Corse de Leon; or, The Brigand: A Romance. Volume 1 (of 2)

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XX.

  It was in a small cabinet in the princely chateau of Fontainebleau, someeight days after the grand entertainment at the Louvre which we havebefore mentioned, that Henry the Second of France was seated, conversingwith one of his most trusted servants and most faithful friends, thewell-known Marechal de Vieilleville. The cabinet, the ceiling of whichwas of dark black oak, carved and ornamented with small stars of gold,was hung with rich but very ancient tapestry, still beautiful, thoughthe colours had faded in the passing of years. The dark green whichformed the principal hue was no longer enlivened by the gorgeous red andyellow draperies which had once ornamented the principal figures, and adim and melancholy hue pervaded the room, to which the fact of the lightpassing through some leafy trees without did not a little contribute.

  It was not, however, the peculiar colouring of the hangings, nor thelight passing through the green trees, that gave an unusual paleness tothe countenance of the king, as, laying down the pen with which he hadbeen writing, he gazed up in the face of Vieilleville, "What is it youtell me, marechal?" he said. "Dead? Crushed under one of the towers ofthe castle? The very best and most promising soldier France couldproduce! The dear friend of Brissac--lauded even by Montmorency! Heavenand earth! Did you say he was returned, this Lord of Masseran? Send forhim instantly. Let a messenger be despatched to the capital at once. Bymy crown, if I thought that he had any hand in this, I would have hishead off in the court before tomorrow's sun set. Send off a messengerfor him, I say!"

  "Sire, he is even now in the palace," replied the marechal. "It wasseeing him pass along the court, in order to crave an audience, thatmade me intrude upon your majesty just now. I heard this sad businesslast night by a letter from Brissac; but I would not tell your majesty,lest it should spoil your rest after so bustling a day."

  "What, you are one of those, Vieilleville, are you," said the king, witha slight smile, "who can believe that the death of a faithful subjectmay chase slumber from even a royal pillow? However, these despatchesmust be written. Leave me for an hour, and then bring hither this Lordof Masseran. Keep a good eye upon him, for he is as deceitful as a cat:but he shall find that I am not to be trifled with."

  "I will venture to beseech you, sire," said the statesman, "in all thatyou do with this man, to recollect that he is himself a sovereignprince; for, were you to forget it, the example might be dangerous."

  "If I make him an example, it shall be for good, not for evil,Vieilleville," replied the king. "Some of these petty princes need anexample how they may be punished for treachery and double-dealing. Ihave heard more of him since he last set out for Savoy than I ever didbefore, and I much doubted that he would return to France again. Butwatch him well, good Vieilleville, and bring him hither in an hour. Ishall have finished ere that."

  The marechal withdrew; and, ere the hour was expired, a page sought himagain from the king, requiring his presence, with that of the Lord ofMasseran, whom Vieilleville, on quitting the cabinet, had informed thatHenry could not yet receive him.

  The angry spot was still upon the king's brow when they entered; but hespoke to the Lord of Masseran in a courteous tone, saying, "Well, mygood lord, this is somewhat unexpected. I knew not that you could go toSavoy and return so quickly. How is it that you have shortened the wayso well?"

  "A melancholy interruption, sire," replied the Savoyard, "a melancholyinterruption caused me to return ere half my journey was complete.Somewhat on this side of Lyons, I met a messenger coming with all speedto seek me, and bearing this letter, which I beg to lay at yourmajesty's feet."

  The king took it and read, examining every line as he did so, in orderto see whether it bore about it the marks of truth and authenticity.There was nothing, however, to make him doubt it. It seemed simply aletter from some seneschal or other officer, left behind by the Lord ofMasseran to command during his absence, announcing to him that theprison tower of the castle had taken fire and fallen, crushing under itsruins the chamber in which the young Baron de Rohan had been confined.It went on to state that works had been already Commenced to supply itsplace in the walls, and gave some account of the probable expense whichthose works would occasion.

  "That would be dear," muttered Henry, in a low voice, and between histeeth. "That would be dear payment to get rid of a troublesome friend. Irather suspect it can be done cheaper in Savoy. Have you no news,Monsieur de Masseran," he said aloud, "of how this terrible catastropheoccurred?"

  "I have shown your majesty all the information I have received," repliedthe Marquis of Masseran. "I returned to Paris with all speed afterhaving met with the messenger, and, not finding you there, came hither."

