Lord Montagu's Page: An Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XVI.

  The first sensation in Edward's heart was certainly that of the loss ofliberty. The next was of the loss of Lucette. But then came manyunpleasant recollections; and not amongst the least unpleasant was theremembrance that he might very likely have incurred the loss of life. Totake a false name, to enter a country with which his own was at war,with a false passport, to come, from a town actually in rebellionagainst her king, into that king's camp, and to be the bearer of lettersto his enemies,--all gave him very much the character of a spy. Edwarddid not like his position at all; he did not like the steps which hadled to it; he did not altogether like his own conduct. Yet what could hehave done, when ordered by those he was bound to obey? He would do itagain, he thought, if the same circumstances were to come over again;and yet to be hanged in a foreign country as a spy was a matter forwhich not all the orders of all the princes or potentates in the worldcould offer any consolation.

  He had walked some fifty times up and down the room, the simmering ofhis heart and brain acting upon him like the boiler of a locomotivesteam-engine, when an ecclesiastic entered with some books, and spoke afew words of bad Latin to him, to which Edward replied in so much betterLatinity that the good man speedily beat a retreat.

  Then came the tailor; and a tailor is always a relief, except when hemakes garments too tight, or makes them too loose in one place for thepurpose of making them too close in another. But this tailor was reallya great man in his way; and he did succeed in amusing Edward's mind in aslight degree by the importance he attached to his calling and to everyone of its accessories. He also estimated very highly his own station inthat calling. He told Edward that although he had not the honor ofclothing his Majesty,--because all the world knew he was very carelessin his dress,--yet he made for all the handsomest young noblemen of thecourt. He himself, he assured his listener,--and he dropped his voicewhile he spoke,--had _composed_ the dress in which the poor Count deChalais had been arrayed on the very day of his arrest.

  "Indeed!" said Edward. "Is he arrested? What are they going to do withhim?"

  "They will cut off his head, to a certainty," said the tailor. "Thoughhe was the king's greatest favorite, his Eminence was his greatestenemy; and the enemies of the cardinal never escape."

  This was such cold comfort to Edward Langdale that he brought thesubject back to the matter of his own clothing. "I shall want one suitas soon to-morrow as possible," he said; "for I trust I shall have anearly audience of his Eminence; and of course I cannot present myselfbefore him in this garb."

  "Of course, of course, seigneur," said the tailor, with a look ofhorror: "that would be as good as a confession. Of what may yourlordship have been guilty to assume such a dress?--high treason?"

  "I hope not," said the young man: "at least, if I have committed_lese-majeste_, it must have been in my sleep. But what about theclothes, my good friend? Can I have them?"

  "Assuredly, seigneur; assuredly," answered the man. "I have a beautiful_haut-de-chausses_, and a _pourpoint_, which will fit you exactly: theyare in the best taste,--philimot velvet, opened with blue, and silverpoints. They were made for poor Monsieur de Courmerin; but he never hadthe opportunity of wearing them, for he put off doing so for one singleday, and that night he was arrested and his head cut off before the endof the week. They will suit you perfectly. But the cloak I must makemyself. I will keep the workmen up all night, sooner than disappointyou, however. You had better trust the whole arrangement to me,--theboots, the collar, the hat; and then all will correspond."

  Edward readily agreed to the proposal; and, merely stipulating for acertain price, as his funds were running short, he dismissed the tailor,whose conversation had a certain ominous croak about it, which was allthe more painful from the frivolities with which it was mixed.

  Not ten minutes more passed ere supper was brought in,--good fare andexcellent wine; and perhaps of the latter the poor youth did take morethan he usually did, from a feeling that something was needful to raisehis spirits. He felt more compassion that night for the faults ofPierrot la Grange than he had ever known before; but he did not followhis good servant's example, drinking not enough even to have the effectdesired.

  After supper he felt more melancholy than before; and that sensationincreased as all noises died away in the castle and in the neighborhood,and the dull gloomy ripple of the Loire was the only sound that brokethe stillness. The air of the room seemed oppressive to him. He lookedat the door, and wondered if the last time the valet had gone out he hadlocked it; and he walked toward it and opened it. All in the corridorwas as he had seen it before,--the guard at the door on the right, withhis halberd on his shoulder, and two lamps burning pendant from theceiling. The air seemed less oppressive there; and Edward determined togo forth and take his walk without, as he had been permitted. He turnedto one side, and then to the other, without any notice being taken bythe soldier, till once, approaching within some five paces of theiron-plated door, the man drew himself up, and, in a stern tone, toldhim to keep off. Edward retrod his steps, and passed up and down severaltimes, till at length the door at the other end of the passage opened,and a tall, fine-looking man, in a large cloak, with hat and feathers,and a small silver candlestick in his hand, appeared, and walkedstraight toward him. The stranger's eyes were bent upon the ground, andat first he did not seem to see the youth; but, when he did, he stoppedsuddenly, and gazed at him from head to foot.

  Edward walked quietly on, and passed the other without taking muchnotice, though he thought his stare somewhat rude. At the end of thecorridor he turned again, just in time to see the stranger opening theiron-plated door with a key, while the guard stood in a statue-likeattitude before him, with presented arms. When the door was opened, thelight of the candle served just to show the top of a flight of stonesteps, and all the rest was darkness. The door shut to with a bang thenext moment, and the youth pursued his walk, feeling it would beimpossible for him to sleep for some hours to come. Wellnigh an hourwent by, and the young Englishman was returning to his room, to try atleast to sleep, when that heavy door opened, banged to, was locked, andthe stranger, whom he had before seen, again passed him. This time,however, his head was borne high, and there was a strange look oftriumph on his face; but he was evidently in haste, and, though he fixedhis eyes upon Edward with a gaze that seemed to pierce through him, hepaused not an instant, but passed on.

