head bent down, and the hand which held her bridle resting on the pommel of the saddle, as if she could hardly manage her reins.
"Ah, dearest girl," he said, "let us stop at the first cottage. You are faint,--you are ill."
"No, no," she answered; "I can go on, Louis. I am somewhat tired, but I can go on," and in about five minutes more their guide exclaimed,
"There is the Eure! We shall soon be safe!"
Such words of encouragement revived the poor girl's strength for a few minutes longer, till a hamlet, containing some half dozen houses, appeared a little to the left, and De Montigni, without further question, turned his horse's head thither, sprang to the ground at the door of the first cottage, and, throwing his arm round his fair companion, lifted her from the saddle.
Rose leaned upon his bosom, for she could not support herself; and, raising her in his arms, he carried her into the hut, where they found a peasant and his young wife taking their early meal. The good people of this place seemed to know little, or care little, of Royalists and Leaguers. They were of the best party, the party of human nature; and the young woman rose eagerly from the table, with expressions of kindly compassion, to assist poor Rose d'Albret, laid her upon her own bed, all dripping as she was, and insisted upon making her put on some of her own apparel, while she dried the lady's wet garments at the fire. Fatigue and exhaustion, however, were the greatest evils under which Rose was suffering; and De Montigni eagerly asked for wine, as her pale cheeks and bloodless lips showed him how faint she felt.
"Here is cyder," said the peasant, "but that is poor stuff for such a lady; and wine we have none."
"Run, Victor, run down to the priest's," cried his wife; "you will get wine there."
"Or at Master Leger's," answered the cottager; "he has better wine than the priest."
"I will go myself," cried De Montigni. "Come with me, good man; and, while we are gone, your wife can undress the lady and assist her to bed. A few hours' repose will do her much good."
"I am better now, Louis," said Rose d'Albret, stretching out her hand to him; "do not leave me long. I am afraid of some one coming while you are gone."
"I will be but an instant, dearest Rose," replied her lover, "and in the meanwhile our people shall remain round the house. You had better take off your wet clothes, dear one;" and he added, with a faint smile, "I have no title to be present at your toilette yet."
The colour came faintly into her cheeks again; and, once more promising not to be many minutes absent, the young nobleman hurried away with the peasant, closing the door behind him, and bidding the attendants remain on guard before the house till he returned.
At the end of the little straggling hamlet stood a house with a projecting pole, from which was suspended a withered bush, giving clear indication that there was the place where village festivals, marriages, and merry makings, usually were celebrated. Here some tolerable wine was easily procured, and, hurrying back with it, De Montigni was soon by the side of her he loved, who, now stretched on the low bed of the good peasants, had already somewhat recovered the rosy look of health, and spoke cheerfully to him of being soon able to proceed.
But De Montigni did not feel so confident of Rose's powers, and inquired anxiously of the peasants, whether any carriage or litter could be procured in the neighbourhood. Nothing of the kind, however, was to be heard of, and they assured him that to seek any conveyance but a horse or a mule nearer than Chartres or Dreux, was quite out of the question. He then proposed to construct a litter in haste, but Rose would not hear of it, declaring, that in an hour's time she would be quite ready to pursue her journey on horseback; and, indeed, she seemed so eager to go on, and so fearful of being overtaken, that she would fain have risen even before an hour was over, declaring that she had had rest enough. De Montigni, however, persuaded her to remain for half an hour longer; and, going out of the door with their young host, he made some inquiries regarding the state of the country in the neighbourhood, and the best road he could follow towards Dreux.
The replies he received were not altogether satisfactory. Several large bodies of men, the peasant said, had passed through the village the day before; but whether they were Royalists or Leaguers he could not well tell, as he took no great heed of such things, and the soldiers had passed on without stopping, even to drink. One corps had taken up its quarters for the night, he heard, in a village about a league and a half farther on; but every fact he mentioned showed the young nobleman that it would be needful to use every precaution, during their onward journey, in order to avoid falling into the hands of the Leaguers. For this purpose, he determined to send forward one of the attendants, with directions to keep about half a mile in advance of the rest of the party, while another preceded them by about three hundred yards, so that early intelligence might be obtained of any approaching danger. A man, too, was left to follow at a little distance behind, for the purpose of guarding against being overtaken suddenly by any party of pursuers from the Château of Marzay, though De Montigni had good hope that the speed with which they travelled, had removed all risk of such an event.
Everything being prepared, all orders given, the horses refreshed and fed, and Rose d'Albret dressed in the clothes which had been dried before a large wood fire, she was once more placed upon the back of her jennet, and, at a slower pace than before, they again set out upon their journey, after De Montigni had amply paid for all that he had taken. At a distance of about a mile from the village, the man who had been thrown forward, returned to say, that the ropes of the ferry-boat over the Eure had been cut by the soldiers, as they passed on the preceding day, and that they must go further up the stream to seek a ford.
The weather, however, had become somewhat finer. The rain had ceased, except a few drops from a flying cloud, now and then. Rose looked and spoke cheerfully, and seemed really to have recovered from the fatigue she had undergone; the fear of being overtaken had grown fainter with every league they had advanced; and though the Eure was somewhat flooded by the rains that had fallen, they soon found a ford. The marks of horses' feet showed that some persons had passed not long before, and, causing the whole of his little troop to keep on the left, in order to break the force of the water, De Montigni led over the lady's jennet, without much difficulty, and gained the opposite bank.