  "What say you, De Vieilleville?" said the king: "you had letters lastnight, methinks, from some one in that neighbourhood."

  "They bear the same sad news, sire," replied the Marechal deVieilleville. "But they add, that everybody in that country marvelledmuch how this event could have occurred in a tower detached from thecastle, built almost entirely of stone, and doubtless intrusted to afaithful guard."

  "It is, indeed, most strange," said the Marquis of Masseran,thoughtfully. "There must have been some base neglect."

  "This must be inquired into," said the king, "this must be inquiredinto. My good Lord of Vieilleville, call the page for these despatches.It behooves you, my Lord of Masseran, to make strict and immediateinquiry into the whole of this affair, in which you shall be aided andassisted by a commissary on our part. There are the despatches, boy. Whywait you? What is it now?"

  "May it please your majesty," replied the page, "there is a lady withoutcraving earnestly to see you. She calls herself the sister of the Countof Brienne, and I remember her well at the court some months ago. Sheseems in much grief, and--"

  "Give her admission," said the king, "give her instant admission. Shemay throw some light upon all this affair, my good Lord of Masseran."

  The marquis turned somewhat pale; for the appearance of Isabel ofBrienne in the king's presence was not at all what he wished orcalculated upon. He had hoped for an opportunity of telling his owntale, and causing his wife to tell hers so as to corroborate all hesaid, without the actual appearance of Isabel herself. He knew that theCount de Meyrand, though apparently taking no part in all that occurredsince their arrival in Paris, had been continually and skilfullypreparing the way for the development of his part in the transaction;had been labouring to make friends and gain supporters among those whopossessed the king's ear, and had been apparently not a littlesuccessful, even with the fair Duchess of Valentinois herself.

  It must not be supposed, however, that good Monsieur de Masseran wasmoved by any personal love or regard for the Count de Meyrand: there wasbut one tie between them, the tie of interest; and the moment that theLord of Masseran saw that more was to be lost or risked by the Count deMeyrand than to be gained, that instant he was prepared to put an end tohis affection for his noble friend. He was, however, as we have seen, invarious respects, in the count's power; and he had trusted that theirunited operations would be sufficient to induce the king to act withoutlistening to the fair girl herself. He had, moreover, believed, when heheard of the death of Bernard de Rohan, that one great obstacle beingremoved, the rest would be comparatively easy. The arrival of Isabel,however, was most inopportune; for he saw that, in the king's angry moodat the moment, the disclosure of all that had taken place within thelast few weeks might be ruinous in another way, and not only overthrowhis future schemes with regard to Mademoiselle de Brienne herself, butbring punishment on his head for what had occurred before.

  As the interview, however, could be prevented by no means within hisreach, he sought eagerly in his mind for excuses and defences for hisconduct: but he had hardly time to arrange any plan ere Isabel herselfentered, supported by the arm of one whom he felt far more inclined tofear than even herself. That person was good Father Willand; and hissurprise and dismay were not a little increased by seeing the kingreceive the priest with a gracious smile as an old acquaintance
, and,grasping his arm familiarly, ask him what had made him return frombanishment.

  "Why, to bring this poor lamb back to your majesty's fold," repliedFather Willand, in his usual gay and unceremonious tone. "By my faith,sire, if all shepherds were like you, and mistook the wolf for thewatch-dog, mutton would soon be dear in France."

  "How so? how so, good father?" demanded Henry, laughing; and, at thesame time, taking Isabel's hand in his own, he prevented her, with akindly gesture, from throwing herself at his feet. "Cheer up, fairlady," he said, "cheer up. The king will protect you, and be a father toyou. But how now, bold priest? How have I been so unwise a shepherd asto mistake the wolf for the watch-dog?"

  "Why," answered Father Willand, boldly, and looking full in the face ofthe Lord of Masseran, "by giving one of the best of your flock"--and hepointed with his hand to Isabel--"into the care of a Savoyard wolf."

  "Hush! hush! my good father," cried the king. "By Heavens! if you usesuch language, you will get yourself into a worse scrape, in your cureof Saint John of Bonvoisin, than that for which I was obliged to sendyou away from Paris, to keep your ears out of the way of knives. On mysoul, we must find a bridle for that tongue of yours."

  "Indeed, sire," exclaimed the Lord of Masseran, marking with pleasure aslight frown that had come upon the king's brow, "indeed, sire, such abridle is most necessary; for that tongue is not only insolent, butmendacious."

