Part 7

"Most strange," replied the Marquis, knitting his brows, and setting his teeth hard. But Villequier, now seeing that he had said quite enough, again turned the conversation; and after letting it subside naturally to ordinary subjects, he told the young Marquis that he would immediately write to the King, and obtain his signature to the paper required, before bed-time. "It is late already," he said; "I think even now I see a shade in the sky, so I must about my work rapidly. But remember, Monsieur de Montsoreau, nine is my supper hour exactly; and then, care and labour being past, we will sit down and enjoy ourselves, though I fear the accommodation which I can offer you in my poor dwelling must seem but rude in your eyes."

The Marquis said all that such a speech required, and then withdrew.

When he was gone, Villequier applied himself for some time to other things; but when they were concluded, he rose from his chair, and walked once or twice thoughtfully across the cabinet.

"I had better," he said to himself at length, "I had better deal with him at once, and then I can ascertain what are his demands, and how to treat them."

Thus saying, he took up his bell and rang it, directing the servant who appeared to see if he could find the Abbé de Boisguerin alone, in which case he was to invite him to a conference. "He will be alone," thought the wily courtier, "for I have sown seeds of those things which will not suffer them to be long together."

The Abbé, however, was absent from the house, much to the surprise of Villequier; and another hour had well nigh passed before he made his appearance. The moment that he did so, he advanced towards Villequier with his mild and graceful calmness, saying that he understood his Lordship had sent for him. Villequier pressed his hand tenderly, and with soft and courtly words assured him that, in sending for him, he had only sought to enjoy the pleasure of his unrivalled conversation for a few minutes before supper.

The Abbé replied exactly in the same tone; that he was profoundly grieved to have lost even a moment of the society of one who fascinated from the first, and sent away every one charmed and delighted.

A slight and bitter smile curled the lip of each as he ended his speech, like a seal upon a treaty, the confirmation and mockery of a falsehood.

The Abbé, however, added to his speech a few words more, saying that he should have been back earlier, but that his conversation at the White Penitent's had been so interesting that he could not withdraw himself earlier from her Majesty the Queen-mother.

Villequier started. "Are you acquainted with the Queen?" he said. "What a surprising-being Catherine is!"

"She is indeed," answered the Abbé. "My long sojourn at Florence some years ago made me fully acquainted with every member of the House of Medici, and I now bring you this letter on her part, Monsieur de Villequier."

Villequier took the paper that the Abbé handed to him, and read apparently with some surprise. "Her Majesty," he said, "knows that I am her devoted slave, but at the same time she cannot doubt, knowing as she does so well your high qualities, that I will do every thing to serve and assist you, and prevent all evil machinations against you."

"Oh, she doubts it not; she doubts it not," replied the Abbé. "She doubts it not, Monsieur de Villequier, any more than I do; and has written this note only in confirmation of your good intentions towards me. However, there is one thing I wish you to do for me, Monsieur de Villequier."

"Name it, my dear friend," exclaimed the Marquis; "but give me an opportunity of making myself happy in gratifying your wishes."

"The fact is, Monsieur de Villequier," replied the Abbé, "that some malicious person has been endeavouring to persuade the young Marquis de Montsoreau, my friend, and formerly my pupil, that it was I who intimated to the reiters the course we were pursuing to meet the Duke of Guise, and who also intimated the facts to the King's troops at Château Thierry, that they might have an opportunity of coming up to rescue us and bring us hither--though they showed no great activity in doing the first. Now, doubtless, the person who did this, if there were any one, had the King's service solely in view, and deserved to be highly rewarded, as he probably will be; but----"

"Doubtless," replied Villequier with a sneering smile. "But surely he could not object to such honourable service being known."

"Of course not," replied the Abbé; "nor that he had given intimation of the facts to, and taken his measures with, her Majesty the Queen-mother; by an order, under whose hand the troops at Château Thierry acted, and at whose suggestion Monsieur de Montsoreau and his friends threw themselves into the hands of Monsieur de Villequier.--All this her Majesty declares he did; and he could not, of course, object to any of these things being known, except as it is contrary to good policy and to the wishes of the Queen-mother: and more especially contrary to every wise purpose, if he be a person possessed of much habitual influence with the young Marquis."

"Monsieur de Boisguerin," said Villequier, seeming suddenly to break away from the subject, but in truth following the scent as truly as any well-trained hound, "the bishopric of Seez is at present vacant. I know none who would fill it better than the Abbé de Boisguerin."

The Abbé drew himself up and waved his hand. "You mistake me entirely, Monsieur de Villequier," he said. "I take no more vows. I have taken too many already; and those, by God's grace and the good will of our holy father the Pope, I intend to get rid of very speedily. I have nothing to request of your Lordship at present. I know, see, and understand your whole policy, and think you quite right in every respect. The promises which you and the King are to give to Monsieur de Montsoreau concerning the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut can of course be broken, changed, or modified in a moment at any future time."

