Volume 2 — CHAP. IV.

CHAP. IV.

Dark heavy clouds hung over the world, and totally obscured the face of the sky; the morning was chill, the air keen, and the eye of the peasant was often turned up towards the leaden-looking masses of vapour above his head, as if to inquire whether their stores would be poured forth in lightning or in snow; and as Charles of Montsoreau rode on through the park to the Donjon of Vincennes, he felt the gloomy aspect of the whole scene more than he might have done at any other time.

There, before his eyes, with the whole face of nature harmonising well with its dark and frowning aspect, rose the grey gigantic keep, which the vanquished opponent of Edward III., the rash and half-insane founder of the race of Valois, erected at an early period of his melancholy reign. Story above story, the large quadrangular mass, with its flanking towers, rose up till it seemed to touch the gloomy sky above; but in those days it had at least the beauty of harmony, for no one had added to the harsh and solemn features of the feudal architecture the gewgaw ornaments of a later age. The gallery of Marie de Medici was not built, and nothing was seen but the antique form of the Donjon itself, with the mass of walls surrounding its base with their flanking turrets, a pinnacle or two rising above--as if from some low Gothic building within the walls--and the still dark fosse surrounding the whole.

We form but a faint idea to ourselves--a very very faint idea of the manners and customs of feudal times; but still less, perhaps, can we form any just idea of the every-day enormities, crimes, and vices, that were committed at the period we now speak of, and of what it was to live familiarly in the midst of such scenes, and to hear daily of such occurrences. The mind of most men got hardened, callous, or indifferent to acts of darkness and of shame, even if they did not commit them themselves; and the world of Paris heard with scarcely an emotion that this nobleman had been poisoned by another--that the hand of the assassin had delivered one high lord of this troublesome friend or that pertinacious enemy--that the husband had "drugged the posset" for the wife, or the wife for the husband--or that persons obnoxiously wise or virtuous disappeared within the walls of such places as Vincennes, and passed suddenly with their good acts into that oblivion which is the general recompense of all that is excellent upon earth. No one noted such deeds; the sword of justice started from the scabbard once or twice in a century, but that was all; and the world laughed as merrily--the jest and the repartee went on--sport, love, and folly revelled as gaily through the streets of Paris, as if it had been a world of gentleness, and security, and peace.

Though of course Charles of Montsoreau felt in some degree the spirit of the day--though he thought it nothing at all extraordinary to be attacked by reiters in his own château, or stopped by fifty or sixty plunderers on the broad highway--though it seemed perfectly natural to him that man should live as in a state of continual warfare, always on his defence, yet the whole of his previous life having passed far from the daily occurrence of still more revolting scenes, in spots where calm nature and God's handiwork were still at hand to purify and heal men's thoughts, he had very different feelings in regard to the events and customs of the day from those which were generally entertained by the people of the metropolis. Thus, when he gazed up at the gloomy tower of Vincennes, and thought of the deeds which had been committed within its walls, together with the crimes and follies that were daily there enacted, a feeling of mingled horror and disgust took possession of his bosom; and had he not been impelled by a sense of duty, he would not have set his foot upon the threshold of those polluted gates.

The order to appear before the King at Vincennes had been communicated to him early in the morning, and notice of his coming had been given to the officers at the gates of the castle. He was punctual to a moment at the appointed time, and was instantly led into the château, and conducted up a long, darksome, winding stone staircase in one of the towers. Everything took place almost in silence; few persons were to be seen moving about in the building; and, while winding up those stairs, nothing was heard but the footfalls of himself and the attendant who conducted him.

Charles of Montsoreau certainly felt neither awe nor fear as he thus advanced, though some of the warnings of the Duke of Guise might cross his mind at the moment; but at the end of what seemed to be the first story, the attendant said, "Wait a moment;" and, pushing open a door, entered a room to the right. There was another door beyond, but both were left partly unclosed, and the previous silence was certainly no longer to be complained of, for such a jabbering, and screaming, and yelling, and howling, as was now heard, was probably never known in the palace of a king, before or since.

Human sounds they seemed certainly not to be, and yet words in various languages were to be distinguished, so that conjecture was quite put at fault, till after an absence of several minutes the attendant returned, and, bidding the young nobleman follow him, led the way once more into this den of noise and confusion.

