It was evident, from the manner in which La Tour and the old lady, whom we called Dame Marguelette, received me, that they had been already made acquainted with the fact of my being there; and, therefore, there was no degree of astonishment whatever in their countenances, though much joy. I thought they would have devoured me; but when the first expressions of gladness and satisfaction were over, I remarked a great change in the appearance of the good old pastor. The few months that I had been absent seemed to have worn and broken him more than several years had done at a preceding period; and there were also lines of much care and thought about his brow and eyes, together with a melancholy expression round his mouth, which was very painful to me to behold. Nor was my good old friend Dame Marguelette as well-looking or as hale as when I left her. Such were my impressions; but they, on the other hand, could hardly find words to express how much improved I appeared to them in personal appearance since I had quitted the chateau.
After a few minutes given to mutual gratulations, my next question, of course, was, where was the baron, and what brought them there.
"Alas! my son," replied La Tour, "where the baron is I cannot well tell you; but I much fear that he is in the hands of the enemy. I trust not with his own consent; but I fully believe with the consent and by the arrangement of the woman whom he has so madly made his wife. But I have a long story to tell you, Henry, which will explain the whole; and I had better tell it you at once. Alas! you little know what a change has taken place since you were at Blancford."
He then went on to tell me all that had occurred, drawing a sad picture of a wretched and miserable family. The baroness he depicted as harsh, haughty, and unprincipled--capricious to such a degree that there was no calculating upon any determination for a whole day, and only checkering the most idle and licentious levity with occasional fits of violent passion or long hours of gloomy sullenness. The baron, on his part, evidently both contemned and despised her; and yet, as we so frequently see, the woman who had acquired a tie upon him by his passions and his vices, ruled him like a slave by his weaknesses, even after his passions had been sated. The conduct of both to the children of the late baroness was anything, La Tour said, but what it should be, though towards Louise, the old man added, her father displayed strong affection, and sought her society when he seemed to fly from that of any one else. As to the religion of the baroness, the Protestant minister declared his solemn belief that she had none; but if ever she had a leaning either way, it was towards papistry. He feared very much too, he added, he feared very much that the baron himself was wavering in his faith. "And that fear," he added, "has induced me to cast every other consideration behind me, and to remain with the poor children, still to guard their minds from perversion as far as possible."
The time since my departure thus passed, he said, in the most comfortless state of discontent on all parts, until at length the baron had declared, that if he could not obtain a safe conduct to reside unmolested in Paris with his whole household, he would take arms and join the Protestant forces.
It was the policy of the court of France at that time, by every sort of bribe, by every promise of immunity and inducement that could be held out, to prevent the lukewarm Protestants from joining the more zealous ones in arms. The words of the baron were speedily noised abroad; and with no greater space of time than was necessary for a courier to travel post-haste from Bordeaux to Paris and from Paris to Bordeaux, a safe conduct for the baron, and every one whose name he chose to insert in it, arrived at the Chateau de Blancford, with the sole condition annexed, that he should present himself at the court as speedily as possible, where every sort of honour and distinction, the document said, awaited him.
"His resolution was taken in a moment," continued La Tour; "and he proposed to me, ungraciously enough indeed, that my name should be put into the list. For the children's sake, and especially for dear Louise's sake, I suffered it to be done: and we advanced by slow journeys altogether till yesterday morning, when the baroness declared that, by pushing forward to Chatelherault, and thence to Leselle, they would put the Vienne and the Creux between them and the contending armies, and thus pass on to Paris without interruption. All the heavy baggage, and several of the servants and retainers, together with the old men and women, such as myself and Dame Marguelette, were to follow more slowly; but I yesterday heard the baroness speaking with one of the guides who had been hired to conduct their party not long before they went, in such a manner as to convince me that she at least would not be ill pleased to fall into the hands of the Catholic army. They went on; and though they promised to send back a messenger to tell us when they had safely passed the Vienne, none has ever come near us; and this morning we fell in with the baggage of our own army, and came on with it, thinking that we should be in greater security."
"But where is Louise?" I cried immediately. "Have they taken her on with them?"
"Alas! yes, my son," replied the pastor. "All the young people have gone on; and I do not believe that the baroness will at all grieve that they should be separated from those who have hitherto had the charge and direction of their youth."
The tidings that I heard made me, I acknowledge, very uneasy; and I meditated for some time without making any reply, revolving in my mind some plan for gaining more certain information regarding my relations. I judged that if they had followed the road towards Chatelherault and been taken, they must have fallen in with some of the troops of the Duke of Anjou's left wing, probably under La Vallette; and I therefore made up my mind to make an excursion on my own right, if possible, the next morning, and attempt to carry off some prisoners, who might give me information. I found that the baggage of the baron and all his old servants were in the immediate neighbourhood of the spot where they had erected my tent, and I took care that everything should be done to make the people comfortable.
I was somewhat uneasy, however, at not seeing good Martin Vern and his nephew, who I knew must have remained with the baggage when the Prince de Condé advanced. I accordingly sent out Andriot and one or two others to find them, which was, perhaps, a difficult task; as the wagons, and carts, and horses, and tents which formed my encampment were spread over a very large space of ground. They were found at length, however, in company with the Prince de Condé's intendant, wandering about at the extreme end of the encampment, not choosing to trust themselves without a guide in the wide chaos of all sorts of rascals and lumber that it contained. Good Martin Vern seemed not a little discontented with his expedition, and declared that, as soon as he had seen the Prince de Condé on the following morning, and had settled with him the business that brought him thither, he and his nephew would make the best of their way to Paris.