"We have no intention of breaking them," replied Villequier. "We are acting in good faith, I can assure you."

"Doubtless," replied the Abbé, "doubtless: but they can be broken?"

"Of course," replied Villequier; "of course any thing on earth can be broken."

"That is sufficient," replied the Abbé. "It is quite enough, Monsieur de Villequier: I only desire to know, whether you and the King consider it as a final arrangement, that Mademoiselle de Clairvaut is to marry the young Lord of Montsoreau, or whether the matter is not now as much unsettled and within your own power and grasp as ever."

"Why," replied Villequier thoughtfully, "it is, as I dare say you well know, Monsieur l'Abbé, a very difficult thing indeed to devise any sort of black lines, which, written down upon sheep skin, will prove sufficiently strong to bind the actions of kings, princes, or common men, at a future period. But it seems to me, Monsieur l'Abbé, that the time is come when we had better be frank with each other! What is it that you aim at? You seem not displeased to think the arrangement doubtful or contingent; and yet I, who am not accustomed to guess very wrongly in such matters, have entertained no doubtful suspicion that you prompted the demand for a definite and conclusive bargain."

"I did," replied the Abbé. "When you asked to see him alone, I was very well assured that, though a game of policy skilfully played may occasionally afford sport to Monsieur de Villequier, you were quite as well pleased in the present business to deal with a young and inexperienced head as with an old and a worldly one. He sought my opinion and advice, and, as I uniformly do when it is sought, I gave it him sincerely, though it was against my own views and purposes. Now, Monsieur de Villequier, I see hovering round your lips a question, which, in whatever form of words you place it, whatever Proteus form it may assume, will have this for its substance and object; namely, What are the plans and purposes of the Abbé de Boisguerin? Now, my plans and purposes are these,--remember, I do not say my objects; the object of every man in life is one, though we all set out upon different roads to reach it. My purpose is to serve his Majesty and the Queen-mother far more than I have hitherto been able to do. What I have done is a trifle; but if I detach from the party of the League, separate for ever from the Duke of Guise, and bring over to the royal cause Charles of Montsoreau as well as his brother, I shall confer no trifling service, for I can now inform you, Monsieur de Villequier, that, besides the great estates of Logères, he is lord of all the possessions lately held by the old Count de Morly, who amassed much treasure during the avaricious part of age, and died little more than a week ago, leaving this young Lord the heir of all his wealth. I have received the intelligence this very morning; so that, what between his riches, his skill, and his courage, he is worth any two, excepting Epernon perhaps, of the King's court."

"If you do what you say, Monsieur de Boisguerin," replied the Marquis in a low, deep, sweet-toned voice, "you may command any thing you please in France, bishoprics, abbeys----"

"If it rained bishoprics," replied the Abbé, "I would not wear a mitre. I do not pretend to say, Monsieur de Villequier, that I am more disinterested than my neighbours; that I have not great rewards in view, and objects of importance--to me, if not to others. But these objects are not quite fixed or determined yet, and I am not one of those men, Monsieur de Villequier, who hesitate to render the services first from a fear of losing the reward afterwards. I know how to make my claims heard when the time comes for demanding; and in the present instance, although I cannot distinctly promise to bring Charles of Montsoreau absolutely and positively over to the King's cause, yet I am sure of being able both to detach him from the Duke of Guise and separate him from the faction of the League. I think, indeed, that all three can be done: but nothing can be done unless the promise given to his brother be made contingent. The one loves her as vehemently as the other; and I, who know how to deal with him, can change his whole views in an hour, or at least in a few days."

"Indeed!" said Villequier. "He is now in Paris; the trial could be speedily made."

"I know it--" replied the Abbé, seeing the Marquis fix his eyes upon him eagerly, thinking, perhaps, 'he has promised more than he could perform.'

"I know it, and that is the precise reason why I have hurried on this matter, and urged it to the present point. No time is to be lost, or I see storms approaching, Monsieur de Villequier, that I think escape your eyes."

"What do you intend to do?" demanded Villequier; "and what means do you require to do it?"

"My purposes I have already told you," replied the Abbé. "The means I require--to come to the point at once--consist of a document under your own hand, making over to me, as far as your relationship to Mademoiselle de Clairvaut goes, the right of disposing of her hand in marriage to whomsoever I may think fit: that is to say, the voice for, or the voice against, any particular candidate for her hand, when given by me, is to be held as if given by yourself."

"This is a great thing that you demand, Monsieur de Boisguerin," replied Villequier, gazing in his face with no inconsiderable surprise; "and I see not how I can give such a paper at the very same time that I give the one which I have promised to the Marquis of Montsoreau."

