CHAPTER XXX.
The expression of Lord Montagu's face when he at length rejoined hispage at Aix was calm and well satisfied, cheerful, but not particularlygay. Yet Edward, who had enjoyed many opportunities of witnessing theeffect of various emotions upon him, clearly perceived that he returnedwith full success. Had his mood been merrier, the page might havedoubted; had he been full of the playful wit or the light jest whichdistinguished the cavaliers of those days, the youth might have supposedthere was disappointment under the levity; but that quiet and composeddemeanor he knew meant success. Their first meeting was at the inn whereMontagu had lodged while previously at Aix; for the youth had gone downeach evening for the last two or three days to watch for his arrival:but on the night in question his lord had ridden into the town somehalf-hour before the time he was expected; and when Edward entered hischamber he was sitting with a book in one hand and a spoon in the other,lightly running over the pages, and from time to time taking a spoonfulof soup flavored with those delicious truffles of Savoy which haveoften kept kingly couriers running between Paris and Turin.
"Ah, Ned!" he exclaimed, as soon as he saw the lad. "You have recoveredwonderfully soon: a little pale still; but that is natural. How say you?can you ride forward three days hence?"
"Whenever your lordship pleases," answered Edward. "I am only eager toget on; and this inactivity does me more harm than all the exercise inthe world. I am quite well, my lord, and only a little weak."
"Do not be impatient," answered Montagu, with a smile. "We cannot go onjust yet. Oakingham is ill now, poor fellow! I have ridden too fast forhim; and he broke down during the last stage, and has gone to bed. So Iam without any one to write my letters for me to-night."
"Can your lordship trust the task to me?" asked the young man.
"Oh, trust you? Certainly, Ned," replied the other. "But will it nothurt you?"
Edward expressed his readiness; and the letters were written, full ofthat well-satisfied confidence which in this world is so often destinedto disappointment. Fate is no better than a fine silk stocking, in whichone stitch or another is sure to run down ere we have taken a dozensteps in the ball-room of the world: well if it be not rent from top totoe! There are no key-stones in the architecture of our designs; and, ifa pebble slips, woe be to the whole edifice!
But we are getting a little ahead of the story, or, at least,foreshadowing conclusions which should be reserved in solemn secrecy forthe moment of their occurrence.
The letters being written, one of the noble lord's grooms was called up,furnished with money and directions, and departed to bear the missivesto their several destinations as rapidly and as carefully as he could.
"There goes another," said Montagu. "That is the fifth courier I havesent off this week. Upon my word, Ned, if it had not been for yourcoming with two lackeys and two blacksmiths I should soon have beenwithout any train at all. But you seem not to love your twoblacksmiths, my boy. What has set your face against them? Have theylamed your horse, or found you out in a love-affair with the landlord'sdaughter, cheated you of two _livres Tournois_, or eaten the only fishupon a _jour maigre_?"
"None of all those great offences, my lord," replied Edward. "They aregood smiths; I have not been fortunate with mine host's daughters; theircharges are compassionate to youths without experience; and no troutthat I know of has slipped off my own hook. But one of them I am certainI saw in the court of the chateau at Nantes; and I like not thecountenance of either."
"Pshaw!" said Lord Montagu. "Do you give way to the superstition ofphysiognomy? Why, cut me across the nose with the back-handed blow of aspadroon, and you make a marvellous ill-favored fellow out of a gaygentleman who has not been thought unpersonable. Nonsense, nonsense,Edward! The best nuts have the roughest shells. The diamond itself isbut like a pebble-stone till it is cut and polished. And where in thefiend's name should either of these two poor devils get ground down orburnished?"
"Well, my lord, I say not a word against them," answered Edward. "Theytold a true tale, it seems, as to their journey. To me they werewonderfully kind when I was hurt. Neither do I mind mere ugliness: thatis God's doing; and it may be as a warning to others, or it may not: Icannot tell. But there is a sort of look--an expression--which men begetin themselves by their habitual acts or thoughts, which is a greattruth-teller, I think. Now, these men look cunning. Each of themsquints, too, more or less. One cannot see whom or what they are lookingat."
Lord Montagu broke into a gay laugh. "As if every man," he said, "shouldbe condemned who does not square his gaze by line and rule. Out upon it,Ned! If ever you fall in love, you will need an astrolabe to measure theexact angles of your beauty's lustrous orbs. Why, some of the best menin England squint like a green parrot. More lucky they, if they can seeboth sides of every thing at once. But I will show you a man to-nightwho shall come up to even your ideas of perfection. He ought to be hereabout this hour. Oh, he is a marvel of beauty and grace!"
Thus saying, he knocked hard with the hilt of his dagger upon the table,and one of the servants of the inn appeared. "Show in the illustriousSignor Morini whenever he comes," said Lord Montagu: "we must not keepso great and amiable a personage waiting."
"He is here now, monseigneur," answered the servant.
