Lord Montagu's Page: An Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER L.

  The ride was long and hot, for it was just the middle of the month ofJune; and though the scenery is perhaps without its parallel in thewhole world, combining more beauties and more varieties of beauty thanever I saw anywhere else, though every now and then the road was shadedwith trees attaining a height and breadth which would shame theforest-giants, yet toward evening Edward was forced to acknowledge tohimself that he was very much exhausted. The horse which bore him wasexcellent, strong, willing, but not easy in its gait; and it also, erethey reached St. Andeal, showed the effects of the heat, though it hadnot had the preceding journey from Ners to Alais. At St. Audral he hadbut little difficulty in extracting from the towns-people an account ofthe position of the Duc de Rohan's camp, and Edward rode on under theshade of the mountains somewhat more slowly, calculating that he wouldhave time both to take some rest and return to Alais before noon on thefollowing day.

  It was dark when he arrived; and all that he could discover of theposition of the camp was that it was very strong, while a number ofmountain-gorges radiating from a centre offered the means of retreat inalmost any direction. After some difficulties and delays at theoutposts, he gave up his horse to one of the soldiers, who regarded himwith a somewhat gloomy look, and was led to a little, rudely-constructedhut, where a sentry kept guard before the door. He found the Duc deRohan perfectly alone; and, advancing to meet him, he was received in amuch more courteous and friendly manner than at their last interview.

  "Monsieur Langdale," said the duke, holding out his hand, "I am glad tosee you. Pray, be seated. I can only offer you a stool in this place,for we are obliged to fare hardly here. What brings you now I know not;but I am glad of an opportunity of apologizing for some rudeness andheat which I displayed at our last meeting. By your bearing thecardinal's safe-conduct, I presume you come from him. What have you tosay?"

  "First let me hand you this," said Edward, giving him the letter ofcredence, over which the duke ran his eye hastily. "And next," saidEdward, "that, in answer to your message, his Eminence says, 'Onehundred thousand crowns, to be paid in four days, in money.'"

  "Is that all he said?" said De Rohan. "Are you to act as negotiator inthis business, sir?"

  "Not in the least," replied Edward. "I merely bear you a message, and amperfectly ignorant of the whole circumstances, even of the contents ofthis package,--though I have been told that it contains the conditions,which, if you assent to them, you will sign, and enable me to returnthem to the cardinal by noon to-morrow."

  The duke took the packet, broke open the seal, and looked at thewriting, which was very brief, consisting only of three paragraphs.There was a second paper, however, apparently briefer still. As he read,de Rohan knit his brows and bit his lip.

  "Am I to understand that you know nothing of these papers?" he asked.

  "Nothing whatever," replied Edward; and the duke, rising from his stool,walked up and down the hut for some minutes in deep thought.

  "It must be done," he said, at length. "There is no use taking counselin the matter, for it is what they all wish. And thus ends theProtestant cause in France! Monsieur Langdale, the only part of thesepapers which is personal to myself is that." And he laid the secondenclosure before the young Englishman. "Why the cardinal has made this acondition all along I cannot conceive, unless it be a point of pridewith him."

  Edward read the paper, and perceived these words:--"I do hereby solemnlyconsent to and affirm the marriage of my cousin Lucette Marie deMirepoix du Valais with Edward Langdale, of Buckley, in the county ofHuntingdon, England, as solemnized at Nantes, on the 3d of July, in theyear of grace 1627."

  "I do assure you, my lord," said Edward, "this is none of my doing; and,sooner than be any impediment to a peace so necessary to the poorProtestants of France, I say, tear it. I will win Lucette by othermeans."

  "No," said the duke: "I will sign it; I will sign all. And when a Rohanpledges his word the cardinal may be assured that it will be kept."

  He took a little ink-horn from a neighboring table and signed the twopapers; then, shaking Edward by the hand again, he said, "Give you joy,cousin! But you look ill and tired."

  "I have ridden some sixty miles," said Edward, "with hardly any food,and no rest."

  The duke heard his reply with a rueful smile, but called a man fromwithout, telling him to bring the best he had for a young gentleman'ssupper. The best was merely a bone of ham and some brown bread; butthere was added a flagon of very good wine.

  "I require a little rest more than any thing," said Edward; "and I wouldfain, my lord, lie down to sleep for a few minutes, if your people willtake care of my horse and wake me at four o'clock when they change thesentries."

