CHAPTER XXXVI.
And where was Edward Langdale all this time? On the day which saw LordMontagu a prisoner in the Bastille, the poor lad had been just a monthin the Chateau de Coiffy; and his captivity was not yet at an end. Carehad been taken that he should have no opportunity of seeing LordMontagu; and, though he was well treated, and his personal libertyseemed but little abridged within the walls, there was a cold, silentguard kept over him which tended a good deal to subdue his impatientspirit. If he spoke to any one, he received a civil answer; but it wasconfined to two or three words, and never afforded any information. Ifhe asked for writing-materials, they were promised, but never came. Ifhe walked on one of the ramparts, there was a soldier at each end, whonever lost sight of him; and his own chamber, with one or two of thepassages near, was the only place where he found himself free fromsupervision. His principal resort was the walls, where on fine days hewould sit and think, and gaze over the undulating country round, forhours,--pondering his own fate, dreaming of Lucette, or asking himselfwhat the conduct of Monsieur de Bourbonne could mean.
It certainly had its meaning; and the secret was a very simple one. Thereader has already the key in the few words spoken by the count on thefirst night of Edward's captivity. He had determined that the youthshould have no communication with Richelieu till he himself had reapedthe reward he expected for the valuable services he believed he hadrendered.
For many reasons, however, the cardinal was slower in bestowing thatreward than the count anticipated. In the first place, his mind wasprofoundly occupied with matters which we shall have to touch uponhereafter. In the next place, the service of the count was not so greatas he imagined. Lord Montagu was a prisoner, it is true; the treaty withSpain, Lorraine, and Savoy was in the minister's hands; and the schemesof the external enemies of France were dissipated or deranged; but therewere few names in France itself implicated by the papers which had beenseized, and fewer letters found which could bring home to Richelieu'sfoes the treason which many of them had certainly meditated. Thus, dayafter day passed without bringing to Monsieur de Bourbonne the expectedrecompense; and it suited well with the cardinal's policy to keep thenobility of the kingdom expectants upon the bounty of the minister, asthey were now daily becoming, rather than dictators to the Government,as they had too long been. Poor Edward suffered without the ministerknowing it, and, at the end of three long months, the youth determinedto endure but a few days longer. He contrived, with some oil and thesoot of his lamp, to fabricate a sort of ink. A leaf torn out of one ofthe books which were amongst the baggage returned to him served him forpaper sufficient to write on; and with such rude materials he contrivedto indite a letter to Monsieur de Bourbonne, which will explain itself.
"Sir," he said, "you informed me that you would send me to the cardinal prime minister by the very first opportunity; and on that understanding I gave my parole not to escape. You have broken your word; and I might be held justifiable in breaking mine: but the word of an English gentleman is too sacred to be trifled with. I therefore give you notice of my intention to leave the Castle of Coiffy as soon as I find an opportunity of doing so after this letter has had full time to reach you and you have had full time to take your measures accordingly. Your men have debarred me the use of pen and ink and cut me off from all communication with others. They may neglect or refuse to carry this letter; but I shall give it to one of them for that purpose, and if it do not reach you the fault is not that of EDWARD LANGDALE.
"_Postscriptum_.--I shall not set out for fourteen days."
This epistle was given to the servant who brought his food, with aninjunction to have it given to the post-courier. At first the manhesitated to take it; but, on seeing that it was directed to his master,he ultimately consented; and Edward applied all his thoughts to devisethe means of carrying the resolution he had expressed into execution,let Monsieur de Bourbonne take what precautions he would. The fourteendays passed without any answer, and all seemed dull and tranquil asbefore; but some messengers had been coming and going, and Edward littledoubted that one of them bore directions in regard to himself. To testthe fact, on the fifteenth morning he walked out upon the walls andapproached quietly one of the little flights of steps that led down fromthe ramparts toward some of the outworks. Instantly the sentinelpresented his musketoon, saying, "You cannot pass here."
"Why not?" asked the youth. "I have passed before."
"The orders are changed," answered the man, gruffly. "Keep off, I say."
