I had remarked particularly, in the painful interview just past, that neither good old La Tour, nor the two dear boys who were daily growing up more and more like their angel of a mother, had been present; but I learned afterward that many painful efforts had been made to induce Louise to wed a man she abhorred, and that her brothers had broken forth with somewhat rash expressions of indignation, while La Tour had remonstrated in milder but as forcible terms. The consequence had been, that the baron had sent them all three to some distance, and probably was not a little glad, when the scene terminated as it did, that he had taken that precaution. I received from him that night a threatening note, but it was so worded as evidently to court a lengthened reply; and, after pondering over it for some moments, I showed it to the prince, who came in at the time. He read it attentively; but, wise beyond his years, he returned it, saying,
"Keep that note, De Cerons; and, if you will take my advice, reply but vaguely, and still as shortly as possible."
I did take his advice; and to all the haughty demands of how I dared to offer opposition to his disposal of his own child, I replied, merely, that I had acted as I doubted not would be found just in a court of law; but at the same time I added--as it was my first wish not to irritate the father of her I sought to obtain--all that was kind and deferential towards himself.
D'Auvergne approved highly of my note; but, as he gave it back to me, he placed his hand kindly upon my arm and said, "And now, De Cerons, remember our compact; you must, after all this business, go immediately into the Low Countries upon the conditions I stated. For your own safety I say you must, for your stay in Paris as a known and marked Huguenot will be most dangerous; but you must also do so for our sake. My father, as well as myself, wishes you every success in your suit; but remember, we must not be found taking any undue advantage either of De Blaye or Monsieur de Blancford; all that we wish is to give you a fair chance; and, as soon as we have the positive assurance that the former is fairly gone from Paris, you must go and win honours and renown with the bright hope of obtaining her you love."
I felt myself bound in honour to follow his injunctions to the letter, and only required one day to prepare, and to ascertain that the Seigneur de Blaye had actually departed. Much business, however, remained to be done in the mean time. I had to write to the Admiral de Coligny, giving him information of the conditions that were imposed upon me, and begging him to transmit whatever money of mine remained in his hands, when convenience served, to good Master Vern. I had to write to Moric Endem, giving him, as far as it was needful, orders to command my troop in the service of the Protestant princes; and I had to buy all those necessary equipments for my journey and for active service, few of which I now possessed. The attendants that I had brought with me were all that I could expect to obtain, as few in Paris were willing to own themselves of the poor and persecuted sect.
On the following morning early, then, I rode into Paris, and went straight to the house of Martin Vern, when I was directed to seek him at the dwelling of Levi Judi, the great goldsmith. I there found a number of persons whom I knew collected together, and talking earnestly in a small, dark room. There were the two Christian merchants with Solomon Ahar and his daughter Miriam; and besides these was Levi himself, the converted Jew, who was speaking when I came in, and suddenly stopped. They were all evidently rejoicing over some event, which proved to be the success of my opposition to the young Lord of Blaye; and I now learned that he had been obliged to depart by daybreak that morning, letters of reproof having been sent him from Blois for having already lingered too long.
I thought Miriam's satisfaction would have exceeded all bounds; and a slight degree of discomfort which I remarked in the demeanour of the younger Martin Vern at the sight of Miriam's evident regard for me, first gave me a suspicion of matters which were going on in their hearts, perhaps as yet unknown to both.
After some conversation upon the chief topic of all my thoughts, I took the good merchant aside, and telling him the destiny that awaited me, begged him to procure, as reasonably as possible, all I stood in need of before night. I also told him that, with the exception of what my equipment might cost, I should leave all I had in his hands, having plenty by me for my journey; and I then besought him, if he obtained any speech with my sweet Louise alone, to tell her that I loved her ever, and would never cease to seek her hand so long as I had life.
He mused for some time over what I said, committed all my orders to a note-book, and then said, in his calm and business-like tone, "I will do all this as far as possible, seigneur, and will be at Champigny with you to-night; but I have a request to make, which you may think a strange one from a poor merchant like myself. It is, that if ever you be placed in difficulties again regarding this transaction between your noble cousin the baron and Monsieur de Blaye, you would give some of us instant and full intelligence; for, though we be merely citizens, we have some say in many families; and perhaps, had not your opposition yesterday morning been successful, Martin Vern might not have been upon the stairs for nothing."
I pressed him much to explain what he meant, but he would not; and promising, in return for the interest he showed in me, to place the confidence he required in him, I left him and went back to Champigny. I found the prince dauphin busily writing when I arrived, with several letters before him sealed with various different seals; and when he had ended those that he himself was employed upon, he gave them all to me.
"These, De Cerons," he said, "are letters from my father, and from some of the ministers of the king to different princes and nobles in the Low Countries and on the Rhenish frontier of Germany; two among them being to the Prince of Orange. They will, beyond all doubt, procure you every opportunity, and you will do the rest to raise yourself still higher than you yet have done. This which I have written is to the Count de Bergh, to whom I once did some kindness; and this, in case of extreme need, is to the Duke of Alva. I mean by extreme need that you should use it in case your life is in danger from some of Alva's proceedings. He is a nobleman of a high heart and gallant character; but the streams of Toledo, which harden steel to such a temper, have not altogether left his heart untouched by their influence. At the sight of this, however, he will free you as he is bound to do; and now, De Cerons, if I can at any future time serve, aid, or befriend you, call upon me instantly as you would upon a brother; and depend upon it that I will give you information, even should you be at the other end of the earth, the moment there is even a whisper of your rival's return."
I thanked him, as may be supposed; and the conversation that thus commenced went on to touch upon a thousand things, in regard to all of which, his mingled kindness of heart and soundness of judgment made me but admire and love him more and more.
At night, nearly at ten o'clock, Martin Vern himself arrived, with horses loaded with all that I required; but there was one small note among the rest far more valuable to me than anything else that he brought with him. It was from Louise, and very short; but oh, how sweet it was to me to read!
"Dear, dear Henry! A thousand thanks, a thousand blessings on your head for saving me from distraction. I am better now--I am well now. They know your love for me, they now know mine for you; and they will find neither fail, I am sure. The worst is over. They cannot shake me. I am yours for ever!
"LOUISE."
The account given me by Martin Vern was even more cheering than the letter of Louise herself; he had seen her, he said, and spoken with her long in her chamber. During the whole of the preceding day she had been so ill that the baron had become alarmed and grieved, and, in order to make some atonement, had sent for jewels and rich clothes as gifts to his daughter. It showed how little he knew her nature; with Louise, one kind word would have been worth all the jewels upon earth.