  "That shall be done," said Rohan. "No chance of sleep for me to-nightafter signing these papers. Here; you can sleep on my bed. It is as goodas any in the camp, I suppose." And, opening a door in the boardedpartition, he pointed to a great pile of rosemary and wildmountain-herbs, saying, "It is a little better than the ground; butfatigue gives balm to sleep."

  Edward's eyes were closed in a moment, and he knew nothing more till theduke himself called him at four. "Your horse is at the door," he said."There are the papers. I hope his Eminence will be punctual in thepayment; for I cannot turn ten thousand men loose amongst the mountainswith no money in their pockets. Let the man who has brought the horsewalk by your side and give the passwords."

  Edward rode away well pleased with his success, and about half-pasteleven reached the small town of Alais. There he was informed that thecardinal had not returned from Ners, but that Monsieur Rossignol wouldsee him; and, on being admitted to the well-known secretary, an order todeliver the papers which he brought, signed by Richelieu, was given him.Edward obeyed; and good Monsieur Rossignol, a man of great talent,though originally a peasant, said, in a significant tone, "It will bebetter for monsieur to ride out to the castle at Bourillaut, near Ners,where he will find the cardinal."

  "My good sir, I am tired to death, and my horse can hardly move a leg.You forget what these mountain-roads are like."

  "You can rest below for three or four hours," said the secretary. "Getsome refreshment,--by which time your own horse will have had restsufficient,--and then ride to Bourillaut in the cool of the evening. Itwill be better. His Eminence desired it."

  The thought that perhaps Richelieu might have obtained, through hismany-eyed communications, some news of Lucette gave Edward fresh spirit;but still he followed the secretary's advice, for, after having riddenso hard for many days, some more repose was absolutely needful. Towardfour o'clock, however, he set out toward Ners, having ascertained thatthe chateau to which he was directed lay on the right of the road sometwo or three miles before he reached the village; and all that need besaid of his journey is that the road, as every one knows, is beautiful,and that his thoughts were like all young men's thoughts,--a little wildand chaotic, perhaps, but with Lucette prominent above all. Some twomiles before the castle appeared in sight, however, he was met by alarge cavalcade of gentlemen, ladies, guards, and pack-mules, withRichelieu at its head, going back apparently to Alais. The cardinal drewup his horse, saying, "I have heard of you, my young friend. Rossignolhas sent me a messenger. Our good friend the syndic is well and gone toNismes, but will be back in two days. Go on to the chateau, where I haveordered every thing to be prepared for you. There rest in peace for thenight. You will find nobody there to plague you, unless it be a fewwomen, who, if they are wise, will let you alone."

  The cardinal moved on as he spoke; and Edward was fain to pursue his wayto Bourillaut. He found some servants on the drawbridge, loitering aboutin the fine summer sunset; but as soon as his name was given theomnipotent commands of the cardinal made them all activity andattention. His horse was taken to the stable by one man; another usheredhim into a handsome room, communicating with a bedroom beyond; and athird ran to bring the supper which he said his Eminence had ordered forhim. All around had a very comfortable aspect; and Edward thought, as hethr
ew himself into a chair, "A man with a wife whom he loved, and somelittle ones to cheer him, might pass his life very happily even here."

  The supper was soon brought, and was evidently the handiwork of somecourtly cook; the wine was delicate and good; and Edward, according tothe English fashion of all times, chose to take the moderate portion hedid take after his meal. Telling the man who waited on him to leave him,he was about to pass the evening quietly, when, soon after the servanthad quitted the room, the door was opened and some one looked in. Oneglance at the figure showed Edward that it was the lady with whom he hadridden some way from Montargis; and, to say the truth, the youngEnglishman would willingly have been spared her company. She still worethe black velvet _loup_ over her face, which Edward thought was somewhattoo coquettish, considering that it was now dark and the candleslighted; but of course he found himself bound to be polite, though hewas determined to be as cold as ice. Yet there was something timid andhesitating in her manner that surprised him. As she came forward hecould see that she trembled, and, rising, he placed a chair for her,saying, "To what am I indebted for this honor?"

  "I have come to pass the evening with you," she said, in a low voice: "Icannot let you be here all alone."

  Edward did not well know what to reply, and he answered at random:--"Letme beseech you, at all events, madam, to lay aside your mask now. Yourcomplexion runs no risk here."

