CHAPTER XVII.
We must leave Edward Langdale for some half-hour, and carry the gentlereader with us to another part of the old Chateau of Nantes. No one canventure to say that we have not adhered to him through good and evilwith the tenacity of true friendship; but we must now either turn to adifferent personage and another scene, or embarrass our after-narrativewith that most ugly beast, an explanation, which so frequently inromance and poem follows the most brilliant heroes and most beautifulheroines like an ill-favored cur.
In a fine long room with windows looking upon the Loire, about half-pastten o'clock in the morning, was a gentleman between forty and fiftyyears of age,--nearer the former than the latter period. The chamber waswell tapestried, and furnished with chairs scattered about in differentdirections, and a large table a good deal to the right of the occupantof the room. A smaller table was close at his hand, covered with papersand materials for writing, which he was using slowly and deliberately,sometimes carrying his hand to his head as if in thought, and then againresuming the pen and writing a line or two. In person he was somewhatabove the middle height, with straight, finely-cut features and hairvery slightly mingled with gray. The face in itself was somewhat stern,and the small pointed beard and mustache gave somewhat of a melancholylook; but on that morning the expression was cheerful,--nay, evengood-humored; and the hand that held the pen was as soft and delicate asthat of a woman. His dress was principally scarlet, as that of a highecclesiastic of the Romish Church; but above all he wore a lightdressing-gown of dark purple trimmed with sable. Such was Richelieu ashe appeared in 1627; and those who have been accustomed to associate hisname with nothing but deeds of blood and tyranny might well feelsurprised could they see the bland expression of that noble countenance,that smooth white hand, and, still more, could they look over hisshoulder and perceive that what he was writing was no grave despatch, noterrible order, no elaborate state paper, but--some verses,--grave,indeed, but neither sad nor stern.
The door opened, and the cardinal laid down his pen. Monsieur de Tronsonpaused, as if for permission to advance, and Richelieu beckoned himforward, saying, "Come in, Mr. Secretary; come in. I am enjoying a spaceof leisure after so many busy and anxious days. Till one, I have littleto do and less to think of."
"Your Eminence will allow me to remind you," said Tronson, advancing andstanding by his side, "that this morning you appointed the hour of tento see that young English gentleman."
"True," said the cardinal. "I have not forgotten." And he pointed withhis hand to the larger table, on which lay one of Master Ned'sunfortunate leathern bags; adding, "What do you make of the case? Thinkyou he is the person he represents himself, or, as our hard-headedfriends before Rochelle will have it, a spy from England?"
"The passport is evidently signed by your Eminence," answered Tronson;"and the young man himself has the manners of a gentleman ofdistinction. He is highly educated, too,--a profound Greek and Latinscholar: so says Father Morlais, whom I sent to have some conversationwith him. He is somewhat bluff and abrupt in his manners, it is true, asmost of these islanders are; but still his whole demeanor strikes me asdignified, and even graceful. He can be no common spy, your Eminence:that is clear; and if Buckingham has chosen him for an agent he haschosen strangely well."
"As to his learning," replied Richelieu, "that signifies little. Many apoor scholar is willing to risk his neck in the hope of promotion. Wehave employed such ourselves, my good friend. Then, as to dignity ofmanner, it is easily assumed. But his abruptness and _brusquerie_ offera different indication. It requires long habit to know when to be rudeand harsh, when soft and gentle. How old did you say?"
"From eighteen to nineteen at the utmost," said Tronson: "he appearseven less."
"Well, but this girl who is with him?" asked the cardinal: "what ofher?"
"That seems easily explained, monseigneur," replied the secretary, witha smile: "she is, it would seem, of high family,--related to Monsieur deSoubise on the one side," (the cardinal's brow became ominously dark,)"and to Madame de Chevreuse on the other."
For an instant Richelieu's brow became darker still; and, withuncontrollable vehemence, he exclaimed, "Ah! she has escaped me, as shethinks; but she will find that I forget not my enemies,--nor my friends,Tronson,--nor my friends," he added, with one of those subtle smileswhich had at least as much of the serpent in them as the dove.
Tronson turned a little pale, for that peculiar smile was known at thecourt by this time, and it was not supposed to be favorable to those onwhom it was bestowed. But the secretary was too wise to notice it; andhe merely asked, "Who has escaped, your Eminence?--this young lady? Shewas safe in the castle not an hour ago."
"No, no, man; no," answered Richelieu. "I mean Madame de Luynes,--Madamede Chevreuse, Tronson. Have you not heard? She quitted Nantes atdaybreak this morning for Le Verger. Strange!" he continued, speaking tohimself: "'twas only last night; and yet she must have heard enough tofrighten her. Can the king betray himself and me? She must have learnedsomething. What is the girl's name, Monsieur de Tronson?"
"Lucette du Mirepoix, she says," replied the secretary.
"Lucette de Mirepoix du Valais," said the cardinal, slowly andthoughtfully: "the same,--the same, Tronson. Do you not remember therewas much contention, some six years ago, between Madame de Luynes andthis scheming rebel Soubise, about the guardianship of this very girl?There the duchess was right, for she would have brought her into thebosom of the Church; but Soubise was too quick for her, and sent thechild away,--perhaps to England, to make sure she should be brought upin heresy. But my fair duchess shall find me worse to deal with thanSoubise. But you said just now," he continued, in a calmer tone, "thatall could be easily explained. What did you mean, my friend?"
