"Indeed!" said the d.u.c.h.ess: "and the brother? There is a youth I have seen about the court, a gay, thoughtless, high-spirited lad, who gained some renown under this very Baron de Rohan: what says he to the marriage?"

"Oh! he is too young and thoughtless," replied the Count de Meyrand. "He has been asked nothing on the subject, though there is reason to fear, we must not deny, that he would give his voice in favour of his old companion."

"But one thing is clear and certain," added the Lord of Ma.s.seran. "His consent was not asked to the marriage; therefore it was without his approbation and against the mother's."

"So far so good," replied Diana of Poitiers. "Now mark me, gentlemen, you must leave the whole conduct of this business to me; and if you pledge yourselves to act exactly as I am about to dictate, I, on my part, will pledge myself to obtain the promulgation of an edict annulling this marriage within twelve hours from this time."

A glad smile lighted up the face of the Count de Meyrand. But the Lord of Ma.s.seran asked in a low, sweet tone, "Pray what are the conditions, madam?"

"These," replied the d.u.c.h.ess at once. "And remember, gentlemen, that I am one who will not be trifled with; so that, if you fail to perform exactly your part, you shall find your whole schemes fall about your heads, and perhaps crush you in the ruins thereof. The very moment that I have obtained that edict, Monsieur de Ma.s.seran, without the loss of a single hour, you shall depart from Paris, and set this young cavalier, Bernard de Rohan, at liberty. Do not interrupt me! This is indispensable. You can leave the marchioness behind. In the next place, to guard against the evil consequences which I see you antic.i.p.ate, you shall engage the young Count of Brienne to set off instantly in search of his sister, in order to bring her at once to Paris to the presence of the king. You, Monsieur de Meyrand, shall not make the slightest attempt to seek for her yourself, nor shall you at present quit Paris. But this young gentleman, instructed that this edict annuls the clandestine marriage, and is upon the very point of being signed, shall go as the guardian of his sister's honour, and, at the same time, as the friend of Monsieur de Rohan, to bring her safely back to the protection of her mother and of his majesty. His own sense of what is right, under such circ.u.mstances, will be a sufficient guarantee that he do not suffer his sister to remain an hour with a man who is not her husband; and now--"

"But, madam," said the Count de Meyrand, "if you will pardon me for thus rudely interrupting you, I would point out one slight obstacle to the arrangement you propose, which renders it absolutely impossible, and may make it expedient that I should go myself. Henry of Brienne is at Gren.o.ble, I understand."

"Well, then, sir," said the d.u.c.h.ess, imperiously, "some one else must go. _You_ must not! Were the other the lowest valet in my household, he is more fit than you are to bring this lady to Paris."

The Lord of Ma.s.seran had remained silent till the d.u.c.h.ess's answer was made, but he then joined in the conversation again, in one of his sweetest tones, saying, "The count is mistaken, dear madam; Henry of Brienne is in Paris. He thought of going to Gren.o.ble, but did not go. He was with his sweet mother not an hour ago."

"Well, then, hear me!" said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Do you undertake, Monsieur de Meyrand, not to set out upon this search at all?" The count laid his hand upon his heart, bowed with mock humility, and replied, "Who ever yet resisted your commands? Nay, I am not jesting! I give you my promise, madam."

"Then, my Lord of Ma.s.seran," continued the d.u.c.h.ess, "all I have to say is this: Wait here for five minutes till I write a note above. Give it to Henry of Brienne: afford him every direction and hint for finding his sister, and bringing her at once to Paris. As soon as he has set out, come with your fair lady to the palace to offer your complaint regarding this clandestine marriage to his majesty. I will take care that you shall have an immediate hearing, and I pledge myself that the edict shall be signed this night. To-morrow morning, at daybreak, you depart alone, posthaste, to liberate Bernard de Rohan. Is it not so?" and she fixed her keen eye firm upon him.

"It is, madam," replied the Lord of Ma.s.seran, better pleased at the arrangement than she knew.

"As for you, Meyrand," she added, with a smile, "take my advice: come also to the court, appear totally unconcerned in this whole business, and press your suit upon the king, if you so please, when the edict is signed."

"A woman's policy is always the best, madam," replied the count, "and in this instance I shall follow it to the letter."

"I must now leave you," said the lady, "for I am already late. Wait here for the note, and then let us to our several parts with all speed."

