Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.
CHAPTER XXXI.
We must now return to Walter de la Tremblade, who closed the door ofthe room where he had left his niece, and paused one moment to think."It must be risked," he said: "the boy owes me much--He will not dareto doubt me;" and, without farther consideration, he again descendedthe stairs. At the bottom he heard a step, and saw a light glimmeringthrough the door at the far end of the hall. "It is that basevillain!" he thought as he concealed himself behind one of the squaremasses of masonry that supported the roof above. "He goes upon hisdark errand, like the silent withering frost of autumn, blighting allthe flowers it falls upon. Ah, monster!" he muttered between histeeth, as he saw the Marquis pass not ten steps from him: and well wasit for Chazeul, well for himself, that there was no dagger under thatpriest's robe.
Covered with a dressing-gown of embroidered silk, and bearing a lampin his hand, with a stealthy step and an eye looking eagerly forward,as if agitated with the very scheme in which he was taking part,Chazeul crossed the hall and approached the staircase. There was aslight rustle of the priest's gown, and the other paused suddenly andlistened. All was still again; and he murmured, "It was the wind!" Thenext instant the clock struck one, and with a smile the Marquismounted the stairs.
The moment he was gone, Walter de la Tremblade came forth again, andwith a quick step went on, through the stone hall, across the court,and entered the chapel. There, with haste and agitation, he lighted alamp that stood in the sacristy, returned, shading the flame with hishand, and, traversing the hall in another direction, passed through alow arch and along a narrow passage, which led him to the foot of asmall staircase. Then taking two steps at a time, he mounted rapidlyto the highest story of the ch?teau, where two or three rooms wereseen on either hand. Through the key-hole of one streamed a light, andvoices were heard talking.
"Ay, there wait her witnesses," murmured the priest; and, proceedinghe turned into a passage on the left, and listened at a door. All wasstill; and, setting down the lamp, he raised the latch and entered. Itwas a low ill-furnished room, where slept the page, and one of theservants of the Marchioness of Chazeul, in beds not large enough tohold more than a single person. At the first pallet the prieststopped; and shading his eyes with his hand, as if to concentrate thelittle light that found its way in at the door, which he had leftopen, he gazed upon the countenance of the sleeping man. Then, goingon, he touched the page gently with his hand. The boy slept soundly,however, and the priest had to stir him once more before he woke. Thenwhispering "Hush!" he added, "Get up, Philip. There is business foryou to do."
"Ah! what is it, father?" said the boy, rubbing his eyes, still heavywith sleep: "is anything the matter?"
"Do not speak so loud," replied father Walter; "there is no need towake any one else. The Marchioness has chosen you to ride forsomething that both she and I may have occasion to see; and you mustmount and away to Chazeul immediately, so as to be back before nineto-morrow, when the burial of the old Commander de Liancourt is totake place. Are you awake enough to understand me?"
"Oh, yes, yes," answered the page yawning, "I understand quite well. Iwish she had chosen another hour. At home, we can never count uponhalf a night's sleep: she is as restless as the wind; and it is to bethe same thing here, it seems. But what am I to bring?"
"A certain precious book of Hours," replied the priest, "which hasbeen long in the family of La Tremblade. You will find it in the roomwhich my niece, Mademoiselle de la Tremblade, used to occupy." Hepaused upon the words, to show the boy that he was aware of Helen'sabsence from the Ch?teau of Chazeul, and then continued, "You willknow the book, if you should find others there, by its being coveredwith crimson velvet, with silver clasps and studs. Bring it at once tome; and let no one else see it."
"But will that old tiger of a gouvernante let me have it?" asked thepage: "she will not let one of us set foot in any room beyond thehall."
"Then make her fetch it," said the priest. "Tell her your mistresswants it; and let her refuse if she dare. Now, be quick. Cast on yourthings, and join me in the chapel. I will order a horse to be saddledin the mean time. But, make no noise. It is needless to wake any one;and the Marchioness would have your going secret."