  "No," said the lady, shaking her head; "not till you tell me you love meand will marry me."

  "Are you not married already?" exclaimed Edward.

  "Yes," she answered, "I am; but that makes no difference. Do you loveme?"

  "I have told you, dear lady," said Edward, in as calm a tone as he couldassume, "that it is impossible. If you are the lady whom I saw at theHotel de Bourgogne, doubtless I could have loved you if my whole heartand soul had not been given to another; for I have seldom seen anybodymore lovely."

  "But who is this you love so well?" said the lady. "Give me hername,--her full name."

  "Lucette Marie de Mirepoix du Valais," said Edward, impatiently.

  The mask was off in a moment. "Am I so changed, Edward?" said Lucette,throwing her arm round his neck. "I know I am taller,--much taller; butI did not think you would ever forget me."

  "Forget you! Oh, no, no, Lucette!" cried Edward, circling her in hisarms and covering her with kisses. "Have I ever forgotten you? have Iever ceased to think of you? But I saw you but for a moment across thedull and misty air of a theatre; and you are changed,--more charming,more beautiful than ever. But even Lucette unknown could not rob Lucettelong known of the love that has been hers always. When for a moment Isaw your face I did not hear your voice, and when I heard your voice Idid not see your face. But now I see all these loved featuresdistinctly, and wonder how I could be deceived."

  "We shall both change still more, Edward," she said, almost sadly. "Andwill you love me still?"

  "Better,--still better," said Edward, clasping her to his heart. "If,Lucette, I loved you still after long absence, when you yourself triedto make me love another, do you suppose that affection will wane whenthe change comes over us together and you yourself engage me to love youstill? Oh, yes, Lucette; I will not deny it; you are more beautiful thanyou used to be; but it was my young Lucette I loved; and how could Ilove any other?"

  "Well, I own that it was wrong," said Lucette, "to play with you andtease you as I did; but it was not to try you, for I was sure I knewyour heart right well. It was the cardinal's command, however, and Ifeared to disobey him. He brought us all from Paris,--some for onereason, some for another: one that she might not intrigue against him atthe court of the queen-mother; another, to remove her from poor Anne ofAustria; others, for the amusement of the king and court, and perhaps toassist him in his own views. Why he brought me I know not,--perhaps totease you on the road. No, no: I do him injustice. I sincerely believeit was to unite us in the end. But do you forgive me, Edward? Do youforgive me for acting a part that is not in my nature? A hundred timesthe mask was nearly taken from my face. My joy to find that you lovedme still, and that you were faithful to your poor Lucette, passed allbounds, and made me almost faint with happiness. It is nearly eighteenmonths since I saw you at Aix; and since then how much I have suffered!And I have heard that you have suffered too,--that you have beenapprehended and kept in prison, wounded again----"

  "Oh, that is nothing!" answered Edward. "All has been followed by joyand success. I never valued wealth, Lucette, till I met with you; butnow I have beyond doubt recovered one-half of my patrimonialproperty,--all that belongs to me; but enough, and more than enough, tosecure my Lucette against all those grinding cares and petty annoyanceswhich, though less sharp than the fierce blows of misfortune, are morewearing to the spirit and the heart. But tell me, my Lucette: how cameyou here? I had feared, from what they said at Venice, that you hadfallen into the hands of Madame de Chevreuse."

  "Oh, no," she answered: "that was a mistake. The council notified Madamede la Cour that I was demanded by those who had a right to demand me inFrance; but, with their usual secrecy, gave no further information. Atfirst I resolved to fly; but whither could I go? To Madame de Rohan Icould not apply; for her life in Venice has been one of great scandaland disgrace. Madame de la Cour could not or would not help me. But inthe end I found that it was the ambassador from France who claimed me;and, when assured that I was to be under the guardianship of thecardinal himself, I went joyfully. He forbade me to write to you, sayingyou promised soon to rejoin him; and on the night I saw you at thetheatre he told me to look at his _loge_, but to take no notice whateverI might see. The only thing I now fear is the opposition of my highrelations. The Duc de Rohan is the head of the house; and, though he waskind to me--very kind--while I was with him, I know him to be theproudest man on earth, and as obdurate in his determinations as a rock."

  "You are my wife," said Edward, pressing her to his heart,--"my wife byevery tie, human and divine. Soubise may oppose, Madame de Chevreuse mayoppose; but their opposition is nothing. Look here what authority thecardinal gave me when I was setting out for Venice." Lucette looked atthe paper which he gave her.