In less than the time that she had specified, a servant brought in an open note, which contained these words:

"Diana, d.u.c.h.ess of Valentinois, to Henry, count of Brienne, greeting:

"These are to inform you that your sister Isabel de Brienne has contracted a clandestine marriage with Bernard, baron de Rohan; and that, inasmuch as this night an edict will be signed annulling all marriages of the sort, it is absolutely necessary to your own honour and to that of your sister that you should immediately proceed to find and bring her to Paris till the farther pleasure of the king be known. The Baron de Rohan having been arrested the moment that the marriage was celebrated, will be set at liberty immediately; but it is requisite that you should prevent all communication between him and your sister until it be authorized by his majesty."

The Lord of Ma.s.seran made no scruple of reading the contents and showing them to the Count de Meyrand, who marked them with a smile, and adding, "We must make quite sure of the youth, however," led the way from the apartments of the d.u.c.h.ess.

CHAPTER XVI.

In the great hall of the Louvre, the princes, the n.o.bles, and the ladies of France--all who had a right, from their rank and station, to be present at the great festivals of the court, and all who could by any means obtain an invitation from the king himself--were a.s.sembled before the hour of ten at night, on that occasion to which reference has been made in the last chapter. The monarch himself had not yet appeared; but one of those services which Henry princ.i.p.ally required from his great officers was to entertain with affability and kindness those whom the etiquette of his court obliged him to keep waiting; and, on the night of which we speak, the famous Marquis de Vieilleville in fact, though not ostensibly, represented the king, and, aided by a number of other gentlemen and officers commissioned so to do, received the court, and endeavoured to make the time of expectation ere the sovereign's arrival pa.s.s lightly.

Everything had been done that could be done to give splendour to the apartments, and many of those ornaments and decorations which we attribute to the taste of modern days, but which, in fact, have but come back again in the constant revolutions of fashion, were displayed on this occasion to render the scene of royal festivity bright and exciting. Some of the rooms were blazing with light, and covered with every sort of ornament of gold and silver: rich draperies were hanging from the walls, banners waving over head, garlands festooning the cornices, and music floating on the air. In others, again, by some means, a green hue had been given to the light, and it had been shaded and kept down to a kind of soft twilight by flowers and green branches; while a cool wind found its way in through open cas.e.m.e.nts and well-watered plants, and a stillness reigned upon the air only broken by the far-off sound of the music, the murmur of distant voices, and the sighing of the night air through the gardens.

We shall pause no more, however, on the decorations of that gay scene, inasmuch as so to do would be merely to give description without an object; for we have no reason to a.s.sign why the reader should bear any part thereof in mind. It is princ.i.p.ally with the great hall we have to do, but more especially still with the people that were in it. Shortly after ten the king himself, with his queen, the famous Catharine de Medicis, several of his children--among whom were three destined to be kings, and two queens of mighty nations--entered the hall, and took his place towards the head of the room.

It was very customary in those times to give the b.a.l.l.s of the court in open day; and, though it certainly would strike us as somewhat strange to see dancing take place except by candlelight--unless, indeed, it were upon the greensward, where the smiling look of Nature herself seems to justify and to call for that exuberant life which she first taught in the world's young days--yet then as gay and as merry dances as any that we now behold, took place in the painted saloons, under the somewhat too bright and searching eye of the sun. The whole of that morning, however, had been spent in either business or in festivities of another kind, and the present was one of those more rare occasions selected, as we have said, for a ball at night.

Shortly after the king entered the room, he spoke a few words to the young Count Duilly, then celebrated for his skill and grace in the dance, and he, making his way to the spot where the musicians were placed, communicated to them the orders of the king. What was called the _Danse Royale_ was then played; and Henry himself, graceful and distinguished in every sport and exercise, opened the ball in person.

Shortly after, another dance was played; and all who were, or believed themselves to be, the most skilful of the court, hastened to figure in the galliarde. Upon the execution of that marvellous performance, the galliarde, however, perhaps the less we say the better; for it is to be acknowledged that the various names of the wonderful steps danced--the desportes, capriolles, turns and returns, fleurettes, close and dispersed gamberottes, &c.--convey as little definite idea of what was really done to our own mind as they would to the minds of most of our readers. It was all very successful, no doubt; and there is much reason to believe, from the account which Monsieur de Vieilleville himself wrote on the occasion, that many a young lady's heart was pierced through and through by the graces of particular cavaliers.

The king himself took part in the dance, as we have said, but it was a dignified part; and, having set the example, he retired from it as speedily as possible. When he had done he looked round, as if searching for some face he had missed, and his eye soon fell upon the fair d.u.c.h.ess of Valentinois, whom he had not beheld before; for, to say the truth, she had just entered, taking advantage of the general movement round the galliarde to come in without attracting much attention. Her countenance bore an expression of such unusual gravity, that Henry himself, ere he resumed the place in the saloon where he usually stood on such occasions, paused and spoke to her; first playfully scolding Henrietta de la Mark for not having joined the dancers, and then asking the d.u.c.h.ess, in a lower tone, if anything had gone amiss.