  Why he could not tell, but all this excited the youth's imagination.There was something strange in it, he thought. Who could that man be towhom the guard paid such respect? It could not be the king, for Louiswas not so tall, and had no such commanding carriage. It might be somehigh officer of the royal prison; and that door, with the dark stonesteps beyond, might lead to the ancient dungeons, where many aprisoner, in ancient and in modern times, had awaited, _au secret_, asit was called, judgment or death.

  "Such may soon be my fate," thought Edward; and, with that pleasantreflection, he re-entered his chamber, and, casting off his clothes, laydown to rest. It was long before sleep came; and then troublous dreamstook from it the character of repose. He felt himself, in fancy, in thehands of the hangman: the gibbet was over his head, and on a scrollfixed to his breast was written, in large letters, "A spy!"

  Then, again, his dead body was lying in a chapel, and close by, at anilluminated altar, appeared Lucette, with a bright train of fair girls,just about to give her hand to a cavalier much older than herself, whoseface bore a strange resemblance to that of the man who had twice passedhim in the corridor, and with a start he awoke, crying, "She is mine!"

  It was already day; and but a few minutes went by ere Pierrot presentedhimself. "I have seen Jacques Beaupre, Master Ned," he said, "and Itrust all is safe. That fellow is shrewd; and he vows that he has notsaid a word. He escaped the troopers at Mauze, found his way to thecastle, and gave up the bags to Monsieur le Prince de Soubise. Theprince opened them without any ceremony, took out a letter to himself,read it, and then sent him on with one of the bags, telling
him to findyou out at all risks. He was stopped immediately he reached Nantes; buthe vows, even to my face, that he only knows you as Sir Peter Apsley;though I heard good old syndic Tournon call you by your right name tohim himself. He says that the prince put several letters into the bagwith the money and the clothes; and there is the only danger."

  "How did you contrive to see him?" asked Edward, abruptly; for he fearedevery moment to be interrupted.

  "Why, sir, there are various sorts of detention," said Pierrot: "thereis imprisonment _au plus grand secret_; there is imprisonment _ausecret_; there is simple arrest and imprisonment; there is_surveillance_; but there is nothing more. Now, as you, Master Ned, aresimply under _surveillance_, they have left me, as your servant, to roamabout as I please; and I made the best use of my time. Jacques Beaupre,I found----"

  But, as he spoke, Monsieur de Tronson's valet entered, to tell Edwardthat breakfast would be served to him in a moment, and began to set theroom in order. Edward tried to get rid of him, perhaps too apparently;but he did not succeed. In vain the young gentleman hinted that thetailor had not brought the clothes he had promised. The man replied,coolly, that he would seek him as soon as the breakfast was served; and,before there could be any further question upon the subject, two lackeysand a page appeared. Before the breakfast was carried away, the tailorwas in the room; and before Edward was fairly dressed in his newapparel, Monsieur de Tronson himself appeared, and sent every one fromthe room,--Pierrot amongst the rest.

  "I come to tell you," said the secretary, "that his Eminence willreceive you at ten o'clock;" and then, after a short pause, during whichhe seemed to think deeply, he added, "If you will allow me, sir, as afriend, to advise you, you will deal in every thing frankly andsincerely with the cardinal. Men are often much mistaken as to hischaracter. Deceit and trickery upon the part of his enemies have ofcourse made him suspicious; but candor is soon perceived by him, andalways appreciated."

  "I really do not know to what you particularly refer," replied Edward;"but I shall certainly answer any questions his Eminence chooses topropound to me truly."

  "That is well," said the other, somewhat dryly. "But will you answer meone question? Is not Mademoiselle de Mirepoix a near relation of theDuchess de Chevreuse? Reply frankly, I beg of you."

  "I do not know," answered Edward, at once. "I only know that she isconnected with the Prince de Soubise, and----"

  "The same, the same," said his companion, interrupting him. "That israther unfortunate; for neither Madame de Chevreuse nor the prince arein good odor at this court."

  "The cardinal, I am sure," answered Edward, "is too generous to make ayoung girl who has never offended him suffer for the faults of otherswho have."

  Monsieur de Tronson made no reply, but soon after left the youngEnglishman, merely saying, in a warning tone, "Remember: be frank."

  Edward then proceeded to finish his toilet; and it cannot be denied thathe felt more lightsome and at his ease in his new apparel. Still, hecould not help revolving the coming interview; and, with that mostfoolish though common practice of us poor mortals in difficultcircumstances, considering the answers he might make to questions whichmight never be asked. He would have given much for five minutes more ofprivate conversation with Pierrot; but that worthy appeared no more, andfor the simple reason that he was not permitted to leave the room towhich he had been taken to breakfast. An hour thus passed in anxious andsolitary thought, and then a man, in a black robe something like that ofthe verger of a cathedral, opened the door and summoned him to thepresence of the cardinal prime minister. Edward answered nothing, butmerely bowed his head and followed. He was conscious that he had feltsome weakness; but, now that the all-important moment had arrived, henerved himself to bear all firmly, and the very effort gave a dignity tohis whole person which well accorded with the handsome and gracefuldress he had assumed.