This obstacle overcome, they proceeded for half an hour more without encountering any fresh impediment; and, giving way to hope and love, they talked of future happiness and bright days to come, and gave way to all the dreams that visit the young heart in the season of fancy and expectation, and clothe the coming years with all the glittering garments of imaginary joy. They were both too young, they were both too inexperienced not to feel the heart rise the moment that danger and apprehension ceased; and, to say truth, though Hope may be--as she is often too justly called--an untiring deceiver, yet, even in the midst of her false promises, she confers real and inestimable benefits, giving us strength to endure and courage to go on, which none of the truer and more substantial things of life can afford.
Thus the happy dreams in which Rose d'Albret and her lover indulged, during that brief half hour, comforted and refreshed her more than the repose she obtained at the cottage; but the pleasant moments were soon interrupted. At the end of the time we have named, the man who was farthest in advance rode back at speed to the one behind him, and, taking his place, sent him back to tell De Montigni that a body of some two hundred horse were moving over the country before them, in the direction of Tremblay. The first soldier had halted; and, riding up with the man who served them as guide, De Montigni asked him, with some anxiety, if he had been seen. The reply was in the negative; and a consultation was held as to what course should now be pursued, in order to avoid encountering the party which he had observed. It was at length determined to take the cross roads to the east, and, once more the Eure, to endeavour to reach the King's camp at Dreux, from the side of Paris.
"We shall have better roads there, Sir," said their guide, "and shall run less risk; for the country about Hauteville, Poigny, Epernon, and Maintenon generally holds for the King."
"It will lengthen the way," replied De Montigni; "and I fear for Mademoiselle d'Albret."
"Oh, do not think of me, Louis," exclaimed Rose; "if it is a safer road, it will seem to me a shorter one."
"Besides, Monsieur le Baron," rejoined the guide, "we can rest as long as we like at Nogent Leroy, for it has always been loyal; and, though little more than a village, it defended itself against the Chevalier d'Aumale and three hundred of the League. We can reach it in less than two hours."
"Then let us thither with all speed," answered De Montigni; "for there we shall find safety and repose combined, dear Rose."
This plan was accordingly followed; and, in less than the time mentioned Nogent Leroy was reached, without any further peril or impediment. Though, as the guide had described it, the place was in fact but a village, yet gates, and freshly erected barricades gave it at that time the air of a town; and the marks of musket-balls, in the wood-work of the palisade, showed that it had been fiercely attacked and had shown a gallant resistance. The little party was stopped for a moment at the barriers, but the white scarfs worn by De Montigni's men, and the answer of "Vive le Roi!" to the "Qui vive?" of the guard, soon obtained them admission; and, riding on down the street, they reached a small but clean and neat looking inn, over the door of which was written the usual inscription, "Lodging for man and horse."
The host came out to meet them, showed them into a room strewed with rushes, called forth his wife in eager and imperative tones to wait upon the lady, and began in the same breath to ask tidings of his guests, and to communicate all the information which he himself possessed. The intelligence he afforded indeed was much more important than any that De Montigni could supply in return; for the very first news he gave imported, that a battle might be expected every hour, that the two armies must be within a few leagues of each other, and that parties of Leaguers and Royalists were hurrying up from every quarter to swell the ranks of Mayenne and the King.
These tidings somewhat startled De Montigni and his fair companion; but the host, who was an eager Royalist, spoke so confidently of the certain defeat of the League and the triumph of the King, that the apprehension of fresh dangers and difficulties, which the intelligence had at first produced, soon died away; and De Montigni, turning to her he loved as soon as they were alone, pressed her hand in his, saying, "God send the King good success, dear Rose: but even if it should be otherwise, which I will not believe we can but pursue our flight somewhat further, and the very hurry and confusion of such events will serve to conceal us from the eyes of those we have most cause to fear."
Rose indeed could scarcely view the matter so cheerfully; but she would not show her apprehensions, and only asked what course her lover would pursue, if it should be found that a battle had been fought and lost by the King, before they reached his camp.
"That cannot well be, dear Rose," replied De Montigni; "for I trust we shall reach his camp to-night. They say he has raised the siege of Dreux, and is now at Annet. You can take three or four hours' rest here, and yet reach that place before dark. We must do so, if possible; for in case of success we shall then be free from danger: and in case of reverse we shall have the means of judging in what direction to turn our steps. If further flight should be necessary, which heaven forbid! I know that my own dear Rose will not hesitate to give me her hand at once, to remove all chance of separation; and I would fain obtain the King's written sanction to our union, to obviate all difficulties, before a battle takes place--the event of which is always doubtful."
He held Rose's hand in his as he spoke; and, though she bent down her eyes under his eager gaze, she gave no sign of hesitation or reluctance. Yet he could not be satisfied without full consent; and he asked, "Shall it not be so, dear Rose? Will you not be mine at once?"
"I am yours, De Montigni," replied Rose d'Albret in a low tone. "You will never ask ought that is wrong, I am sure; so that I may well promise to grant whatever you do ask. But I hope we shall find the King, and that he will win the day, and then I may be yours openly and happily, and not in flight, and dread, and concealment."