  "It was unkind of him to let you go," she said, "when he knew that I waswithin two days' journey of Suza; but that was to punish you for leavingthat little Morini on the road."

  "Do you know why I left him?" said Edward, kissing her rosy lips. "Itwas because a very beautiful lady said she would make me love her beforeour journey was ended; and I was resolved to love nobody but Lucette.No, my Lucette: our journey together has never ended, and through lifenever must end. You are mine, as I have said, by every tie. The Duc deRohan, the only one who had any real authority, I saw last night. Hisopposition was entirely withdrawn, and his formal approval of ourmarriage at Nantes was given in writing."

  Lucette was silent for a moment or two, and turned a little pale; andEdward asked, in a low tone, "What ladies are there here in the castle?"

  "None," said Lucette. "Except my maid, we are all alone. Now Iunderstand: I think I see why the cardinal took every one else away andinsisted on my staying."

  "Assuredly," replied Edward, "because you are my wife, Lucette, and hedid not wish that we should be separated any more."

  Her face was now as rosy as the dawn, and her breath came thick withagitation.

  "You are mine, Lucette! are you not mine?" said Edward,--"my own, mywife, my beloved?"

  "Oh, yes, yes!" sobbed Lucette, casting herself upon his bosom,--"myhusband, my own dear husband!" And they parted no more.

  CHAPTER LI.

  The famous peace of Alais, which terminated, during the reign of LouisXIII., the struggles of the Protestants of France for a distinctorganization and left them nothing but an insecure toleration, wasconcluded on the 27th of June, 1629, a few days after the reunion ofEdward and Lucette. None can doubt that Richelieu was politically rightin asserting and enforcing the sovereign authority over a body of menwho had made religious differences a pretext for rebellion and acontin
ual source of exaction and menace. Nor can any one accuse him ofhaving violated his word in any degree to the Huguenots. They weresuffered to follow the forms of their religion in peace; their peculiartenets formed no obstacle to their admission into the highest offices inFrance; and the Duc de Rohan himself was employed in high and delicatenegotiations, and ultimately fell in the military service of the monarchagainst whom he had so often fought.

  A few days after the period to which we have carried our story in thelast chapter, the hundred thousand crowns in gold, which were necessaryfor him, as well to provide for his troops as to repair his ownshattered fortunes, were paid to the duke, according to Richelieu'spromise; and the Protestant army was immediately disbanded,--glad toescape from the inevitable ruin and disaster which hung over theirheads.

  The peace concluded at Suza restored those friendly relations withEngland which had so long been broken off. Spain and Savoy were, atleast for the time, cowed by the power of France; and all men, bothfriends and enemies, saw in the well-directed operations of the Frencharmies and the success of French diplomacy the great military andpolitical genius of Armand du Plessis.

  In the mean time, the cardinal kindly left Edward and Lucette to theenjoyment of each other's society; and it was not till some six or sevendays after the union which he himself had aided so much to bring aboutthat he visited them at the castle of Bourillaut. Great success, if inthe end it makes men haughty and overbearing, seems at first to softenand expand the heart; and Richelieu, at the culminating-point of hisfortunes, sat down and conversed with the two young people as theirfriend. He amused himself somewhat with their love, and expressed, andprobably felt, some gratification at their happiness.

  "Monsieur Langdale," he said, "a foolish prediction has been made to me,that as you and I were born on the same hour of the same day of the samemonth, though a number of years apart,--how many I do not remember,--myfate and yours should run together; and, though of course I put no faithin it, that prophecy has as yet proved remarkably true. I am thereforevery desirous to attach you to me, now that peace is signed betweenFrance and England; and you must tell me, according to a promise whichyou once made, what post I can give you at the court of France."

  Edward and Lucette looked at each other; and then, with his usualfrankness, Edward answered, "No post your Eminence can give me canattach me more strongly to you than that which you have already givenme,--the husband of this dear lady. Two days ago we had a longconsultation with our good friend Clement Tournon, and laid out ourplans for life. He is resolved, with the sum he has amassed, to purchasea small and beautiful estate and chateau which he has seen not far fromParis; and Lucette and myself intend to live there a great part of eachyear as his son and daughter. We shall of course visit England from timeto time; but our wish is to avoid courts and cities as much as may be."