I now bethought me that if, by the mistake or rascality of the guide, the baggage of the Protestants had fallen into the hands of the enemy, my whole little fortune would have been also swept away, and that I should have been left almost in the same condition as that in which I had joined the army. How to remedy this, and to put my treasure beyond the chances of war, I did not know; but to consult good Martin Vern seemed the surest plan of obtaining advice, and he immediately proposed that I should place it in his hands, which, as he explained to me, was the common custom with those who had floating sums of money which they wished to put in security.
As, from all I had seen, I had not the slightest doubt of the good man's integrity, I acceded without the slightest hesitation, but only asked, "Are you not more likely to lose it in travelling through the country, unprotected, than even I am in the midst of an army?"
"Not a single crown of it," he said, laughing, "Will ever go out of this camp. The Prince de Condé will have it all, and glad to get it. He is to receive two hundred thousand crowns at Niort from a Jewish house with whom you yourself have had some dealings; part of the sum is on my account, and gold and silver plate to the full amount is by this time in my brother's hands in Paris. He will be glad enough to have your six thousand crowns in ready money instead of my bill upon Niort, which is the only way I should pay him. I give you an acknowledgment for the money, payable on demand; and if you should want it, or any part of it, you have nothing to do but to show my acknowledgment to any banker or merchant, and draw upon me what is called a bill of exchange. Were it not for these bills, my good young friend, in such troublous times as the present, no merchant would venture to stir out of his own city, for fear of being skinned alive on account of the money on his person."
On this explanation, the money was soon sent for and readily found; for my baggage had all been collected together round the tent, and the ground in the immediate vicinity was kept clear by my own people. After paying over six thousand crowns to Martin Vern, deducting the sum that I had sent him for the redemption of the knife, there still remained in my hands nearly five hundred crowns; and, with many thanks, I repaid to the good pastor the sum I had borrowed from him on quitting the Chateau of Blancford.
"I would not take it from you, my son," he said, "but I see your exertions have been blessed with success, and that you have already become what I may well consider enormously rich."
I would not tell him how changed my estimation of enormous riches was, as I could not explain to him--perhaps not even to myself--the causes of that change; but, even while we were speaking upon this subject, a messenger from the Prince de Condé came to the tent, seeking his intendant and Martin Vern, who accordingly sped away in all haste to confer with that general.
"Will you let some of your men carry this gold for me?" said Martin Vern, adding, with a smile, "This will ensure me a mighty warm reception from his highness."
Taking care that he should have a sufficient escort, I turned when the merchant was gone to his nephew, and asked him how he relished the thoughts of this immediate journey to Paris, and whether his military ardour was or was not at an end. To my surprise, however, I found that he was as much changed in some of his feelings as I was in some of mine; and for the first time I learned the cause of his whole conduct.
"You must know," he said, "That when I was living in Bordeaux, not long before my father's death, we became acquainted with a merchant's widow and her daughter, so well to do in the world that it was proposed I should marry the young lady. She was very beautiful, and I fancied myself in love with her. Indeed, I believe I was so; but she had got her head filled with ideas of battles and military glory; and though she coquetted with me a good deal, and gave me every encouragement, so as to raise my passion to the highest pitch, yet she declared that she would never give her hand to any one but a soldier, or one, at least, who had seen some service. If I would go and fight, she said, for two or three campaigns, she liked me well enough to promise to marry me; but she would not upon any other conditions. My father was so enraged that he broke off the match altogether; and, dying shortly after, left me under the charge of my uncle, who was even more averse to it than himself.
"Of course I could not see with their eyes at first, and thought of nothing but how beautiful she was; but afterward, when I had done quite enough to show that it was not fear prevented me from being a soldier, and was lying at Angoulême in sickness and in pain, I began to think that she must have been a very selfish and inconsiderate person, to wish me to expose myself to such things for the mere gratification of her vanity. If she loved me at all, she ought to have loved me sufficiently as I was--plain Martin Vern; and if she did not love me as I was, and could love nothing but a soldier, why, a soldier let her have. As time went by--and I had plenty of opportunity of thinking, as you know--I began to find out that I had not loved her as much as I thought; and not at all doubting that the quality she most loved in a soldier was a slashed pourpoint and the feather in his cap, I began to think the only quality I had liked in her was a pair of rosy lips and a pink and white complexion; and therefore, as soon as my uncle proposed it, I expressed myself quite satisfied to go on with him to Paris."
There was something amusing to me in the sort of debtor and creditor account the young man seemed to keep with his own heart; but as it was now beginning to wax late, I did my best to provide accommodation for all the friends around me; and telling La Tour that I had a scheme for gaining some information the next morning concerning the baron and his party, I led him to another tent, leaving good Dame Marguelette where she was, and for my own part took a station by one of the watch-fires for the night.
The complete knowledge that we have of any little stratagem that we attempt makes us always fear more than necessary that it will be suspected by others; but on the present occasion I was not wrong in supposing that an attempt might be made to discover the amount of our force upon these heights. It was even probable that the extent of ground which we occupied might create suspicion, as the position of the admiral and the Prince de Condé was accurately known; and it was not probable that they should weaken themselves by making a large detachment occupy that hill. However, I caused a number of saddled horses and armed men to wait at the point where our camp was most easily approached, and I remained by the side of the fire, wrapped in my cloak, dozing perhaps a little, but more frequently gazing upon the red embers, and thinking of the fate of my sweet cousin Louise.