Edward was satisfied. Monsieur de Bourbonne had received his letter: hisparole was at an end; and he felt almost as if he were already free. Twodays passed without his making any attempt to escape; but he carefullyselected every thing from amongst his baggage which was most valuable,including money, and packed it in the smallest compass. Sometimes,indeed, he was tempted to leave all behind him, for he foresaw that heshould have to swim the canal; but the absolute necessity of money inalmost every transaction of life he had learned early, and he rememberedthat he had a large piece of France to traverse. His attention was nextdirected to ascertain if, by passing boldly through the interior of thechateau, he could not turn the position of the sentinels upon the wallsjust in face of his windows, and emerge upon the opposite ramparts,which, from all he recollected of the approach to the castle, and fromvarious other circumstances which had come to his knowledge during hislong stay, he imagined were neither very high nor very well guarded.Away he went, then, along the passage through which he had always beenallowed to pass, to a door at the end on the left-hand side, where therehad usually sat a servant, and which he had understood,--believed wouldbe the better word, for he knew not what had led him to theconclusion,--which he believed led to the apartments of the Countess ofBourbonne. But now no servant sat there, either to question or let himpass. The door, however, was shut; and when he tried it he found itlocked.
It was a great disappointment; for the servant who usually sat there wassometimes male, sometimes female, and he had calculated that he coulddevise some means of getting either out of the way. The ramparts beforehis windows were too steep for him to attempt the leap. Had the fossebeen immediately below, he might have risked it, trusting that the waterwould soften his fall; but a ridge of dry ground ran along under thewall, and the breaking or dislocation of a limb, with his consequentrecapture, was inevitable. He returned to his room, then, disappointedbut not disheartened, and instantly applied himself to form some newscheme. The first thought that struck him was that a rope ladder mightbe constructed from the ropes which in those days garnished everybedstead in France. It would be short, indeed, but at all events itmight diminish the distance between the parapet and the ground, and bydropping from the last round he would not, he thought, have more thaneight or ten feet to fall. He instantly set to work to detach the ropesfrom the sacking; but he had not unlaced a yard before he asked himselfhow, when it was constructed, he was to fasten the upper end of hisladder to the parapet. With all his ingenuity, he was puzzled. There wasnothing in the room of which he could make a hook,--nothing in theworld, except an ancient pair of tongs for putting wood upon the fire;and he might as well have tried to make a hook out of the Colossus ofRhodes. He looked round and round in vain, when suddenly, as his eyesrested upon the heavy key in the lock of the door, he thought that keyswould sometimes fit more locks than one. He took it out at once, greasedit well with oil from the lamp, and walked quietly along to the door atthe end of the passage. It was still locked, and by applying his eye tothe key-hole he saw that there was no obstruction. The key had beentaken away,--probably to prevent any tampering with the servants on thepart of the young prisoner. But he saw also three persons sitting by alarge fireplace in the long gallery before him. They were a lady of twoor three and twenty,--probably Madame de Bourbonne,--a very beautifulchild, three years old perhaps, and another woman, whose dress betrayedthe soubrette.
Edward had to return to his room again and wait with impatience for
thetrial of the key. As he meditated by the remains of his fire, heremembered having heard that, but a year or two before, the famous Dukeof Buckingham himself, while ambassador in Paris, in a wild frolic hadpassed through the whole of the royal palace disguised as the WhiteLady.
"Some sort of disguise might not be amiss," thought Edward. "Each ofthese old chateaux has some superstitious tale attached to it. A sheetand a little lampblack will make a very good ghost. But it is not yettime."
His impatience had wellnigh ruined all, however; for, just as he wasabout to take one of the sheets from the bed to tear a hole for his headto pass through, the servant entered his room with a fresh supply ofwood.
"When does Monsieur de Bourbonne return?" asked Edward "I hope when hedoes he will give me a warmer room."
"I do not know," answered the man, piling some more wood on the fire."Some say he comes Saturday. That is the day after to-morrow."
