Orrain: A Romance

  E-text prepared by Al Haines

  ORRAIN

  A Romance

  by

  S. LEVETT-YEATS

  Author of"The Lord Protector," "The Chevalier d'Auriac," etc.

  Longmans, Green, and Co.91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, New YorkLondon and Bombay1904

  Copyright, 1904, byS. Levett-YeatsAll Rights Reserved

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I THE CRY IN THE RUE DES LAVANDIERES II I BECOME THE OWNER OF A RING III MY PYRAMID OF CARDS COMES DOWN IV THE QUEEN'S MIRACLE V THE PORTE ST. MICHEL VI SIMON AND I MEET AGAIN VII DIANE VIII THE ACTS OF PIERREBON IX THE WHITE MASK X THE BITER BITTEN XI THE ROAD TO POITIERS XII A WRITER OF COMMENTARIES XIII THE TOUR DE L'OISEAU XIV MADEMOISELLE DE PARADIS XV MY PRISONER XVI THE TWELVE ROSE PETALS XVII MADEMOISELLE DECIDES XVIII DR. JOHANNES CABALLUS XIX THE WOMAN IN BLACK AND WHITE XX THE CROWN JEWELS XXI THE HOUSE IN THE PASSAGE OF PITY XXII THE TABLETS OF DOM ANTOINE DE MOUCHY XXIII THE MASQUERADE XXIV THE KING AND THE FAVOURITE XXV THE PACKET OF LETTERS XXVI THE CHURCH UNDER THE GROUND XXVII THE RING XXVIII THE ARM OF GOD XXIX LA VALENTINOIS AND I XXX FONTAINEBLEAU XXXI THE PEARS OF ORRAIN

  ORRAIN

  CHAPTER I

  THE CRY IN THE RUE DES LAVANDIERES

  My father, Rene, Vidame d'Orrain, was twice married. By his first wifehe had one son, Simon, who subsequently succeeded to his title andestates, and was through his life my bitter enemy. By his second wife,whom he married somewhat late in life, he had two sons--the elder,Anne, known as the Chevalier de St. Martin from his mother's lands,which he inherited; and the younger, Bertrand--myself.

  Simon betook himself early to the Court, and we heard but little ofhim, and that not to his credit; St. Martin went to Italy under thebanner of Brissac; and as for me, my parents yielding to the persuasionof my mother's uncle, the Bishop of Seez, decided that I should becomea Churchman, and I was forthwith packed off to Paris, and entered atthe College of Cambrai, being then about seventeen years of age. Beingremarkably tall and strongly built, with a natural taste for all manlyexercises, it might have been expected that my books saw little of me;but, on the contrary, I found in them a pleasure and a companionshipthat has lasted through my life. Thus it happened that I madeconsiderable progress. So much so that the good Bishop, mygreat-uncle, often flattered me with the ambitious hopes of some dayfilling his Episcopal chair--a hope that, I need not say, was neverrealised.

  About this time, I being nineteen years of age, things happened thatentirely altered my life. My mother sickened and died. Shortly afternews came of the death of my brother St. Martin, who was killed in anaffair of honour at Milan. The Vidame, my father, then in hiseighty-first year, and much enfeebled by old wounds, especially one hehad received at Fornovo, felt that his last hours were come, andsummoned my brother Simon and myself home to receive his last blessingbefore he died.

  I hurried back as fast as possible, but when I reached Orrain I foundto my astonishment the gates of the Chateau closed against me, andSimon, leaning over the battlements, bade me begone.

  Overcome with this reception, I was for a space struck speechless; butat length finding voice I begged, even with tears, to be allowed to seemy father. But Simon sneered back:

  "You will have to take a long journey, then; either below or above--Iknow not which," he mocked. "Your father is dead. He has left you hiscurse, and the lands of St. Martin are yours. I am master here atlast, thank God! And I tell you to be off! Take that pink and whiteface of yours back to your College of Cambrai!"