The scene that then burst upon the eyes of Charles of Montsoreau was as curious as can well be conceived. Innumerable parrots, macaws, and cockatoos were ranged on perches and in cages along the sides of a large apartment, with intervals of monkeys and apes rattling their chains, springing forward at every object near them, mouthing, chattering, and writhing themselves into fantastic forms; six or seven small beautiful dogs of a peculiar breed were running about on the floor, snarling at one another, barking at the stranger, or teazing the other animals in the same room with themselves; baskets filled with litters of puppies were in every corner of the room; and several men and women were engaged in tending the winged and quadruped favourites of the King. Not only, however, were the regular attendants present, but, as one of the known ways to Henry's regard, a great number of other persons were always to be found busily engaged in tending the monkeys, parrots, and dogs. Amongst the rest here present, were no less than five dwarfs, four others being in actual attendance upon the King. None were above three feet and a half in height, and some were deformed and distorted in the most fearful manner, while one was perfectly and beautifully formed, and seemed to hold the others in great contempt. The voices of almost all of them, however, were cracked and screaming; and it was the sounds of their tongues, mingled with the yelping of the dogs, the chattering of the monkeys, and the various words repeated in different languages by the loquacious birds along the wall, which had made the Babel of sounds that reached the ears of Charles of Montsoreau while he stood without.

Passing through this room, with the envious eyes of the dwarfs staring upon his fine figure, the young Count entered the chamber of the pages--where, as if for the sake of contrast, a number of beautiful youths were seen--and was thence led on into the royal apartments, in which every thing was calm splendour and magnificence. Here and there various officers of the royal household were found lounging away the idle hours as they waited for the King's commands; and at length, in an ante-room, the young Count was bade to wait again, while the attendant once more notified his coming to the King. He was scarcely detained a moment now, however; but, the door being opened, he was ushered into the monarch's presence.

Henry on the present occasion presented an aspect different from that which the young Count had expected to behold. The Monarch had recalled, for a moment or two, the princely and commanding air of his youth, and received the young Count with dignity and grace. His person was handsome, his figure fine, and his dress in the most exquisite taste that it was possible to conceive. It was neither so effeminate nor so overcharged with ornament as it sometimes was; and the black velvet slashed and laced with gold, the toque with a single large diamond on his head, the long snowy-white ostrich feather, and the collar of one or two high orders round his neck, became him well, and harmonised with the air of dignity he assumed.

There were two or three gentlemen who stood around him more gaudily dressed than himself, and amongst them was the Duke of Epernon, whom Charles of Montsoreau remembered to have seen at his father's château some years before. All, however, held back so as to allow the monarch a full view of the young cavalier, as he advanced.

"You are welcome to Vincennes, Monsieur de Logères," said the King. "Our noble and princely cousin of Guise has notified to us that he has sent you to Paris on business of importance; and, having given you that praise which we are sure you must merit, has besought us to put every sort of trust and confidence in you, and to listen to you as to himself, while you speak with us upon the affairs which have brought you hither. We beseech you, therefore, to inform us of that which he has left dark, and tell us how we may pleasure our fair cousin, which is always our first inclination to do--the good of our state and the welfare of our subjects considered."

"His Highness the Duke of Guise, Sire," replied Charles of Montsoreau, not in the slightest degree abashed by the many eyes that were fixed upon him, scrutinising his person and his dress in the most unceremonious manner, "his Highness the Duke of Guise, Sire, has sent me to your Majesty, to ask information regarding a young lady, his near relation, who, he has reason to believe, was protected by a body of your Majesty's troops in a situation of some difficulty, for which protection the Duke is most grateful. She was then, he understood, conducted to this your Majesty's castle of Vincennes, doubtless for the purpose of affording her a safe asylum till you could restore her to his Highness, who is her guardian."

Henry turned with a sneering smile towards a dark but handsome man, with a somewhat sinister expression of countenance, on his left hand, saying, in an under tone, "Quick travelling, Villequier! to Soissons and back to Paris in four and twenty hours, ha! Had the swallow ever wings like rumour?"

This was said affectedly aside, but quite loud enough for the young nobleman to hear the whole. He, of course, made no reply, as the words were not addressed to him; but waited, with his eyes bent down, apparently in thoughtful meditation, till the King should give him his answer.