Moric Endem, who had kept watch there during my absence, left me in about half an hour, to get some refreshment. It was long ere he returned; and, indeed, I cannot say that good Moric was ever famous for shortening his potations. When he did come back, he cast himself down at the other side of the fire, and fell as sound asleep on the hard ground, in the face of the enemy, as if he had been it the warmest bed of a well-fenced chateau. About five o'clock in the morning, having no more wood to trim the fire, which was beginning to grow very dull, I rose up and went out beyond the barricade which we had constructed, gazing up at the stars, which were shining in all the clear brightness of a frosty night.
As I so gazed I thought I heard sounds from below; and, looking down the slope, I clearly saw a body of horse and foot advancing slowly and silently towards our little camp. Going back quietly, but in haste, I woke Moric Endem, got the men together without any noise, stationed the arquebusiers among the carts and wagons, with directions for no one to fire till the general order should be given; and then causing my troopers to mount, I brought them close to the spot by which they could issue forth upon the enemy. I could there also see the Catholics as they approached; and, suffering them to advance till within the distance of sixty yards from the camp, I stood a little forward, like a sentinel, and challenged them. They made no answer, but only quickened their pace; but then, instead of discharging my arquebus, and leaving any one who liked it to follow my example, as a common sentinel would have done, I gave the word to fire, and in a moment a line of sharp flashes ran along the face of the carts and wagons, and, springing on my horse, I led out the men, and charged the advancing body down the hill. As well as I could see, I singled out their commander, with the hope of making him prisoner, for the body was evidently nothing more than a reconnoitring party, and not much stronger numerically than my own.
The surprise--for they had not calculated upon such a reception--the darkness, to fight in which they were altogether unaccustomed; and, as I imagine, a want of complete knowledge of the ground, rendered the resistance of the enemy but momentary; and we drove infantry and cavalry down the hill together at the point of the spear, bearing to the Catholic camp, and to Martigue, who had sent them, a somewhat exaggerated account, I have a notion, of the strength upon the hill. I somehow missed the commander in the dark; but I struck one man from his horse as he fled with the staff of my lance, and then pointing the iron to his throat, made him surrender, rescue or no rescue, and gave him into the hands of the people who followed. We pursued the reconnoitring party as far, or perhaps farther, than it was prudent; and then returning, had the prisoner brought up to a somewhat better lighted fire than the one I had been sitting at, and asked him the questions which I had proposed.
I found that he was a common soldier, though of good family; and on my inquiring strictly in regard to the Baron de Blancford and his party, he said that he had heard a report in the corps to which he belonged of that nobleman having either come in and surrendered himself, or being made prisoner, with a promise of safety, by some of the roving parties of the left wing. He described to me pretty accurately the part of the camp where he imagined the baron to be lodged; and as his own regiment could not be far from the spot, I took it for granted that he was right. I then put him at a small ransom for the sake of the men, and let him go upon parole; having taken especial care that he should see nothing around him but the grim faces of steel-clad horsemen, and the lighted matches of the arquebusiers.
By the time that all this was accomplished the eastern sky was beginning to grow gray, and a faint buzzing, murmuring sound seemed to me to indicate some early movement in the enemy's camp, although the light was not yet sufficiently strong for any eye to discern what was taking place. The murmur increased and grew louder; but of course I could make no attempt under such circumstances without orders, and I sent down a messenger immediately to tell the Prince de Condé what had occurred, and to ask for his instant commands. The reply was short, and written on a scrap of paper with a piece of black chalk.
"I think the enemy are decamping," it said: "if it should prove so, take what men you have as soon as it is daylight, and hang upon the rear. You shall be joined by fifty more as speedily as possible--all under your command. But be not too rash; for it is now determined not to risk a battle till the season is more advanced."
Before the messenger with this notification reached me, what the Prince de Condé had foreseen had become evident. By the gray light of the morning I could see the spears of the retreating army already winding along the opposite hill, within two miles of the outposts of the admiral. There was a thick, white mist in the valley, however, which covered the Catholic camp, and prevented me from perceiving what had taken place there; but I judged, from the distance at which the cavalry were now seen, that their retreat might be considered as secure.
Giving orders to Moric Endem to get every man that he could muster under arms as fast possible, I ran to the tent of good old La Tour, and besought him not to quit the army till my return, promising to bring or send some news of the baron and his family, if possible. Martin Vern I had not an opportunity of seeing, though I trusted, as he had all my little wealth, and had not even given me such a receipt as he had promised, that I should find him on my return. Not that I in the slightest degree doubted his honesty or honour, but that I knew I might have need of a part of what I had given him at a moment's notice. No time, however, was now to be lost; and, getting into the saddle as speedily as possible, I put myself at the head of my men and of the horse arquebusiers, and dashed down into the enemy's camp at full speed. A portion of the baggage, and that in some degree valuable, was left; and Moric Endem, whom I had christened the plunder-master-general, as he conducted all that part of our military proceedings, made a goodly booty in less than half an hour.
Ere we reached the end of the valley in pursuit, a body of fifty more spears joined us, sent, according to his promise, by the Prince de Condé, from whom I received, by their leader, an order to follow the enemy as far as possible, and not to leave them, unless I was compelled, till they were two days' march from their former camp. I had neither tents nor any other kind of baggage with me, and for a moment thought of sending back to bid the servants and horseboys follow; but recollecting of how much importance it was to lose no time, I urged on the pursuit, and speedily overtook a small body straggling from the rear-guard, whom we drove in upon the rest at the point of the spear.
