Part 11

The person who entered bore a strong family likeness to the Duke, but was neither so tall nor so powerful in person. He was dressed in the crimson robes of a prince of the church of Rome; and his countenance, which had much shrewdness and some dignity, accorded well with his station, Miron had retired quietly while the Duke spoke; a sign had dismissed the messenger from the Duke of Mayenne, and none but Pericard remained in the room. But yet the Cardinal spoke in a whisper to his brother, who merely smiled, replying, "Come, come; we have no time now to jest." And thus saying, he led the way down to a hall, where supper was prepared at the table of the Grand Master for all the most distinguished guests then resident at Blois.

The table was covered, as was then much the custom, with jewelled plate of many kinds, and various fanciful devices. The room was in a blaze of light, and all the guests, but the King and his particular train, had already arrived. They were standing back from the table, and gathered together in the magnificent dresses of that period, formed splendid groups in different parts of the chamber, while sewers and other attendants, hurrying backwards and forwards, brought in the various dishes, and set them in their regular order.

The appearance of the Duke and his brother, the Cardinal de Guise, occasioned an instant movement amongst the guests, and the proudest there bowed lowly to the gallant Prince, whose fortunes hitherto had gone on from height to height. Nobles and generals of the highest distinction eagerly sought a word with him, and bishops and prelates of many a various character crowded forward, but to touch the hand of one who had stood forth so prominently in defence of the church.

In a few minutes the table was covered with the various dishes, and intimation that supper was served was immediately given to the King, who appeared the moment after, while the Duke of Guise advanced to the door to receive him, and with every testimony of lowly respect led him to the raised seat appointed for him. The King was followed by six gentlemen, for whom places had been reserved, and amongst them the eye of Guise rested upon Villequier. That eye flashed for a single moment as it saw him; but the next instant all was calm, and the Duke noticed him especially by an inclination of the head.

As soon as the King had taken his seat, saying, "Sit, my Lord Duke, I pray you; stand upon no further ceremonies," Guise and the rest seated themselves at the table, and the monarch and his princely officer bent forward to say some complimentary nothing to each other, each at the same time unfolding the napkin that lay before them. As they did so, from the napkin of the Duke of Guise fell out upon his plate a folded letter; and Henry, who was all gaiety and condescension at that moment, exclaimed aloud with a light laugh, "Some letter from his lady-love, upon my honour. Read, read, my Lord Duke! Read, read! Carvers, touch not a dish till the Duke has read."

The Duke opened the letter smiling, while the King bent a little towards that side, as if jestingly, to see the contents. All eyes round the table were fixed upon those two; and it was seen that the colour mounted into the cheek of the Duke of Guise, that his brow gathered into a frown, and his lip curled with a scornful smile. As far as the paint on the King's countenance would admit, he appeared to turn pale at the same moment. But Guise, crushing the letter together in his hand, threw it contemptuously under the table, saving aloud, "They dare not!"[7]

[Footnote 7: Some of the Duke's historians say, that he did not speak the words aloud, but merely wrote at the bottom of the note, "On n'oseroit," and then threw it under the table.]

None but the King around the table knew to what those words alluded: but Henry had seen the words, "Beware, Duke of Guise, your life is in danger every day. There are those round you from morning to night, who are ready to spill your blood."

The Duke seemed to forget the matter in a moment, and by the graces of his demeanour soon caused it to be forgotten also by all those around. Henry resumed his gaiety and tranquillity; wine and feasting did their part; and some short time after the King, with his glass filled with the most exquisite wine of France, exclaimed, "Let us drink to some one, my Lord Duke. To whom shall it be?"

"It is for your Majesty to command," replied the Duke gaily. "Let us drink to our good friends the Huguenots!"

"Willingly, willingly," cried Henry laughing. "To the Huguenots, cousin of Guise: ay, and to our good barricaders, too; let us not forget them."

