CHAPTER XXIX
THE DUKE'S MESSENGER
Herrick's parting words remained with Christine. At first she had paidsmall heed to them. They were a mere conventional phrase, spoken to doaway with any abruptness there might be in his leaving her, a slightcourtesy in the place of a farewell which could have little meaningsince she was a prisoner. But the words would not be forgotten, andthere were circumstances which accounted in some measure for theirinsistency. A guard was drawn up at the castle gate, and at the sharpword of command saluted her as she passed through. Again at the citygate it was the same. She had not expected this as a prisoner. Therehad been no crowd in the streets of the city, but all who recognizedher raised their hats. She had their sympathy if not their love. Shewas prepared to hear some hisses as she passed, for not every onecould believe that she was innocent of any part in the plot to betraythe country since she had schemed with those who had this end in view;yet no sound of anger had reached her. It seemed evident, too, thatCaptain Lemasle had not felt certain of the temper of the people, foras they went through the city, he was watchful, and the soldiers rodeclose about her and Lucille. Once across the river, however, Lemasledivided his men more, and Christine and Lucille rode alone side byside, soldiers before and behind them.
It was then that Herrick's words began to drum in Christine's ears asthough to impress upon her that there was a meaning in them. Whyshould she find the Chateau of Passey a less dreary prison than sheimagined? True, it had been Maurice's home for many years, and hadassociations for her for this reason, but they had spoken of thatbefore, and she had thanked him for choosing such a prison. Why shouldhe refer to it again? Or was it that the Duke had in some waybrightened the chateau for her reception? But this was an absurd idea.It did not belong to the Duke but to the Viscount Dupre, and besides,there had been no time to make much preparation for her. She knew thather appeal for Felix had not been altogether in vain. The Duke hadbeen touched, he had treated her very gently, not at all as aprisoner, and he had left her with these words. What was the meaningthat they held? What was the Duke's real purpose concerning her? Itwas strange how persistently she thought of him as the Duke.
"You are sad, mademoiselle."
Lucille broke the long silence so suddenly that Christine started.
"Not so sad as the circumstances might well make me," was the answer.
"Then you will smile again, laugh even, and there will be quiet,peaceful days at Passey."
"Quiet enough," said Christine, smiling at once, "and such peace thatwe are likely to grow dull and gloomy with so much of it. It wasselfish of me to let you come."
"I shall not be unhappy with you," said the girl.
"And presently you can return to Vayenne," said Christine, "you arenot a prisoner, and for a time the ruined old place will amuse you."
"Ruined, mademoiselle?"
"Oh, there is plenty of room to live in it decently if they will letus do so," was the answer; "but it is no longer a castle that coulddefend itself against an enemy. Grass peeps between the stones in itscourt-yard, and the moss and lichen find rootage in its broken walls.No sentry paces through the day and night, and the corridors giveforth an empty sound as one walks along them."
"What a strange place for a prison," said Lucille.
"It is pretty, and for a time will while away your hours, and you canalways return to Vayenne. What kind of treatment we are to receive Ido not know. There may be deep-dug dungeons which decay has leftuntouched."
"Ah, now you would try to frighten me, mademoiselle."
"No, I do not think they will put us there," said Christine. "We shallprobably be allowed to wander about the chateau as we will, but youwill soon tire of it, child. It is an unlikely place for a prince tocome who, passing all others, shall kneel before you."
"You will not let me forget my dream," said the girl, with a flush inher face; "yet, mademoiselle, think, if he came the broken walls couldnot keep him out, and there would be no challenge from the sentry."
"No, and no other woman to pass before he came and knelt to you. InPassey you will have no rival if the prince should come," Christinereturned.
"Yes, mademoiselle, one--you."
Christine laughed, and her thoughts flew back to Vayenne and to RogerHerrick. Full well she knew that her prince had come long ago. Itseemed almost as though the strong walls of circumstance and thesentries which keep vigilant watch over the affairs of men had shuthim out.
The twilight was deepening into night as they drew near to Passey. Thechateau stood gaunt against the fading light in the western horizon,and Lucille shivered, while even Christine's fingers tightened on thereins. Perched on its hill, grim and alone, the chateau lookeduninviting to-night. A feeble light glimmered here and there in thevillage, but no light shone from the summit of the hill. Ghosts mightwell be the only inhabitants of those ghostly walls, and as they rodeforward the light in the west and the chateau vanished in the night asthough it had been the mere outline of a dream.