"You have given us, Monsieur le Comte de Logères," said the King, "but a faint idea of this business; and, as unhappily the commanders of our troops are but too little accustomed to afford us any very full account of their proceedings, we are ignorant of the occasion on which any one of them rendered this service to the young lady you mention."

This affected unconsciousness, displayed absolutely in conjunction with a scarcely concealed knowledge of the whole affair, Charles of Montsoreau felt to be trifling and insulting: but he lost not his reverence for the kingly authority; and he replied, with every appearance of deference, "I had imagined, Sire, that the quick wings of rumour must have carried the whole particulars to your Majesty, otherwise I should have been more particular in my account. The service was rendered to the young lady very lately, between Jouarre and Gandelu. I am not absolutely aware of the name of the officer in command of the troops at the time, but one gentleman present bore the name of Colombel."

"And pray what was the name of the young lady herself?" demanded the King, with a sneer. "The Duke of Guise has many she relations, as we sometimes find to our cost. It could not be our pretty, mild, and virtuous friend, the Duchess of Montpensier, nor the delicate and fair-favoured Mademoiselle de St. Beuve; for the one is staying in Paris in disobedience to the orders of the King, and the other is remaining there, waiting for the tender consolations of the Chevalier d'Aumale."

The young Count turned somewhat red, both at the coarseness and the scornfulness of the King's reply. "The young lady," he answered, however, still keeping the same tone, "is named Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, daughter of the late Count de Clairvaut."

"Your first cousin, Villequier," said the King, turning to his minister. "You should know something of this affair?"

"Not more than your Majesty," replied Villequier, bowing low, and perceiving very clearly that Henry had maliciously wished to embarrass him.

The King smiled at the double-meaning answer, and then, turning to the young Count, replied, "Well, sir, you have fulfilled your mission, and may tell the Duke of Guise, our true and well-beloved cousin, that we will cause immediate inquiry and investigation to be made into the whole affair; and let him know the particulars as soon as we are sufficiently well-informed to speak upon it with that accuracy which becomes our character. You may retire."

This was of course not the conclusion of the affair to which Charles of Montsoreau was inclined to submit; and it was evident to him that the King and his minions presumed upon his apparent youth and inexperience. But there was a firm decision in his character which they were not prepared for; and after pausing for a moment in thought, during which time the King's brows began to bend angrily upon him, he raised his eyes, looking Henry calmly and stedfastly in the face, and replying, "Your Majesty must pardon me if I do not take instant advantage of your permission to retire, as you have conceived a false impression when you imagine that my mission is fulfilled."

The King looked with an air of astonishment, first to Epernon and then to Villequier: but the former turned away his head with a look of dissatisfaction; while the latter bit his lip, let his hand fall upon a jewelled dagger in his belt, and said nothing.

Charles of Montsoreau, however, went on in the same calm but determined tone. "His Highness the Duke of Guise," he said, "directed me to inform your Majesty of the facts I have mentioned, and to beg in general terms information regarding them; but in case the general information that I obtained was not sufficiently accurate to enable me to write to him distinctly that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut is in this place, or in that place, he further directed me humbly to request that your Majesty would answer in plain terms the following plain questions:--Is Mademoiselle de Clairvaut in the château of Vincennes? Is she under the charge and protection of your Majesty? Does your Majesty know where she is?"

"By the Lord that lives," exclaimed Henry, "this Duke of Guise chooses himself bold ambassadors to his King!"

"Do you dare, malapert boy," exclaimed Villequier, "with that bold brow, to cross-question your sovereign?"

"I do dare, sir," answered Charles of Montsoreau, "to ask my sovereign, in the name of the Duke of Guise, these plain questions, which, as he is a just and noble monarch, he can neither find any difficulty in answering, nor feel any anger in hearing."

"And what if I refuse to answer, sir?" demanded the King. "What is to be the consequence then? Is the doughty messenger charged to make a declaration of war on the part of our obedient subject, the Duke of Guise?"