After speaking long of her, the good merchant turned to other matters; and not only gave me the long-delayed acknowledgment of the sums of mine he had in hand, but pointed out means by which I might be enabled to obtain money, should I need it, in any of the great towns which I was likely to visit. My equipage was now complete, and on the following morning at daybreak I began my journey, proposing in the first place to seek the Prince of Orange. The kindness of the prince dauphin showed itself to the last moment, and he was up and out to see me depart, embracing me ere I mounted my horse as if he had been my brother.
I found the Prince of Orange labouring hard to gather a sufficient army on the German side of the Rhine to support the insurgent Protestants of the Low Countries; and as he himself, and his brother Count Ludovic, had been much with our troops in France, my name was not unknown to him. He received me kindly and gladly; but there was about him a sort of cold and suspicious reserve, which doubtless was very needful, but which had a tendency to check attachment in the outset; and, had it not been for his great wisdom, skill, courage, and determination, which were already well known, one would have been inclined to say that he was less calculated than almost any other man on earth to sustain the character of a popular leader. The great difference, however, which exists between the mere capricious outbreak of popular discontent and the determined resistance to insufferable oppression, is shown in nothing more strongly than in the choice of leaders. The fiery, impetuous, loud-tongued demagogue does well enough for the one, but the calm, cool, powerful-minded statesman must be sought for in the other.
The Prince of Orange gave me authority and command, but it was long ere he trusted me; and I could often see that, in conversing with me upon any indifferent subject, he watched every word that fell from me, every look, every gesture; but it was the same with others; and, ere he was perfectly satisfied with his own knowledge of the man, he never trusted, nor, even then, trusted entirely.
The first proof of the confidence that he at length placed in me was rather diplomatic than military. His movements had been retarded by a thousand adverse circumstances, and he sent me on to Holland to communicate with Sounoy, and to do as much as possible to keep up the spirits of the Dutch malcontents. From Holland I had to make a tour through Utrecht, Guelderland, and Friesland, and was, on the whole, far more successful than I had expected. On my return to the prince, I found him well pleased with what I had done, and, on making a report of some of my proceedings, I saw a quiet smile curl his lip, which made me stop suddenly.
"You wish to know why I smile, De Cerons," he said; "it is because you have done exactly what I expected, and what no hackneyed diplomatist would have done. I have often remarked that, in rapid negotiations, a man of strong natural sense, but little experience in intrigue, puts to fault a whole host of old politicians. If they had time to discover his true character, the result would be lost; but, as it is, they attribute to experience that which is merely the result of good sense, and puzzle themselves to discover motives, overstepping the true ones that he lays before them. However, De Cerons," he continued, "I have good news for you; news which, as a Protestant and a Frenchman, you will be glad to hear. Peace is concluded in France; and the secret assurances of support from King Charles which you brought me, and which I did not trust, are thus confirmed."
He then went on to give me a full account of all the events which had taken place in France since I left him; events which had reached me only in rumours during my journey. We were all deceived by the fair aspect of events. The military preparations of the Protestants of the Low Countries went on rapidly; town after town revolted against the tyranny of Alva; where leaders and assistance were wanted, the Prince of Orange despatched them in all speed from his camp, and my military life again began.
On it, however, I need not dwell; the general events of the times are written in general histories, and my own individual career offered nothing but the usual occurrences in the life of a soldier, who, not naturally timid, has every motive to daring exploits. I was not less active or less brave than others; and there was no one more fortunate than myself. Honours, rewards, and recompenses flowed in upon me rapidly; the news that I daily received from France was most joyful: the Protestants were not only treated with gentleness, but with especial favour: the admiral ruled the court of France, and a regular French army was promised to cooperate. So far, indeed, was this proceeding carried, that by the same courier I received news that Count Ludovic had been sent to maintain a correspondence with the Protestants of Flanders, tidings that he had captured Mons, and a commission for myself, under the hand of the King of France, to raise a regiment of Protestant soldiery for the service of the Flemish insurgents.
It was now full spring in the year 1672, and, as soon as I showed the commission I had received to the Prince of Orange, he exclaimed,
"If this man is deceiving us, De Cerons, he forgets no means to blind the eyes of all, However, we must take advantage of the opportunity, at all events, whether it be afforded for the purpose of deceiving us or not. Are you willing, De Cerons, to take the risk of a hazardous journey to join my brother in Mons, to tell him that the Duke of Alva will certainly besiege him, and that I as certainly will march to his relief without the loss of a moment? Then hasten on yourself into France, raise a regiment, and bring it to our aid."
It may easily be supposed that I did not hesitate; and with a train which had now been increased again to about twenty men, I set off for Mons. I reached it some time before the siege commenced, and was received with joy by the gallant and enterprising Prince of Nassau, who that very day took me round the fortifications, and entertained me at supper, perhaps making a little more of my arrival than the event warranted, in order to raise the spirits of the garrison and inhabitants.
After supper, torches were waiting to light me home to the quarters prepared for me, and, accompanied by one of the count's officers, I was proceeding through the streets, when we were met by a small party of soldiery, who stopped to look after us. The next moment I heard my own name pronounced aloud, and a young officer, running after us, cast his arms affectionately round me. What was my surprise to behold my young cousin Charles! He followed me to my quarters; and I now learned that Albert, as well as himself, unable any longer to endure the tyranny of their stepmother and the daily disgrace of their father, had quitted their paternal roof, and, with the young Prince of Nassau, had thrown themselves into the city of Mons. There they had met with a part of my old band, commanded by Moric Endem; and when I told them that I was about to raise a regiment to join the Prince of Orange, they besought me eagerly to let them serve under me.
That matter was settled easily; Moric was sent for, and I thought would have gone mad with delight at seeing me again. He was evidently not in such good circumstances as when I left him, and he declared that fortune had quitted my band when I was taken at Jarnac. Only six of the men had survived Moncontour and Arnai le Duc; and on the following morning I begged Count Louis to permit me to take these six, with Moric and my two young cousins, to form a sort of nucleus for my future regiment. He hesitated; for to say truth, he had no men to spare; but the difficulty was removed by my offering to leave an equal number of those who had accompanied me to Mons.