A few doors were opened at the unwonted clatter as they went throughthe village street, and then they rode into the court-yard. There wasa sentry by the gateway, and one of the ruined guard-rooms seemed tohave been repaired. There was a light there, and Christine saw theshadowy figures of two or three soldiers. Some change had been made,and then she remembered that this was to be her prison, and that, ofnecessity, there must be men to guard it. Lemasle assisted her todismount, and, silhouetted against the light within, the figure of theold Viscount stood on the threshold to receive her.
"Welcome, mademoiselle, to the Chateau of Passey," he said.
"I am grateful at having so courteous a jailer," she answered. "Thischild loves me enough to share my banishment for a time."
The old man bowed to Lucille.
"I hope you will consider me your host," he said to Christine, "andnot think of me as a jailer. There is no great severity here. I willtake you to the rooms which have been prepared for you."
He led the way across the wide hall and up the stairs. At the top hepaused, and, opening a door, turned to Lucille.
"Will you wait here for a few moments? Mademoiselle de Liancourt shallfirst see whether she approves of the arrangements which have beenmade, and will return to you."
Without a word Christine followed the Viscount along a corridor, andthen as they approached the end of it she stopped.
"Is one of my rooms to be that which Maurice used to have?"
"Yes, mademoiselle. The Duke thought you would like to have it."
"It was a kind thought," Christine said.
"The people of Montvilliers have much to learn concerning Duke Roger,"said the Viscount. "For once we are ahead of the times in Passey, andlove him already."
"Perhaps I shall learn the lesson easily in Passey," Christineanswered.
"I hope so, mademoiselle. You will find this room little changed." Andthe Viscount stood aside to let her enter. He did not follow her in,but, closing the door, walked back along the corridor.
Lighted candles were upon a table at the far end of the room, and aman rose from a deep chair, and came toward her.
"I have been expecting you, Christine."
"Maurice!"
Even as she spoke his name, tears of joy and excitement at this suddenand unexpected revelation in her eyes, her thoughts flew to RogerHerrick. She understood the meaning of his parting words now. And asMaurice told her of his slow recovery; his waking to consciousness tofind that he was in the hands of his enemies; his refusal to purchasehis freedom by accepting their help to regain his kingdom and to holdit as a tributary state; his close confinement in the tower by Larne;the sudden coming of Roger Herrick, and all that he had achieved uponthe frontier; Christine began to understand the character of the Dukebetter.
"And what is the Duke's purpose with regard to you now?" she asked atlength.
"I hardly know," Maurice answered. "He would send for me presently tocome to Vayenne, he said, but for a little while I was to return toPa
ssey. I was glad to be back in the dear old place, to have my booksabout me again, but somehow, Christine, they had lost part of theircharm for me. The scholar of Passey has changed. Side by side withRoger Herrick I had struck a good blow that day at the clearing in theforest, and after my rescue from the tower at Larne I rode by his sideagain, fighting, and a different man. I wanted to prove to him that Iwas a man, and a fighter, something more than a pale student. In hispresence I felt all the spirit of my fathers rise in me, bubbling upjoyously like water from a newly tapped spring. No one else's opinioncounted to me but his. There were few who knew even who I was. I havenot been a prominent person in Vayenne."
"And now, Maurice?" questioned Christine.
"Do I look only a scholar now?" said Maurice, drawing himself up, andstanding before her. "I shall have some place about the Duke, highplace, I doubt not, since I intend to make myself worthy of it."
"And the last time I came to Passey it was to persuade you to go toVayenne to be crowned," mused Christine.
"I have no quarrel with Duke Roger," laughed Maurice. "I recognize hisclaim, and I know that Montvilliers is ruled by the right man, the manwho will make history for her."
"Yes; I feel that too," said Christine.
"So again you come to Passey on an important mission," Maurice wenton. "You come to summon me to Vayenne to prove myself a man."
"What are you saying, Maurice? You have been misled. You are wrong,indeed; you are wrong. I come to Passey a prisoner."
"A prisoner! You!"
"To the Duke I have been a traitor. This castle is to be my prisonduring his pleasure."
"I do not believe it. The Duke said--ah! he would make no falsepromise. I would trust his word against the sworn oath of other men. Ido not believe it." And Maurice went to the door, and shouted loudlyfor the Viscount.
The old man came hastily along the corridor. "Viscount, is it truethat mademoiselle has come here as a prisoner?"
"In a sense it is true, but now she is here she is to have perfectliberty of action," said Dupre. "The Duke has certain wishesconcerning you, mademoiselle, which are contained in this paper. I wascommanded to give it you after you had seen your cousin."
Christine took the paper, and opened it.
"Mademoiselle, once before you journeyed to Passey to summon Mauriceto the capital. This time we pray you be our messenger. Tell him theDuke has need of him, and bring him to Vayenne. Roger."