The King smiled, and many around smiled also, at what they thought would be a mortification to the Duke. But Guise answered immediately, after drinking the toast, "It is well bethought of your Majesty, while you give us the health of your bitter enemies, to give us that of your most faithful servants, who will never cease to defend you against them."

He spoke with such an air of good humour, that none could see he had taken any offence, and this matter was also forgotten in a few moments. Shortly before the dessert was placed upon the table, a page slipped a small scrap of paper with a few words written upon it into the hands of the Duke, who gathered the meaning at a single glance, while his whole countenance brightened with satisfaction. "Come, Monsieur de Villequier," he said, "honour me by drinking with me to a mutual relation of ours. Here is to Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, as sweet, as good, as fair a lady as any in France. Let us drink her health, and a gallant husband to her soon."

"Willingly, willingly, my Lord," replied Villequier; "and I wish your Lordship would let me name that husband. But here is to her health." And he drank the wine.

"Nay," answered Guise, "that cannot be, Monsieur de Villequier, for I have named him myself already."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Villequier, with no slight surprise in his look. But he instantly overcame the first emotion, adding, "I suppose, then, that the young Lady is under your protection at the present moment?"

"At which you can neither be displeased nor surprised. Monsieur de Villequier," replied the Duke, still bearing a courteous and affable look. "As you know you swore upon the mass some weeks ago that she was not under your protection, and that you knew not where she was, it must be a relief to your mind to find that she is well cared for."

"Oh, my good Lord of Guise," replied Villequier in the same courteous tone, "no one ever doubts that his Highness of Guise cares for every one that comes within his influence. Have we not an instance of it here, when no sooner is one of the good Duke's friends, and the allotted husband of his fair niece, dead, than another of his friends is raised to the same happy prospect. But, pray, may I ask if the young Lady herself is well pleased with this rapid substitution of lovers?"

"Delighted, I believe," replied the Duke with a smile full of meaning. "Though I have had no particular communication with her yet, inasmuch as, it having been discovered that she had escaped from the hands of some base persons who unjustly detained her, the worthy and respectable governor of Angoumois took pains to guard the country all round, in order to stop her on her journey to Blois. This has much delayed her coming, and would most likely have delayed it still longer, had she not taken refuge with Monsieur and Madame Montmorin, till I sent a force sufficient to open the way for her through all the La Valettes in France. It is thus only this night--nay, this very moment, that I hear of her arrival in Blois."

"Well, my Lord," answered Villequier with a laugh, "it is evident that he who attempts to strive with the Duke of Guise, either in stratagem or in force, must be a bold man, and should be a clever one. As I told your Highness, Mademoiselle de Clairvaut was not in my hands, but how she was set free from the hands in which she was placed must remain a mystery rather difficult to solve. A servant girl, it seems, became the immediate instrument; but the skill with which every trace of her path was concealed, and even the manner in which her flight itself was effected, bespeaks a better brain than that of a peasant of Angoumois. Is it permitted, my Lord, to ask the name of the favoured gentleman you destine for her husband?"

"His Majesty receives his Court to-night, I think," replied the Duke, "and then, Monsieur de Villequier, I shall have much pleasure in presenting that gentleman to you. But, Monsieur de Villequier, if, as your words imply, you have suffered yourself to be out-man[oe]uvered in this business, I will mortify your pride in your own skill by telling you that you have been foiled and frustrated by no efforts of mine, but by the wit of a girl and the courage and stratagem of a mere youth. My Lord the King, may I humbly beseech your Majesty to let us drink better policy to Monsieur de Villequier."

Henry laughed lightly and drank the wine; and the rest of the supper passed off gaily, though Villequier from time to time fell into a momentary fit of thought, from which he was twice roused to find the eye of the Duke of Guise upon him. At length, as the hour for the reception of the Court in the King's own apartments approached, Henry rose and retired, followed by Villequier and the rest of the gentlemen who had accompanied him.