The page entertained no suspicion; and--while Walter de la Trembladehurried to the stable, woke a horse-boy and made him saddle a horse inhaste--he dressed himself as quickly as his drowsy state would admit;and then, finding his way out of the room--not without stumbling overthe foot of his comrade's bed, and wondering he had not woke him--hegroped along the passage till he came to the room whence the light wasshining through the key-hole.
"Ay!" he thought, "those lads are still up, playing with the dice Iwarrant. I should like to look in and give them a surprise; but Icannot wait for that;" and he passed on, descended the stairs, andcrossed the court to the chapel.
No sooner had he quitted the room where he had lain, however, than hiscompanion, who had seemed so sound asleep, raised himself upon his armin bed, and asked himself, "What is all this, I wonder?--'Tis mightysecret!--The book to be brought to him! Why not to her, if she wishesto see it?--I should not be surprised if this were some trick of thepriest's own. If all the house were not asleep, I would go tell myLady. Perhaps she has not gone to rest yet; for she sits up mightylate all by herself; and no one knows what she is doing. I had bettergo! and yet she may not like to be disturbed, especially if she bedealing with the Devil, as the peasants in the village say. Hark!there are people up and about! I will go and tell her, if she bewaking. She can but say I am over zealous; and if it should prove alla trick of the priest's, I may get a broad piece for my news."
These meditations, though short and connected here, were somewhat slowand disjointed, as they really presented themselves, to the man'smind, so that the page who had been sent to Chazeul was in the saddleand away, before they had come to a conclusion, and his comrade hadbegun to dress himself. When he had managed to get on the greater partof his apparel, however, he approached the door, and like the lad whohad gone before, made some mental remarks upon the light whichstreamed from the room tenanted by his fellow servants, and which wasnow much more visible as the door by this time stood open, and therays poured full out into the passage. He looked in as he went by,and, seeing the chamber vacant, took the lamp that stood upon thetable to light him on his way.
The apartments of Madame de Chazeul were quite at the other side ofthe house, so that he was long in reaching them; for, in the mansionsof those days, the architects had displayed all their skill indistributing the cubic space contained in any given building, into asmany stairs and passages as possible, so that its tenants, unless theyrestrained themselves to one especial part, might never want exercisein arriving at the rest.
The ante-room door was at length reached; and, tapping gently, forfear of startling the inmates, the man was surprised to find hissummons answered instantly by one of the Marchioness's maids fullydressed, but pale in the face with drowsiness, and heavy about theeyes.
"Can I speak a moment with Madame?" asked the servant in a low voice.
"Oh yes, Pierre," replied the woman. "She expects some of you. Ithought you would never come."
The man began to fancy, he had made a mistake, and that Madame deChazeul had really sent the priest to the page: so that he would nowwillingly have retreated; but the maid continued, "Come in! come in!"and another who was sitting at a frame embroidering, rose and went tothe inner room to tell the Marchioness that "Pierre was come."
"Pierre!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "what has he to do with it? Bringhim in, however. This must be some other affair. What now, Pierre?"she asked, fixing her keen vulture-like eyes upon him as he wasbrought forward, and signing her maids to close the door: "What seekyou here so late?"
"Why, so please you, Madam," replied the servant, "I was not sure thatall was right, and thought it better to tell you what was going on,because you once told me--"
The Marchioness waved her hand impatiently, exclaiming "What is it?what is it? Cease your
prefaces!--What brought you hither?"
"Why, Madam, father Walter, the priest," answered the servant, "stoleup just now to the room where the boy Philip and I are lodged. Not aword did he say to me; but he woke Philip, and when I roused up at thesound of voices, for I was but in a dog's sleep, I heard him give thepage a message from you, Madam."
"From me?" cried the Marchioness, her eye glowing like a coal withanger and eagerness. "Well, what was the message?"
"That he was to ride instantly back to the ch?teau, Madam," repliedthe man, who easily divined from his mistress's face that all was notright; "and to bring hither, before nine to-morrow, a book of Hoursfrom the room Mademoiselle Helen used to occupy."
"Did he say that?" demanded the Marchioness vehemently. "Did he usethose exact words,--'that she used to occupy?'"
