CHAPTER VI.
"Sweet chimes the bell, O'er slope and woodland pealing, Mellow'd by distance to a tranquil sound; Sweetly the rill, Through moss-bank gently stealing, Speaks peace around.
"Calm sinks the sun Unto his golden slumber, And folds the clouds around his radiant head: Up springs the moon; Her star-train without number Say, 'Nought is dead!'
"All live again, Although their life be hidden; For the short space of earth's dominion here. By Heaven's own voice, The soul of man is bidden To hope midst fear.
"All Nature's works, Though into ashes turning, Fill the whole heart with a consoling voice:-- Be ready, man! And, with thy lamp still burning, Watch and rejoice!"
So sang Lucette,--or, rather, such is a very poor translation of hersong. At the best it was but an old ditty, composed probably by some ofthe early Protestants of France. It may have been written by ClementMarot, or his friend, the poet and printer, Lyon Jamets, for aught Iknow. It is so long since I have read the works of either that I haveforgotten somewhat more than half of all their pens produced.
However, so sang Lucette in the chamber now assigned to Edward Langdale,while Marton sat beside her, knitting, and from time to time fixing hereyes upon the face of the invalid.
It may seem strange that Lucette should choose such a time and such aplace to indulge in music, though her voice was marvellously sweet andhad been cultivated to a degree rare in those days, and though peoplewho have sweet voices, well cultivated, and, moreover, the love, thespirit, the inspiration of music in them, are fond of breaking forthinto song at very unseasonable times.
But, as it happened, it was not an unseasonable time, as Lucette herselfexplained to Clement Tournon. When she turned her head, after her songhad ended, to take up her embroidery-frame, she saw the old syndicstanding in the doorway, looking somewhat surprised to hear her voicethen and there, but perfectly quiet and still. Without a word, she roseand noiselessly approached the door, saying, in a very low voice, "He isbetter. He has been speaking sensibly; but he grew drowsy after a momentand fell asleep quite calmly, murmuring, 'Sing to me, mother; sing tome,'--as if he did not well know where he was. So I thought it best tohumor him."
"You did right, my child," replied the syndic, putting his hand upon herhead, round which the light-brown hair with golden gleams upon it waswound in many a long, silky tress. "The doctor is below: I hear his stepcoming along the passage."
Why all doctors should have creaking shoes I never could divine; but itis clearly an idiosyncrasy. They cannot help it. Perhaps the leathergets affected by the close air of sick men's chambers; perhaps itbecomes imbued with sighs and groans,--a novel sort of tanning, but onewell calculated to give a creaking sound; or perhaps the doctorsthemselves carry so far the necessary precaution of warming theirnethermost coverings that the material becomes too dry and cries out forvery thirst.
However that may be,--and I will not venture to decide thequestion,--Dr. Cavillac's shoes did creak most lamentably; but they hadno effect upon the slumber of the poor invalid.
The doctor, the syndic, and Lucette spoke together for a few moments atthe door; but Cavillac did not go in. It is likely that he was consciousof noisy feet. "It is critical," he said: "do not disturb him for theworld; let him sleep as long as he will. Let him be well watched; and,when he wakes, speak low and gently to him; give him a few spoonfuls ofgood old wine, (for he will be as weak as a child,) and then let meknow. You had better watch, my pretty Lucette, for there is no such goodnurse as a young girl with a kind heart,--except an old woman who doesnot drink; and she is apt to have the rheumatism."
"But, doctor, Lucette must have repose, and these sleeps sometimes lastvery long," said Clement Tournon. "I must not; I am bound not to letfatigue affect her own health."
"I am not the least tired, dear father," said Lucette, with a brightlook. "His first sensible word did me more good than a whole night'ssleep. Do you think, doctor, that he will wake in his right mind again?"
"Certainly, my dear," answered the other. "I am sure he will; but hisrecovery may be slow and will require much care."
"Then I will watch till he does wake," answered the beautiful younggirl. "I will watch as hopefully as ever Egyptian did to hear themorning voice of Memnon."
"Listen to the little pagan!" said Cavillac, with a smile. "But I willtell you a better plan, my child. He certainly will not wake for somehours. You may see that by his great paleness. You go and lie down for ashort time; then let Marton call you. Come with me, syndic: I wish tospeak with you." And he drew the old man to the top of the stairs.
"Have you heard," he said, "that the cardinal has sent down a thousandmen to complete the lines round about us? This is growing serious."
"It is indeed!" said Clement Tournon, with a very sad look; "and thoserash men, either from obstinacy and over-confidence, or jealousy andperhaps treachery, rejected yesterday the offer of succor from England,and the fleet has sailed away."
"We should have had a hospital for fools long ago," said Cavillac. "Itis the great want of the city. But there are other things to be attendedto now. Send out everywhere for stores, my good friend, if you spend thelast livre of the city money. Depend upon it, this cardinal will try tostarve us out."
"He cannot do that while our port is open," answered the syndic.