I was eager to proceed on my journey; but my adventures in Mons were not yet over. It was necessary to procure money for the raising of the force I intended to levy, as I had transmitted to Martin Vern all the wealth I had acquired during my absence. It luckily happened, however, that I had a letter from him to one of the wealthy Catholic bankers of Mons, and to him I hastened as soon as I had given Moric and my two cousins notice to prepare for departure.
I found the old man I sought in a dressing-gown of rich brocade, a black velvet cap on his large head, and a pen in his mouth. He listened to me, read the letter, and looked me all over in silence somewhat offensive, and at length I told him that I was in haste, and begged that he would attend to my demand.
"You are not like him here described," said the old man, dryly; "how shall I know, if you be in such haste, that you are the right person?"
I answered, I believe, somewhat angrily, and he rejoined, "Ha, ha! Frenchmen are always prompt; but it so befalls, young gentleman, that there is in this very house, at this very time, a partner of the house of Martin Vern and Company."
"What, his nephew?" I cried.
"Not so, young gentleman," answered the merchant; "but he shall be called in, and you shall soon have your answer."
Thus saying, he rose, and, opening a door behind him, spoke a word to some one in the neighbouring room. The next moment appeared in the doorway the figure of my old acquaintance, Solomon Ahar. The good Jew started forward, and, in his Oriental fashion, fell upon my neck, embracing me.
"How I have longed to see thee, my son!" he said; "how delighted my poor Miriam will be to hear that thou art here in safety! but stay not in this town till they bring the armies round it and lay siege to it. It is well to be here while one can come and go, for there is always much traffic in gold, and silver, and light goods when a place is likely to be assaulted from without; but no wise man should stay after there be gates shut against the goers out as well as the comers in. Stay but till I go, my son, which will now be in a few days, and then journey with me to Paris, where a certain gold-hilted dagger, with seven fine jewels in the haft, is laid up safely for thee; and thy money has been put out to interest, and used in traffic, and has brought thee, I think, wellnigh fifty for the hundred."
There was now no farther question in regard to the money; and, having informed the Jew, who was really grateful and kindly hearted, what were my purposes, I received some valuable information from him as to where I was likely to procure men. I then took what money I wanted, and, bidding Solomon Ahar adieu, was soon once more beyond the walls of Mons, and in the high road towards France. There were parties of the enemy about between Mons and Cambray, however, and it was with some difficulty that we reached the French frontier. There, however, I soon increased my force to between three and four hundred men, and was thinking of beginning my march with that number to join the Prince of Orange, when I received letters from the admiral and from the Prince d'Auvergne, to both of whom I had written, advising me to join a considerable force under the gallant but wrong-headed Genlis, who had raised, by a commission from the king, a force of nearly six thousand men. At the same time, the admiral informed me that the king, at his request, had raised the estate of Les Bois into a lordship for me, under the title of Count des Bois and Cerons.
This was indeed very joyful news; and though the credit of the admiral seemed to me almost inconceivable, yet I obeyed his desire at once, and prepared to join Genlis, though determined to act independently of him if his rash vanity should render it necessary. The admiral's letter had distinctly stated that Genlis was about to march to join the Prince of Orange; but, when I at length met that officer at Noyon, I found him determined to march direct upon Mons.
As by this time the siege of that place was formed, and as I had heard, on good authority, that the Duke of Ascoe was marching to swell the forces of Alva's army, the idea which Genlis had taken up, that he could deliver Mons with a force of less than six thousand men, seemed to me so absurd, that I told him at once I would not accompany him, my intention and duty being to join the Prince of Orange. He answered at first by a sneer, but shortly after begged me at least to accompany him as far as St. Quentin, as he had learned that the peasantry on the frontier had been armed by the Duke of Alva, and were in force in that neighbourhood.
On the following day we made a short march towards Ham; but we soon learned that Don Ferdinand de Toledo was before us, with a regular army equal to our own, instead of a troop of ill-disciplined peasantry.
The enemy as now within ten miles' march of us; a battle was inevitable; and, of course, it was impossible even to think of retiring at that moment. Yet, ere the sun went down, I had only one desire, namely, to mount my horse and ride to Paris at full speed. At Guiscard, where we halted for the night, a courier reached me from the prince dauphin. The words of the letter were so few and prompt, that they evinced how eagerly and hastily my friend had written.
"If you can with honour," so the letter went, "give up your command and come to Paris, do so without a moment's delay. Your rival, without warning or notice of any kind, has returned--is in Paris, and in the house of the Baron de Blancford. You will blame me for this, but I can endure the blame; for, on my honour, I do not deserve it. His journey has been concealed with care; and, though I watched anxiously, have been deceived. Come quick, then, De Cerons, for you Protestants now carry everything at the court before you; and if you delay an hour, Monsieur de Blancford's influence may have overborne all. Think, too, what must be your course; for remember, that, as we both foresaw, your late opposition to the will of the father in the marriage of his own daughter was declared vexatious by the Parliament, and you were fined a hundred crowns. If you resolve on letting the sword decide between you and your rival, forget not your friend D'Auvergne."
Scarcely giving the messenger time to refresh himself, I despatched him with two letters, one to the Dauphin d'Auvergne, informing him of the position in which we stood with regard to the enemy, and telling him I would but stay to fight, and then hasten back to the capital; and the other to the good Martin Vern, whose parting words in regard to my love of Louise gave me the only glimpse of hope that could now visit me. To him I told all that had occurred as briefly as possible; but besought him, at all events, to use the utmost exertions to stop any hasty steps on the part of the baron.
It may easily be imagined that the tidings I had received did not reconcile me greatly to the mad folly of Genlis, and I began the march on the following morning out of spirits and out of humour; but the march of the whole force, the negligence and vain confidence with which Genlis conducted it, made a great addition to my discomfort. At length we came to a small stream, over which it was necessary to construct a bridge; and seeing, from the disarray of the whole force, that, if attacked at that moment by an enemy of one half our strength, we might be absolutely cut to pieces, I caused my men to seize upon the tower of an old church, which had before been pierced for musketry, and which, while the rest were busy at the bridge, I took some pains to strengthen, having an impression on my mind that we should meet with a check.
When the bridge was concluded we again began our advance, and entered a little wood, through which we straggled rather than marched. We had scarcely passed it, however, when a party which had been thrown forward was driven in, with a strong body of men-at-arms at their heels. I charged and broke the Spanish men-at-arms. But it now became evident that a trap had been laid for us: a tremendous fire was opened upon my men from a bed of osiers that flanked the ground; charge after charge of the enemy's cavalry took place; and, overwhelmed by numbers, as well as taken unaware, after maintaining a hopeless combat for near an hour and a half, we were obliged to fly as best we could. Genlis, it must be said, did all that courage, and skill, and coolness could do to remedy his former faults, but in vain. He himself was taken in endeavouring to cover the retreat of the infantry; and all I could do was to bring off a part--a very small part--of my own men, with one piece of artillery.