"Well, conduct him hither," answered the English gentleman, "and tell myservant to give you a bottle of that delicious Italian wine which I senton from Turin. Three Venice glasses, too, must be brought, and a smallplate of sugared peaches."
The waiter retired, and, a moment or two after, one of the most singularfigures entered the room that Edward had ever seen. It was that of aman, not old, but past the middle age, dressed in the height of thefashion, beribboned and belaced, with a long rapier by his side, whichwould have touched the ground had it even been borne upon the thigh of atall man. But Signor Morini was not a tall man: on the contrary, he wascertainly not more than four feet two or three inches in height, with aback bent into the shape of the bow of a double-bass. He was thin, too,and his face--with the exception of the eyes, which were large andlustrous--was of that peculiar ugliness which is frequently seen in thedeformed, the features all packed together and looking as if they hadbeen pinched to get them into a smaller space.
No consciousness of ugliness appeared in his demeanor, however,--notimidity, no shyness. He entered with the strut of a bantam-cock, whilehis rich but short cloak, borne out by the round of his back so as tohang far off from his person, afforded no bad image of the tail of thebird. He saluted Lord Montagu with ceremonious respect, and stared atEdward Langdale with an unwinking gaze which was almost insolent,smoothing down the little sharp tuft of sandy-colored hair which adornedhis chin in the form of what was then called a royal, with an air ofineffable puppyism.
"Ah, my lord," he said, in French, "you see I kept my word and was atAix two days before you. But who is this young gentleman? I do not knowhim. He was not in your suite at Turin, I believe."
"This is my young friend and gentleman, Monsieur de Langdale," answeredLord Montagu, with much assumed politeness. "Let me present him to you,Signor Morini. He is a philosopher like yourself, and deals, as you do,in the great science of physiognomy, though of course his youth placeshim far behind you in knowledge."
Edward and Morini exchanged bows and salutations, the latter either notat all perceiving, or not appearing to perceive, that there was a veinof jest running through Lord Montagu's politeness which might not havebeen very flattering to his vanity. "Ha! a philosopher!" he exclaimed."I am right glad to see any one who, in these degenerate times, devoteshimself to the only great, pure, and noble pursuits on which the mind ofa man can expatiate. What is the particular science to which you havemost addicted yourself, young gentleman? What have you lately beenstudying?"
"Nothing," replied Edward, almost inclined to be rude. "My lord does metoo much honor in calling me a philosopher."
"Nay, nay," said Montagu, laughing: "if I may judge from letters I havereceived, and from what you yourse
lf have told me, you have been latelystudying much,--fair ladies' hearts and prime ministers' heads,--Ned. Hehas quite captivated a duchess and smoothed down a cardinal. But what hemeans, learned signor, is, that, having been badly wounded by a swordwhich let rather too much daylight into the dark chamber of his chest,his only study was to get well again."
"Did you anoint the blade?" asked Morini: "the blade should always beanointed at the proper hour of the moon. Had I been here he would havebeen well in a few days."
"Probably," said Montagu, gravely; "but we had no one but poor, ignorantsurgeons, who forgot the precaution you mention."
"Ah, they are stupid and hard-headed creatures," replied the other:"they never consider that man is composed of an animal and an etherealpart indissolubly linked together, each depending upon the other, andboth affected by higher influences. The sympathies which exist betweenall created things they take into no account. The compelling powers ofthe whole heavenly host upon the human frame, upon every partthereof,--upon man as an animal, upon man as an angel, upon man's wholefate and destiny, upon his mixed and separate natures,--are mere visionsto them; and the time will come, my lord, when this mere material viewwill prevail over all the earth: intelligence--spirit--will besuperseded, and engines will be invented to do the work of mind as wellas matter. Where was your wound, young gentleman?"
"Here on the right breast the sword entered," answered Edward; "and itwent out here, just under the shoulder."
"A dangerous wound!" replied the little man, gravely. "None but abrother's hand could have inflicted that wound and the sufferersurvive."
Lord Montagu and Edward both started; but Morini went on, withoutseeming to perceive their surprise. "Nature abhors," he said, "suchacts, and often frustrates them. The crime of Cain--the first and mostterrible the world ever saw, the origin of death, the eldest-born ofevil--is repugnant to every thing animate and inanimate. Fibres andtissues join which seem rent apart forever, and humours flow ofthemselves, nerves act without cause, all to repair the consequences ofthe terrible act, while thunders fall to prevent it and rocks to hideit. But what is written up there must be,--shall be; and it is possiblethis very wound, given by a brother's hand, may work great changes inyour life."
"I trust it will," said Edward.
"But how did you know it was so given?" asked Lord Montagu.
"By the simplest of all means," replied Morini: "from knowing it couldbe given in no other way."