The appearance of the horse-arquebusiers behind us, for they had not been quite so rapid in their movements as we were, gave the idea of a much more considerable body of pursuers than really followed the enemy; and a small troop of cavalry faced about and charged. Among them was one who seemed a mere youth; but the whole were routed in a moment, and the lad, thrown to the ground, was absolutely under my horse's feet. How he escaped unhurt I do not know; but I helped him to rise, and, scarcely thinking what I did, but looking on him as a mere child, I bade him remount his horse and get back to his own people as fast as he could. He took me at my word, and I did not see him again, though more than once during the rest of the day we met a body of the enemy in pretty sharp encounter.
On that night I slept at a small village somewhat in the rear of the enemy, and on the following day found it necessary to follow the pursuit somewhat more cautiously; for here we were, in all not one hundred and twenty men, nearly thirty miles distant from the Protestant army, and without anything to fall back upon nearer than that. To cut off stragglers, therefore, was all that we could do; but towards evening we took some prisoners, from whom I learned tidings that I was anxious to obtain.
The Duke of Anjou had by this time halted and encamped for the night; and the prisoners informed me that they belonged to the regiment of Monsieur de la Valette. On questioning them concerning the Baron de Blancford, one of them, who seemed their leader, informed me that that gentleman and all his family were detained as prisoners by the Duke of Montpensier. He seemed a somewhat willing prisoner, the man added, and was not guarded at all strictly, but left under the eyes of the Marquis de la Valette and his regiment. Their tents, he said, were on the extreme verge of the camp, to the right of the line of march; and the ease of carrying off the whole party seemed to me so great, that I determined to make the attempt that night.
We were still at some distance from the camp; but, to make the attempt more secure, I retired a little farther still, to a village called Scorbe, and there remained quiet, waiting with not a little impatience for the first hour of night, which, as I well knew, is of all others the time when a camp is left most exposed; when the men, first feeling themselves relieved from the vigilance, activity, and labour of the day, are thrown more completely off their guard than at any other period.
Here, in the mean time, I made all my arrangements with Moric Endem and the leader of the arquebusiers. The prisoners were safely locked up in a barn belonging to a neighbouring farm, and their horses, appropriated to our use, were destined to act a part which will speedily be seen.
It was intensely cold, when, just as it was turning dusk, we set out from the little village upon our projected expedition. The ground was as hard as iron, every stream was held in icy shackles, and there was a dull stillness in the air as if even the very sounds were frozen. The wintry melody of the robin had ceased, the lowing of the cattle was over, and the shrill crowing of the watchful cock heard in some far distant farm, which once, and once only, broke the stillness as we proceeded, made it seem more profound the moment the sound had ceased. Notwithstanding the intensity of the cold, or rather, perhaps, as a consequence of it, the whole ground was covered with a light white mist. It could not be called a fog, but, together with the duskiness of the hour, it rendered all the surrounding objects difficult to be seen, magnifying them in size, and even seeming to distort them in shape. There was no wind to move the light vapoury cloud that lay upon the surface of the earth; and as we rode on, sometimes climbing high up over the slopes where the ground was more clear, we could see the distant stars peeping through with a faint and doubtful glimmer; but, whenever we were upon the low grounds, nothing whatever could be seen around us at a greater distance than twenty yards.
The arrangements which I had made were, that Morin Endem, myself, and eight others, should keep in advance of the party till we came near the camp of the enemy. I was then to go on alone, endeavouring to find out the tents which the prisoner had described as the lodging of the Baron de Blancford. As soon as we had found it, I was to return and draw up my men; the greater part of them, with the arquebusiers, were to remain in the nearest sheltered spot I could find, and then five or six holding saddled horses, on two of which I had contrived to place pillions for Louise and the baroness, were to be stationed as near as I could bring them with safety to the camp. Having arranged all this, I and the nine who had accompanied me in advance were to dismount, and taking upon our backs some sacks stuffed with straw, which we had brought from the village, we were to walk forward and attempt to enter the camp as a foraging party.
I felt sure that the enemy, having now discovered that they were not followed by the bulk of the Protestant army, would be, as indeed they always were, in a very lax and careless state, and I doubted not that the word would never be asked, and that we should be admitted without difficulty. In the first instance, however, we had nearly been discovered; for, in the darkness and the mist, instead of coming upon the tents where we should have seen lights more readily, we suddenly found ourselves at the back of a village which was stationed at the head of the right wing, and the loud sound of merriment from within was the first thing that gave us any intimation of our danger.
Drawing back as quietly and stealthily as possible, we passed round a small bank of osiers which grew by a little stream, and then clearly distinguished the tents to which I had been directed by the lights which were seen scattered here and there, and which came dim and enlarged through the mist. I now found the description which the man had given so accurate, that could tell perfectly where I was at every step; and numbering the tents onward from a large pavilion belonging to Martigue, the fiftieth tent on that side, brought me to the spot where the Baron de Blancford was said to be lodged.
We had ridden slowly along, skirting the bank of osiers which I have mentioned upon a little eminence between it and the enemy's camp, and stationing my arquebusiers and spare lances behind with the led horses, just covered by the brow, I dismounted with the party assigned to enter the camp. Taking our sacks upon our backs, we approached the tents; and, to say the truth, the enterprise was both somewhat hazardous to the undertakers thereof if it failed, and somewhat rash, at all events. If we were taken--though we were in arms, and had every signal of the Protestant party about us--it was not at all improbable that, in those days, we should be hanged at once for spies. However, we were not persons to be much daunted by the thought of consequences, and we walked boldly forward towards the tents.