  He lied, for, as I afterwards heard, my father was not dead then, butlay dying in his chamber, to which no one but Simon had access, andover which he had placed a guard of his men-at-arms, a cut-throat setof Italians whom he ever had with him.

  Simon's cruel words stung me to the quick. My blood flamed with rage,and I dared him to come forth and meet me as a man; but he only laughedall the more, and, pointing to the tree of justice outside the gate,asked how I would like to swing from one of its branches. He addedthat, as I was his step-brother, he would give me a high one, if Ichose.

  I can almost see him now as I write this, with his cruel hatchet facesnarling over the parapet, his red hair, his tall, thin figure and bentback--if the truth were known, Simon's affairs of gallantry must havebeen few.

  In brief, despite all my efforts, I was unable to see my father, whodied that night asking for me.

  In the hamlet of Orrain itself I could find no shelter, although thevillagers knew and loved me, and this was from fear of the new Vidame.I, however, found a temporary retreat in the forest, living there likea wild beast for four days, waiting with a burning heart for a chanceof meeting Simon, but he never came forth.

  On the fourth day my father was buried at dead of night in the Chapelof St. Hugo of Orrain, where every Vidame of Orrain, save one, lies.

  Pierrebon, now my steward, and at that time my servant, and the onlycompanion I had with me, brought me news from the village that this wasto be, and I determined to be there at all hazard. This resolution Icarried out, and Simon and I met beside our father's grave. The timeand the occasion sealed my lips and stayed my hand. Even Simon spakenever a word, but, when it was all over, rode off sullenly through thenight back to the Chateau, his cursed Italians around him, and with thedawn started off for Paris.

  This I did too. There was nothing else to be done, and I returned tomy College.

  I was, however, no longer in the position of a poor cadet, withoutmeans or resource. My mother's lands of St. Martin had come to me onAnne's death. Even my great-uncle the good Bishop agreed with me, withmany sighs, that the profession of arms was more suited to my presentposition than the Church, but advised me to stay for a year more inCollege, and fortify my mind by taking the course of Philosophy.

  I very willingly assented to this; but the wealthy Chevalier d'Orrainas I was called--I did not take the name of St. Martin--was a vastlydifferent person from the poor cadet of the past year. I found myselfcourted and sought after. I began to find pleasures in life unknown tome before, and in the young man of fashion, who entered the world ayear later it was hardly possible to recognise the once quiet andstudious Bertrand d'Orrain.

  I plunged into the dissipations of the capital. At the Court I found apatron in Monseigneur the Duc d'Enghien. My extravagance and myfollies brought me many reproofs from the Bishop of Seez, but the goodman's warnings were in vain, and might have been shouted to the stars.They were certainly at times loud enough to be heard there.

  I often met Simon, now Vidame d'Orrain. He was high in favour with theDauphin, who succeeded to the throne as Henri II., and his mistress,Diane de Poitiers, whom he made Duchess of Valentinois. By tacitconsent there was an armed peace between us, though I well knew hewould take any chance that might arise to my injury. As it was, wemet, and passed each other without greeting, and in silence, ever withblack looks, and hands on the hilts of our swords.

  My acres began to diminish and the woods of St. Martin to go down.Things, in fact, were going from bad to worse, when war with theEmperor broke out afresh, and I was amongst the first of those whovolunteered under Enghien for the Italian campaign. There I did mypart, and shared in the day of Cerisolles as a captain in the LightHorse of Monsieur de Randan. Then, on the peace, back to Paris oncemore and the old life; with this difference, that now there was norestraining hand over me, for my great-uncle was dead. He left me hisblessing, his copy of "Plutarch's Lives," and thirty crowns of thesun--all his fortune--for, though Bishop of Seez, he was a trueshepherd of God, and laid up for himself all his treasures on high.