As he spoke, he turned round sharply, for the door behind him openedsuddenly. It was but two of the servants of the inn, bringing in thewine and the Venice glasses; and their coming so laden was certainly notat all unpleasant to the learned signor, who did full justice not onlyto the wine but to the confections also. While the party regaledthemselves, the conversation wandered to many topics,--some of little,some of much, interest, with variety always agreeable. Indeed, Morini,who undoubtedly led, did not suffer it to rest long upon any subject. Hespoke of several of the most celebrated people of Europe, of that and ofthe preceding age. He had seen King James, he said, shaking his head. "Idid think," he said, "that homely sovereign would never have died anatural death, for he certainly brought a dark and bloody cloud over theroyal house of England. But you will remark, my lord, I could neverobtain clearly the particulars of his nativity; otherwise I could nothave been mistaken. However, the aspects in the horoscope of hissuccessor are more unfavorable still, I hear."
"Now, Heaven forefend!" said Lord Montagu, warmly: "he is a right noblemonarch, and, though the commonalty do fret and storm, he is too strongand firm for them to shake him. But what say you of the great andgallant Duke of Buckingham, signor? There is a man born to success andhonor."
"His star has passed its culminating-point," said Morini: "there issomething dark and sad behind. His life cannot be long. Perhaps he maydie upon the battle-field in this new war; but I think it more likely hewill receive his death in a private encounter. He is hot and fiery, theysay. Such a thing is probable."
Montagu shook his head. "Few things less probable," he said: "there arenot many men in England who would venture to call Buckingham to thefield; and, though his is so free and noble a spirit that he would verylikely consent to meet any one of gentle blood, yet he would notwillingly offend the king by such rashness."
"Well, 'tis a foolish practice," said Morini, changing thesubject,--"ay, and a barbarous one too, my lord. We derive it from theworst and rudest times of history. Who ever heard of a Roman or a Greekfighting a duel? Yet they were brave men, those ancients."
"Yet you go well armed, signor," said Lord Montagu, pointing to his longrapier, with a smile.
"It is good always to be prepared," answered the other. "Besides, thisrapier has many qualities and perfections, for which I value it. Theblade is true Toledo, the sheath wrought by Jean of Cordova. Then thehilt, you see, is of silver, exquisitely cast by Cellini's own hand. Didyou ever see a more graceful group than the two figures which composeit?--a warrior putting his hand to his sword, and a young girl with herarm round his neck pressing the weapon back into the sheath,--types ofcourage and moderation. The dagger is a curious relic of the feudaltimes,--a kill-villain, as the young Genoese nobles used to call it. Wehave no such handiwork as that now, my lord," he continued, as Montaguexamined the weapon. "'Tis curious how arts and sciences are lost, andhow, whilst mankind deem they are making great progress, they arefalling back in one path as much as they are advancing in another."
Edward Langdale went round to Lord Montagu's side and gazed at theworkmanship of the sword and dagger over his shoulder, murmuring, as hedid so, "Beautiful, indeed!"--much to Morini's satisfaction.
"You seem to be a judge of such things, young gentleman," said theItalian.
"But little," said Edward: "my father, indeed, had some fine specimensof art which he had brought over to England from this country; but anyone who sees a beautiful and graceful figure, well executed, must knowand admire it."
"Your pardon! your pardon!" cried Morini. "The eye and the taste bothwant educating. Had you not seen and admired those objects of yourfather's, you would probably not have discovered the beauty of this. Ifyou stay long in Aix, I can show you some other things well worth yourobservation."
"My stay depends entirely upon my lord," replied Edward; "but I think ifhe have no further commands I must retire to the abbey, for it is late."
"I will accompany you part of the way," said Morini, rising.
"Nay," said Lord Montagu, "you forget you came here for a specialpurpose, my good signor. Edward can go; for, though he has faith inphysiognomy, he has none in astrology, I believe; but you must staywith me a little longer. Come early to-morrow, Ned, and bring your twomen with you."
"It is wrong, my lord," said the Italian, "very wrong, to put full faithin an uncertain science and refuse it to a certain one. But I willconvince him in a moment before he goes home. Come hither, younggentleman, and let me speak a word in your ear."
Edward went round to the side of the table where he was still standing,and bent his head a little. Morini dexterously placed himself betweenthe young man and his lord and slipped a folded paper into his hand,whispering, "Read when you get home."
"Are you now convinced?" continued the Italian, aloud; but Edward, whilebending down his head to listen, had kept his eyes raised thoughtfullyto Montagu, and he saw--what the other had not seen--that his lord wasnot unaware of what had passed. He kept the paper in his hand, however,and took his leave; but, determined that, if needful, Lord Montagushould know the contents of the paper that very night, he called for alight at the foot of the stairs. He found a note in his hand, neatlyfolded, and tied with silk. It was addressed to him, and, on opening it,he saw a few lines beautifully written in a woman's hand, and, at thebottom of the page, "Lucette."
All other thoughts were gone; and he hurried to the abbey to read in aless exposed place.
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