CHAPTER XXXIV.

Leaving the Count d'Aubin to pursue his schemes to their conclusion, we must now follow Bartholo home to the chateau of Guery. Few were the friends which the page possessed amongst the servants of his mistress; but in that number was the old warder at the gate, who, warned beforehand of the dwarfs absence, hastened to give him admittance without noise on his return. Bartholo stabled his horse and rubbed him down with his own small hands, and then, entering by a side-door, passed through the great hall, which was lighted by one of the large paper globes of the time--not at all unlike a Chinese lantern--and picking his steps through the midst of the straw mattresses upon which, as was then customary, several of the inferior servants were sleeping, he made his way towards a staircase leading to the room which had been appropriated to himself during the illness of the Count d'Aubin, and he had now resumed. Opening the door, he entered, congratulating himself upon not having been seen, when suddenly he was seized on either side, and held fast to prevent him from using his dagger, while some one at the farther end of the chamber drew a screen from before a concealed lamp, and Bartholo found himself in the hands of the major-domo and two stout grooms, who, with little compassion and less ceremony, proceeded to bind him tightly hand and foot.

The dwarf asked not a question, and said not a word; and the old _maître d'hôtel_, though loving him but little, refrained from any expression of triumph, merely directing the grooms to watch him well and not molest him, and then left him for the night. Early the next morning the cords were slackened upon his ankles, and he was brought into the presence of his mistress, whose quivering lip and flashing eye told how much her anger was roused against him.

"Bartholo, you have deceived me!" she said; "you have basely deceived me!"

"Those who suspect without cause," answered the dwarf, doggedly, "will always be deceived in the end, and will deserve it."

"And do you think me so weak a being," asked Beatrice, sternly, "as to believe that he who could practise the piece of knavery which you executed last night is innocent of foregone deceits? No, poor fool, no! and even were it not that--as is ever the case with favourites in disgrace--the whole household is pouring forth tales of thy former treason now that it no longer avails me to know it, I should still feel as certain of your guilt as I am of living and breathing, and should only daily look for the instances of your knavery. I seek not, man, to make you own either your former or your present baseness; all I seek to know is your motive. Tell me, were you bribed to divulge my secrets and thwart my plans? Were you hired to betray the mistress that trusted and befriended you?"

"No man does anything without the hope of recompense," replied the dwarf, "nor woman either."

"I should have thought," answered Beatrice, in a tone of bitter but sorrowful reproach, "that no recompense would have been sufficient to bribe you to sting the hand which cherished you when all the rest of the world either scorned or forgot you."

"You mistake me, noble lady," said the dwarf, "I see you mistake me. There are men and women both that sell their honour for gold; but I am not of them. There are still more, both men and women, that pawn their virtue for less solid payment, ay, and sell even their souls for vanity; but still no bauble was my bribe. It was neither title given by some profligate king, nor words of flattery spoken by some vicious lover. I had--I own it--a motive before my eyes, a recompense to look forward to; but I choose not to speak it before these gaping fools. Should I ever again have your ear alone, to it I may tell the cause of all that is strange in my behaviour--if aught be strange in the actions of man. But till then I am silent."

"Leave me!" said Beatrice, looking towards her attendants, "retire to the ante-room--no farther!" Her commands were instantly obeyed; but still there was many an ear eager for the sounds of what passed farther; and those who dared, advanced close to the door, which was not entirely closed. The dwarf's voice was heard speaking quick and long, but in tones so low, that the eavesdroppers were all at fault. At length, however, the voice of Beatrice exclaimed, "Madman! dared you to entertain such a hope?"

"I entertained no hope," replied the dwarf, aloud--"I entertained no hope, but that I might never behold you in the arms of another!"

"Here, Joachim, Annette!" cried the voice of Beatrice, and in a moment the room where she sat was again crowded with her attendants. They found her with the eloquent blood glowing in deep crimson through her clear fine skin, and dying her brow and temples and neck with a blush almost painful to behold. "Take him hence!" she cried, pointing to the dwarf with a look of irrepressible disgust, which, as his eye marked it, turned him deadly pale. "Take him hence!--and yet stay," she added, addressing him--"I suppose it is vain to question you as to what you told to him whom you went last night to visit."

A change had come over the appearance of the dwarf, which it were difficult to describe. The paleness that had followed Beatrice's last words remained--even his lips were blanched; and though with his white upper teeth he bit the under lip unconsciously, no mark appeared after, so bloodless was his whole countenance. He replied, however, with a voice of unnatural calmness, "It is not in vain, madam, to ask me anything you seek to know. Life is over with me,--at least, life's hopes and fears; and I may as well tell you all, as conceal anything. The moment that what I have dared to do was discovered, that moment I knew that the game was lost; and it is in vain now to play a few moves more or less."

He then, as shortly as possible, repeated the substance of what had passed between D'Aubin and himself, in regard to Eugenie de Menancourt's abode, and the means of securing her person, and that concluded, calmly suffered himself to be led back to the room where he had passed the night, and where he was now left alone.