As we had skirted along from the village to the spot where I had halted my men, we had seen nothing to give us any alarm. The buzz, the noise, the merriment of a camp were heard, it is true, but were heard from a distance towards the centre; and where we were there reigned all the stillness and quietness of the suburb. No sight was to be seen indicating human life, except every now and then, beheld through the canvassed street, some tall form, magnified by the mist, either accidentally crossing the light of a watch-fire, or bending down to stir it into a brighter blaze. Not a soldier who could help it put out the unsheltered head in that intense frost; and as the wine in the neighbourhood was cheap and abundant, every opportunity had been given by the generals to keep up the warmth of the body by deep potations taken in the tents and houses.
Fixing upon the tents which I conceived to be assigned to the Baron de Blancford, and which I had been told were six in number, I gave Moric Endem and Andriot, who accompanied me, full directions what to do on their part, while I, with two of the other men, proceeded to the principal pavilion to liberate the baron and his family. Bearing, then, our sacks upon our shoulders, we approached a little breastwork which seemed to have been constructed on some former occasion, and, entered a gap therein, when a soldier, who had been sitting in the ditch beyond, started up with his pike in his hand and demanded the password. I murmured out something that he did not hear, keeping myself prepared, however, in case he persisted, to cut him down at once; but he seemed little disposed to take any very exact note of the proceedings; and, seeing the sacks, he took us, as I hoped he would, for a foraging party, and consequently suffered us to pass without making me repeat the word more than once, though I cannot suppose that my reply was at all like it. As soon as we were within the camp, each man applied himself to his task, and, without taking any note of what the others were about, I, with two stout fellows behind me, approached the largest of the tents, and, throwing down our sacks, I pulled back the canvass and entered. The moment that I did so I found that I was so far right. The Baron de Blancford was before me, seated at a table with wine upon it and some dried fruits. He was quite alone, without even a page; but there was a division in the tent, and I concluded the rest of his family were in the chamber beyond.
Immediately on the entrance of myself and my two followers, he rose and looked at us with some surprise, demanding, "What want you, gentlemen! Do you come from the Duke de Montpensier?"
Holding up my finger for the purpose of making him understand not to speak loud, I raised the visor of my casque, saying, "My lord, I heard you were a prisoner contrary to the tenour of the safe conduct which you bear, and therefore I have come at once to liberate you. Horses and guards are waiting. If you choose to embrace the opportunity, you may be free at once."
I never in my life beheld utter astonishment so completely depicted on a human countenance as on his.
"Henry de Cerons," he exclaimed, gazing at me as if he could scarcely believe his eyes, "is this true? Can this be true, or is it a dream?"
"It is true, my lord," I replied, "perfectly true. But we have no time to lose if you would take advantage of the moment of escape. My men are preparing your servants, and I will ensure your perfect safety to the camp of the Prince de Condé."
He still continued to gaze at me for a moment, as if he yet could scarcely convince himself that it was all true; but the next instant he asked, "And do you really still, Henry, take such an interest in me and mine as to risk your life to free us?"
"Indeed, my lord, I do," I replied; "I believe you have not understood me rightly in former days; but my love and gratitude to you and others that are gone, believe me, are quite as lively as any one could require or wish."
He seemed somewhat touched, and mused a moment; but, just as he was about to reply, the baroness entered from the inner part of the tent, and in an instant the evil spirit seemed to come over him again.
"No," he said, "No, I must not and I cannot go. They detain me but till they ascertain the accuracy of my safe conduct. No, sir, I fear you have taken this trouble for nothing."
"Are you, my lord, quite decided?" I said; "for this can never be risked again. Every moment that I stay here is, as you know, full of peril; but the moment is before you if you choose to seize it."
While I was speaking, the baroness came round the table towards me, gazed in may face with a look of coquettish wonder, and, ere he could answer, exclaimed, "Good heavens, this is the young gentleman who only suffered one to see him for a moment at Blancford! and has he really had the generosity to come hither in order to rescue us?"
"Whatever he have come here for, madam," answered the baron, "he comes, as you well know, in vain; for, of course, we must remain with the king's troops till the authenticity of our safe conduct is ascertained."
"Nay, but speak gently, baron!" said the lady; "speak gently, for pity's sake. Surely you are indebted to him."
"I am," said the baron, "but--"
At that moment, close to where we stood, burst forth the report of a pistol-shot, with some loud tongues speaking.
"Come you or not, my lord?" I cried; "this is the last moment."
"Of course I come not," replied the baron. "Go, go, Henry," he added, with a momentary emotion of feeling, "I thank you, I thank you, but I cannot come."
I left the tent instantly with some disappointment, that even in that short moment I had not beheld Louise. The moment I was beyond the canvass walls, however, the voice of Moric Endem met my ear, and I darted towards the spot where we had left the sentry.
"This way, sir, this way," cried Moric, as soon as he perceived me by the light of the fire; "I have been obliged to shoot the pikeman, and we shall have them all upon us in a minute. See, see, they are coming up there. Are not your friends ready? Then you must leave them, for, by heavens, we shall have hot work before we make our escape."
"They do not come, Moric, they do not come," I cried, hurrying on towards the gap. "Could you not have dealt with him more quietly? Firearms make such a noise."
"He kept me off with his pike," said Moric, speaking as we hurried along; "and, if I hadn't shot him, he would have stopped the lady."
"What lady, in the name of Heaven?" I exclaimed, pausing in astonishment. But Moric seized me by the arm, saying,
"Come on, come on, my lord! There's no stopping to think now! I mean the lady Andriot brought out."