  "Hush, sir!" exclaimed the king, sternly; "you speak of one of thehonestest men in France;" and he held out his hand to Father Willand,who kissed it respectfully. "Would that we had many such!" the king wenton: "for the men who tell truth in the cabinet as well as in the pulpit,are those that are very needful here: albeit," he added, with a smile,"they may occasionally, in their hatred of hypocrites and knaves, givetheir tongue some license, and their conduct too. However, my goodfather, you will never be wise, so that I fear some day I shall have tomake you a bishop, merely to keep you out of the way of strong fists andcrabsticks. Now let us turn to the case of this young lady. The pagetold me, fair one, that you were anxious to see me immediately. What isit you would have?"

  "Protection, sire," replied Isabel de Brienne, raising her fair facetowards the king, filled with an expression of deep and hopeless grief,which touched the kind heart of the monarch, and made his tone even morekindly than it was before as he replied,

  "And you shall have it, lady. But let me hear how it is that protectionis needed: have you not a mother and a brother to protect and help you?"

  "Alas! sire," replied Isabel of Brienne, "my mother is no more myfather's wife nor my father's widow. She is now the wife of one to whosewill she shows all dutiful obedience; but unto me the mother's care andtenderness are at an end."

  "Fair lady," said the king, "the time that I can spare you is but short,and it may save you both trouble and grief, and, perhaps, from one causeor another, may likewise spare you a blush, if I tell you that I knowthe past. Lest you should suspect that my ears have been wronged andyour conduct falsely told, the brief history of the facts is this: Youhave loved and been beloved by a very gallant gentleman, one who hasserved his king and country well and faithfully; and your mother, notholding him as dearly and highly as we may do or you have done, hasopposed your marriage with the man of your choice, and endeavoured, asfar as may be, to separate you from him. He, in the somewhat indiscreeteagerness of love, persuaded you, it would seem, to fly with himsecretly, and unite your fate to his by a clandestine marriage, which,upon every principle of law and reason, must be null and void. However,at the very altar, I am told, your worthy stepfather here presentsurprised and separated you from this bold gentleman, took means toensure that you should not meet again, and was bringing or sending youto Paris, when you contrived to escape. Thus far we know; what is theremore? The tale that we have heard is very simple."

  As the king ended, he looked round with a slight smile, which certainlymight be interpreted either "This matter is very clear," or else "I knowthere is another version."

  The person who answered it first, however, was the good priest. "That isthe story, sire," he said. "'Tis a most excellent piece of goods, butsmells somewhat of the manufacturer."

  "How so, sir? But let the lady speak, and say if this be true or not."

  "True, sire," replied Isabel de Brienne, much to the surprise of theLord of Masseran. "It is all true; but there is much besides to be said,and some things which I must say, but which, perhaps, I cannot prove,especially now, when deep grief masters me. As your majesty hassaid--and no blush will stain my cheek while I do own it--I loved andwas beloved by as noble a gentleman as ever graced this land; but Itrust that I loved him wisely too, for to that love I have been plightedsince my fifteenth year. My father--my good father, sire, who in timespast has stricken in many a battle by your side, and also in manyanother well-fought field--joined my hand to his with promises which I,his daughter, was but too willing to fulfil. My mother, it is true,always looked somewhat coldly on him I loved, ever since he struck tothe ground a base man, her intendant, for wronging an unprotected girl;but still my mother was present when we were plighted to each other;still she was present when my father, on his deathbed, made me promisethat I would wed the man whom he had chosen. Oh, how willingly Ipromised! oh, how gladly I would have kept that promise! but they haverendered it vain;" and, unable to restrain herself, the tears burstforth, and she wept bitterly.

  Henry had carried his eyes from her to the countenance of the Lord ofMasseran from time to time while she spoke, and now, taking her handkindly, he said, "Be comforted, dear lady, be comforted. This changesthe matter greatly. What else have you to add?"

  "Oh, much, much, sire," replied Isabel, wiping the tears from her eyes;"but I will be brief, sire; indeed I will be brief, and not waste yourmost precious time. Bernard de Rohan, my promised husband, went to servehis king in Italy--"

  "And did serve him there right well," said the king. "But go on."

  "He had been absent some time," she continued, "and I was longing forhis return, when a nobleman of your majesty's court sought my hand, tomy great surprise, with my mother's countenance. Thinking that he hadbeen deceived, I told him the whole truth, but still he pursued hissuit. I wish, sire, that it were not needful for me to give his name,but I fear I must."

