CHAPTER LXXIV.
ONE OF THE SOUVENIRS OF THE DUC D'ANJOU.
Henri, as he entered, could hear the hateful laugh of the prince, but hehad not lived enough with him to know the danger that always lurked inhis laugh. Besides, he could not suspect the subject of conversation,and no one dared to tell him in the duke's presence. Besides, the duke,who had already settled his plan, kept Henri near him until all theother officers were gone. He then changed the distribution of the posts.Henri had established his quarters in that house, and had intended tosend the ensign to a post near the river, but the duke now took Henri'splace, and sent him where the ensign was to have been. Henri was notastonished, for the river was an important point. Before going, however,he wished to speak to the ensign, and recommend to his care the twopeople under his protection, and whom he was forced for the time toabandon. But at the first word that Henri began to speak to him the dukeinterposed. "Secrets?" said he, with his peculiar smile.
The ensign had understood, when too late, the fault he had been guiltyof.
"No, monseigneur," replied he, "M. le Comte was only asking me how muchpowder we had left fit to use."
The answer had two aims; the first to turn away the duke's suspicions,if he had any; and the second to let Du Bouchage know that he couldcount on a friend in him.
"Ah!" said the duke, forced to seem to believe what he was told. And ashe turned to the door the ensign whispered to Henri, "The prince knowsyou are escorting some one."
Henri started, but it was too late. The duke remarked the start, and, asif to assure himself that his orders were executed, proposed to Henri toaccompany him to his post, which he was forced to accede to.
Henri wished to warn Remy to be on his guard, but it was impossible; allhe could do was to say to the ensign:
"Watch well over the powder; watch it as I would myself, will you not?"
"Yes, M. le Comte," replied the young man.
On the way the duke said to Du Bouchage, "Where is this powder that youspeak of?"
"In the house we have just left, your highness."
"Oh! be easy, then, Du Bouchage; I know too well the importance of suchan article, in our situation, to neglect it. I will watch over itmyself."
They said no more until they arrived, when the duke, after giving Henrimany charges not to quit his post, returned. He found Aurilly wrapped inan officer's cloak, sleeping on one of the seats in the dining-room. Theduke woke him. "Come," said he.
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes! the unknown lady--the relation of M. du Bouchage."
"Good; I see that the faro of Brussels and the beer of Louvain have notclouded your intellects."
"Oh! no, monseigneur, I am more ingenious than ever."
"Then call up all your imagination, and guess."
"Well! I guess that your highness is envious."
"Ah! parbleu, I always am; but what is it about just now?"
"You wish to know who is the brave creature who has followed the MM. deJoyeuse through fire and water?"
"You have just hit it, 'per mille pericula Martis!' as Margot would say.Apropos, have you written to her, Aurilly?"
"To whom, monseigneur?"
"To my sister Margot."
"Had I to write to her?"
"Certainly."
"About what?"
"To tell her that we are beaten--ruined, and that she must look out forherself; for that Spain, disembarrassed of me in the north, will fall onher in the south."
"Ah! true."
"You have not written?"
"No, monseigneur."
"You slept?"
"Yes, I confess it; but even if I had thought of it, with what could Ihave written? I have here neither pen, paper, nor ink."
"Well, seek. 'Quare et invenies,' as it is written."
"How in the devil's name am I to find it in the hut of a peasant, whoprobably did not know how to write?"
"Seek, stupid! if you do not find that, you will find--"
"What?"
"Something else."
"Oh! fool that I was," cried Aurilly. "Your highness is right: I amstupid; but I am very sleepy, you see."
"Well, keep awake for a little while, and, since you have not written, Iwill write; only go and seek what is necessary. Go, Aurilly, and do notcome back till you have found it; I will remain here."
"I go, monseigneur."
"And if, in your researches, you discover that the house ispicturesque--you know how I admire Flemish interiors, Aurilly."
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Well! call me."
"Immediately, monseigneur; be easy."
Aurilly rose, and, with a step light as a bird, went up the staircase.In five minutes he returned to his master.
"Well?" asked he.
"Well, monseigneur, if I may believe appearances, the house isdevilishly picturesque."
"How so?"
"Peste! monseigneur; because one cannot get in to look."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is guarded by a dragon."
"What foolish joke is this?"
"Oh! monseigneur, it is unluckily not a foolish joke, but a sad truth.The treasure is on the first floor, in a room in which I can see lightthrough the door."
"Well?"
"Well! before this door lies a man, wrapped in a gray cloak."
"Oh, oh! M. du Bouchage puts a gendarme at the door of his mistress."
"It is not a gendarme, monseigneur, but some attendant of the lady's orof the count's."--"What kind of a man?"
"Monseigneur, it was impossible to see his face; but I could perfectlysee a large Flemish knife in his belt, and his hand, on it."
"It is amusing; go and waken the fellow."
"Oh, no, monseigneur."
"Why not?"