"Yes, Madam, just that," answered Pierre. "I marked that shrewdly, forhe said those words very slowly: and what made me think it altogetherstrange was, that though he said you wanted to see the book, he toldPhilip to bring it direct to him."
"Ha!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "So! Is it so?--Well. You have doneright, Pierre, and shall be rewarded. Come hither at daybreakto-morrow; and now go sleep."
The man retired; and the moment he was gone, Madame de Chazeul startedup, and with a vehement gesture of the hand, exclaimed, "He knows itall!--She has found means to write!--Ah, how subtle is he! Who wouldhave thought from that calm peaceful face he bore to-night, that suchrage and hatred, and thirst of revenge were in his bosom, as must bethere even now? We shall have plots on foot--some scheme to stop themarriage. What can be in this book? Here, girl! Call Martin from thefoot of the other staircase, bid him run to the stable and bring theboy Philip hither--by force if he come not quietly. Away! lose not aminute lest he be gone!"
The girl departed; and the Marchioness went on with her own thoughts."What can be in the book? There is something beneath this!--Or hasthat fool Pierre deceived himself, and knowing the girl is notthere, put words into the man's mouth? Yet why send at this hoursecretly?--why falsely use my name to sanction the order? No, no, heknows it all, and must be cared for. There is but one way--secure himtill the marriage is over,--let my brother know nought of it,--andthen justify the deed by the result."
She sat down, and leaned her brow upon her hands, closing her eyes,till the door again opened, and the maid re-entered, accompanied byanother of her men. "Well," she exclaimed, as soon as she saw him;"Where is Philip?"
"He has been gone this half hour, Madam, the stable boys declare," wasthe man's reply.
Madame de Chazeul let her hand fall heavily on the table; but suddenlyrecovering herself she said, "Keep a watch upon the gates from fiveto-morrow, till Philip returns. Then bring him at once to me,--lethim speak with no one; and hark you, Martin; you are a man ofexecution,--Get ye gone, hussy! 'tis not for your ears. Come nearer,Martin," and she whispered something as he bent down his head.
The man started back with a look of consternation, saying, "No, Madam!not a priest! I cannot do that!"
"Fool! 'tis but for a few hours," exclaimed the Marchioness. "Harkye,--one hundred crowns! You shall keep him under your own ward, andset him free five minutes after noon."
"Well, Madam, well!" answered the servant, after a moment's thought;"but you must promise to get me absolution, cost what it may; for itis no light matter laying hands upon one of the church,--and so good acatholic too."
"Oh, absolution you shall have!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "from thehands of a bishop, if that will satisfy you; and, if there be anydifficulty, you have nothing to do but to kill a heretic, and thatwill make all even. Do you promise to obey?--Mark me, a hundred crownsand absolution, cost what it may!"
"Well, Madam, well," he replied; "I will do it, this once; but youmust never ask me to meddle with a priest again."
"Poo!" cried the Marchioness, "'Tis for his own good. He will gethimself into trouble if it be not done,--and now away, Martin. See tothis other business first; and then lay hold of him. Do it gently youknow, quite gently, but firmly too; and be quick, good Martin, bequick."
The man retired; but he grumbled as he went, and asked himself as hedescended the stairs, "Where will this woman end?--She will make onedamn one's-self some day, and she care nothing about it."
In the meantime Walter de la Tremblade had returned to the chapel witha quick step, after seeing the page depart for Chazeul. His thoughts,though commonly so calm and clear, were all in confusion andagitation. The strong passions had obtained the mastery; and for atime they revelled in their conquest. He thought of Helen--of thebeing on whom the affections of his heart had all centred--of the onlyone in all the world, the only earthly thing, on which he had sufferedhis heart to rest, with the intense concentrated love which he hadwithdrawn from all that most men hold dear. He thought of her stainedand disgraced, deceived, betrayed, abandoned; and oh! how the gust ofpassion, like the blast of the hurricane, bent his spirit before it!He thought of her betrayer--of him whom he had striven to raise, andwho had all the while been blasting the only flower left blooming forhim in the wilderness of life; and the thirst for vengeance tookpossession of his whole heart. Of her too, he thought who--loaded withevery kind of iniquity, her married life stained with many a slander,her whole soul foul with sin and wickedness--of her who had used himas a tool for her purposes, and employed him to elevate thetreacherous villain who, like a serpent, stung the hand that fondledit.--He thought of her driving forth, to perish, the dear unhappychild, whom her own criminal neglect had aided to cast intotemptation, loading her with contumely and opprobrium exposing hererror to the rude eyes of menials, and branding her for ever with thename of harlot; and oh! how he triumphed in the thought ofoverthrowing all that woman's well laid schemes and cunningcontrivances, blasting her hopes and expectations, and mocking her inthe bitterness of disappointment!