"How long will it be open?" asked the physician, with a very meaninglook. "I have heard a whisper, my friend, that he will find means toclose it, either by a fleet from all the neighboring ports, or in someother way. Look to it; look to it. There is less time to spare than themen of Rochelle fancy."
Thus saying, he left Clement Tournon meditating in no very hopeful moodover the state of the city, and the prospect, clear as a picture to hiscalm reasoning eye, of all those horrors that were but too soon to fallupon unhappy Rochelle. The house soon fell into profound silence: thehours of labor were over, the sounds of hammer, tongs, and file werestill, and in about an hour Clement Tournon took his place by EdwardLangdale's bedside, sending good old Marton to seek some repose herself.Twilight faded away into darkness; a little silver lamp was trimmed andshaded in the corner of the chamber, and two or three hours passed insilence, the good old man nodding from time to time, but never givingway to sleep.
At length the light step of Lucette was heard in the deep stillness,--itwould not have been heard had there been the buzzing of a fly,--and,approaching the bed, she gazed and listened.
"He lies sleeping sweetly," she said to the old man. "How differently hebreathes now! I can hardly hear him. Marton will be here in a minute.Leave him to us, father, and take some rest yourself."
"As soon as she comes," answered the syndic. "What is the hour?"
"The great clock has just struck one," answered Lucette.
"I was drowsy, and did not hear it," said the syndic. "Have the winenear, Lucette, and give him a spoonful at once when he wakes."
He made a movement toward the other side of the room as he spoke, andLucette took his place in the large chair; but hardly was she seatedwhen a voice was heard from the bed which made her start. "Where am I?"asked Edward Langdale: "what has happened to me?"
"You are with dear friends," replied the sweet voice of Lucette at once."You have met with a little accident, but you are recovering fast. Here;take a spoonful of wine. The doctor orders it."
"I will take any thing you give me," said the lad, "for I feel veryweak."
"Hush! silence! silence!" said Lucette, in a low but cheerful tone: "youare to keep quite quiet, and take some wine from time to time, and tryto sleep again. To-morrow you will be quite well, I doubt not."
So saying, she poured the wine quietly between his lips; but the poorlad could not refrain from saying, "That is very nice; and you are verykind."
It is probable he would have added "and very beautiful," if he couldhave descried in the di
m light more than the faint outline of that fairface and form; but Lucette replied, "I shall think you very _unkind_ ifyou say one word more, except to ask for what you want."
"You understand it better than I do, Lucette, I see," said the oldsyndic, in a whisper. "Woman, woman! for such tasks no hands are likehers! But here comes Marton, and I will leave you."
The youth gazed after him as he departed, and looked at Marton curiouslyas she moved slowly about the room; but his eyes found something moresatisfactory in the form of Lucette, although he could distinguishlittle except that there was something graceful and more of his own agebefore him, while from time to time she poured the wine between hislips. He was feeble, however, and inclined to sleep; and before good Dr.Cavillac, roused out of his bed, came to visit him, his eyes were againclosed, and he had relapsed into slumber.
It is one of the strange but frequent results of disease or of accidentof any kind which affects the brain, to blot out, as it were, frommemory all the events which have taken place within a certain precedingperiod. It is sometimes a long, sometimes a short, period, according tocircumstances not very easily reduced to any rule. I have known a manlose a language with which he had been for years familiar, and rememberone which he had long forgotten. I have known memory acutely distinct inregard to events which had occurred a month or two before, and a perfectblank as to those more recent.
Edward Langdale recollected nothing after a certain period, when he hadsped over from the town of Antwerp to London, bearing intelligence fromthe Lord Montagu to the Duke of Buckingham, although he had perfectlyrecovered his senses and some degree of strength, on the day followingthat night when the delirium first left him. By degrees, however,confused images of after-things began to present themselves: his voyagefrom Portsmouth, the storms which had baffled and delayed his course,even the approach to Rochelle, came back indistinctly. It only wanted,in fact, the ringing of the bell to cause the curtain of oblivion torise, and the whole scene of the past to be revealed before the eyes ofmemory.
There is nothing in the physical world at all like the sudden flash ofillumination carried along the many links which bind event to event in achain almost invisible, except the operation of the electric telegraph.One touch applied, establishing the connection by the smallest possiblepoint, and thought--living thought--flashes on to its object, setting atnought time and space and obstacle.
The connecting touch in the case of Master Ned was destined to be thesudden appearance in his chamber of our friend Pierrot, who came in bothto see his young new master and to speak with good Clement Tournon. Thesyndic held up his finger to the man as he entered, as a warning not totrouble the young gentleman with speech, for the lad was still extremelyweak and could hardly turn in his bed. But the moment Edward Langdalebeheld him, he carried his hand suddenly to his head, saying, "Pierrotla Grange! Pierrot la Grange! I remember it all now. Good Heaven! and Ihave been lying here so long--God knows how long--and forgetting themessage to Clement Tournon! I must get up and seek him. Pierrot, get memy clothes. I must get up."