  "Young people's dreams," said Richelieu, gravely.

  "That may be," said Edward, "but I trust it will not prove so. However,if your Eminence were to give me some high post, you would make many ofthe French nobility dissatisfied, and you might find me ungrateful; but,as it is, I shall be near you the greater part of my days; and, whetherI may be in England or in France, if at any time I can serve you with myhand, or my head, or my heart, believe me, I will not forget these happydays are all owing to your great goodness."

  "I wish I could dream," said the cardinal, looking down thoughtfully."It must be a very happy thing to be so confident of the world and offate and of oneself. But be it so, Monsieur Langdale. Only remember!"

  "My lord, have I ever forgotten?" asked Edward.

  "No, no," said Richelieu; "and it is for that I have esteemed you. Comeand see me when you are near Paris; for when I have a leisure hour Ishall love your conversation. We will talk of art, and literature, andscience; and I shall banish for that hour the thought of politics, andintrigue, and cabal: oh, how I hate them! And if you have a son," hecontinued, laying his hand kindly upon that of Lucette as he rose todepart, "you shall call his name Armand."

  "And you shall bless him," cried Lucette, warmly, kissing his hand; "andI will tell him that you made his father and myself happy."

  Perhaps, in all his career of splendid misery, that was one of thehappiest hours that Richelieu had ever experienced.

  The Prince de Soubise, as is well known, did not return to France andmake his full submission to his king till Edward and Lucette had beenmarried some time. To Edward, whom he met at the court not long afterthe final fall of Marie de Medici, he was polite and even friendly; but,whether it was that he was naturally of a more haughty disposition thanhis brother the Duc de Rohan, or that he was never placed under the samepressure of circumstances, he refused to acknowledge, by any authenticact, the legality of the marriage between his young cousin and the sonof one of his earliest friends. It made no difference to them, however,nor troubled their peace in the least; and in the end, after witnessingtheir mutual felicity for many years, both he and his brother the duke,by their own wretched experience, were forced to acknowledge that amarriage of affection has more chance for happiness than a marriage ofconvenience. Still, however, with the same peculiar obduracy which hadcharacterized his resistance to the crown in the hopeless war of theProtestants against Louis XIII., he refused to sign, on severaloccasions, the papers which were necessary to enable Lucette to enterfully into possession of her father's estates, saying that he would notrecognise her marriage with the second son of a simple Englishgentleman. But his consent was passed over by certain forms of theParliament; and as for Madame de Chevreuse, with her usual gaylightness, she signed her approbation of the marriage without a word ofopposition,--when she found that opposition would be vain. She was eveninclined to be exceedingly kind and intimate with the young pair; butEdward gave no encouragement to her advances, and she satisfied herselfby declaring that, like many of his countrymen, he was a handsome man,but somewhat brutal.

  In regard to Edward's claim to the estate of Buckley, there was noopposition; and he kept quiet possession during the whole of his life ofthat fine part of his inheritance. The estates of Langley were sufferedto go greatly to decay for several years, the rents accumulating in thehands of the agent without ever being called for or paid over to anyone.

  How this property reverted to Edward himself, and how the objections ofthe Prince de Soubise to the marriage of his young cousin with EdwardLangdale were at last done away,--what was the ultimate fate of SirRichard Langdale,--and how an old proverb was verified,--would be toolong of telling in the pages which yet remain.

  Perhaps, if God spares the life, the health, and the senses of theauthor of this work, these particulars may all be related in another. Atall events, the history of Lord Montagu's Page is completed; for itwould be folly to pursue that history in the calm, continued,uninterrupted happiness of his married life. Every one has beenunsuccessful in painting happiness with the pen. Dante failed in hisParadiso, Milton in his Paradise Regained; and the writer of these pagesis not sufficiently presumptuous to suppose that he could succeed inrepresenting a state as near as this world permits to that which theyattempted to picture in vain.

  THE END.

  STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. PHILADELPHIA.

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  Transcriber's notes:

  P.18. 'It it' is changed to 'It is' P.76. 'stoop' changed to 'swoop'. P. 106, 'dulness' changed to 'dullness'. P.108. 'Rochelois' changed to 'Rochellois'. P.126. 'Loge' changed to 'Loge'. P. 211. 'Loir' changed to 'Loire'. P. 219. 'th' changed to 'there'.

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