The young Count was not prepared for this question, and hesitated how to answer it, though a full knowledge of how terrible the Duke of Guise was to the weak and effeminate monarch he addressed, brought a smile over his countenance, which had in reality more effect than any words he could have spoken. After a pause, however, he replied,--"Oh no, Sire. The Duke of Guise is, as you say, your Majesty's most devoted and obedient subject; and never conceiving it possible that you would refuse to answer his humble questions, he gave me no instructions what to say in a case that he did not foresee. I can only suppose," he added, with a low and reverent bow to the King, "that the Duke will be obliged to come to Paris himself to make those inquiries and investigations, concerning his young relation, in which I have not been successful."

Charles of Montsoreau could see, notwithstanding the paint, which delicately furnished the King with a more stable complexion than his own, that at the very thought of the Duke of Guise coming to Paris the weak monarch turned deadly pale. The same signs also were visible to Villequier, who whispered, "No fear, Sire; no fear; he will not come!"

The King answered sharply, however, and sufficiently loud for the young nobleman to hear, "We must give him no excuse, René! we must give him no excuse! Monsieur de Logères," he continued, putting on a more placable air than before, "we are glad to find that neither the Duke of Guise nor his envoy presumes to threaten us; and in consideration of the questions being put in a proper manner, we are willing to answer them to the best of our abilities."

Villequier, at these words, laid his hand gently upon the King's cloak; but Henry twitched it away from his grasp with an air of impatience, and continued, "I shall therefore answer you frankly and freely, young gentleman; telling you that the Lady whom you are sent to seek is in fact not at Vincennes; nor, to the best of our knowledge and belief, in our good city of Paris; neither do we know or have any correct information of where she may be found, though it is not by any means to be denied that she has visited this our castle of Vincennes."

The first part of the King's speech had considerably relieved the mind of Villequier; but when he proceeded to make the somewhat unnecessary admission, that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut had visited Vincennes, the minister again attempted to interrupt the King, saying, "You know, Sire, her pause at Vincennes was merely momentary, and absolutely necessary for those passports and safeguards without which it might be dangerous to travel, in the distracted state of the country."

"Perfectly true," replied Henry: but the King's apprehension of the Duke of Guise appearing in Paris was much stronger than his respect for his minister's opinion; and he proceeded with what he had to say, in spite of every sign or hint that could be given him.

"You must know, Monsieur de Logères," he said, "that, as I before observed, she did visit Vincennes for a brief space; but, there being something embarrassing in the whole business, we were, to say the truth--albeit not insensible to beauty--we were not at all sorry to see her depart."

Although Charles of Montsoreau judged rightly that the abode of Vincennes, to the high and pure-minded girl whom he sought, could only have been one of horror, he could not conceive any thing in her situation which should have proved embarrassing to the King, and he answered bluntly, "Then your Majesty of course has caused her to be escorted in safety to the Duke of Guise, as the means of relieving yourself from all embarrassment concerning her."

"Not so, not so, Monsieur de Logères," replied the King. "Young diplomatists and young greyhounds run fast and overleap the game. It so happens that there are various claims regarding the wardship of this young Lady. She has many relations, as near or nearer than the Duke of Guise. The care and guidance of her, too, under the authorisation of the Duke himself, has been claimed by a young nobleman whom you may have heard of, called the Marquis of Montsoreau;" and he fixed his eyes meaningly upon the young Count's face. "All these circumstances rendered the matter embarrassing; and as I was not called upon to decide the matter judicially; and the Lady, if not quite of an age by law to judge for herself, being very nearly so, I thought it far better to leave the whole business to her own discretion, and let her take what course she thought fit, offering her every assistance and protection in my power, which, however, she declined. You may therefore assure the Duke of Guise, on my part, that she is not at Vincennes, and that I am unacquainted with where she is at this moment. I now think, therefore, that all your questions are answered, and the business is at an end."

"I fear I must intrude upon your Majesty still farther," replied the young Count; "for besides the letter from the Duke of Guise, which I have had the honour of delivering to your Majesty, he has also furnished me with this document, giving me full power and authority to inquire, seek for, and require, at the hands of any person in whose power she may be, the young Lady whom he claims as his ward. He has directed me to request your Majesty's approbation of the same, expressed by your signature to that effect, giving me authority to search for her in your name also, and to require the aid and assistance of all your officers, civil and military, in executing the said task."

Henry looked both agitated and angry; and Villequier spoke for a moment to Epernon behind the King's back.