I was hotly pursued, however, and had no time to destroy the bridge. My only resource was to throw myself into the church, and defend it as long as possible. What I had done in the morning now proved my salvation. The cavalry who followed kept us blockaded during the whole of that night and a part of the next day, but they could not remain long enough to starve us out; we kept them at a distance with our firearms, and a small body of musketeers who joined them were driven back with loss.
At length I offered to capitulate, as I found the men beginning sadly to feel the want of water, and the terms granted me were certainly far more favourable than I dared hope. We were permitted to march out with our arms, but it was exacted from us that we should swear not to fight against the King of Spain for two complete years; and, well satisfied with the result, we retired from our post, and made the best of our way back to Noyon. It was there first that my young cousin Charles complained of a wound in the shoulder, but he represented it as slight; and, leaving the men we had brought off under his command, I set out for Paris with Moric Endem and one or two others, determined to obtain, if possible, through the intervention of the admiral, some reward for the gallant fellows who survived our defeat.
Albert de Blancford remained with his brother; but I afterward found that the wound of my poor cousin had that very night assumed so unfavourable an appearance that he was obliged to relinquish the command to the other, who, terrified at the state to which he soon saw his brother reduced, divided the greater portion of the money I had left with him among the men, and suffered the shattered remnant of the regiment to disperse. He then placed his brother in a litter and returned to Paris, seeking his father's house immediately, but finding nothing but sorrow there.
The distance was long, but our horses were good; we were in the month of August, when days are long, and we accomplished the journey from Noyon to Paris in one day. We entered the capital just as the shades of twilight were beginning to fall, and I paused for a moment to consider whither I should first direct my steps. I had resolved, however, not to go to the prince dauphin, as I knew that, in case of my rivalry with De Blaye ending in our settling the dispute with the sword, D'Auvergne would insist on accompanying me to the field, and I could not endure the thought of seeing the hope and strength of that noble house run the risk of such an encounter for my sake. My hesitation, therefore, only was, whether I should first seek the admiral, to inform him of the fatal result of Genlis's expedition, or go at once to good Martin Vern, to hear news of my poor Louise. Love had wellnigh triumphed; but I did resist; and, turning my rein towards the Rue de Bethisy, where I had been informed the admiral resided, I found his abode, which was in a handsome inn. There, however, I learned that he was himself at the court; and, having satisfied myself by doing my duty, I turned my horse's head towards the dwelling of the merchant.
Martin Vern and his house, though they had taken many risks during the war, had been enriched in an extraordinary degree by the restoration of peace, and the favour which all the Protestants had so speedily acquired. Debts, which had appeared almost hopeless, had been paid, with long arrears of interest; and, though many others remained, yet the good merchant was one of the most wealthy men in Paris. His house showed it, but not himself; for, on being ushered into the room where he sat at supper with his wife, his brother, his nephew, and his children, I could certainly discover no change of demeanour from the good, plain merchant that I had first seen on my journey to Angoulême. They were all delighted to see me; and, unwilling to disturb them, I sat down to partake of their meal, while Moric Endem and the rest of my followers obtained a lodging in an inn hard by.
During supper Martin Vern was grave and thoughtful, but not sad: his nephew had become a fine and noble-looking young man; and there was in his whole appearance an air of smartness and manly dignity, which bespoke a change of thoughts and feelings since we had last met.
Ere supper was well concluded, he rose, saying to his uncle, "I will go to Monsieur Ahar, and bring what he has got for the Seigneur de Cerons;" and, as soon as he was gone, the merchant added, "You know, I believe, Monsieur de Cerons, that your old acquaintance, Monsieur Solomon Ahar, has become a partner of ours; but doubtless you know not how his conversion was brought about."
"Converted!" I exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that he has become a Christian?"
"He would not otherwise have become a partner in our house. He is a good Catholic Christian, thank God! But I was going to tell you how this was brought about. My nephew, having got over some of the follies of his youth, learned to love and esteem those qualities of mind and heart which were really worth love, and he found them combined with beauty and affection in Miriam Ahar. There was one objection--her religion; but that Martin found means to remove; and the good Jew, declaring that, as all things were reversed nowadays, the father might as well follow the religion of the child, instead of the child following the religion of her father, made his abjuration, as his relation Levi had done, and was received into the bosom of the church. Miriam becomes his bride in a few weeks; and, in the mean time, this conversion has obtained for my nephew so much celebrity among the Catholic divines, that I do believe they would make him a bishop if he would. But that would prevent his marriage, you know, seigneur, and therefore he remains a merchant."
As soon as supper was over, the wife and children of Martin Vern left us, and he immediately turned to my letter and to the business that brought me.
"I have much to tell you, seigneur," he said, "and much advice to give you. In the first place, you are saved by one day; and you owe that to the scheme which our little Miriam devised for you before you went. The baron, your cousin, is indebted in a large sum to Solomon Ahar, and in a lesser sum to me; and as he promises this Seigneur de Blaye a large dowry with his child, Miriam proposed that the whole debt, which comprises more than all his moveable wealth, should be claimed at once. I was unwilling to do as she wished, except in case of absolute need; and when, on a former occasion, you found other means to stop the signature of the contract, I held back. Now, however, I knew there was no time to be lost; and, even had your letter not reached me, I would have acted as I have done, for I have been almost daily at the baron's house, as there is every day need of money for the husband, or jewels and rich stuff for the wife. By this means I had heard and knew that the baron had sworn his daughter should consent to marry the young Lord of Blaye, or that he would declare himself a Catholic, and use those means which our religion gives to force her to obey. It is not, however, that he loves this Lord of Blaye, for he abhors him; but it is, my good lord, that his wife has power over him of some kind which we know not. Some secret is in her hands, depend upon it, which puts him wholly in her power. However that may be, the day for signing the contract was named as yesterday, and the hour noon. The whole had met when I presented myself. I knew that the money to pay the dowry was prepared. I had armed myself with all legal forms, and went accompanied by those who knew each turn of law. The money was paid me; and the baron, with a proud air, said, 'It mattered not; that he was ready to sign; and that, in order to pay the dowry he had promised, and not to fail in one tittle of his word to Monsieur de Blaye, he would sell the estate of Cerons, even by auction in the halls of the Palais de Justice, and discharge the amount before the week was over.'"