"Lie still! lie still!" said the old syndic: "Clement Tournon is here,my young friend. I am he. But we can have no talk now, for the physiciansays you must still remain quite quiet and without agitation of anykind."
"If you be Clement Tournon," answered the youth, "it will agitate memore to be silent than to speak; but speak I must, if I die. Comehither, nearer, I pray you, sir. Bend down your head. Do you remembercertain pendants of diamonds and the man you made them for? If so, givehis name in a low voice."
"The most gracious Duke of Buckingham," said the syndic, in a whisper.
"Then he bids me tell you," said Master Ned, "that his brother-in-law,the Earl of Denbigh, will be here in three days with a puissant fleet,and he begs you to prepare the minds of the citizens to give him aworthy reception, for he hears you are somewhat divided here. I havemore to say; but that is the burden of it all. Pray lose no time. GoodHeavens! three days! How long have I been here?"
Clement Tournon's face assumed an expression of deep and even painfulthought for one moment; but he replied, in a calm, well-assured tone,"Give yourself no uneasiness, my son. The whole has been settled,notwithstanding the accident that happened to you. We will talk aboutthese matters more to-morrow. At present I must leave you, for I havebusiness of importance to transact; but Marton will tend you carefully,and Lucette will come and sing to you, if you like it."
Do not let us pause upon the convalescence of our young friend; but forthe present at least let us follow Clement Tournon's movements, whichhad some results at an after-period. He took his course straight to thecity prison, into the dark mysteries of which we need not pry.
Every prison was in those days hideous, and this, like others, had itsdungeons and cells, one hour's tenancy of which was a punishment hardlymerited by aught but murder. There was, moreover, what we should nowcall a justice-room in the jail,--at least, a place where justice orinjustice was administered, according to the character of thefunctionary who presided.
Here Clement Tournon seated himself by the side of one of the othermagistrates of the town, and Tom the sailor was brought before them. Hewas followed by one of his companions, and by the captain of the littlevessel, which still lay in the port, while the two tradesmen who hadwitnessed the assault were likewise present. The faces of the twomagistrates were grave and even stern, and probably had Master Tom showna swaggering and insolent air, such as he not unfrequently bore, theymight have dealt hardly with him. But Tom was one of those men whom wenot unfrequently meet with, and though apt to bully and even to fightwhen he thought there was some advantage on his side, he was easilycowed and depressed when he knew or believed that there were odds, oreven equality, on the other side. Besides, he had now been kept forseveral days in what modern writers would call a loathsome cell, fedupon bread and water, and had no companion but solitude. Now, beef andgood company are great promoters of swagger, and the absence of both hadterribly reduced Tom's usual tone. He was indeed inclined to whimper,pleaded that he and Master Ned had quarrelled on board ship, that Nedhad attempted to draw sword upon him, and that he himself had beendrinking when he struck the blow. These excuses availed him little withthe magistrates; and, strange to say, he found no support either fromhis captain or the man who had been his companion. The latter boretestimony that when he first laid hands on the lad's shoulder he toldhim "that he had got him safe on shore now, and would thrash himsoundly;" and the captain merely said, "I trust your honors willliberate this man and put him in my hands. I warned him more than onceon the voyage to let the young gentleman alone. I suspect he has donemore mischief than he knows; and if you give him up to me I will put himin irons till I get home, and then make him over to those who will dealwith him severely enough."
"The young gentleman is in a fair way of recovery," replied the syndic,who understood the language in which the skipper spoke; "but a seriousoffence has been committed in the streets of the city of Rochelle; andwe should certainly punish this man ourselves were it not for the honorand respect which we bear the King of England. Much mischief hecertainly has done,--as those who sent Master Edward Langdale hitherwill probably know by this time. But, captain, if you demand theprisoner in the name of King Charles, and promise to convey fullintelligence of all that has occurred to those who are best qualified tojudge of the case, and moreover to give this man up to them, I willspeak with my friend here, who understands no English, but who probablywill agree with me that our reverence for your sovereign requires us tofollow your suggestion."
The captain willingly promised all that was demanded, and sealed hisassurance with an oath; and the prisoner was then placed in his custody.
"And now, captain, when do you set sail?" asked Clement Tournon. "Thewind is now fair, and the weather fine."
"I cannot go before Master Ned tells me," said the captain. "My cutteris to be at his orders till he has done with her."
"I know not that he can yet write even his name," said the syndic; "bu
tyou can come up to my house, where he now lies, this evening, and if thephysician permits he can speak with you."
"See what you have done, you d----d scoundrel!" said the captain,turning sharply toward Tom. "I will be up at your house, sir, by five,and hope the young gentleman will let me go, for I am tired of thisvoyage."
The following morning, at daybreak, the little craft got under way,bearing a letter in Clement Tournon's hand; and Edward Langdale remainedalone in France.
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