  It was impossible that things could go o
n much longer without disaster,and the death--murder, rather--of that gallant prince the Duc d'Enghiendeprived me of a protector upon whom I could always rely. This,followed by an unfortunate duel, the circumstances of which will bedetailed later, precipitated matters. The Edict of Fontainebleauserved as a weapon to my enemies, and it was put in force with theutmost rigour against me. My principal accuser was my unnaturalstep-brother the Vidame d'Orrain. He went so far as to charge me withaiding and harbouring the members of the New Heresy, and the discoveryof a small leaflet printed at Geneva amongst my books was held to besufficient proof against me. The affair of the duel I might have livedthrough, but this meant death. I took refuge in flight; it was theonly course. I was condemned in my absence by the Chambre Ardente tothe extreme penalty, and what remained of my property was given toSimon, who shared it with Diane, the mistress of the King.

  Thus at five and twenty I found myself an exile, and penniless. Onefriend alone remained to me, and this was a young man of Orrain calledPierrebon, whom I have mentioned before. Through good and ill headhered to me with ancient fidelity, and he lives still, honoured andtrusted by all who know him.

  Together we sought a refuge in the Low Countries, and there I learnedthe first great lesson of my life, and that was to live by honest work.For five years I labored, until I had amassed sufficient to give me asmall estate of about fifty ecus.

  During those five years so many things had happened--I myself was sochanged--that I began to think that I and my affairs had been consignedto oblivion, and that I might safely return to France. One day I wasseized with an uncontrollable desire to see my native land once again.I determined to do so then and there, and a fortnight later,accompanied by Pierrebon, I was in Paris.

  I had every reason to confirm the opinion I had formed, that I and mydoings had been forgotten. In the humble class to which I now belongedno one had ever heard of the Chevalier d'Orrain. Here in Paris I feltI was safe, and I consequently determined to fix my abode in the greatcity. I hired an apartment in the Rue des Lavandieres, and establishedmyself there, giving out that I was a fencing-master. No pupils came;but at any rate there was peace and contentment. I formed noacquaintances except one, a certain Camus, a glove-maker, who had anapartment above mine. For some reason or other this man forced himselfupon me, and though at first I repulsed his attentions he would not bedenied, and I grew to tolerate him. He was possessed of extraordinarylearning, and, under the guise of his ostensible calling, plied anotherterrible trade--those who know the story of Jeanne of Navarre will knowwhat I mean.

  This I was unaware of at the time; but, despite myself, the man'sconversation interested me, so that I occasionally yielded to hisimportunities, and visited him for an hour or so after supper, when wepassed the time in discussion.

  In this manner close upon six years elapsed, until I myself had almostforgotten in the Bourgeois Broussel--the name I assumed--the oncebrilliant Chevalier d'Orrain. Pierrebon alone knew my secret, and hewas as silent as the grave. At times the honest fellow would speakhopefully of a good day to come; but I poured cold water on that, and,pointing to my lute and my copy of "Plutarch's Lives," was wont to saythat there was enough happiness there for my life without seeking toreopen the past or delve into the future.

  One night--I remember it well; it was the night of Pentecost, in theyear 1555--I went up, at Camus' request, to his apartment. I had notseen the old man for some time, and our talk was longer than usual. Bysome chance we began to discuss poisons, and Camus opened the stores ofhis curious knowledge. He had studied, he said, with a strange smile,the works of the Rabbi Moses bin Maimon, and was possessed of antidotesfor each of the sixteen poisons; but there was one venom, outside thesixteen, the composition of which he knew, but to which there was noantidote. On my inquiry he stated that this was the poison used by theBorgia, and it was prepared as follows:

  A bear having been caught, it was made to swallow a draught of _Acquadi Borgia_. On this beginning to take effect the bear was suspendedhead downwards. Whilst the animal was in convulsions there poured fromhis mouth a foamy stream. This, collected in a silver vessel andsecurely bottled, was the Borgia venom, and to this there was noantidote.

  I made some remark of horror, and he laughed a dry, crackling laugh,and rose from his seat.

  "I will show you," he said, and was moving towards a press when we werestartled by a cry from the street--a cry for help:

  "_A moi_! _A moi_!"