"Why, without counting the knife, I do not wish to amuse myself withmaking a mortal enemy of MM. de Joyeuse, who stand so well at court. Ifyou had been king of this country, it might have passed; but now youmust be gracious, above all with those who saved you, and Joyeuse didsave you. They will say so, whether you do or not."--"You are right,Aurilly, and yet--and yet--"
"I understand. Your highness has not seen a woman's face for fifteenmortal days. I do not speak of the kind of animals who live here; theyare males and females, but do not deserve to be called men and women."
"I must see this lady, Aurilly."
"Well, monseigneur, you may see her; but not through the door."
"So be it; then I will see her through the window."
"Ah! that is a good idea, and I will go and look for a ladder for you."
Aurilly glided into the courtyard, and under a shed found what hewanted. He maneuvered it among horses and men so skillfully as to wakeno one, and placed it in the street against the outer wall. It wasnecessary to be a prince, and sovereignly disdainful of vulgar scruples,to dare, in the presence of the sentinel, who walked up and down beforethe door, to accomplish an action so audaciously insulting to DuBouchage. Aurilly felt this, and pointed out the sentinel, who, nowobserving, called out, "Qui vive!"
Francois shrugged his shoulders and walked up to him.
"My friend," said he, "this place is the most elevated spot in thevillage, is it not?"
"Yes, monseigneur," said the man, recognizing him, "and were it not forthose lime trees, we could see over a great part of the country."
"I thought so; and therefore I have brought a ladder," said the duke."Go up, Aurilly, or rather, let me go up; I will see for myself."
"Where shall I place it?" said the hypocritical follower.
"Oh, anywhere; against that wall, for instance."
The sentinel walked off, and the duke mounted the ladder, Aurillystanding at the foot.
The room in which Henri had placed Diana was matted, and had a largeoaken bed with serge curtains, a table, and a few chairs.
Diana, whose heart seemed relieved from an enormous weight since she hadheard the false ne
ws of the duke's death, had, almost for the first timesince her father's death, eaten something more substantial than bread,and drunk a little wine. After this she grew sleepy, and Remy had lefther, and was sleeping outside her door, not from any suspicion, butbecause such had been his habit ever since they had left Paris.
Diana herself slept with her elbow on the table and her head leaning onher hand. A little lamp burned on the table, and all looked peacefulhere, where such tempestuous emotions had raged and would soon again. Inthe glass sparkled the Rhine wine, scarcely touched by Diana. She, withher eyes closed, her eyelids veined with azure, her mouth slightlyopened, her hair thrown back, looked like a sublime vision to the eyesthat were violating the sanctity of her retreat. The duke, on perceivingher, could hardly repress his admiration, and leaned over to examineevery detail of her ideal beauty. But all at once he frowned, and camedown two or three steps with a kind of nervous precipitation, andleaning back against the wall, crossed his arms and appeared to reflect.Aurilly watched him as he stood there, with a dreamy air, like a mantrying to recall some old souvenir. After a few minutes he remounted andlooked in again, but Aurilly called out, "Quick! quick! monseigneur,come down; I hear steps."
The duke came down, but slowly.
"It was time," said Aurilly.
"Whence comes the sound?"
"From there," said Aurilly, pointing to a dark street. "But the soundhas ceased; it must have been some spy watching us."
"Remove the ladder."
Aurilly obeyed; however, no one appeared, and they heard no more noise.
"Well, monseigneur, is she beautiful?" said Aurilly.
"Very beautiful," said the prince, abstractedly.
"What makes you sad then? Did she see you?"
"No, she was asleep."
"Then what is the matter?"
"Aurilly, it is strange, but I have seen that woman somewhere."
"You recognized her, then?"
"No, I could not think of her name; but her face gave me a fearfulshock. I cannot tell how it is; but I believe I did wrong to look."
"However, just on account of the impression she has made on you, we mustfind out who she is."
"Certainly we must."
"Seek well in your memory, monseigneur; is it at court you have seenher?"
"No, I think not."
"In France, Navarre, Flanders?"
"No."
"A Spaniard perhaps."
"I do not think so."
"An English lady, one of Queen Elizabeth's?"
"No, I seem to know her more intimately, and that she appeared to me insome terrible scene."
"Then you would have recognized her at once; you have not seen many suchscenes."
"Do you think so?" said the duke, with a gloomy smile. "Now," continuedhe, "that I am sufficiently master of myself to analyze my sensations, Ifeel that this woman is beautiful, but with the beauty of death;beautiful as a shade, as a figure in a dream; and I have had two orthree frightful dreams in my life, which left me cold at the heart.Well, now I am sure that it was in one of those dreams that I saw thatwoman."
"Your highness is not generally so susceptible, and but that I believethat we are watched from that street, I would mount in my turn andlook."
"Ma foi! you are right, Aurilly; what does it matter whether we arewatched or not? Go up and look."
Aurilly made a move forward to obey, when a hasty step was heard, andHenri's voice, crying, "Monseigneur!"
"You here!" said the duke, while Aurilly bounded back to his side; "youhere, comte?--on what pretext have you quitted your post?"
"Monseigneur," replied Henri, firmly, "your highness can punish me, ifyou think proper: meanwhile, my duty was to come here, and I came."