"Good God! has he done so?" I cried. "It was always my ambition to recover that, land."
"He has not done so yet, seigneur," replied Martin Vern; "but this is Friday: to-morrow will be the last day of the week: his word is pledged, the sale proclaimed, and he will not retract; though, when the Seigneur de Blaye declared it would be better for none to sign the contract till the dowry was ready, I could see the blood mount into the baron's cheek and forehead till I feared the veins would burst. He turned towards his wife, but that fierce lady held up her finger to him, and he cowed in a moment. Unless you, sir, can stop the sale--unless you can prove that the estate of Cerons cannot be sold--the estate is sold, and the contract signed; nay, more, the young lady must become the wife of one she abhors, or be plunged into the imprisonment of a convent, from which you can never deliver her."
"Alas! alas! my good friend," I said, "I can prove no such thing. I know the estate can be sold, for my own father sold it. It is not hereditary, and depends upon the baron's will. There is only one means, and that must be tried at once. Louise must fly with me. Under such circumstances, it is quite justifiable to do so."
"Before you adopt any determination, let us consider for a moment, Monsieur de Cerons," replied the merchant, in his cool, calculating tone: "What would you grant that man who would first prove to you that the lordship of De Cerons cannot be sold in perpetuity, and, in the second place, point out a way by which you may perhaps fly with the lady that you love, but fly with her as your wife, and with her father's own consent?"
"What would I give?" I exclaimed. "What would I not give, you should say, my good friend."
"Well, then, Monsieur de Cerons," said the merchant, somewhat more rapidly than was his wont, "I must be quick with my conditions, for I hear Martin's steps on the stairs. First, you shall forgive, fully and entirely, a girl's curiosity; the next is a harder task--you shall take a piece of advice without asking a question; the third, you shall put yourself entirely under my guidance for the next three days."
"Willingly!" I said, "Willingly!" But, as I was speaking, and Martin Vern was turning to his brother to witness our contract, his nephew entered the room with Solomon Ahar himself and Miriam, now become a lovely woman.
"Oh, false merchant!" cried the girl, addressing Martin Vern, "You have told him! I see it in his face! You have told him!"
"No, indeed, Miriam," replied the merchant, "I have told him nothing."
Miriam was about to proceed, it seemed, when her father bustled forward, saying, "A truce to nonsense, girl! Let us do business first. Seigneur de Cerons, here is the dagger which is your property, on account of which you are in my debt the sum of--" and he was taking out his inkhorn to calculate, when Martin Vern motioned him to be silent, saying, "Hold me responsible, my good brother, for capital and interest, according to law and justice. We have other matters now in hand. Examine your dagger well, Monsieur de Cerons. Do you see nothing to attract you farther?"
"I know," I replied, "That the hilt is hollow. My poor friend Stuart assured me that it was so, and that there were papers in it. I cannot unfasten it, however," I added, trying to do so impatiently. "We had better have a hammer brought."
"Less violent means will do," replied Martin Vern. "If you will give it to that fair lady, she will open it."
Miriam took it from my hand, saying, with a look of graceful deprecation, "Will you, my noble count, pardon me for an act which I would be well ashamed of, did not these gentlemen tell me that my curiosity may prove of use to you? I first discovered that the dagger-hilt was hollow. I too have opened it, and have read that which it contains. Forgive me--I know, I am sure you will."
And, as she spoke, she unscrewed the large massy ring of gold which encircled the haft just where the blade was inserted. A large emerald which was at the top also unscrewed without difficulty, and the blade then, with a much smaller haft of solid steel, was drawn out from the false case of gold. Round the real haft was wrapped a roll of fine vellum, which encircled it six times; and, on opening it, I saw at the bottom the handwriting of my cousin the baron. It was his name, attached to an acknowledgment and covenant, duly drawn up in legal form, whereby he deprived himself of the power of ever selling either the lordship of De Cerons or the barony of Blancford; settled the succession of the first-named property on me in case of his death without male heirs, and the other also in case of his death childless. The vellum still farther set forth, that he made this settlement in consideration of receiving the estate of De Cerons, and another farm belonging to my father, below their real value, my father being unwilling that they should depart from a race to which they had belonged, for centuries. It was witnessed by a personage of the name of Des Chappes; and Martin Vern, pointing to that name as I stood, thunderstruck, gazing at the vellum, said,
"He is still living, and revered by the whole Parliament, of which he is one of the most honourable members. I have myself asked him if he remembers the transaction, and can tell you that, having a deep regard for your late father, he can swear to every line, though he be past eighty years of age."
"These are, indeed, great and extraordinary tidings," I said, grasping the good merchant's hand: "but I fear, my good friend, that, by exercising the rights that this paper gives me, I shall but make the separation between myself and my proud cousin the more complete. How shall I, by any means here presented to me, gain his regard or his affection?"
"Did you never in life observe, Monsieur de Cerons," said the merchant, "That men often treat haughtily and harshly those they love, while they are courteous and yielding to those they fear. The baron loves you far better than any one except his own children: he respects, he esteems you, and, at the same time, he hates, contemns, and fears your rival. If you assist and support him against this Lord of Blaye, while you maintain your own rights with kindly firmness, you will cause him to rest upon you, and give way to his own better feelings. Let us first stop the sale; that, depend upon it, will stop the marriage. Then, if we had time, we could leave time to do its work. But," he added, musing, "but I will not trust to what time may bring forth. Everything is a matter of merchandise in this world: what will you give for a wife you love, Monsieur de Cerons?"
"All that I have on earth!" I replied, smiling.
"Nay, nay, not so much as that," answered the merchant. "Will you give sixty thousand livres?"
"If I had it I would," I answered; "but I have it not."
"Very nearly in my hands," replied the merchant. "Twelve thousand crowns, at fifty-seven sols Parisis, make--But it matters not! you shall have it. Do you consent to give it?"
"I do," I answered: "but how, my good friend, am I to--"
"Look here, Monsieur de Cerons," said the merchant, taking out a portfolio, and placing in my hand a note or bill of exchange, "You see here that one Augustus, seigneur of Blaye, agrees and promises to pay on demand to Martin Vern the sum of sixty thousand livres, being the remainder of an account between them. If Martin Vern transfers this bill to you, and you, in consideration of certain concessions, transfer it to a certain Baron de Blancford--What say you?"