In the meantime, Beatrice, with a hasty hand, wrote a few words on several sheets of paper, and ordering horses to be saddled instantly, gave the letters to the servants who were first prepared. "This to La Loupe," she said, giving one, "for the captain of the arquebusiers; and bid him mark within the king's own hand to the command. This to the chatelain of Armençon. Tell him, if he cannot spare many, to send, if it be but twenty men, well armed end mounted. This to the Lady Eugenie, with all speed! Away, away! This purse to him who does his errand soonest. Now, Joachim, now! you gather together all the men that we have here, and all that are in the neighbouring town; arm them to the teeth, and make speed! Tell me when all is ready, and lose no time!--Away! for we must endeavour to be first on the spot, and carry off that poor timid dove from her dovecot, ere the kite pounces upon her. If we are too late to save her from danger, we must do our best to rescue her, whatever befall."

Beatrice's orders were as rapidly obeyed as given; but we must deviate a little from our general plan, and quitting the persons with whom we have begun this chapter, turn once more to the efforts of the Count d'Aubin; efforts which were unfortunately but too successful. The sun had not risen half an hour ere D'Aubin was again in the saddle; and though his horse was somewhat stiff from having passed a night in the open air, in the midst of storm and tempest, the Count urged him on at full speed, and never drew a rein till he was within sight of his own paternal home.

There are feelings touched by the view of such a place, so interwoven with all the texture of our being, that even the coarse hand of vice, or the more cunning touch of worldly-mindedness, can hardly tear them out; but it was not any such emotions that caused D'Aubin to stop and gaze round him as he approached the dwelling of his fathers. It was that, in a field close to the chateau, he beheld a man, dressed in the costume of a German soldier, sauntering idly about, and talking to some women who were weeding the ground. An undefined apprehension of danger made him pause; but the next moment he spurred his horse furiously on, and rode into the court-yard. It was filled with reitters, who were sitting round in various attitudes, eating their morning meal in the early sunshine. The apparition of a single horseman, for the guide was some furlongs behind, did not seem to disturb in the slightest degree their German phlegm; and D'Aubin was suffered to cast his rein over a hook, and push open the great door of the hall without one of the troopers ceasing from his pleasant occupation, to ask the business of the intruder. The first object the Count beheld in the hall was one of his own servants; but the next, which rendered all question unnecessary, was a large breakfast-table, covered with loads of meat and flagons of wine, at which sat Albert of Wolfstrom, and one or two of the officers of his troop. The apparition of D'Aubin was certainly unexpected, for the party of the League believed him dead; but it required no lengthened explanations to make him comprehend that his friend, the captain of the reitters, had hastened with as many of his men as had escaped the bloody fight of Ivry to take possession of the lands and chateau of Aubin, in order to pay himself some certain thousands of crowns, won by him at play, ere the next heir of the supposed dead count put in his claim, either by the sword or otherwise.

As he was well aware that no party would permit of his holding long possession of the lands, the mercenary leader had employed means to raise the sum he claimed, which now caused some sharp and angry words to pass between him and the count,--words which might not have ended bloodless had D'Aubin at the moment been prepared to expel the Germans from his dwelling: but his own retainers and domestics were dispersed; and not above two or three of his old attendants were to be found within the walls of the chateau. The thought of his fine old trees felled to supply the greedy craving of the mercenary, his crops and cattle swept away, his peasantry half ruined, did enrage him almost to striking Wolfstrom where he stood; but in the midst of his anger he remembered that there was but one way to clear off this and many another similar claim upon him, and to emerge into greater splendour and power than ever; and in that dim and misty dream of splendour and power he fancied that the voice of conscience, and remorse, and disappointed love, would never be heard.

"Well, well, Wolfstrom," he added, abruptly breaking off the angry vituperation he was heaping upon the chief of the reitters, "you might have waited a little longer; you might have proceeded a little more moderately; but now send out and order all to be stopped instantly, then lend me your full and active aid for this one day, and you shall receive every farthing in gold before a week be over."

"Ay, indeed! how so?" demanded the other, somewhat doubtingly; for Albert of Wolfstrom had nothing very confiding in his disposition. "As to waiting, you know, sir count, that was out of the question entirely, for we thought you dead; and as to proceeding more moderately, you know I was obliged to make haste, for on the one hand Mayenne might call me to Paris in a day, at any time; and on the other, the Bearnois and your cousin might come down and turn me out; so that I was obliged to make good use of my time. But how can I serve you?"

"How many men have you here?" demanded D'Aubin.

"Why, not many, on my life," answered Wolfstrom; "only a hundred and fifty. All the rest were killed or taken at that cursed Ivry. But what do you want us to do?"

"Listen!" said D'Aubin. "I last night learned, Wolfstrom, that by a foul scheme my promised bride was persuaded that I did not love her, and that it was thus she was induced to fly immediately after our marriage."

"But do you know, Monsieur d'Aubin," interrupted Wolfstrom, "that the good folks in Paris vow, that marriage of yours was no marriage at all; that the priest was a mad Huguenot soldier, and that----"

"Never mind all that," replied D'Aubin, "I have here a priest in the neighbouring village who has done me some services already, and he will bind me in half an hour to Eugenie de Menancourt by a knot that can never be untied, without asking any questions or listening to any objections. Only let me once have her safe within these walls!"