Diana smiled, and replied, "No, sire, nothing exactly amiss; but I have had visiters this evening at an unusual hour, and they have been pressing me to obtain for them an audience of your majesty on this very night, regarding matters of much importance."

"Nay, why should that cloud your fair brow?" said the king, in the same low tone: "I will give them audience ere I go to bed, if my so doing will please you, bright queen of night. If they can put it off, however, let them come to-morrow, and your name shall open the doors of the cabinet to them, be they the lowliest in the land."

"That they are not, sire," replied Diana. "They are high enough to present themselves here this night even unbidden; but I fear that to-morrow will not do; for, upon your majesty's reply to them, a courier must depart at once for the South. Still let me say, ere they come forward--for I see them entering now--that it is not their requested audience that makes me somewhat grave; no, nor their pressing for it at an unseasonable hour, but it is that they come to urge upon your majesty the selfsame suit I urged this morning; and, as I then saw that for the first time I was doubted and suspected of art, in trying to lead rather than to argue with my king, it may now be thought I have some share in their coming, when, Heaven is my witness, it could take no one more by surprise than myself."

"Nay, but what is all this?" demanded the king, in a soothing tone; and then, suddenly turning to Mademoiselle de la Mark, he exclaimed, "Lo!

Henriette--belle Henriette! here comes Damville, all love and ambergris, to claim your fair hand--for the dance. Go with him, lady! Now, Diana, what is this that agitates you thus? Faith, I suspect you not, and never have suspected. I did but smile this morning at your eagerness, though natural enough, and to see how we kings find soft leading, and all things prepared to bring us to that which wise or fair counsellors judge is for our good; it is the vice of power, my Diana, it is the vice of power! As men by years reach childhood again, so kings by power fall into weakness. But that matters not; your wishes were for the best; and, if there was a little management in the matter, there could be but small offence."

"With one so placable as you are, sire," rejoined the d.u.c.h.ess, gazing in his face with a smile; "but the matter is this: There came to me this night the Lord of Ma.s.seran--one of your majesty's faithful adherents in Savoy--beseeching that I would obtain for him and for his fair lady immediate audience of your majesty on matters that brook no delay. He, judging wrongly that I had some little credit or influence with you, besought me to urge upon your majesty the immediate promulgation of the edict, so long delayed and often spoken of, concerning clandestine marriages, and besought me to tell you the cause of his application. All this I refused to do, telling him that on the subject of the edict I had already done my best; that I had pleaded for myself; that I had even pleaded in behalf of what I thought your majesty's best interest; and that, having done so, I could not say a word for any other being on the earth. Thus, sire, all I have to request is, that you would hear him and judge for yourself."

The expression of Henry's face while she was speaking puzzled not a little Diana of Poitiers. The king's brow became for a time dark and heavy, and his eye flashed angrily. But then, again, when he saw that the lady seemed somewhat alarmed by his look, he smiled upon her kindly, as if to mark that any feelings of dissatisfaction which he experienced were not directed towards herself. His real feelings were explained, however, immediately, by his replying in the same low tone, "He is, I believe, a most consummate villain, this Lord of Ma.s.seran; and there is good reason to suppose he has been playing false both to France and Savoy. He has the very look of a handsome wolf," the king continued, turning his frowning brow to the part of the room towards which the eyes of Diana of Poitiers directed his in search of the Lord of Ma.s.seran: "I will speak with him presently, however. Let him be taken into the white chamber, next to that in which they serve the confectionery. Send likewise for Bertrandi. He is in my closet. I will join you there in a quarter of an hour. A guard, too, may be wanted before we have done. So, as you pa.s.s, bid Beaujolais keep near the door."

Thus saying, the king turned away and occupied himself with other matters, speaking to the most distinguished persons present, and laughing gayly with many a fair dame as he pa.s.sed along. The d.u.c.h.ess remained for a short time where he had left her, not only for the purpose of preventing her long conversation with the king from connecting itself in the suspicions of those around with whatever might take place regarding the Lord of Ma.s.seran, but also because she had some doubts as to whether she should herself be present or not at the interview between the Savoyard n.o.bleman and the king. Henry had certainly implied that she was to be present. But she had doubts and fears in regard to meddling too much with the matter; and, if she could have trusted to the Lord of Ma.s.seran, she certainly would have stayed away.

