Henry of Guise Volume Ii Part 16

"I dressed myself as a girl, your Highness," replied the boy, "and got into the convent, and then through a gate into what is called the rector's court, where Doctor Botholph and the Cure live, and where men are admitted, and women not shut out when they like to go in; and I got talking to the old verger of the church by the side, and he called me a pretty little fool, and said he dared to say I would soon be among the penitents within there; and with that I got him to tell me every thing, and the whole story of the young Count being brought there at night, and shut up in what are called the rector's apartments."

As he spoke, one or two of the higher cla.s.s of those whom the Duke had selected from the crowd below, and who felt themselves privileged to present themselves in his private apartments, entered the hall, and instantly caught his eye.

"I cannot speak with you more at present, Ignati," he said, "nor, perhaps, during the whole day, for there is business of life and death before me; but come to me while I am rising to-morrow, and only tell me in the mean time where our poor Logeres is, for I know not what convent you mean."

"He is in the rector's court," replied the boy, "close by the convent of the Black Penitents, in the Rue St. Denis."

"By my faith!" exclaimed the Duke in no slight surprise, "I have been there this very day myself, and there the Queen-mother has made her abode for the last ten days. She must be deceiving me; and yet, perhaps, the mighty matters that occupied her mind when I saw her might have made her forget all other things. However, Logeres shall not be long so fettered. Come to me to-morrow, Ignati; come to me to-morrow, as I am rising; and in the mean time, if you can find some means of giving the Count intimation that he is not forgotten, it were all the better."

"I will try, my Lord," replied the boy. And the Duke hurried on to welcome his new guests, making them sit down at table with him, and covering them with every sort of honour and distinction.

CHAP. XIII.

In our dealings with each other there is nothing which we so much miscalculate as the ever varying value of time, and indeed it is but too natural to look upon it as it seems to us, and not as it seems to others. The slow idler on whose head it hangs heavy, holds the man of business by the b.u.t.ton, and remorselessly robs him on the king's highway of a thing ten times more valuable than the purse that would hang him if he took it. The man of action and of business whose days seem but moments, forgets in his dealing with the long expecting applicant, and the weary pet.i.tioner, that to them each moment is far longer than his day.

The hours, not one minute of which were unfilled to the Duke of Guise, pa.s.sed slowly over the head of Charles of Montsoreau, and it seemed as if the brief gleam of happiness which had come across his path had but tended to make the long solitary moments seem longer and more dreary; in fact, to give full and painful effect to solitude and want of liberty, and yet he would not have lost that gleam for all the world.

He thought of it, he dwelt upon it, he called to mind each and every particular; and, though it was crossed, as the memory of all such brief meetings are, with the recollection of a thousand things which he could have wished to have said, but which he had forgotten, and also by many a speculation of a painful kind concerning the visit of the Duke of Guise to the very place in which he was confined, without the slightest effort being made for his liberation, yet it was a consolation and a happiness and a joy to him--one of those blessings which have been stamped by the past with the irrevocable seal of enjoyment, which are our own, the unalienable jewels of our fate, held for ever in the treasury of memory.

Nothing occurred through the rest of the day to call his attention, or to rouse his feelings. He heard the distant murmur, and the shouts of the people from time to time; but the gates were now shut, and the sounds dull, and all pa.s.sed on evenly till darkness shut up the world.

In the mean time he knew--as if to make his state of imprisonment and inactivity more intolerable--that busy actions were taking place without, that his own fate was deciding by the hands of others, that his happiness and that of Marie de Clairvaut formed but a small matter in the great bulk of political affairs which were then being weighed between the two angry parties in the capital, and might be tossed into this scale or that, as accident, or convenience, or policy might direct.

Though he retired to rest as usual, he slept not, and ever and anon when a sort of half slumber fell upon his eyes he started up, thinking he heard some sound, a distant shout of the people, the tolling of a bell, or the roll of some far off drum. Nothing however occurred, and the night pa.s.sed over as the day.

In the grey of the morning, however, just when the slow creaking of a gate, or the noise of footsteps here and there breaking the previous stillness, told that the world was beginning to awake, a few sweet notes suddenly met his ear like those of a musical instrument, and in a moment after he heard the same air which the boy Ignati had played with such exquisite skill just before he freed him from his Italian masters.

"A blessing be upon that boy," he cried, as he instantly recognised not only the sounds but the touch. "He has come to tell me that I am not forgotten."

Suddenly, however, before the air was half concluded, the music stopped, and voices were heard speaking, but not so loud that the words could be distinguished. It seemed to the young Count, and seemed truly, that some one had sent the boy away; but though he heard no more, those very sounds had given him hope and comfort.