"Nothing, I fear, can be done without it," replied the Abbé; "but I think it may be done without risk or exposure of any kind, for I in return can bind myself not to employ that paper for nine months, by which time all will be complete; and in both the documents you can speak vaguely of other promises and engagements, and can declare your great object in giving me that paper to be, the final settlement of difficult claims, by a person in whom you have full confidence."

Villequier looked in his face with a meaning and somewhat sarcastic smile: then turned to the note which the Queen-mother, Catharine de Medici, had sent him; read it over again as if carelessly, but marking every word as he did so; and then said, with somewhat of a sigh, "Well, Monsieur de Boisguerin, pray draw up on that paper what you think would be required."

The Abbé took up the pen and ink, and wrote rapidly for a moment or two; while Villequier looked over his shoulder, fingering the hilt of his dagger as he did so, in a manner which might have made the periods of any man but the Abbé de Boisguerin, who knew as he did his companion's habits and views, less rounded and eloquent than they usually were. The Abbé, however, wrote on without the slightest sign of apprehension, and at length Villequier exclaimed, "That would tie my hands sufficiently tight, Monsieur de Boisguerin."

"Not quite, my Lord," replied the other. "I never make a covenant without a penalty; and what I am now going to add provides that, in case of your failing to confirm my decision, or attempting in any way to rescind this paper and the power hereby given to me, you forfeit to my use and benefit one hundred thousand golden crowns, to be sued for from you in any lawful court of this kingdom."

"Nay, nay, nay!" cried Villequier, now absolutely laughing. "This is going too far, Monsieur de Boisguerin."

"Faith, not a whit, my Lord," replied the Abbé. "I take care when men make me promises, that they are not such as can be trifled with, at least if I am to act upon them."

"Why, you do not suppose----" exclaimed Villequier.

"I suppose nothing, my Lord," interrupted the Abbé, "but that you are a statesman and a courtier, and must in your day have seen more than one promise broken."

"By some millions," replied Villequier. "I told you to speak frankly, Monsieur de Boisguerin, and you have done so with a vengeance. I must have my turn, too, and tell you that neither to you nor any other man on earth will I give such a promise, without in the first place seeing a probability of the object for which it is given being accomplished, and, in fact, some steps taken towards the accomplishment of that object; and, in the next place, without having a distinct notion of the means by which it is to effect its end. That is a beautiful ring of yours," continued the statesman, suddenly breaking away from the subject as if to announce that what he had just said was final, but perhaps in reality to consider what was to be the next step. "That is a beautiful ring of yours, Monsieur de Boisguerin, and of some very peculiar stone it seems; a large turquoise semi-transparent."

"It is an antidote against all poisons," answered the Abbé coolly, "whether they be eaten in the savoury ragout, drunk in the racy cup, smelt in the odour of a sweet flower, or inhaled in the balmy air of some well-prepared apartment. My dear friends will not find me so tender a lamb as Jeanne d'Albret."

"No, I should think not," replied Villequier with a laugh, and still holding off from the original subject of conversation. "I should think not, if I may judge by some of your attendants, Monsieur de Boisguerin, for there is one of them at least, an Italian, whom I passed in the court but now, who looks much more like the follower of a wolf than of a lamb. He was dressed somewhat in the guise of a wandering minstrel, with a good strong dagger, which I dare say is serviceable in time of need."

"I have not the slightest doubt of it," replied the Abbé de Boisguerin with the most imperturbable coolness, "though I have not had occasion to make use of him much in that way yet. But the man's a treasure, Monsieur de Villequier; and as to his garb the fact is, that I have not had time yet to have it changed and made more becoming. You shall see in a few days, Monsieur de Villequier, what a change can be effected by razors, soap, cold water, and good clothing. He's a complete treasure, I can assure you, and well worth any pains."

"But," said Villequier, "if you have had him so short a time as not to be able to clothe him yet, how do you know all these magnificent qualities?"

"It is a singular business enough," answered the Abbé. "I knew him long ago in Italy, where he was exercising various professions: but he had skill enough almost to cheat me, which, of course, made me judge highly of his abilities. One day, not long ago, he presented himself at the Château de Montsoreau, where it seems he had been upon some vagabond excursion a week or a fortnight before. He had on the first occasion seen and recognised me, and he now came back, having spent all the money he had gained by selling a young Italian pipe-player to my good cousin Charles, and being consequently in not the best provided state. He was in hopes that I would take him into my service, which, from ancient recollection of his character, I was very willing to do; dismissing, however, without much ceremony, another man and a low Italian woman whom he had brought with him. They seemed very willing to go, it is true, and he to part with them; and my good friend Orbi has already shown himself on more than one occasion fully as serviceable as I had expected he would prove. My former knowledge of him gives me means of binding him to me by very strong ties; and I will acknowledge that never was there man to all appearance so well calculated to remove a troublesome friend or a pertinacious enemy."