I now paused not an instant, but hurried on like lightning to the spot where the led horses were held. The mist prevented me from seeing anything till I was close upon them; but then, to my confusion and consternation, I beheld, seated on the pillion behind the lad Andriot, the light, beautiful figure of Louise de Blancford, with no other covering against the cold of the night but a thick veil thrown over her head.
"Good God!" I exclaimed, running up, "they have made a mistake, Louise! Dear Louise, your father will not come, and to take you back would cost my life and that of every one with me."
"Then you shall not go, Henry," she said, instantly recognising me, and holding out her arms towards me; "You will take care of me, you will protect me, till I can go back to my father in safety."
"But you are not fitly clothed, dear child, for such a night as this," I cried. "Where is my horse? Give me the cloak from the saddlebow."
And, throwing it over her shoulders, I was clasping it around her neck, when Moric Endem shook me violently by the arm, exclaiming, "Mount, mount, Seigneur de Cerons, and begone! They are already in the saddle and after us!"
I sprang upon my horse's back in a moment, snatched my spear from one of the boys, and, turning to Andriot, exclaimed, "Do you know the way back to the village?"
"Every step, sir," he answered, boldly.
"Away, then!" I cried, "away, on before! You, Moric, and the rest, accompany the lady and protect her. I will soon make these pursuers turn upon their steps."
"I stay with you, sir," replied Moric. "Arlivault and the rest, on with the lady and the boy!"
Andriot, who was a capital horseman, dashed over the side of the hill, crossed the little stream, and away across the lea, while I, with Moric, galloped down to the arquebusiers by the osier bank, and the body of lancers that I had left at the corner. We had scarcely reached them when the horses of the pursuers stopped upon the brow of the hill; and, though we could not see them, we could hear them shouting as they turned towards the camp, "Torches! bring torches! They must be down here! They cannot escape. There are many on foot, for we saw them!"
A minute after, a glare of light, as of a number of links and torches, appeared coming up from the camp, and we could see the figures of some fifteen or twenty men on horseback shining out upon the red back ground of the mingled mist and torchlight.
"Now, arquebusiers," I said, "give them one volley, then quick upon your horses, and off back to the village."
The firearms were lowered in a moment, and, just as some fresh men, to the amount of twenty or thirty more, were coming over the slope, our osier bank blazed with a long line of fire. Down went five or six of the coming horses and men; and the arquebusiers, springing on their horses, obeyed the orders they had received.
"What say you, lances?" I cried. "We will never ride off without striking a stroke!"
"Upon them, upon them, lucky captain!" cried the men; and, though we had the hill against us, we galloped up with our lances levelled against the enemy, who were already in a state of hesitation and confusion from the unexpected fire they had encountered, and who began to fly at the very sound of charging horse, which they could not see sufficiently to distinguish the numbers. In this terrible state we drove them in, one tumbling over the other, horses and torches, officers and men, all full well frightened out of their wits, and more than one meeting the fate of a coward by the stroke of a lance in the back. One man had brought out, it would seem, with him the cornet of his troop, and had very nearly got into the gap in safety. But I was up with him just as he was struggling to push his way forward before the other fugitives, and I caught hold of the standard pole. Raising the staff of my lance in my hand, I struck him a blow upon the cowardly head that felled him to the earth.
"Here, take the cornet, Moric," I cried. "And now, my men, we will wish them good-night."
A loud laugh burst from those who heard me, which, I believe, gave to the flyers a greater idea of our being perfectly secure in our numbers than any other part of the affray, and I heard afterward that it was reported in the camp of the Duke d'Anjou that I had beat up the quarters of La Valette with five hundred men.
We then passed the stream and the osier bank in safety; and whether we were farther pursued again or not during that night, I cannot tell. With the horse-arquebusiers we easily came up, for they had lingered a moment or two on the opposite slope, with some anxiety about our fate; but we rode on for a considerable way afterward without seeing anything of Louise or her escort, and I began to feel some apprehensions lest they should have missed their way. The fog was increasing in density, the frost was most intense, and, though more than once we halted to listen if horses' feet could be distinguished, not a sound broke the stillness of the night.
We had ridden about a league and a half, and it now, for a moment, became a question whether we were ourselves on the right road or not; but the unfailing sagacity of Moric Endem pointed out marks which proved that we were not mistaken. There was a tree here that looked like an old sniffing woman, with a bottle under her arm; there was a smallmaiteriethere, with some trees round it, which looked like a partridge garnished with endive; and on we went in perfect security upon our road for two or three miles farther.
"Hark!" cried Moric Endem, as we were going over a gentle slope. "There was a pistol-shot far off to the left. It may be a signal that they have lost their way."
We halted and listened; and as the wind, though very light, was from that side, I thought I heard the sound of horses' feet. I bade them then fire an arquebus in return, and two minutes after another pistol-shot was heard, which at once confirmed the supposition of Moric Endem.
Turning our horses that way with a shout and a halloo, we rode on as fast as we could, and, at the distance of about two miles to the left of the right road, we came up with a party which proved to be that we were in search of. Riding up to the side of Louise, I bestowed not a few harsh words upon Master Andriot for having misled the party; and then, taking Louise's hand in mine, I said everything I could say, in order to put her mind at ease, that the circumstances permitted, being surrounded by a number of people who heard every word that was spoken. Her hand was like a piece of ice; and I found that she was suffering much from the intense cold; yet how to assist her I could not tell. I became, I confess, greatly alarmed about her. Nor were my fears without some foundation, for two or three days before I had seen the hands of one of our men so completely frostbitten as to require the amputation of two of the fingers. Nothing, however, was to be done but to ride on as fast as possible, and yet we were now so far from the road that the time of our journey to the village must necessarily be lengthened, and was, in some degree, uncertain.