  "The Count de Meyrand," said the king. "He has already urged his suit tous. What more of him, fair lady?"

  "He urged it upon me, sire," she answered, "after he knew that my heartwas given and my hand was promised to another, that other being his ownfriend. He sought me, sire, he persecuted me, he used words that I willnot repeat, nay, menaces, all with the countenance of my mother, whoacted, I believe--nay, I know--under the commands of her new husband. Iwas in hopes of some relief when my Lord of Masseran here took us sosuddenly to Savoy, but we were soon followed by the gentleman you havenamed. I was now told to think no more of Bernard de Rohan. I wasinformed that my hand was destined for the man whom, by this time, Idetested, and that means would be found to make me obey. Vague andterrible fears came over me; but I obtained an opportunity of writingone letter to him I loved. Would that I had never done so! for thatletter has killed him."

  "Methinks, sire, it would have been better," said the Lord of Masseran,in a sneering tone, "if the fair lady was so tyrannically used in mypoor dwelling, to write to her brother in the capital."

  "I did," replied Isabel of Brienne, "often and most sorrowfully."

  "But did you ever ask him to come to you?" demanded the Lord ofMasseran. "He says not."

  "Never," replied Isabel of Brienne. "On the contrary, I besought him notto come. I concealed half my grief, the daily anguish of witnessing mymother's sorrow, the taunts, the sneers, the bitterness, which, like theEgyptian pestilence, made our very food swarm with reptiles; I concealedmuch, much that I might have told, and still besought him not to come."

  "May I ask why, madam?" said the king, with evident surprise. "DeVieilleville, there is something under this. I must hear the whole," h
eadded, seeing her hesitate. "Lady, it must be told."

  "It was, sire," said Isabel de Brienne, in a low but distinct voice, "itwas that I feared, if brother and sister should be in the same housebeyond the pale of your majesty's realm--in a place where few questionsare asked, and secret acts do not easily transpire--I feared, I say, Ifeared much for my brother's safety."

  "I understand," said the king, "I understand. But there must be greatobjects for such doings."

  "Everything reverts, sire," said Vieilleville, addressing the king in alow voice, "everything reverts to the mother in case of the death of theson and daughter without children."

  "These, sire, however," said Isabel, "were but suspicions, and perhapswere unjust--"

  "Oh, most unjust, I do assure your majesty," said the Lord of Masseran,who had more than once shown a disposition to break in, but had beenrestrained by a gesture from the king. "Such base designs never enteredmy mind."

  "Perhaps such suspicions were unjust, sire," continued Isabel; "but tospeak of facts. I had been forced out more than once to hunting-partieswhere the Count of Meyrand joined us; and at length, on one occasion, Iwas told that I must needs go forth with my Lord of Masseran to visit ahouse of his farther in the mountains. I went with fear, sire, on manyaccounts. First, the hour he chose was strange, just before sunset;next, my mother was not with us; and next, the train appointed toaccompany us was smaller than usual. Scarcely had night fallen, when wewere suddenly attacked and overpowered by a large body of men--"

  "Was this with violence?" demanded the king. "Was any one killed orhurt?"

  "None but some of the old and faithful servants of my family," repliedthe young lady, "who forgot where they were, and how situated, anddefended their young mistress with their lives. One of them escaped, andfled to a little inn for help; but, in the mean time, we were, as I havesaid, overpowered and carried off farther into the hills, my Lord ofMasseran as well as myself; though I cannot help thinking that he wentsomewhat willingly, for certainly among the assailants there was one, ifnot more, of the attendants of his good friend the Count de Meyrand.When we had gone some way--a long way, indeed, it seemed to me--acavalier who had been found at the inn, none other than Monsieur deRohan, came to our rescue, having gathered together a number of personssufficient to deliver us--"

  "A number of brigands!" said the Lord of Masseran, interrupting her:"brigands, you mean, young lady! brigands!"

  "Ha! ha!" cried the priest, "wonderfully good! That bolt was smartlyshot, my good Lord of Masseran. But, as you have put a word to thelady's story, I will put another; she says 'persons,' you say'brigands,' I say anybody he could get. I was one of the number: therewere other people from the inn, and the brigands, it is very true, cameand joined us; not liking, as your majesty may easily conceive, that thegood Lord of Masseran, or any other lord, should take the trade out oftheir hands. However, we refused no help where we could get it. TheChevalier de Meyrand, who was at the inn when the man came crying foraid, remained at the table with the capons and the bottles of wine, notliking, as may well be supposed, to frustrate his own schemes or fightagainst his own people; and Bernard de Rohan, with what assistance hecould get, set free the young lady, ay, and the Lord of Masseran toboot."