The duke glanced toward the window. "Your duty, comte? Explain that tome," said he.
"Monseigneur, horsemen have been seen on the Spanish side of the river,and we do not know if they are friends or enemies."
"Numerous?" asked the duke anxiously.
"Very numerous, monseigneur."
"Well, comte, no false bravery: you will do well to return. Awake thegendarmes and let us decamp; it will be the most prudent plan."
"Doubtless, monseigneur; but it will be urgent, I think, to warn mybrother."
"Two men will do."
"Then I will go with a gendarme."
"No, no, Du Bouchage; you must come with us. Peste! it is not at such amoment that I can separate from a defender like you."
"When does your highness set out?" said Henri, bowing.
"At once, comte."
"Hola! some one," cried Henri.
The young ensign came out immediately from the dark street. Henri gavehis orders, and soon the place was filled with gendarmes preparing fordeparture. Among them the duke talked with his officers.
"Gentlemen," said he, "the Prince of Orange is pursuing me, it seems;but it is not proper that a son of France should be taken prisoner. Letus, therefore, yield to numbers, and fall back upon Brussels. I shall besure of life and liberty while I remain among you."
Then, turning to Aurilly, "You remain," said he. "This woman cannotfollow us. Joyeuse will not dare to bring her with him in my presence.Besides, we are not going to a ball, and the race we shall run wouldfatigue a lady."
"Where are you going, monseigneur?"
"To France. I think my business is over here."
"But to what part of France. Does monseigneur think it prudent to returnto court?"
"No; I shall stop at one of my castles, Chateau-Thierry, for example."
"Has your highness decided on that?"
"Yes; Chateau-Thierry suits me in all respects; it is a good distancefrom Paris, about twenty-eight leagues, and I can watch from thence MM.de Guise, who are half the year at Soissons. So bring the beautifulunknown to Chateau-Thierry."
"But, monsieur, perhaps she will not be brought."
"Nonsense; since Du Bouchage accompanies me, and she follows him, itwill be quite natural."
"But she may wish to go somewhere else, if she sees that I wish to bringher to you."
"But I repeat that it is not to me that you are to bring her, but to thecomte. Really, one would think it was the first time you had aided me insuch circumstances. Have you money?"
"I have the two rouleaux of gold that you gave me when you left thecamp."
"Well, by any and every method, bring me the lady to Chateau-Thierry;perhaps when I see her nearer I shall recognize her."
"And the man also?"
"Yes; if he is not troublesome."
"But if he is?"
"Do with him what you would do with a stone which is in your way--throwit away."
"Good, monseigneur."
While the two conspirators formed their plans, Henri went up and wokeRemy. He knocked at the door in a peculiar fashion, and it was almostimmediately opened by Diana. Behind Remy she perceived Henri.
"Good-evening, monsieur," said she, with a smile which had long beenforeign to her face.
"Oh! pardon me, madame," said Henri, "for intruding on you; but I cometo make my adieux."
"Your adieux, comte; you are going?"
"To France, madame."
"And you leave us?"
"I am forced to do so; my duty is to obey the prince."
"The prince; is there a prince here?" asked Remy.
"Yes, M. le Duc d'Anjou, who was believed dead, and who has beenmiraculously saved, has joined us."
Diana uttered a terrible cry, and Remy turned as pale as though he hadbeen suddenly struck with death.
"The Duc d'Anjou living!" cried Diana. "The Duc d'Anjou here?"
"Had he not been here, madame, and ordered me to follow him, I shouldhave accompanied you to the convent into which you tell me you are aboutto retire."
"Yes, yes," said Remy; "the convent;" and he put his finger on his lip.
"I would have accompanied you the more willingly, madame." said Henri;"because I fear that you may be annoyed by the prince's people."--"
Howso?"
"Yes; I believe that he knows there is a lady here, and he thinks thatshe is a friend of mine."
"And what makes you think so?"
"Our young ensign saw him place a ladder against this window and lookin."
"Oh!" cried Diana; "mon Dieu! mon Dieu!"
"Reassure yourself, madame! he heard him say that he did not know you.Besides, the duke is going to set off at once--in a quarter of an houryou will be alone and free. Permit me to salute you with respect, and totell you once more, that till my last sigh, my heart will beat for youand with you. Adieu, madame, adieu." And the comte, bowing, took twosteps back.
"No, no!" cried Diana, wildly, "no, God cannot have done this! He cannothave brought this man to life again; no, monsieur, you must be wrong, heis dead."
At this moment, as if in reply, the duke's voice was heard calling frombelow:
"Comte, we are waiting for you."
"You hear him, madame," said Henri. "For the last time, adieu."
And pressing Remy's hand, he flew down the staircase. Diana approachedthe window trembling, and with a convulsive shudder, like the birdfascinated by the serpent of the Antilles. She saw the duke onhorseback, and the light of the torches held by the gendarmes fell onhis face.
"Oh! he lives! the demon lives!" murmured she; "and we must live also.He is setting out for France; so be it, Remy, we also must go toFrance."