He paused where Helen had stood between the coffin and the altar. Hegazed from the one to the other; and, as he did so, each seemed tofind a voice mournful, solemn, reproachful. They gradually wroughta change in his feelings, they calmed in some degree the stormypassion, they awakened higher, grander thoughts. They roused remorse,they called to repentance. As he looked upon the bier of the goodold man so lately passed away, it was not alone the image of death,and all the train of sad but chastening impressions--which springfrom the contemplation of mortality as from a well overflowing withadmonition--that pressed upon his attention; but the memory of thatold man's plain, straight-forward truth,--of the resistance he hadoffered to the very schemes which he, Walter de la Tremblade, hadpromoted to his own grief and regret, brought the lesson home to hisheart, and showed him the excellence of high, single-minded truth,more strongly than the most laboured essay of preacher or of moralist.Then again, when he turned towards the altar, and looked towards thecross of Christ, and remembered the grand simplicity displayed, as anexample, by the Saviour of mankind, oh! how poor and vain, how sulliedand impure, how dark and criminal, seemed the highest effort of thehuman intellect when used to mislead and to deceive! Truth, truth,almighty, everlasting truth, seemed before him in all its God-likeradiance, and it overwhelmed him with shame and confusion.
We have seen him before, stand there and feel sensations somewhatsimilar; but it was then merely as the glimmering streak of dawn,showing where the day will be: and now it was the risen sun.--Thechastening hand of grief had swept away the darkness from his mind,and all was terrible light.
As such thoughts rushed upon him: as the eye of heaven seemed to lookinto his soul, detecting there vanity, pride, ambition, selfishness,deceit, the higher qualities that were within him, bowed down hisheart in humiliation at the discovery of so much which he had neverdreamt of; and, kneeling before the altar, he poured out the anguishof his soul in prayer.
He was still kneeling, when he heard steps in the chapel; but heheeded not; and still he went on murmuring in a low tone the words ofpenitence and supplication. The steps came nearer, and then paused;but still, for several minutes, he
remained bowed before the cross.When he rose, however, he saw three of the servants of Madame deChazeul standing close to him; and he asked, "What do you seek, mychildren?"
They all hesitated; but at length the man Martin, putting out hishand, grasped the priest by the arm, saying, "We have orders, fatherWalter, to put you in confinement for a time."
"Ha!" said father Walter, surprised, but calm. "By whose orders, myson? I did not know that there was either bishop, cardinal, orinquisitor here."
"No, nor is there," answered the man; "but our orders are from ourmistress; and we must obey them."
"To the ruin of your own souls," asked father Walter, "will any of youdare to drag a priest from the altar?"
"We must do as we are bid, good father," replied the man: "the sin ishers, if there be any."
"But the fire will be yours," replied the priest, "and her sin willnot deliver you."
"It is no use talking, Sir," continued the man; "we have sworn to doit, and so we will. 'Tis but for a few hours; and you may choose wherewe shall take you to. Shall it be to your own room?"
"No," answered father Walter, "no; if this act be needful to yourmistress, why not keep me here, where I have promised to stay till thehour of matins? I shall be as safe here as any where else."
"No, no, that will not do," replied the man; "the chapel will bewanted."
"Well, then, as near as possible," said the priest: "aggravate notyour offence, my son, by dragging the servant of God from his temple.I will stay here in the sacristy. At all events, I shall be stillwithin the sacred precincts, and near the body I have promised towatch."