  "Then there were, in truth, brigands with you, my good father," said theking.

  "In sooth were there, sire," replied the priest; "some of the bestbrigands between this and Naples; and I have a shrewd notion that Corsede Leon was there himself."

  "Indeed!" said the king, with a smile; "then I wish I had been therealso: I would give half a province to see that man, who seems to havebeen born for a general, and become a brigand by accident."

  "Brissac writes me word, sire," said the Marechal de Vieilleville, "thatCorse de Leon has served you better in Piedmont than any three captainsin your service."

  "That may well be," said the king; "but yet we must not too openlyfavour such gentry. Now, lady, we have interrupted you too long."

  "I have but little more to say, sire," replied Isabel de Brienne: "asthose who had delivered us were carrying us back to the castle insafety, I had full opportunity--the first time for years--of speakingwith my promised husband, who informed me that he came, not only to seekmy hand, but to bear despatches from Monsieur de Brissac to my Lord ofMasseran there. What I have to tell farther is not altogether of my ownknowledge; but let him deny the facts if he can, for there are personswho can prove them if he does deny them. He received intelligence thatMonsieur de Rohan brought him despatches and directions of an unpleasantkind, and he left the chateau that he might not receive them. He alsoordered that admittance should be refused both to my mother and myself;and I had reason to believe that a new scheme was formed for compellingme to wed the Count de Meyrand. In these circumstances, your majesty, Isaw no chance of escape but in doing as I did do. I was far from yourprotecting arm; I was, in fact, in the power and at the disposal, not ofmy mother, but of a stranger to our house and nation; and I knew that ifI delayed or hesitated, even for a few days, I was likely to be bornefar away beyond the power of rescue or deliverance. I held that myfather's will and wishes justified me in what, at other times, mighthave been a rash, perhaps an improper act; and, having the opportunityboth of seeing him I loved and escaping with him, I did not hesitate;our purpose being immediately to seek your presence, and cast ourselvesat your majesty's feet, entreating your gracious pardon. We wereafterward seized at the altar, as your majesty has been told; and I wasthen carried away, as if with the purpose of taking me to some remoteplace, but, in reality, to give the opportunity of a mock deliverance bythe Count of Meyrand;" and she gave a brief account of what had takenplace after the count came apparently to her rescue. "I doubt not thathe was carrying me to Paris," she continued, "and might ultimately havebrought me to your majesty's presence; but I neither chose to beentirely in his power and at his disposal after all that had happened,nor to quit that part of the country where I had reason to believe mybrother was or might soon be, and where my husband--yes, sire, myhusband, for a vow had been spoken which nothing but death could doaway--where my husband lay a captive in the hands of that dangerous man.With the aid of Father Willand here I made my escape; but alas! alas! itwas only to find that he who had loved me well and truly was no longerin life to protect and guide me. I found, sire, that he had died ahorrible death in the castle of Masseran, by the falling of the towerunder which he was confined."

  She spoke, to all appearance, calmly; even the last words were distinct,though low; but she kept her eyes bent down, and, closing them for amoment, the drops of tears broke through the long black lashes like acrushed diamond.

  "I grieve for you, dear lady," said the king, "and I sympathize with youalso; for I loved this young gentleman well. But tell me, have you anysuspicion that his death was brought about unfairly?"

  "No, sire, no," she replied; "I have no cause to suppose so. I knownothing farther than that it is as I have told you."

  "You see, sire," said the Lord of Masseran, "that she exculpates me fromblame in this matter."

  "No, my lord, no," replied the king. "Of the manner of this gentleman'sdeath she knows nothing, but in regard to your preceding conduct shedoes anything but exculpate you. She says, or I am mistaken, that shehad good reason to know a scheme had been formed for compelling her tomarry the Count de Meyrand, and also for bearing her far away beyond thepossibility of rescue or deliverance. Call you this exculpating you?"

  "But I deny that this is the case, sire," replied the Lord of Masseran."How could she tell what were my schemes or what were my plans? Theseare but vague suspicions, engendered by disappointment and anger."