The Duke of Guise paused for a moment after, speaking rapidly to several of those around him; and then, calling a page, he whispered to him, "Go with speed to Monsieur Chapelle Marteau. Tell him to let me see him at midnight. I should also like to see Monsieur de Magnac, one of the Presidents of the Nobles. You will very likely find him in his cabinet at the Palais de Justice. I would fain see them both.--Gentlemen, the King will soon be in the hall, where you had better meet his Majesty. I must be absent for a few moments, and you will therefore pardon me."

Thus saying the Duke left them, and followed by one or two attendants, proceeded to the apartments assigned especially to himself.

In the mean while the rest of the nobles hurried from the château to various parts of the town, in order to accompany their wives and daughters to a great assembly of the Court, which was to be held that night in the grand hall of the castle. In the same hall the meetings of the States-General of the kingdom usually took place, when the three orders assembled together; but, as it was considered probable that they would deliberate separately for some days to come, the hall had been arranged that night, as we have said, for the reception of the Court; and in it soon appeared almost all the splendid nobility of France brought into Blois by the meeting of the States. The Duke of Guise, however, had not yet arrived when the King appeared, and much was the surprise and wonder of all that he did not show himself. In about ten minutes after, however, there was a whisper near the great doors of "The Duke! the Duke is coming! He is in the corridor speaking to Brissac:" and after the pause of an instant, the two wings of the door were thrown open, and Guise, followed by a long and brilliant train, and himself decorated with the collars and jewels of all the first orders in Europe, entered the great hall and advanced towards the King. With him appeared the lovely form of Marie de Clairvaut, leaning on his left arm, while, dressed with all that splendour to which the fashion of the day lent itself, appeared upon his right the young Count of Logères, somewhat thinner and somewhat paler than he had been when he before presented himself at the Court of France, but with his head high, and proud with the best kind of pride, the consciousness of rectitude, and his eye bright with the excitement of the moment and the scene. The eyes of Marie de Clairvaut were bent down, and there was a slight but not ungraceful embarrassment in her manner, from the consciousness that many late events which had befallen her would attract more than usual attention to herself.

Advancing straight towards the King and Queen, the Duke of Guise took Marie's hand in his, saying, "Allow me to present to your Majesties my dear niece and ward. Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and permit me also to present to you my friend----;" and he laid particular emphasis on the word, "the Count of Logères, whom, with your Majesty's permission, and this fair Lady's consent, I destine to be her husband. Were it possible to give him a higher treasure than herself, I should be bound to do it, as if it had not been for him, and for his skill, courage, and determination on two occasions, my head would have been now in the dust, and I should not now have had the hope of serving your Majesty well, faithfully, and successfully, as I trust to do."

From his first entrance, and while he spoke, a low murmur had run through the whole Court, some inquiring who the gentleman was that accompanied him, the few who knew Charles of Montsoreau whispering his name, and all, as it passed round, expressing their surprise at the re-appearance of one supposed to be dead. The Duke of Guise in the mean time turned to Villequier, who had at first become pale at the sight of Charles of Montsoreau.

"Monsieur de Villequier," said the Duke, "you were desirous of knowing the name of the friend for whom I destine my niece. Allow me to present him to you in the person of the Count of Logères, whom I trust you will soon congratulate upon their marriage." And while he spoke he ran the finger of his right hand gently down his baldric towards the hilt of his sword, with a gesture significant enough, but which could only be seen by Villequier.

Having said this, the Duke and his party retired to a space left for them on the King's right hand, and the various entertainments of the evening commenced, the King, who had been rather amused than otherwise at the reappearance of Charles of Montsoreau, giving himself up to one of those bursts of gaiety, which occasionally ran into somewhat frantic excesses.