"Doubtless, doubtless," replied Villequier; "though he seems not to be particularly strong in frame."

"But he is active," answered the Abbé, "and full of skill, and thought, and ingenuity. But to return to what we were saying concerning the paper, Monsieur de Villequier, which we have left somewhat too long," added the Abbé, thinking this sort of farce had been carried quite far enough. "Every objection that you have raised can be overthrown at once. I ask this promise, not for my own sake, but to satisfy this youth Charles of Montsoreau. He will trust you as soon as the fox will the tiger; but he will trust to me implicitly, if he believes that I have the power to aid him in obtaining her he loves. Thus you see at once the means by which this promise is to work to the ends that we propose. Then, as to seeing clearly what the effect will be, I will show it to you in the very course of this night. Read that letter, written by the young Count of Logères to his brother, no later than yesterday evening! You see," the Abbé continued, after Villequier had read, "he renounces all claim whatsoever to the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and this in favour of his brother. The letter was brought hither not two hours ago. Now, ere two hours more be over, you shall yourself see the whole feelings of this young man changed, and the pursuit renewed as eagerly as ever. If it be so, what say you? Will you go forward in the way I propose?--Yea or nay, Monsieur de Villequier? I trifle not, nor am trifled with."

"I will then go forward, beyond all doubt," replied the Marquis.

The Abbé thereupon took up the pen, wrote five lines on a sheet of paper, sealed them with some of the yellow wax which lay ready, addressed the note to Charles of Montsoreau, and placing it in the hands of Villequier, bade him to send it by a page, with orders to require an answer. The page seemed winged with the wind, and in a marvellous short time he returned, bearing a note from the young Count of Logères, containing these few words:--

"My renunciation was entirely conditional. If it be as you say, nothing on earth shall induce me to yield the hand of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut to any man. The time that you allow me for writing does not permit me to say more, but come to me as early as possible to-morrow, and let all things be explained; for a state of doubt and suspicion was always to me worse than the knowledge of real evil or real wrong."

The Abbé gave it to Villequier, and the Minister only replied by signing and sealing the paper which the Abbé had drawn up.

"Now, quick! Monsieur l'Abbé," said the Minister. "Go for a few minutes to your own apartments, and then join us at supper, which I hear is already served, as if we had not met during the evening. You will not need your ring, I can assure you."

The Abbé bowed low and retired in silence; but in his heart he said, "And this, the fool Henry holds to be a great politician."

No knave can be a great politician; but every knave thinks himself so. The mistake they make is between wisdom and cunning. The knave prides himself on deceiving others, the wise man on not deceiving himself.

CHAP. VI.

When the Abbé de Boisguerin on the following morning entered the presence of Charles of Montsoreau, his mind was prepared for every thing he was to say and do, for every thing he was to assert or to imply. But there was one thing for which his mind was not prepared--all shrewd, keen, politic, and experienced as it was.

There are points in the deep study of human nature which those who would use that mighty science for selfish purposes almost always overlook. Amongst these are the changes, both sudden and progressive, which take place in themselves and in others, and the changes in relative situations which they produce. In this respect it was that the Abbé de Boisguerin, thoughtful and calculating as he was, had not prepared himself for the meeting with Charles of Montsoreau. The time was short since they had parted. Not above six weeks had elapsed, if so much; and the Abbé had come ready to deal with a youth of keen and penetrating mind, of quick perceptions and extensive powers; of all whose feelings and thoughts he fancied that he knew the scope and quality; whose mind he believed that he had gauged and tested as if it were some material substance. But he knew not at all, what an effect the space of six weeks may have when spent in communication with great minds, and in dealing with great events; and the moment he entered the room he saw a change which he had never dreamt of--a change which through the mind affected the body, the countenance, and the demeanour.

Charles of Montsoreau, in short, had left him a youth high-spirited, feeling, intelligent, graceful,--he stood before him a man, calm, thoughtful, grave, dignified. There were even lines of care already upon his brow, which gave it a degree of sternness not natural to it; and the whole look and aspect of his former pupil was so powerfully intellectual, that the Abbé felt he must be more cautious and careful than he had prepared to be; that his words, his thoughts, and his looks would not alone be tested by old affection, nor even by the simple powers of an undoubting mind, but would be tried by experience likewise, and tried moreover with that degree of suspicion which is more active within us when we first learn the painful lessons taught by human deceit, than it is when we learn fully our own powers of separating truth from falsehood.

He saw that it would be necessary to be more cautious than he had proposed to be, and that, consequently, he must change much that he had intended to say and do. The very caution affected his manner, and his alteration of purposes caused occasional hesitation. Charles of Montsoreau, who remembered his whole character and demeanour during many years, found, without seeking it, a touchstone in the past by which to try the present, and the conclusion in his own heart was, "This man is not true."