After riding on for about three miles more, however, I saw a long, irregular building on the left, and, on a nearer approach, found that it was one of those large granaries or barns which are found scattered about so frequently in Poitou and Sainctonge at great distances from any habitable spot. Though it was a miserable shelter enough, yet, as it promised to afford us a covering against the intense cold, I turned our horses' heads thitherward, saying that, at all risks, we must break it open in order to obtain some shelter for the young lady. Not a little to my satisfaction, however, the door was found unlocked, and the place completely vacant; and, on entering, we found that it was divided into two by a wooden partition, which separated a small space, in the shape of an ordinary room, from the great barn and threshing-floor. This we discovered by lighting two or three coils of match that we had brought with us; and, lifting Louise from her horse, I carried her into the inner room in my arms, for she was so stiff with the cold that she could hardly move.
Soldiers may, and, doubtless, have a multitude of faults; but the tenderness and care which they can sometimes exhibit towards the weak and the suffering, forms a strange contrast with the savage fury they display under excitement. Nothing could exceed the kindness, the diligence, the attention with which they crowded round to give assistance to poor Louise, one cheering her with a kindly word, another bringing in the pillions to make a comfortable seat for her, a third rushing in with his arms full of apple-branches, which he had torn down from the neighbouring trees, and which, placed on a hearth that we found in the inner room, soon raised a cheerful and a blazing fire.
Moric Endem, for his part, brought from his saddlebow an appendage without which he never travelled, and which, on the present occasion, proved of the utmost service. This was a gourd, dried in the form of a bottle, and filled with excellent wine, and I insisted upon Louise drinking some, which, I believe, more than anything, prevented her from suffering severely. Some more piles of wood were soon brought in, together with other cloaks; and Moric and the rest, having seen that everything had been done to make Louise as comfortable as the circumstances admitted, retired into the larger division of the barn, to provide, as best they might, for the passing of a long winter's night, Moric leading the way, and saying, "Better leave the seigneur and his cousin alone. I dare say they have a great deal to say to each other."
"Is he her cousin?" I heard one of the men say as they went out, turning at the same time to Andriot; "I thought most likely he was her lover."
"He is her cousin," replied Andriot. "You might almost call them brother and sister, indeed, for they have been like such all their lives."
I had, indeed, always felt so towards Louise de Blancford; I had loved her as a very dear sister, with whom no word had ever been exchanged but that of kindness and affection, and such had been simply my sensations till the moment when, quitting her father's house, I sought my own fortunes in the wide world. I have said that then a dream came up before my eyes; that a vision of future happiness connected itself with the remembrance of Louise, that I felt that I could not be happy, that I could not even figure to myself a state of happiness without the dear, the beloved companion of my infancy and my youth.
From that moment new and deeper feelings began to mingle with the memory of Louise; hopes and visions, and fancies bright and enchanting, dreams of joy and satisfaction in meeting her again; aspirations to conquer every difficulty and overcome all resistance, till I had raised myself high for her sake. Was this love, or merely a dream of the fancy--a boyish fondness for the girl that had been brought up with me? I cannot well tell, but I think not; for love can have no greater intensity of regard and affection than I felt towards Louise de Blancford: imagination might gild it, but does not imagination gild love also? It wanted something, indeed. I had looked upon Louise with fondness, I can scarcely say that it was with admiration, for I had been so much accustomed to the sight of her beauty that I did not know how beautiful she was, even as a girl, till afterward, in comparing the beauty of others whom I saw with her image in my memory, I found that there was none at all like her.
If there was anything wanting, however, to make that which I felt towards her love of the deepest, the most intense, the tenderest, the most passionate nature, it was wanting no longer after that night; the dear embrace which she had given me when first we met; the touch of her hand when we came up with her after the little skirmish; the holding her in my arms and to my bosom as I carried her from her horse into the building; the anxiety for her, the fear, the tenderness, the care, gave warmer, nearer, more engaging, if not more intense sensations to my affection for her; and from that moment I felt I loved her with all the fire and energy of passion.
By the warmth of the fire Louise soon began to revive, her eyes to sparkle brightly again, the natural colour to come into her lips and cheeks, the icy hand to grow warm and soft. She had been scarcely able to speak when we entered, but now she answered my eager words kindly though briefly, and added a bright smile, and let her hand press mine, to thank me more than she was able to do in words. Oh! how beautiful did she look then, as gradually the bright returning stream of life flowed more rapidly through her veins, and every moment seemed to bring out some new loveliness. I cannot but think that so must have looked the ivory statue of the Greek sculptor, when his prayer of love was heard, and it was kindled into sudden being. She was changed, much changed since last I saw her: she was now just sixteen; and what a difference one year will make at that period of life! every alteration had been an addition to the beauty that she possessed before: she was now a woman, when I had left her a girl, and the brightness of perfection had been added to the rich promise of beauty.
She seemed not to see or to feel that there was any change in me; the endearing names which we had used towards each other in youth were still employed; the terms of love and deep affection were nothing new to us, and nothing strange; and while I called her dear Louise--my own Louise--my sweet, dear girl, and every name expressive of the fondest affection, it seemed all quite natural, and she murmured in reply, "Dear, dear Henry, how glad I am to see you again!"
I may own it, for it was all harmless and pure, my lips were pressed on hers more than once, and her hand remained clasped in mine, while her head leaned upon my bosom. The casque I had laid aside at my first entrance; the iron cuirass soon became a load to me, and I threw it off also; and, smiling at me as I did so, she said, "Ah, Henry, you now look more as you did at Blancford."