Trust him, however, she could not; for there was something in his whole aspect, demeanour, and tone which at once inspired suspicion. Indeed, he did not try to avoid it; for, looking upon skill, cunning, and acuteness as the greatest of human qualities, he made no pretence whatever to either frankness or sincerity. She still hesitated, however, when the Count de Meyrand, dressed in the most splendid, and, at the same time, the most tasteful habit that perhaps the whole court that night displayed, pa.s.sed by her as he retired from the dance. He bowed as he did so with lowly reverence, but, at the same time, with a meaning glance of the eye towards the spot where the Lord of Ma.s.seran stood.

"I must watch what takes place myself," thought the d.u.c.h.ess: "I will take no part in the matter unless there be great need; but I will watch all that is said and done."

She accordingly drew herself gradually back from the circle, and, choosing a moment when some change in the dance produced a momentary confusion, she retired to the room which the king had named.

A minute or two after, an attendant pa.s.sed through the ballroom and whispered a few words to the Lord of Ma.s.seran, who instantly followed the servant, accompanied by a lady who had continued to stand beside him since his entrance, but to whom he had not addressed more than one or two words during the evening. She was a tall and handsome woman, and in her countenance there was certainly some degree of resemblance to the fair Isabel de Brienne. The features, however, though still fine, were all larger and harsher except the eyes, which were small and of a different colour from those of Isabel, being of a keen, eager black. She was pale, and looked somewhat out of health; and, mingling with an air of sternness which sat upon her brow, there was an expression of anxiety and grief which made her countenance a painful one to look upon. It seemed to bear written upon it, in very legible lines, the history of a haughty spirit broken.

When the Lord of Ma.s.seran and his wife reached the chamber to which the royal servant conducted them, the d.u.c.h.ess of Valentinois was there alone. She received them affably, but with somewhat of regal state, and begged the marchioness to seat herself, acting in all things as if the palace were her own.

"Is that note for me, Monsieur de Ma.s.seran?" she inquired, after having announced that the king would join them in a few minutes, and asked some questions of common courtesy regarding the health of the Marchioness of Ma.s.seran. "Is that note which you hold in your hand for me?"

"It is, madam," replied the other. "It is from Monsieur de Brienne, whom we left booted and spurred, with his horses at the door, ready to mount at a moment's notice."

The d.u.c.h.ess took the note and read. "Madame," it ran, "I am ready promptly to set out for the frontier of Savoy as soon as my errand is clearly ascertained. My dear sister Isabel is either the wife of my earliest friend Bernard de Rohan, to whom she was promised by my father, and to whom it is my first wish she should be united, or the marriage which I understand has taken place is null. If she be his wife, Heaven forbid that I should make even an attempt to separate them, which I am sure De Rohan would instantly and justly resist. If, however, the king, by an edict which I must not dare to impugn, has thought fit, as I am told, to declare such marriages void, whether past or future, it, of course, becomes my duty immediately to seek my sister, and to keep her with me till such time as we obtain his majesty's permission for her final union to my friend. But I must first be positively certified that such an edict has been signed. If I can show this to De Rohan, I know him too well to doubt his conduct; but, if I cannot show it to him, I must not and dare not attempt measures towards him which he would infallibly resist. At the same time, madam, let me tell you, with all respect, that I find I have been trifled with; that false information regarding De Rohan's movements has been given me, in order to prevent my joining him at Gren.o.ble, as he wished; and that I am certain my sister Isabel has been driven to give her hand thus suddenly to her promised husband by circ.u.mstances of which we are not aware."

"More good sense than I gave him credit for," said the d.u.c.h.ess, musing.

"May I be permitted, madam, to see the note which has excited your admiration?" inquired the Lord of Ma.s.seran, with a quiet sneer.

"Nay, Monsieur de Ma.s.seran," answered the d.u.c.h.ess, "it was not written for the public benefit."

"And, doubtless," continued the Lord of Ma.s.seran, "as the young gentleman was not in the sweetest of moods, it was not written for my private benefit either?"

"He never mentions your name, my lord," replied the d.u.c.h.ess, "nor speaks of you in any way. But here comes my good lord the chancellor: the king will not be long."

Her prediction was verified, for Bertrandi had scarcely entered the room when Henry himself appeared, accompanied by his son, afterward Francis the Second, and followed by a page, who placed himself at the door to prevent any one from entering without permission. Every one present drew back as the king appeared, and bowed low; while, with a frowning brow, he crossed the cabinet, and seated himself at a small table. The dauphin then took a place upon his father's right hand, and the chancellor, after a deprecatory bow to the d.u.c.h.ess of Valentinois, advanced to the king's left.