Driven away by the old verger, who had now discovered the trick which had been put upon him the day before, the boy returned with all speed to the Hotel de Guise, and, according to the Duke's order, presented himself in his chamber at the hour of his rising. But the Duke was already surrounded with people, all eager to speak with him on different affairs, and his brow was evidently dark and clouded by some news that he had just heard.

"Send round," he was saying as the boy entered, "Send round speedily to all the inns, and let those who are known for their fidelity be informed that the doors of this hotel will never be shut against any of those who have come to Paris for my service, or for that of the church, as long as there is a chamber vacant within. And you, my good Lords," he continued, turning to some of the gentlemen who surrounded him, "I must call upon your hospitality, also, to provide lodging for these poor friends of ours, whom this new and iniquitous proceeding of the court is likely to drive from Paris. But stay, Bussi," he continued, and his eye fell upon the page as he spoke; "you say you saw the Prevot des Marchands but a minute ago in the Rue d'Anvoye seeking out the lodgers in the inns, and ordering them to quit Paris immediately. Hasten down after him quickly, and tell him from Henry of Guise that there is a very dangerous prisoner and a zealous servant of the church lodged in the Rue St. Denis; that he had better drive him forth also; and that, if he wants direction to the place where he sojourns, one of my pages shall lead him thither. You may add, moreover, that if he do not drive him forth, I will bring him forth before the world be a day older."

The Duke of Guise then took the pen from the ink which was standing before him, and, though not yet half-dressed, wrote hastily the few following words to the Queen-mother:--

"Madam,

"I am informed, on authority which I cannot doubt, that my friend, the young Count de Logeres, is at present in your hands, kept under restraint in the Rue St. Denis, after having been arrested in the execution of business with which I charged him, while bearing a pa.s.sport from the King. I beseech you to set him immediately at liberty, and also at once to order that my niece and ward, Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, be brought to the Hotel de Guise without an hour's delay. Let me protest to your Majesty that you have not a more faithful and devoted servant than

"Henry of Guise."

"I will not send this by you, Ignati," said the Duke; "they would laugh at a boy. Here, Mestroit, bear this to the Queen-mother.

Say I cast myself at her feet; and bring me back an answer without delay.--Why, how now, St. Paul!" he continued, turning to a gentleman who had just entered. "Your brow is as dark as a thunder-cloud. What has happened now? Shall we be obliged to make our hotel our fortress, and defend it to the last, like gallant men?"

"Not so, my Lord," replied the Count of St. Paul; "not near so bad as that: but still these are times that make men look thoughtful; and, depend upon it, the King, aided by his minions and the Politics[7], is seeking to inclose your Highness, as it were in a net."

[Footnote 7: That party was so called which affected to hold the balance between the Court and the League, without giving countenance to the Huguenots.]

"We will break through, St. Paul! We will break through!" replied the Duke with a smile. "But what are your tidings?"

"Why, that orders have been sent to the Swiss to come up from Corbeil, as well as those from Meulan and Chateau Thierry; also the companies of French guards from every quarter in the neighbourhood are called for, and I myself saw come in, by the Faubourg St. Germain, a body of two hundred horse, which, upon inquiry, I found to be a new levy from some place in the South, led by a young Marquis of Montsoreau, whose name I never heard of before."

"Whenever you hear it again, St. Paul," replied the Duke sternly, "couple with it the word 'Traitor!' and you will do him justice. But what force is it said they are bringing into Paris? What stay you for, Mestroit?" he continued, seeing that the gentleman to whom he had given the letter had not taken his departure. "What stay you for? I would have had you there now. Go with all speed! There are horses enough saddled in the court. I would give a thousand crowns that letter should be in the Queen's hand before this youth's coming is known to her. It may save us much trouble hereafter. Fail not to bring me an answer quick. Now, St. Paul, how many men say you on your best judgment are they bringing into Paris?"

"Why, your Highness," replied the Count, "some say ten thousand; but, to judge more moderately from what I hear, the moment your Highness's arrival in Paris was known, orders were sent for the march of full seven thousand men."

"We must be very formidable creatures, Brissac," cried the Duke, "that my coming with seven of you should need seven thousand men to meet us.

On my soul, they will make me think myself a giant. I always thought I was a tall man--some six foot three, I believe--but, by Heavens! I must be a Gargantua, indeed, to need seven thousand men to hold me.

Seven thousand men!" he added thoughtfully: "he has not got them, St.