"Ay, but how is that to be done?" demanded Albert of Wolfstrom.

"That is what I was about to tell you," answered the count. "The same person who informed me of the means which had been used to estrange her affection from me, informed me also of the place of her present dwelling. It is within six leagues of this castle, and all that is necessary in the present case is----"

"To carry her off by a _coup de main!_" cried Wolfstrom, clapping his hands at the sound of a project which combined, in a degree peculiarly adapted to his palate, villany and adventure. "Bravo, sir count I bravo! Let us about it immediately."

"Thanks, thanks, Wolfstrom, for your ready aid," replied D'Aubin. "All that we have to do is to mount fifty men, and to lose no time; the first, because the girl has some guards stationed round about her, and more may be sent; the second, because the keenest eye in France is upon her and me, and she may be removed."

"Well, well, to it at once," cried Wolfstrom, moving towards the door; but ere he reached it he stopped, and, turning to the count said, in a low tone, "Of course you will give my men a day's pay."

"And you a thousand crowns to boot, if we succeed," answered the Count, who knew that there was nothing comparable to gold for quickening his comrade's energies.

"We had better take a hundred men at once," said Wolfstrom, when he heard that they were to be paid; "they are as soon mounted as fifty, and we are then more sure. Fifty can stay to guard the chateau."

D'Aubin made no objection, and Wolfstrom proceeded to give his orders, which were rapidly obeyed by the well-trained veterans still under his command. A fresh horse was provided for D'Aubin, and another for the guide, who, without his consent being asked, was ordered to lead the way, with a trooper on either side, to the spot which D'Aubin described. Two old but nimble jennets from the stable of the Count were led in the rear; and thus the cavalcade issued from the gates of the chateau of Aubin, and took their way towards the dwelling of the unfortunate Eugenie de Menancourt. Scarcely had they proceeded a league, however, when, from the edge of a gentle slope, they perceived three horsemen galloping quickly on a road in the plain below, as if towards the castle they had just left.

The keen eyes of Wolfstrom instantly marked them; but, after gazing at them for a moment, he said, "They are two of my reitters whom I sent yesterday to keep a watch on Armençon; but they have a third man with them, and must bring news. We must take care that our retreat is not cut off." Thus saying, he detached a trooper to intercept the horsemen by a cross road, and bring them to him, and then halted till they arrived. Two proved, as had been supposed, ordinary reitters of Wolfstrom's band, but the third horseman was an armed servant; and D'Aubin instantly recognised one of the attendants of Beatrice of Ferrara. He was tied upon his horse, and the troopers brought him up pistol in hand. Their report was soon made; they had found him galloping, they said, with such speed towards the castle of Armençon that they thought it right to stop him. He fled like the wind, and they pursued; but at length he was overtaken, and they found upon him a letter, which, not being able to read themselves, they were now in the act of conveying to their leader. The paper, as may be already seen, was the letter of Beatrice of Ferrara to the chatelain of Armençon, and it served to show D'Aubin that his movements were suspected, if not discovered. The servant, however, was now in such bodily fear, that he at once informed the Count and his companion, that another messenger had been sent for troops to La Loupe.

"What force have they there, Wolfstrom?" demanded D'Aubin. "Do you know?"

"Certainly not two hundred men!" replied the leader of the reitters.

"Then there is, first, the probability that the commander will not listen to the request of this wild girl," said the Count; "next, he will certainly not dare to detach more than fifty men, and we are here a hundred. Even if she send her own armed people, too, they cannot amount to more than thirty, so that we shall still have great odds. But let me see," he continued, as if a sudden thought struck him, and turning to the servant, he asked, "When did the messenger leave Guery for La Loupe?"

"At the same moment that I left for Armençon," replied the man.

"Then," said D'Aubin, "we shall be there full four good hours before a soldier from La Loupe can be within a league. Let that fellow go, Wolfstrom. You, my good man, ride back with all speed to your mistress, present the Count d'Aubin's humble duty to her, and tell her he is her most devoted slave! Do you hear? There is a piece of gold for you--away!"

The man seemed doubtful if his ears heard true; but at length convinced, he took the gold, cap in hand, and rode slowly away. In the meantime, D'Aubin and Wolfstrom again put the troop in motion; and riding briskly on, calculated once more between them the distance from Guery to La Loupe, and from La Loupe to the spot whither their steps were now directed. D'Aubin was found not to have judged amiss; for even supposing the troops mounted and the captain willing, it appeared that the reitters must arrive at least four hours before them. "When we come up," said D'Aubin, as they concluded, "let your men surround the house, at such a distance as not to be seen; yourself and five or six others come nearer, so as to be within call; and, after ascertaining that there is no force actually present to oppose us, I will go on and plead my cause myself. It were better to persuade her gently, and without frightening her, if possible; but if I find her still obstinate, we must use a little gentle compulsion: for I am resolved," he added, with a smile of triumph, "that by the time the troops from La Loupe reach her late refuge, Eugenie de Menancourt shall be in the chateau of Aubin; ay, and irretrievably the wife of its lord!"