"That there is hope," I replied, "that there is hope; but yet, my good friend, there is much to be thought of."
"Not much of which I have not thought, sir," replied the merchant. "You have already agreed to put yourself entirely under my guidance for the next three days; but you have promised also to take a piece of advice without asking a question--are you ready so to do?"
"I am always ready to keep any promise," I replied. "What is the advice?"
"It is a somewhat harsh one," answered Martin Vern: "Neither more nor less than to execute a bill of sale to me this night of your chateau and estate of Les Bois, in consideration of which I will give you bills, money, or credit for sixty thousand crowns."
He spoke gravely, even sadly, and with a frowning brow; and when I commenced my reply with, "But--" he stopped me, saying,
"Yon promised, Monsieur de Cerons, to ask no questions. Hear me," he said, in a lower voice, and drawing me somewhat aside, "I know little--indeed, I know nothing--but I suspect and I fear much, Monsieur de Cerons; and think that if you can obtain the hand of your fair Louise with her father's consent, and fly with her at once far from Paris, you will do well and wisely. Follow my advice in this; take my note for the money; let me become the apparent proprietor of Les Bois till better times, and I will explain your conduct to these who gave it you. If you never need the money, you shall be free to give it back and keep the land. At all events, you shelter yourself against the danger of confiscation."
What he said was so true that I should have been foolish to neglect it, suspicious as I still felt of the sudden change in the feelings of the court which had so completely taken in the admiral and the Queen of Navarre; and, on the spot, while his nephew, his brother, and Solomon Ahar were still present, the papers were drawn up between the merchant and myself, leaving him the nominal, though not the real, proprietor of the estate of Les Bois.
Not long after this, Martin Vern and myself were left alone, but the business of the day was not nearly over. He insisted that his house should be my home for the time; but, ere he suffered me to retire to rest, he kept me in conversation for two or three hours more, explaining to me all his views with mercantile brevity and accuracy; and my conduct during the following day, which I am now about to detail, was the result of the consultation that we then held.
At length, tired and exhausted, I went to the room prepared for me, and no prince's palace could certainly have afforded me more comfortable or luxurious accommodation. I was too tired, however, to sleep for some time; and, ere I had enjoyed any real repose for more than two hours, young Martin Vern entered my room and took his seat by my bedside. He remained for more than half an hour, and his conversation was not, like that of his uncle, devoted entirely to business. He talked of the affairs of the day, and discussed some light, some serious topics, with which my readers would be but little edified. It seemed to me, however, that there was something labouring on his mind all the time while we conversed; and, as he rose to depart, he put his head close down to mine, saying, in a whisper,
"Whenever you hear the great bell of St. Germain l'Auxerrois ring at an unusual hour, set off out of Paris if it be day, and fly to me if it be night."
Then, laying his finger on his lips as an injunction to secresy, he left the room without waiting for farther question.
I need hardly here detail my visit to the Admiral de Coligny, which was my first act after rising the next morning, as that visit had no results either affecting myself or the Protestant cause. I had, in the mean time, however, written to my cousin, giving him tidings of his sons, and beseeching to speak with him on matters of deep importance to us both. I said all that was kind, all that was affectionate; and I besought him to give me an interview alone, if it were but of a few minutes, before midday.
On my return to the merchant's house I found an answer. It was not in his handwriting, though an attempt had evidently been made to imitate it; and the reply, though given in an affected tone of courtesy, was tantamount to a refusal.
The Baron de Blancford, it said, would be very happy to see me, as well as any other of his near relations, and would receive me whenever I chose to call upon him; but, at the same time, to save me unnecessary trouble, it might be as well to let me know that he should not be able to entertain me till after the following Monday. The letter went on to add some unmeaning compliments on my valour and distinction, and some heartless thanks for the care and attention I had shown his sons.
After I had read it I handed it to good Martin Vern, whose only comment was, "Well, then, we must go to the halls of the Parliament, where all is already prepared for us. Come, seigneur, I am at your service."
It was, I confess, most painful to me to enter into open contest with the father of Louise de Blancford, and I determined that nothing should draw from me one angry word or rash expression. We were upon the ground first, however; and, as I walked up and down in the hall of last steps, Martin Vern somewhat reassured me by telling me that I should find my cousin a completely altered being.
In about ten minutes there was a slight movement among the number of petitioners and others at the farther end of the hall, and an old man advanced, with an upright carriage but slow step, towards the entrance of the great chamber. He was pale, and much shrivelled with age; but, though small in stature, he was dignified, and his eye seemed to have lost none of its fire. On seeing Martin Vern, he stopped; and turned his eyes on me for a moment; but the next instant he advanced and took me by the hand.
"I cannot be mistaken," he said. "This must be Monsieur de Cerons. My dear young friend! I rejoice to meet you once before I go to meet your father again in those mansions which I doubt not he has reached, and which I humbly trust in Christ that I may be also permitted soon to enter."
I needed no other words to tell me that this was the President des Chappes, of whom Martin Vern had spoken; and, after a few words more of inquiry and retrospect, the worthy magistrate turned the conversation to the subject which had brought me thither.
"I have come myself," he said, "Though not very well, to prohibit the sale of this property, not knowing whether you would arrive in time or not. No one can know so well as I do the terms on which the transfer was made to your cousin, as I drew the very paper I see now in your hands. I was at that time a lawyer in the royal court of Bordeaux; and, though not exactly in my line of business, I put the matter in order for your father with my own hand. Alas! I knew not that I should never see him more after I witnessed the signature of that deed. But here I think come our opponents: I will not call them adversaries, for I love not to see a breach in families. This must be either the Baron de Blancford, or some other person who thinks himself of importance."
I turned to see, and perceived the baron, followed by several other gentlemen, advancing rapidly up the hall, and speaking, it seemed to me, angrily with the young Seigneur de Blaye. At all events; their brows were frowning and their cheeks were heated; and, not knowing whether the sight of my attendants without might not have produced all these signs of indignation, I remained without taking any farther notice, to let the storm burst. To my surprise, however, the baron advanced and took my hand. "Henry," he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion, "my poor boy has arrived, I fear dying of the wound you mentioned in your letter. I see you feel for me," he continued; "and no one shall prevent me expressing my thanks for the kindness and,--and--and--"
While he spoke his eyes had rested on the pale and withered countenance of the President des Chappes: a look of doubt and surprise came into his face; he turned white; he hesitated, and then added confusedly, "Charles is eager and anxious to see you. He thought you would have come this morning. Who is that beside you--the old man?" he asked, in a lower tone.