"Monsieur de Logères," exclaimed the latter, taking a step forward, "this is too much. I can hardly suppose that his Highness the Duke of Guise has authorised you to make such a demand."

"My Lord Duke of Epernon," replied the Count, "were it not that I hold in my hand the Duke's authority for that which I state, I would call upon you to put your insinuation in plainer terms, that I might give it the lie as plainly as I would do any other unjust accusation."

The Duke turned very red; but he replied, "And you would be treated, sir Count, as a petty boy of the low nobility of this realm deserves, for using such language to one so much above yourself."

"There is no one in France so much above myself, sir," replied the Count, gazing on him sternly, and with a look of some contempt, "as to dare to insult me with impunity; and though you be now High-admiral of France, Colonel-general of Infantry, Governor of half the provinces of this country, Duke, Peer, and hold many another rich and honourable office besides, I tell you, John of Nogaret, that when the Baron de Caumont dined at my father's table, he sat nearer the salt than perhaps now may suit the proud Duke of Epernon to remember."

"Silence!" exclaimed the King, rousing himself for a moment from his effeminate apathy, while, for a brief space, an expression of power and dignity came over his countenance, such as that which had distinguished him while Duke of Anjou. "Silence, insolent boy! Silence, Epernon! I forbid you, on pain of my utmost displeasure, to take notice, even by a word, of what this young man has said. You were yourself wrong to answer for the King in the King's presence. The Duke of Guise shall have no just occasion to complain of us," he added, the brightness which had come upon him gradually dying away like the false promising gleam of sunshine which sometimes breaks for a moment through a rainy autumnal day, and fades away again as soon, amidst the dull grey clouds; "the Duke of Guise shall have no occasion to complain of us. We will give this young man the authority which he has so insolently demanded, to seek for Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and having found her--if she have not joined the Duke of Guise long before--to escort her in safety to our cousin's care. But, Monsieur de Logères, you show your ignorance of every custom of the court and state, by supposing that the King of France can write down at the bottom of the powers given you by the Duke of Guise his name in confirmation of the same, like a steward at the bottom of a butcher's bill. The authority which we give you must pass through the office of our secretary of state, and it shall be drawn out and sent to you as speedily as possible. I think that Monsieur de Villequier already knows where to send this authority. You may now retire; and rest assured that it shall reach you as soon as possible. At the same time we pardon you for your conduct in this presence, which much needs pardon, though it does not merit it."

Charles of Montsoreau bowed low, and retired from the King's presence, fully convinced that Henry was deceiving him; that he knew, or, at all events, had every means of judging, where Marie de Clairvaut was; and that he had not the slightest intention of sending him the authorisation he had promised, unless absolutely driven to do so.

The moment that the young Count had quitted the presence, the King turned angrily to Villequier, exclaiming, "Are you mad, Villequier, to risk bringing that fiery and ambitious pest upon us? 'Tis but four days ago he was within ten miles of Paris!"

"Pshaw, Sire!" replied Villequier; "there is not the slightest chance of his coming. Did I not tell you when he was at Gonesse that I would find means to make him run like a frightened hare back again to Soissons? I fear your Majesty has ruined all our plans by promising this authority to that malapert youth, who doubtless already knows, or easily divines, that he is deceived."

"I have not deceived him," said the King: "I told him the girl was not at Vincennes; nor is she. I told him that I did not know where she is at this moment; nor do I; for she may be three miles on this side of Meulan, or three miles on that, for aught I know. It depends upon the quickness of the horses, and the state of the roads. I promised him the authority to seek her; and he shall have it in good due form, if he live long enough, and wait in Paris a sufficient time."

"If he have it not within three days," replied Villequier, "be you sure, Sire, that he will write to the Duke of Guise."

"But, Villequier," said the King in a soft tone, "could you not find means to prevent his making use of pen and ink to such bad purposes? In short, friend René, it is altogether your affair. You seem to think that the fact of this girl falling into our hands is quite the discovery of a treasure which may fix on our side this young Marquis of Montsoreau and the crafty Abbé that you talk of, and I don't know how many more people besides. Now I told you from the beginning that you should manage it all yourself: so look to it, good Villequier; look to it."

"He has let me manage it all myself, truly!" said Villequier, in a low tone, "But I wish to know more precisely, your Majesty," he added aloud, "what am I to do with this youth and the girl? Is he to have the authorisation, or not? Am I, or am I not, to give her up when he demands her?"