I sat down beside her on the ground, near the fire, and chafed her hand, which was still cold, though not so intensely so as before, and in about an hour she was nearly well again. It seemed to me, however, that, as she recovered from the effects of the cold, she became somewhat thoughtful, and she asked we many questions about the adventures of that night--whether I had seen her father, and what he had said.
I told her all exactly as it had happened; but still she seemed anxious, and I said, "It will be easily explained, dear Louise, and your father will understand in a moment that it was impossible to return when the alarm was once given."
"I am afraid," she said, hesitating, "I am afraid that the baroness will say everything that is cutting and unkind. I know what she will say quite well. She will say that I came away with you willingly enough, for she used always to speak in that manner at Blancford after you went, and would never hear me mention your name, or look at all thoughtful, without saying she was sure I wished to go and join you. She thus tried very much to make my father angry with me; but still he was not angry."
"And did you ever wish to come and join me, Louise!" I said.
There was a slight blush came into her cheek, but she answered at once, "I wished every day that you were there, Henry; for I have never had a happy hour since you were gone. We could not have been so happy, indeed, as we used to be, but still we might have had a few sweet hours together; but now I am afraid--though I am sure I do not know what harm there is in being with you--she will say everything that is unkind if she finds that I am away with you, alone, for many days."
"Do not be afraid, sweetest," I replied; "To-morrow we shall arrive at our own camp, where you will find good Dame Marguelette and Monsieur la Tour. Under their protection no one can say anything; and for the night, dearest Louise, you shall be under mine, and let the man who dare say that I do not protect you rightly."
"Oh, that you will, that you will," she said; "I have not the least fear, Henry, with you; and I am sure, if good Monsieur la Tour be there, I shall like being with you both much better than being near the baroness."
Our conversation was interrupted by some one knocking at the door; and, bidding him come in, Moric Endem presented himself, accompanied by Andriot and a good farmer of the country, whose face was somewhat pale, rather with surprise than fear, and who looked round the apartment with an inquiring glance, as if asking what he was to meet with next. They were all loaded with different sorts of provisions, however, and it soon appeared that Moric, well knowing that there must be some farmhouse at not many miles' distance from the barn, had set out in search of one with Andriot, and a sufficient number of the soldiery to give force to his entreaties for hospitality.
The farm had been found more easily than they expected; the farmer and his wife were roused; and on the representation that there was a young lady in want of food and assistance, joined to a promise of prompt payment, the farmer was easily induced to rise, and bring forth everything that his house contained which could afford us food or comfort. Heaps of blankets and coarse woollen cloths, piles of straw and hay, several large bottles and stoups of wine, an immense pie not yet broken into, and sausages andandouillettes, with bread, and a jar of baked apples, had been brought down by the different men for our comfort and consolation in the barn. It was about two miles, they said, to the farmhouse; and the good farmer offered, with every show of readiness, to provide Louise with a lodging there till the next morning.
At first the impression on my mind was, that, notwithstanding the cold walk or ride which she must take, it would be better for Louise, in every point of view, to go up to the farm at once. But I saw by the sign the man made on entering the room in which we were, that he was a Catholic. I remembered the proximity of the Catholic army too, and that it would be extreme cruelty to order any of the men, in such a night as that, to keep guard round the house. I therefore thanked him for his offer, but declined it; and, after having paid him handsomely for his trouble and attention, saw him depart, but not without bidding Moric Endem take some heed of which way he turned his steps.
My next care was to make a sort of temporary bed for my sweet cousin; and then, having taken what portion of the provisions we wanted, and distributed the rest among the soldiery, I supped gayly and happily with Louise, and passed nearly two hours in conversation, mingling sad things with sweet ones, with many an affectionate word between. It was evident to me that Louise was unconscious of any change in her own feelings towards me, or in mine to her; and I blessed that unconsciousness, for it suffered a thousand little tender tokens of affection to display themselves openly in her conduct, which might have been driven back into the shy recesses of the heart had she known the full strength of her own sensations towards me. The only thought that seemed to have given her uneasiness, had been altogether removed by my telling her that we should join good La Tour on the following day; and the joy of our meeting again seemed checkered by nothing but some timid fears lest we should be pursued and overpowered by some force from the Catholic camp.
Thus passed the time brightly and happily, till at length the chimes of a distant clock, though we could hear it but faintly, told that one hour had passed after midnight. Rest, I knew, was needful to her, and I spread out the cloaks and blankets on the straw, so as to ensure that no cold should there visit those young, tender limbs, and piled up a quantity of wood upon the hearth, assuring the long continuance of the fire by burying a considerable part in the ashes.
I then took Louise in my arms and kissed her, wishing her good-night; but she seemed somewhat frightened at the idea of my leaving her, asking why I could not stay beside her, and sleep by the fire too. I could have stayed and watched her slumbers with the greatest pleasure; but I would not have it said by any one that such had been the case. The men were still talking together in the next chamber; the door I had purposely left ajar; and pointing out to Louise that the only window was up near the roof, through which no one could pass, I told her that I would lay myself across her door till the morning, so that she might be sure no one could come in.
"Dear Louise," I said, "I must not stay, I ought not to stay with you."
I again held her for a moment to my heart; the colour came up brightly into her cheek, and she hid her face for a moment on my bosom.
"Thank you, Henry, thank you," she said, when she raised her head, but still leaving her hand in mine. "You are good as well as kind." And from that moment, though she did not love me less, Louise felt that we could no longer be brother and sister to each other.