"That," I replied, "is an old friend of my father's: Monsieur des Chappes, formerly of Bordeaux." The baron trembled excessively; and, as far as possible to let him recover himself, I went on. "I would have been at your house long ago, but you yourself refused to receive me till after Monday."
"I!" cried the baron; "I said no such thing. I said I would receive you whenever you chose to come--I--"
"My fair cousin, I have your note," I replied; "There it is!"
He took it and read it through, and certainly never did I behold the cheek, even of a timid girl, change its hue so frequently. At length, however, he tore it to atoms and trampled it under his feet, saying, "I am fooled! It is the production of a lady, Henry de Cerons, and therefore I must say no more."
He paused and gazed round him for a moment or two in silence, as if uncertain how to proceed, while the Seigneur de Blaye remained playing with his sword-knot; and maintaining a determined silence; and the rest who had followed the baron conversed together in a low tone.
"Now speak with him alone," whispered Martin Vern, who had been talking to Monsieur des Chappes; and I immediately followed the suggestion, saying, "As it appears, my noble cousin, that the interview which I asked this morning, for the purpose of communicating to you a most important fact, was only prevented by a mistake of the baroness in regard to your intentions, perhaps you will give me five minutes' conversation with you alone; the proclamation of sale will not take place for a quarter of an hour."
"Where can we speak alone?" said the baron, with a furtive look at Des Chappes. "I fear that--"
"Oh, in one of the bureaux," said the president. "I will wait here for you, my young friend. Huissier, lead these two gentlemen to some cabinet where they may confer."
"And pray," said the Seigneur de Blaye, "am I to remain here idling my time away till you return, baron?"
"You came, good sir, to see the sale, I think," replied the baron, sharply, "Not to enjoy my conversation, which, I suppose, could not be very entertaining to you;" and, thus saying, he followed the huissier, who led us to a small room, where we were left alone.
The moment the door was shut, the baron seized me by both hands, and gazed in my face with a wild and haggard eye. "Henry!" he exclaimed, "what are you here for? What is the meaning of this?"
"The meaning, sir," I answered, calmly but firmly, "the meaning is simply that the estates of Cerons cannot be sold. Make me not say anything painful to you, but you know, as well as I do, that they must not and cannot be sold."
"Henry! Henry!" burst forth from the baron, "do not drive me to despair!"
"God forbid!" I cried, earnestly; "I seek anything but that. On the contrary, turn, my lord, to those who really love and can really serve you, and among the most zealous count myself. I have raised myself, unsupported and alone, from nothing. With your support, and in your defence and aid, I can do far more; and, if you will let me, I will in ten minutes chastise yon empty coxcomb, who seeks your sweet child's dowry, not her hand. The estate of Cerons cannot be sold; but still I will enable you to--"
"You cannot, you cannot," replied the baron, interrupting me vehemently. "You do not know that I have bound myself to him in a large sum that I cannot pay. The money I borrowed to pay the poor child's dowry is gone. I have nothing to give with her. He will claim the bond I gave him. If the sale be stopped, I am distrusted."
"Nay, nay," I said, "all this may be well amended."
"Impossible! impossible!" he said, in a low tone. "I am ruined, disgraced. Why, your very opposition is enough. I cannot stop the sale without calling his claim upon me. You cannot stop it without exposing all."
"But hear me," I said, "but hear me. I know all: you have nothing to explain. If you will consent to my marriage with Louise, dowerless, portionless, I will allow you to stay the sale without one word of the where--hear me! hear me!--and I will instantly put it in your power to quash this man's claim with a single word, and render him your debtor. I know he cannot pay that debt, and therefore--"
"Can you do this? Can you do this?" cried the baron, with his whole face brightening.
"Ay, my cousin, I can," I replied, "and will this moment; and, if he dare but sneer, I will lash him from that look like an unruly hound."
"That is needless! that is needless!" replied the baron, a look of triumph coming over his face. "He will be my debtor, I not his; that will be sufficient. But oh, Henry," he added, while his look fell again and his cheek became pale, "oh, Henry! there is another! there is another! Perdition is on either hand; and if I snatch at the aid you so nobly and generously offer, I fall into another abyss, perhaps worse than that from which you snatch me; and yet, if the sale do not take place, it is double destruction. What can I do? what ought I to do! Tell me! tell me, if you pity me!"
"I will tell you, sir, if you will listen to my advice," I replied; "but you must decide speedily, for time wears. The most pressing evil is the one before you. The president Des Chappes will instantly forbid the sale if it be proclaimed. The cause of the prohibition must then be put on record. Nothing can ever erase that. Then comes upon you this Lord of Blaye; and, unprincipled libertine as he is, think you he will spare in any shape! At all events, sweep this away, and let us meet whatever other risk or difficulty may be in store as best we may. Will you consent, sir?"
"You know not, Henry de Cerons, you know not what those difficulties are. But what you ask must be done. She shall be yours; but you promise to aid me--to save me if you can?"
"To the very utmost of my power," I answered; "but I know or guess more than you suppose, sir. You are threatened with danger if you give your child to any but this libertine"--he bowed his head in token of assent--"and it is the baroness you fear?" I went on, but he interrupted me, exclaiming, "Not her! not her!"
"But the secrets she possesses," I rejoined, and he turned deadly pale.
"The only way," he said, after a pause of some minutes, "The only way will be for you to conceal your marriage."
"No, my lord," I replied, "that cannot be; but I will conceal your consent. Hear me!" I continued, seeing him about to grasp at it eagerly without any conditions, "hear me out. I will conceal your consent during your whole life, unless compelled by any process of law to reveal it, or driven by any attempts to annul our union. If you agree to that, draw up at once, in your own hand, your formal approbation of our union upon those conditions, so, if ever I produce that paper without need, the dishonour will fall on me. I will assign this bond to you; and, walking forth together from this room, we will at once forbid the sale, and set yon braggart boy at defiance. There are paper and pens upon that desk."
"Be it so, be it so!" cried the baron, seeming to revive from the tone of confidence with which I spoke; and, taking the pen, he wrote the words I put into his mouth. He read it over, and then gave it to me, and imagination can scarcely do justice to the feelings with which I received it.
I then assigned to him the bond; and, while I wrote, he remained with his eyes fixed musingly upon the ground.