We cannot pause here to describe the scene. All was splendour and amusement; and in the light Court of France the circumstances in which Marie de Clairvaut was placed were sufficient to draw around her all the gay, and the gallant, and the idle. Unaccustomed to such scenes--less accustomed, indeed, than even she was--the eye of Charles of Montsoreau turned towards her from time to time, with perhaps some anxiety, to see how she would bear the homage that was paid to her; whether, in short, it would be the same Marie de Clairvaut in the midst of flattery and adulation and that bright and glittering scene, that it had been with him in the calm quiet of country life, in more than one solitary journey, and in many a scene of peril, danger, and distress. Whenever he looked that way, however, he saw the same sweet, calm, retiring demeanour; and more than once he found her eyes seeking him out in some distant part of the hall, and her lips light up with a bright smile as soon as their glances met. He felt, and he felt proudly, that there was none there present who could doubt that her guardian's choice was her own also.

With the irregularity which marked all Henry's conduct at that period, after remaining for half an hour with the appearance of the utmost enjoyment, the King suddenly became sombre and gloomy; and, after biting his lip and knitting his brow for a few minutes, turned and quitted the hall. All was immediately the confusion of departure, and Charles of Montsoreau made his way across to where the Duke of Guise was seen standing, towering above all the rest. The young Count had remarked, that in the course of the evening the Duke had been speaking long and eagerly with a lady of extraordinary beauty, who stood at some distance from the royal party; and he had heard her named as the Marchioness of Noirmontier, with a light jest from more than one tongue at her intimacy with the Duke. When he now reached the side of that Prince she had passed on, and was bending over Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and speaking to her with a look of tenderness and admiration.

"Come on Count, come on," said the Duke, in a low but somewhat sharp tone, as soon as his young friend joined him. And they advanced to the side of the two ladies at the moment that Madame de Noirmontier was urging Marie to spend a few days with her at her beautiful château some way down the Loire. The Duke, however, did not suffer his ward to reply.

"I fear, dear Madam," he said in a decided and somewhat stern tone, "that it cannot be."

The colour rushed violently up into the cheeks of Madame de Noirmontier, and the tears seemed ready to spring into her eyes. But the Duke added, "Logères, escort Marie back to my apartments. If you will permit me, Madam, I will be your attendant to your carriage, and explain why my young ward cannot have the extreme pleasure and honour you intended for her."

"It needs no explanation, your Highness," replied the Marchioness, raising her head proudly. "I intended to have staid some days longer in this neighbourhood; but as she cannot come to me, I shall return at once to Paris."

The Duke looked mortified, but still offered her his hand; and when he rejoined his own party in the apartments assigned to him, he was somewhat gloomy and abstracted.

CHAP. IX.

"His Highness, Sire," said one of the attendants to Henry III. on the following day, "His Highness of Guise is not to be found this morning. His servants say that he has gone forth on horseback, followed only by two grooms: but whither he has turned his steps, no one seems rightly to know."

"Seek him with Madame de Noirmontier," said Villequier, who stood beside the King.

But Henry, however, who was in no mood for jesting at that moment, replied sharply, "He is playing with me! He is playing with me! He mocks me! He will repent it some day! And I think you mock me too, Villequier, to talk of Madame de Noirmontier at this moment. Have you not heard this business of Savoy? He knew it last night, and said nothing of it; and I'll tell you what more he has done, Villequier, which you may like as little as I like the other. He has fixed the day for the marriage of his niece with that bold young Logères. But this business of Savoy is terrible, and these mutinous States will be the ruin of the realm."

"Sire," replied Villequier, "your Majesty must remember that I am somewhat in darkness, in twilight at least. I have heard a rumour that the Savoyard is in arms in France. But what of the States?"

"Why, they are even now discussing," exclaimed the King, "whether there shall be war or not, even to defend our invaded territory. There are the Clergy now arguing it at the Jacobins, the Nobles in the Palais de Justice, and the Third Estate in the Hôtel de Ville,--all, all showing a disposition to hesitate at such a moment; and Guise, the Generalissimo of my armies, and Grand Master of my household absent. Heaven knows where!"

"The devil knows best, most likely," replied Villequier with a calm smile. "But, perhaps, the secret may be, that the Duke of Savoy is son-in-law of the King of Spain. Now, the King of Spain has been a good friend to the Duke of Guise, and the good Pope used always to say that a Guise never jumped higher than the King of Spain liked."