Christine handed the paper to her cousin.
"I knew there was some mistake," he said. "It is evident he thinkslittle of your treachery; is it very hard, Christine, to be the Duke'smessenger?"
"I was commanded to see that you rested here to-morrow, and returnedthe day after to Vayenne," said the Viscount. "Have I your permissionto give these instructions to the captain of your escort?"
"Yes," she said after a pause. "May I go to my room, and will you sendLucille to me?"
"Who is Lucille?" asked Maurice.
"You shall see her presently."
"Christine, you are not glad that I am going to Vayenne," Mauricesaid, as he held the door open for her.
"Yes--yes, I am; but you don't understand, and--and I want to bealone."
It was Maurice who showed Lucille over the ruined castle, stood withher looking over the village below and across the open country fromthe broken walls, and steadied her as they climbed down the narrow,worn steps to the dungeons, which had received no prisoners forgenerations, he told her. They had not been long together before hehad learned her history, and he told her that he would ask Duke Rogerto restore the fortunes of her family.
"He is the most splendid Duke Montvilliers has ever had," he saidenthusiastically.
"I wish I were a man to serve him," answered the girl, catching theenthusiasm from her companion.
"I'm very glad you are not," he answered, and then feeling that he wasunequal to explaining his words, he hurried her to some otherinteresting point of the castle.
Christine remained alone all day, remembering every incident since thedusty priest had come to that very castle to warn her, to offer hisservice, and wondering what the immediate future held. What was theDuke's purpose regarding her cousin Maurice?
When, on the following morning, the cavalcade set out, Christine rodealone. Maurice soon found that she took little notice of what he saidto her, that she was altogether absorbed in her own thoughts, andthere was more enjoyment in riding beside Lucille. It was pleasure towatch the girl's color come and go, to see in her fresh young beauty alikeness to the fresh, new day, to feel that her merry laughter whichrang out at intervals was the most beautiful sound on God's beautifulearth. For Maurice a new page was turned in life's book. Here was thebeginning of a new chapter, full of love and romance, of excitementand success, and with pictures exceedingly pleasant to look upon.
Christine rode alone. Every inch of the way had some memory for her.Here she had glanced at the priest riding so silently beside her andhad wondered whether he was a man of honor or a scoundrel. Here wasthe forest where danger had awaited them; even now the sunlightgleamed at the end of the long road, dimmed by over-arching trees,showing where the fateful clearing lay. The leading soldiers trottedinto it and across it; no robbers rushed out to stop them to-day.Maurice and Lucille rode into it, and Christine saw him point to oneof the roads, as he told Lucille how he and Roger Herrick, who was nowthe Duke, had ridden together as they escaped from their enemies.
"He saved my life that day."
"I am glad," the girl said simply, perhaps hardly realizing how gladshe was. And side by side they rode on into the forest beyond theclearing.
As she came into the sunlight Christine checked her horse, andLemasle, who rode a few paces behind her, came to her side.
"We know this place, Captain Lemasle."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"I can people it again as it was that day," said Christine.
"I am glad that only your fancy does so," returned Lemasle.
"I thought you loved fighting, captain. Surely I have heard it said ofyou?"
"May be, mademoiselle, but danger to-day would frighten me. The stakewould be too heavy. Harm might happen to you. The Duke himself warnedme that I should be a fool to enter the city again if harm came toyou."
She was silent for a moment.
"That way surely must lie the hut of the charcoal-burners," she saidhurriedly.
"Yes, mademoiselle."
Then she rode forward quickly, to conceal the color rising in herface.
Lemasle fell back again, regulating his horse's pace by hers. Thecaptain's thoughts were busy too. He was among the few who knew thatit was Maurice who had been rescued from the tower by Larne. He knewthat he had returned to Passey. But Lemasle did not know thatMademoiselle de Liancourt had been sent merely to bid him come to thecity. He fully believed that she was to remain a prisoner at Passeyfor a time. What was the Duke's purpose? he asked himself, and onepossibility which came in answer to the question seemed to affordGaspard Lemasle small satisfaction.
Presently the city rose before them, the towers of the castle standinggrimly above the roofs, and the slender spire of St. Etienne piercinghigh into the clear atmosphere. In the foreground was the sweep of theriver, with its old stone bridge; and as they rode forward withquickened pace, the faint music of the carillon reached them, laughingmusic; a welcome.
They passed over the bridge, waking hollow echoes, and the gates fellopen. Within a strong guard was drawn up, and at a quick command therewas the sharp rattle of the salute.
It was thus that at last the scholar of Passey entered Vayenne.