"Merely that her travelling with this youth is a problem easily solved,"answered the secretary. "Last night, when they parted, there were somewarm kisses passed,--not at all fraternal, your Eminence; and, puttingthose gentle signs in connection with some words and rosy blushes, Iconclude that they are bent on matrimony. Probably they have founddifficulties at home, and, as is not unfrequent with these English, theyhave gone off together."
"Is the young man of noble birth, think you?" asked the cardinal,thoughtfully.
"Not of high rank, even amongst the English," answered Tronson: "hisvery name shows it."
Richelieu smiled, but this time it was a bland and pleasant smile. "Wewill punish her," he said, speaking to himself,--"punish both!"
"But, your Eminence, if the safe-conduct be yours, as I think, and theyoung man be really what he pretends, you will hardly----"
"Hand me that leathern bag and the knife," said the minister,interrupting him, and seemingly paying not the slightest attention tothe secretary's words. "And now," he continued, when De Tronson hadobeyed, "let the youth be brought to me; and have the girl taken to theadjoining room, ready to be brought in when I require her: see that noone converses with her, my excellent good friend."
The secretary bowed his head and withdrew, repeating to himself, "'Myexcellent friend!'--I have someway offended him. His words are tookind!" But then, after a moment's thought, he murmured, in almost thesame words which Richelieu had used a minute or two before, "Can theking have betrayed me? If so, he has betrayed himself too; for God knowsI advised him solely for his benefit."
Louis XIII. had now been on the throne of France about sixteen years,and Richelieu had not been actually of the king's council more thanthree; but both had been long enough before the world's eyes for men tohave learned that a king could betray his best friends from fear orweakness, and that a minister could be most gentle in manners when hewas the most savage at heart. Richelieu was fond of cats, and perhapslearned some lessons from his favorites. However, in the presentinstance Tronson guessed rightly: the king had betrayed him to hispowerful minister. The night before, nearly at midnight, the cardinalhad carried to the king the confession of the unhappy Count de Chalais,drawn from him in his dungeon by the minister himse
lf,--perhaps--nay,probably--by the most unworthy artifices. In recompense for an act whichput an end to one of the monarch's painful fits of hesitation, Louisrevealed to Richelieu the names of those who, in the confidence of loyalfriendship, had opposed some of the minister's favorite schemes; andTronson was one. Thus, he had guessed right. Whether Richelieu hadguessed right likewise no one can tell. That Louis had communicated theconfession of Chalais to some of his inferior confidants, who hadwarned Madame de Chevreuse to fly, is very probable; but mostimprobable that he had warned her himself. She was the friend,companion, counsellor of his unhappy queen, and was hated by himself aswell as by his minister. The king's hatred, however, was merely thereflex of his hatred for another. The enmity of Richelieu was morepersonal and of long standing. When Marie de Rohan had married theConstable Duke of Luynes, the now potent cardinal had been but a pettyagent of the queen-mother; and he had been treated by the proud womanwith some contempt. Again, in appearance the king, the constable, andall the ministers had solicited for Richelieu the cardinal's hat fromRome, but he had discovered that Luynes secretly opposed what hepublicly asked; and he attributed this treachery to the suggestions ofthe duchess.
When, after the death of her first husband, Marie de Rohan married theprincely Duc de Chevreuse, and Richelieu rose rapidly to the height ofpower, the enmity between them was no longer concealed, except by thecourtly varnish of external politeness,--and, indeed, not always bythat.
Thus, when sitting there in his apartments in the Chateau of Nantes,there was perhaps no one in France whom Richelieu desired to mortify andhumiliate personally more than Marie de Rohan, Duchess ofChevreuse:--no, not even her distant relatives the Prince de Soubise andhis brother the Duc de Rohan, though both had opposed the royal forcesin the field, and the reduction of both to submission was essential tohis policy. For them he had some respect, and no individual enmity; buttoward her there was a rancor which prompted to any act that would stingrather than destroy. At that time even Richelieu had cause to follow thecourse which had been pursued by Luynes, and to avoid carryingresentments too far. He was not yet so firmly seated in power that, ifhe made great enemies, he might not be thrown aside by a fickle king.Otherwise it might seem strange that he dared not follow the same boldcourse against Madame de Chevreuse which he soon pursued against theunfortunate Chalais, and later against Montmorency and Cinq Mars. But,as I have said, his fingers were not so tightly fixed round the staff ofcommand that he could venture to assail in front the mighty houses ofMontbazon and Lorraine, while Vendome and Conde were already hisenemies. It was perhaps meditation upon subjects such as these thatoccupied the minister's deepest thoughts while he opened with a sharppenknife the leathern bag which De Tronson had brought him, took outseveral letters, cut the silk, and read the contents; for he did allwith an absent air. But Richelieu's mind was one of those which cancarry on two processes at once,--one deep, intense, and mighty, theconsideration of vital questions, the other the mere observation andrecognition of objects--for the time, at least--less important. Heseemed to pay little attention to those letters; yet not one wordescaped him, and when he had done he replaced them in the bag and castit behind his chair, but within reach of his hand. He then took up, fromthe little table close by, the paper on which he had previously beenwriting, and was reading over the verses, when the door opened, and anexempt of the court appeared, looking at the minister with a sort ofinquiring air. Richelieu bowed his head, and the man, stepping back, butholding open the door, introduced Edward Langdale and retired into theante-chamber.
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