  "No, my lord, they are not," replied Isabel de Brienne. "They are notvague suspicions: they are certainties which I have never yet fully toldto any one, no, not even to him I loved, because you are my mother'shusband; but may I put you in mind of a German courier who was with yousecretly on the twenty-ninth of last month--not the first that came thatday--ay, and of the Spaniard who
came two days afterward--"

  The Lord of Masseran turned paler than his ruff, and clasped his handstogether as if about to pray for mercy; but Isabel went on, "With hismajesty's permission, I will first tell you in your ear, my lord, what Iknow of those couriers. Then, if you will have it so, and still deny thefact, I will speak aloud, and call on those who can prove it."

  The king bowed his head in token of consent; and, while Isabel spoke fora few moments with the Lord of Masseran apart, he said to Vieilleville,with a thoughtful look, "You see Brissac's information was good."

  "Might it not be better, sire," said Vieilleville, "to send this man fora few days to the Bastile, in order to ascertain how the case nowstands?"

  "It is not worth while," replied the king, in the same under voice; "thetreaty will so soon be concluded that he can do no mischief, especiallywhile we keep him about the court. On the contrary, Vieilleville, I hopeand trust he will not drive this poor girl to say any more; for Isuspect, if she were to tell all, I should be obliged to punish him; andthat same sword of justice is the heaviest and most unpleasant one towield I know. Well, fair lady, does your penitent admit the facts?"

  "He does not deny, my lord," replied Isabel de Brienne, "that I had goodcause for suspicion; and he has moreover promised me, both in his ownname and in that of my mother, that I shall never be farther pressed togive my hand to any one, but shall be permitted to do the only thingthat now remains for me to do in life--to retire from a world where Ihave known little but sorrow, and vow myself to the altar for ever."

  "Nay, nay," said the king. "Not so, fair lady, not so. We will have youthink of this better. Such charms as yours were never made for thecloister. At all events, let the first shadow of this grief pass away:you know not what may happen to change your views."

  "Nothing can ever do so, sire," replied Isabel de Brienne. "Your majestymust not forget, that with him who is gone I have been brought up all mylife. The sweet years of childhood, the happiest period that I have everknown, are in remembrance full of him and of his affection. To him allmy thoughts have been given, all my wishes linked from childhood untilnow: the thoughts so nurtured have become part of my being. His glory Ihave felt as my glory, his happiness I have prayed for before my own,and his praise has been to my heart the most tuneful of all sounds. Ican never think otherwise than I have thought, sire; and I will beseechyour majesty not to give this good Lord of Masseran any motive towithdraw the word that he has plighted to me."

  "Nay, I will not do that," replied the king. "I will hold him bound bythat word, that neither he nor your mother shall offer any opposition toyour wishes in this respect; but still, at the king's request, you mustdelay the execution of such a scheme, at least for a short time."

  "I fear, sire," said the Lord of Masseran, "that it will be in vain. Asyour majesty well knows, and as I do not scruple to confess, I had otherviews and wishes for her; but I know that she is of so fixed anddetermined a nature, that when, believing she is right, she has made upher mind to a certain course of action, nothing will move her to abandonit."

  "We shall see, we shall see," said the king. "I would fain not lose oneof the brightest ornaments of our court. Vieilleville," he continued,"unto your care I will commend this young lady. Take her with you to theapartments of your daughter and of my daughter Claude. Bid the princesslove her and sooth her, and consult with the queen where she can best beplaced in the chateau, so as to have comfort, and ease, and repose, withas little of the bustle and gayety of a court as may be, for the time.Such things will be harsh to you, I know, young lady. Monsieur deMasseran, we will be father and mother also to her for a while. FatherWilland, let me see you at nightfall: I have somewhat to say to you, mygood friend."

  "I shall make the almoner in waiting jealous," said Father Willand; "butI hope your majesty will order me some dinner: for I doubt much if, inyour whole palace, I should find any one charitable enough to bestow analms on a poor wandering priest like myself."

  "You are mistaken, good father," said Vieilleville. "You will find yourcover at my table: come with me; we must no farther occupy his majesty'stime."

  Thus saying, he led Isabel de Brienne to the door; but, before he hadgone out, the king called him back, and said in a low voice, "Do not letthe Savoyard quit the court. Should need be, tell him I require hispresence the day after to-morrow. Discourage these ideas of nunneries.Poor Meyrand is madly in love with this girl; and it is strange to seehow passion mixes itself up with his supercilious air of indifference.Perhaps she may be brought to yield."

  "I think not, sire," replied Vieilleville, bluntly; and, with a low bow,he left the room.