The man hesitated; but father Walter, assuming a higher tone,exclaimed, "If not--Stand back, while I pronounce upon you all, theanathema you so well deserve, and deliver you over to perdition withher who sent you."
"Stay, father, stay!" cried another of the men; "we will have none ofthis, Martin Gournay. If the reverend father chooses the sacristy, wewill not have him thwarted. It is bad enough to do it at all. It mustnot be made worse than it need."
"Bad enough, indeed!" replied the priest; "and heaven forgive you forlistening to the voice of man, rather than that of the church."
"Well, well," said Martin, "I do not care: let it be the sacristy. ButI must see that it is all safe;" and, opening the door, he went in,followed by the priest and the other two men.
"Ah, there is a way out!" he cried. "I must have the key of that lock,good father."
"There it hangs," replied father Walter with a smile: "make it allsure. But, remember, that there is another key in the hands of thechurch, which may lock the door of heaven against you, if you do notrepent."
The man Martin, however, tried the door which led out through thewalls into the country; and, finding it locked, he took the key from ahook above, and ascertained that it fitted. Then, putting it into hispocket, he turned to the priest, saying, "I am very sorry to do this,father; but it is not with my will, and I must obey my orders. Theyshall bring you some food and wine; and there is a lamp. At noonto-morrow you shall be free."
Father Walter bent his head gravely; and the three men withdrew,locking the sacristy door after them, and taking the key. The momentthey were gone, he rose from the seat in which he had placed himself,and laughed with a bitter mocking tone.
"The fools!" he cried; "do they think I leave myself sounprovided? I must be quick! Can she have discoveredHelen?--impossible--impossible!--I heard her lock the door! I must bequick!--Yet, no! he spoke of sending food and wine. I will let themreturn. They will come, if it be but to see that their prisoner issafe. Perhaps, too, they may linger in the chapel," and he resumed hisseat; and, taking up a book of prayer, continued to read for severalminutes.
"Would they would come," he murmured at length. "Helen said, Estocwould return for her at three, and it cannot be far short of thathour."
But the tumultuous feelings which had been lately busy in his bosom,had filled the last hour with so many thoughts, that time had lost allpower of measuring them; and the clock struck two, as the words wereon his lips. The next moment, the door leading to the chapel openedsuddenly, and the man Martin entered with a salver, bearing some foodand wine. His eye instantly glanced to the priest; but the quietattitude in which he sat, with the book upon his knee, satisfied theservant that all was secure; and, placing the provisions on a table,he was about to retire, when father Walter stopped him, saying, "Pray,do you know--and, if so, may you tell me--what is the cause of thisconduct of Madame de Chazeul? I would be glad to think that, eitherthrough some error, or at the instigation of some malevolent person,she has committed this outrage, and not from mere caprice and wantonpassion."
"Oh, no, father!" replied the man: "but it seems you sent one of ourpeople to Chazeul for a book, in her name. I know not much about it:but, I believe, Pierre went and told her what he had heard--so one ofthe girls said."
"A mighty offence!" observed the priest gravely: "and a reasonablecause for an act which she will repent to the last day of life. Heavengrant she may not regret it even longer:" and, thus saying, hecommenced reading the book again.
"Why," rejoined the man, willing to justify his mistress, and, throughher, himself; "she feared, I fancy, that you were inclined to meddlewith some of her plans, and she is not fond of seeing them marred."
"God will mar them, if they be evil," replied the priest; "and no onecan mar them, if it be His will they should succeed. But, 'tis well,my son, 'tis well: good night!"
"Goodnight, father," answered the servant, and left him, taking thesame precaution as before of turning the lock and withdrawing the key,lest any one should open the door from the side of the chapel. FatherWalter instantly rose, and put his ear to a small round hole, like themouth of a tube, at the side of the door. The servant's steps weredistinctly heard passing down the nave of the chapel, and thensuddenly became faint as they issued forth into the court. The priestlistened for a moment longer; but no other sound was heard.