"Henry," he said, taking it when I had done, but scarcely looking at the signature, "you think that I am rather weak to be so swayed by a woman so criminal that I should fear her. But believe me when I swear to you, that she holds her power over me by a gross falsehood. A few unfortunate words, written thoughtlessly, and seeming, as she has turned them, to countenance a deed that I abhorred, has bound me to misery and slavery."
"I grieve, sir, most truly," I replied; "but I hope the time will come when you will trust me more fully, and I doubt not then to be able----"
At that moment, however, one of the huissiers opened the door, saying, "Monsieur le Baron, the sale is about to be proclaimed." We both hurried to the house where it was to take place; but, ere we reached it, the proclamation was made, and the President des Chappes was in the act of saying, "I prohibit the sale in the name of Henry Count de Cerons and Des Bois."
"Speak! speak, sir!" I whispered to the baron; "forbid it also, that no cause may be entered on my part."
"I prohibit the sale also," he said, raising his voice aloud; and then added, in an ordinary tone, "I have just received intelligence which alters altogether my intentions."
"You have, sir?" exclaimed the Seigneur de Blaye, advancing with a menacing air. "Then you are, as I trust you remember, my debtor to the amount of forty thousand livres."
"Pardon me, sir!" said the baron, in that cold, bitter tone which I had more than once heard him use towards myself in former days, "I think, if I read this paper right, that it is you who are my debtor to the amount of twenty thousand. We will settle our accounts whenever you think fit."
The young man looked at the paper, and evidently recognised it well; then turned his eyes upon me, saying, "I understand to whom I am most a debtor, and will take occasion to settle my accounts with him before a week be over."
"I trust you will be punctual, Monsieur de Blaye," I replied; but the President des Chappes interfered, saying, "Young men! young men! many words like that uttered here will send you to the châtelet. I beseech you, sir," he continued, speaking to De Blaye, "as it seems to me that you have nothing to do with this cause, to leave the hall first."
De Blaye was about to reply, but one or two of the gentlemen who had accompanied him and the baron thither took him by the arm and drew him away. We remained in the hall some ten minutes longer, the baron speaking to Monsieur des Chappes in as unconcerned a tone as he could employ; but, the moment we had issued forth into the street, he spoke to me eagerly and long upon the subject whereon my own thoughts were most earnestly bent. He urged my immediate marriage and departure with Louise, and he promised himself to speak with her and prepare her mind for it.
"If you are long," he said, "The matter will be discovered, and I shall be forced either to sanction your union at once, or to oppose it. The latter," he continued, "of course, must not be done; but as you have promised to spare me, Henry, as far as possible, I trust that, by the utmost secrecy and expedition, you will let the whole assume the appearance of being done without my consent."
My answer may easily be conceived; but the baron's fears were not less eager than a lover's hopes, and he turned instantly from me to Martin Vern, who stood upon the steps of the Palais just behind us. Their conversation tended all to the same object; for the baron, from various matters that had been discussed, comprehended at once that the greater part of my information had been derived from the merchant. I did not hear their exact words, however, for at that moment a gay train passed along, and, before I was well aware, my hand was in that of the prince dauphin. The first expression of his countenance was pleasure at seeing me; but the next was shaded by some other feelings, and, after a few rapid questions, he asked me to come to Champigny the next day, and spend the following night there. There was a hope in my bosom, however, which prevented me from saying yes; and I replied, with a smile, that perhaps I might be obliged to quit Paris ere that. He smiled again, but seemed puzzled by my reply, saying, "Well, well, let it be so;" but, ere he left me, he came closer, and said in a low tone, "Promise me, upon your honour, De Cerons, to come to me at Champigny to-morrow night, if you do not quit Paris to go elsewhere. I have something important to say to you."
I promised without hesitation; and, grasping my hand warmly, he left me and went on. "Now," said the baron, as I turned towards him again, "I have settled it all with this good merchant, at whose house you lodge. Come with me, Henry, for Charles, poor boy, cries eagerly to see you; and to-night I will visit you, and tell you, I trust, that all is prepared."
Bidding adieu to Martin Vern for the time, with many thanks for all that he had done, I mounted my horse and accompanied the baron to his house, saying, as we rode along, "May I not hope to see Louise also? If we are to be so soon united, it were but needful that I should speak with her myself."
"Nay, Henry, nay," replied my cousin, with the blood mantling up in his cheek: "press it not if the baroness be there. If she be not, for a moment you can speak with the dear child, to tell her that, to save all farther pain on either part, your union is to take place in her chamber to-morrow night. Good old La Tour shall be brought from Montmorency to speak a blessing on you: the contract shall be duly drawn, and Albert shall be present, though I must not. One staircase shall be put in the hands of your people, to ensure your passing unopposed; the merchant engages that a gate of the city shall be kept open to give you exit; and then, as soon as she is yours, fly with her into the south without delay."
"To-morrow night, did you say?" I exclaimed, in some surprise: "can all be arranged by that time?"
"All, all," replied the baron; "and oh, Henry! when she is your wife, tell her that, towards her at least, her father was not made harsh by nature; tell, Henry--tell her, in one word, that she is like her mother; ay, and that, whatever she may think, I love her for that likeness."
"Oh! Monsieur de Blancford," I cried, moved by those words, "Why, why will you not shake off the yoke that presses on you? why do you not treat threats with scorn?"
"Because, Henry--because I have sold myself to a fiend," he answered. "Speak not of it now: one day I will tell you more."
We rode on; and I saw Charles de Blancford--terribly changed, indeed, in the space of two short days--I saw Louise, too, though it was but for a few short minutes; but that was enough to tell her that our fate was changed, and to ask her if she would consent to be mine so suddenly, so secretly, so unprepared. She replied not at first, but her looks left all other answer needless; and, ere she could reply, we heard the arrival of the baroness in the courtyard, and we parted.
With Charles I sat for some hours; and all I had to tell him of the transactions between his father and myself seemed to afford him better medicines than the druggist's shop could supply. I saw not the baroness: but, after my return to the house of Martin Vern, the baron came, and we passed nearly three hours in making every arrangement. The good merchant sat by and listened gravely, even sadly. Once I saw him bury his eyes in his hands, and he sighed often and deeply; but he promised all that we required in regard to his own aid; and, when the baron asked him if he thought not that our plan must certainly succeed, he replied, with a smile that I afterward understood better, "I will stake my life upon it."