Paul. There are not five thousand within fifty miles of Paris, unless Epernon and Villequier have contrived to raise more of such Montsoreaus against us. However, we must have eyes in all quarters.

Send out parties to watch the coming of the troops and give us their numbers. Let some one speak to the inferior officers of the French guards, and remind them that the Duke of Guise and the Holy League are only striving for the maintenance of the true faith, and for the overthrow of those minions who have swallowed up all the honours and favours of the crown. It were well also, Brissac, that a good watch was kept upon the proceedings in the city. I can trust, methinks, to The Sixteen to do all that is necessary in their different quarters, and to make full reports of all that takes place; but still a military eye were as well here and there, from time to time, Brissac, and I will trust that to you."

The rest of the morning pa.s.sed in the same incessant activity with which it had begun; tidings were constantly brought in from all parts of the town and the country round concerning every movement on the part of the court; and the hotel of the Duc de Guise was literally besieged by his followers and partisans. Train after train of n.o.blemen and officers, of lawyers and citizens, followed each other during the whole day, each bringing him information, or claiming audience on some account. Nor were the clergy less numerous; for scarce a parish in the capital but sent forth, in the course of that day, its train of priests and monks to congratulate him on his arrival, or to beseech him to hold up the tottering church of France with a strong hand.

At the same time, the order which had been given by the King in the morning, for every stranger not domiciled in Paris to quit it within six hours, and the proceedings of the Prevot des Marchands to execute that order had--by driving out of the inns and taverns the mult.i.tudes of the Duke's partisans who had followed him in scattered bodies into Paris--now filled the Hotel de Guise with all those of the higher cla.s.ses who were thus expelled. The houses of other members of the faction received the rest. But the stables of the hotel were all filled to the doors; the great court itself could scarcely be crossed, on account of the number of horses; and more than once the street became impa.s.sable from the mult.i.tude of carriages, chairs, horses, and attendants, who were waiting while their masters conferred with the Duke.

It was near mid-day when the gentleman who had been dispatched to Catharine de Medici again presented himself; and the Duke demanded, somewhat impatiently, what had detained him so long.

"It was the Queen-mother, your Highness," replied Mestroit. "More than an hour pa.s.sed before I could obtain an audience; and when I was admitted to present your Highness's letter, I found Monsieur de Villequier with her."

"Did she show the letter to that son of Satan?" demanded the Duke.

"No, sir," replied the other; "on the contrary, she seemed not to wish that he should see it, for she kept it tight in her hand after she had read it, and told me to wait a moment, that she would give me an answer directly."

"I would sooner unriddle the enigma of the sphynx," said the Duke, "than I would say from what motive any one of that woman's acts proceed; and yet she has a great mind, and a heart not altogether so vicious as it seems. What happened then, Mestroit?"

"Why, my Lord, Villequier seemed anxious to know what the letter contained, and I saw his head a little raised, and his eyes turned quietly towards it while she was reading, as I have seen a cat regard a mouse-hole towards which she was stealing upon tiptoes; and he lingered long, and seem inclined to stay. The Queen, however, begged him not to forget the orders she had given, but to execute them instantly; and then he went away. When he was gone, the Queen again read your Highness's letter, and replied at first, 'The Duke asks what is not in my power. Tell my n.o.ble cousin of Guise that he has been misinformed; that I hold none of his friends in my power--' Then, after a moment, she bade me wait, and she would see what persuasion would do?"

"She must not think to deceive me!" replied the Duke of Guise. "But what more?"

"She went away," replied the gentleman, "and was absent for full two hours, leaving me there alone, with nothing to amuse me but the pages and serving women that came and looked at me from time to time as at a tiger in a cage. At length she came back, and bade me tell your Highness these exact words: 'My cousin has been misinformed. I have none of his people in my hands, or in my power. The Count of Logeres, however, shall be set free before eight and forty hours are over. He may be set free to-morrow; but by leaving him for a few hours more where he is, I trust to accomplish for the Duke that which he demands concerning his ward, although I have no power whatever in the matter."

"There is nothing upon earth," said the Duke thoughtfully, "so convenient as to have the reality without the name of power. We have the pleasure without the reproach! Catharine de Medici has not the power!--Who then has?--I may have the power also, it is true, to right myself and those who attach themselves to me; and in this instance I will use it. But still it were better to wait the time she states; for I know her fair Majesty well, and she never yields any thing without a delay, to make what she grants seem more important:--and yet, the day after to-morrow--the day after to-morrow--who shall say what may be, ere the day after to-morrow comes? This head may be lowly in the dust ere then."

"Or circled with the crown of France," said the Count de St. Paul.