"Now, good faith," replied the King, "would not one think, Epernon, that our well-beloved friend and minister here was a mere novice out of a convent of young girls, a tender and scrupulous little thing, thinking evil, in every stray look or soft word addressed to her. He who has dealt with so many in his day, diplomatists and warriors and statesmen, has not wit enough to deal with a raw boy, whom, doubtless, our fair and crafty cousin of Guise has sent upon a fool's errand to get him out of the way."

"Certainly," replied the Duke of Epernon, "our wise friend Villequier seems to be somewhat prudent and cautious this morning. The young lady is in your hands, I think, Villequier; is she not? and you have sent her off into Normandy, I think you told me, with an escort of fifty of your archers. She goes there, doubtless, as his Majesty has said, with her own will and consent, and by her own choice, for there is a soft persuasiveness in fifty archers which it is very difficult for a woman's heart to resist; and, doubtless, by the same cogent arguments, you will induce her to marry whom you please. Come, tell us who it is to be; the hand of a rich heiress to dispose of, may be made a profitable thing, under such management as yours, Villequier."

"I have not discovered the philosopher's stone, like you, Monsieur d'Epernon," replied the other.

The King laughed gaily, for Epernon's extraordinary cupidity was no secret even to the monarch that fed it. But the Duke was proof to all jest upon that score; and looking at Villequier with the same sort of musing expression which he had before borne, he repeated his question, saying, "Come, come, disinterested chevalier, tell us to whom do you intend to give her?"

"Perhaps to my own nephew," replied the other. "What think you of that, Monsieur le Duc?"

The brow of Epernon grew clouded in a moment. "I think," he said, "that you will not do it, for two reasons: in the first place, you destine your nephew for your daughter Charlotte."

"Not I," replied the Marquis; "I never dreamt of such a thing. She shall wed higher than that, or not at all. But what is your second reason, Monsieur d'Epernon?"

"Because you dare not," replied the Duc d'Epernon: and he added, speaking in a low tone, "You dare not, Villequier, mingle your race with that of Guise. The moment you do, your object will be clear, and your ruin certain."

"It is a curious thing, Sire," said Villequier, turning to the King with a smile, "it is a curious thing to see how my good Lord of Epernon grudges any little advantage to us mean men. However, to set his Grace's mind at ease, I neither destine Mademoiselle de Clairvaut for one nor for the other; but I think she may prove a wonderful good bait for the wild young Marquis of Montsoreau. By the promise of her hand, as far as my interest and influence is concerned, he will not only be bound to your Majesty's cause on every occasion, but will exert himself more zealously and potently for that, than any other inducement could lead him to do. Even if he should fail in the trial--for we must acknowledge that he shows himself somewhat unstable in his purposes--he will, at all events, have so far committed himself as to give your Majesty good cause for confiscating all his land, cutting down all his timber, and seizing upon all his wealth. However, I must think, in the first place, of how to deal with this brother of his."

"No very difficult task, I should judge," said the Duke of Epernon, "for one so practised in the art of catching gudgeons as you, Villequier."

"I don't know that," answered Villequier; "I would fain detach that youth, also, from the Guises. You see, most noble Duke, I am thinking of the King's interest all the time, while you are thinking of your own. However, I must find a way to manage him, for, as their wonderful friend and tutor, this wise Abbé de Boisguerin, admitted to me last night, there are three means all powerful in dealing with our neighbours--love, interest, and ambition; and we might thus exemplify it,--the King would do any thing for the first, the Duke of Epernon any thing for the second, and his Highness of Guise any thing for the third."

"There are two other implements frequently used, which I wonder Monsieur de Villequier did not add," said the Duke, "as I rather expect he may have to use one or other of them on the present occasion; and men say he is fully as skilful in using them as in employing love, interest, or ambition, for his ends."

"Pray what are those?" demanded Villequier, somewhat sharply.

"Vicenza daggers," replied the Duke of Epernon, "and wine that splits a Venice glass!"

"Come, come, Epernon," cried the King, "you and Villequier shall not quarrel. Come away from him, come away from him, or you will be using your daggers on each other presently:" and, throwing his arm familiarly round his neck, he drew the Duke away.