Edward let him depart, and then sat and listened. For at least two hourssounds were still to be heard in the chateau; but they gradually diedaway. At midnight the password was heard upon the walls; then there wassome tramping up and down; and then all was silent. Edward knew thatthere was a snug, warm pavilion, or look-out, thrown forth from thewalls, whence the whole line of the curtain on that side could be seen,but which was sheltered from all rude winds; and he doubted not the twoguards had retreated to its friendly covering,--for it was a cold springnight, and the keen blast was sweeping over the open country round. Hewaited some five minutes longer, and then wrapped the sheet round him,smeared his face with the soot of the lamp, and sallied out with the keyin his hand. All was darkness in the passage, and he had to feel withhis fingers along the wall, not without some anxiety as to how he shouldfind his way through the part of the house with which he was notacquainted. Liberty was at stake, however, and on he went. Fortunefavored him: at the end of the passage a faint light came through thekey-hole of the door he was in search of. It was red, though dim; and heat once comprehended that it did not proceed from any lamp left burning,but from the embers of a half-exhausted fire. Then came theall-important moment. Quietly and slowly he applied the key to the lock.It entered readily; but when he came to turn it there was someresistance. He was almost in despair; but, thinking he might not havepressed the key home, he pushed hard, and it started forward with somenoise. He paused to listen, but there was no sound, and, twisting itslowly round, the lock gave way, the door opened, and the gallery he hadseen through the key-hole was before him, with the wood fire burnt lowin a large fireplace on the left-hand side. There were a number of doorson the right, tight shut, to keep out the wintry air; but the gallerywas vacant, and the fire gave light enough. On then he strode toward theopposite end, calculating that he was now in the great tower orlodging-part of the castle, and soon reached the farther extremity ofthe gallery, where another door presented itself, with the key in thelock. The moment he opened it, the cold air rushed in, and he foundhimself in a little garden upon the inner ramparts. All was still; andthere seemed nothing there but one or two bare apple-trees and somewithered shrubs and flowers.
The rampart, however, was very high, and all the young man's troublewould have been in vain had he not divined that there must be some loweroutwork to defend the foot of the wall. The moon was not yet up: therewas no light but that of the stars; and he walked cautiously along underthe parapet till he came to some descending steps. He could see no oneon the walls; but the dry leaves crackled under his footsteps and morethan once made him stop, thinking a sentinel was near. At the bottom ofthe steps was another wall, with embrasures and a solitary cannon,evidently commanding the approach from some work below; and, making hisway along for about forty steps, Edward reached some more stairs, whichled him down to what seemed a small bastion.
At the foot he paused, for upon the wall of the outwork he perceivedsome dark object, which he could not clearly make out. It was too largefor a man, he thought, and it remained motionless; and after gazing forseveral minutes he quietly mounted the five steps which led up to theplatform. He then perceived that the object which had alarmed him was arude sentry-box, with a cannon hard by; and, having ascertained that itwas empty, he looked over and beheld the river flowing quietly throughthe fosse at the foot.
The wall was about eleven feet in height, and he certainly would nothave feared to leap. But noise was to be avoided; and, tying the end ofthe sheet to one of the trunnions of the cannon, the young adventurerlet himself down by his hands as far as he could, and then dropped intothe water. A slight splash was all the sound; but he sunk deep, and hisfeet touched the bottom. He rose again, however, and, thanking in heartthe harsh angler who had first counselled him to learn to swim, hestruck out for the other side of the fosse, and reached it in a moment.It was a sharp night, it is true, for cold bathing; but his heart feltwarm with the consciousness of freedom, and, getting amongst the lowbushes which covered a good part of the ground on the Lorraine side ofthe castle, he walked rapidly round to the other side, and then struckacross the country directly toward the heart of Burgundy.
Edward had many motives for so shaping his course. He had heard a vaguerumor that the Duke of Lorraine had made his peace with France, andtherefore he was as likely to be interrupted in the duke's territoriesas anywhere. In the next place, he knew that his evasion must bediscovered early on the following morning, and the pursuit was of courselikely to be directed on the side where the open doors and the sheettied to the cannon gave evidence of the course he had first taken. But,after all, there was a certain degree of whim, or character, or call itwhat you like, in it. He had told Monsieur de Bourbonne that if atliberty he would go straight to the Cardinal de Richelieu. Some peoplemight have thought that it was going straight into a lion's den. ButEdward did not fear; and he determined to go frankly and at once throwhimself upon the cardinal's generosity, tell him all he had done and allhe had suffered, and show him that he had kept his word in coming backto him, though only seven months, instead of two years, had passed sincethey had parted. He anticipated no obstruction in that direction if hecould once get at a distance from Coiffy; for he still had thecardinal's safe-conduct about him.
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