"By my faith!" replied the King, "I sometimes think that this same gloomy Philip is more sovereign in France than the King thereof. But here come tidings from the Tiers Etats. Come, Monsieur Artau, how have gone the deliberations of the States? What say our good Commons to war with Savoy?"

"They go against it altogether, Sire," replied the officer who now entered. "Chapelle Marteau spoke against it vehemently, declared that it was but a plundering excursion of some light troops, who had carried off a few thousand crowns, while it would cost many millions to carry on a war with Savoy: and then, up got another, and talked of imposts and taxes and the poverty of the state, and said that millions and hundreds of millions had been lost in peculation and extravagance. If your Majesty indeed, he said, would bear two-thirds of the expense out of your domain, and would cut down your tall trees, or mortgage a part of the royal forests, the Commons would see what could be done."

"By Heaven!" exclaimed Henry stamping his foot, "when they keep me here, a throned beggar, without a crown in my pocket, to give a jewel to a mistress or a friend, they expect me to carry on the defence of the country at my own expense! On my soul! I have a great mind to cast away the sceptre, to go down into the ranks of a private gentleman, and name my rule-loving mother to govern in my stead: or faith, I care not if it were Guise himself. He would teach these surly citizens what it is to have an iron rod over their heads. By the Lord! he would not spare the backs of the porkers. Hie thee, good Artau to the Clergy at the Jacobins; see what they say to the matter. And what say you, Villequier, to my scheme of abdicating?"

"Why, Sire," replied Villequier calmly, "I think it is an excellent good one. But I hope, in the first place, that you will give a few thoughts to what I told you concerning the young Marquis de Montsoreau and the hundred thousand crowns he promised on the day of his marriage with Mademoiselle de Clairvaut. You know your Majesty has claimed the lion's share; and seventy-five thousand crowns at the present moment, or any time between this and Christmas, might serve to give your Majesty a new lace to your doublet, or a new doublet to your lace, for to my mind both are plaguy rusty. Now, though the re-appearance of this young Count of Logères will cut down the amount of his brother's estates most terribly, yet that affects me more than you, Sire; and by having made inquiries I find, to a certainty, that he is quite capable of paying the money the moment the marriage is concluded."

"Seventy-five thousand crowns!" repeated the King thoughtfully. "Seventy-five thousand crowns! Why, my friend, I think that neither you or I have heard of such a thing since we had beards. But how does all this square with my giving the crown to Guise, which you approved so highly?"

"Oh, extremely well, Sire," replied Villequier. "The crown I would have you give him is neither the crown of France nor of Poland: I would give him an immortal crown, Sire. You will fit him better, depend upon it, that way than with a terrestrial one. His aspiring spirit seeks the skies, and, could I deal with him, should very soon find them. However, you will remember that your royal word, as well as mine, is pledged to the young Marquis de Montsoreau."

A dark smile came over the King's face. "We will see, Villequier; we will see," he said. "My word must be kept and shall not be broken. The morning of Christmas-day the Duke has fixed for the marriage. Who knows what may happen between this and then, Villequier. She is then absolutely your ward failing the Duke of Guise, and we will have no hesitation or delay, when we have the power to compel obedience. But we must be very cautious, Villequier; we must be very cautious. We must neither seem pleased with this business of the marriage, for then he would suspect us of some concealed design; nor must we oppose him strongly, because that would put him on his guard; and I fear me, that all the crowns in France could not do me so much good as the Duke of Guise could do me harm if he were offended."

"Without being slain," replied Villequier in a low tone. "Oh no, my Lord, I know well, a wounded boar is always the most dangerous."

The King smiled again in the same dark and sinister manner, but he made no reply to Villequier's insinuation--perhaps still doubtful of his own purposes, perhaps prevented from speaking openly by the return of Monsieur D'Artau.