"Then go thither at once," said Corse de Leon, with a dissatisfied air.

"If you will still trust to those whom you have not tried, go thither, and encounter whatever the consequence may be. Were I you, my conduct would be different."

"What would you do, then?" asked Bernard de Rohan. "I do not propose to go to the court _at once_, but merely after I have done all that I can to trace my Isabel on the road that she has taken. Say! what would you do were you situated as I am?"

"It matters little," replied Corse de Leon, "for we are differently formed. You are like the stately warhorse, doubtless strong and full of fire, but broken down to the bit and rein of custom, and trained to pace hither and thither, as the great riding-master called society wills.

Your affections may be vehement, your courage high, your heart sincere, but you are not fitted and formed for the wild life of freedom, or for a desperate and deadly struggle against the trammels of habit, and the lash and spur of opinion. I, on the contrary, am the lion--or, if you will, the tiger, or the wolf. No hand tames me and goads me on--my mouth knows no bit and curb--the desert is my home--solitude my society--my own will my law--and they who strive to take and chain me, to break me down to the world's habits, or to bind me by man's opinions, will either rue the bite of the free wild beast, or see him die before the hunters, in silence and despair. If you would know what I would do, I would take my revenge of that bad man; I would seek the lady till I found her; I would tell her that dangers, obstructions, impediments, and the vain idleness of a world's laws were before us if we did not trample upon that world's judgments; I would ask her to cast off for me and with me the prejudices of country and connexions; I would make my native place of the first land of freedom I could find; I would find my friends and my relations among the brave, and the free, and the good, wherever I met them; I would press out from the grape of liberty the wine of my own happiness, and I would drink of the cup that my own hand had prepared.

But such counsels are not for you; such things are not parts of your nature."

"I believe not," replied Bernard de Rohan; "but still the first part of your advice I shall follow, and at daybreak to-morrow will set out to meet this man upon the way, and bid him draw his sword where there is none to interrupt us."

"Should he refuse?" said the brigand. "He is well accompanied--has many men with him, and some who seem to bear a high rank and station. He may refuse to draw his sword, and say that the matter is before the king: what then?"

"I will spurn him as a cur," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I will strike him in the midst of his people; call him a coward as well as a knave, and send him back with the brand of shame upon his brow. It matters not to me who are with him! If gentlemen be there, so much the better; Bernard de Rohan's name is not unknown, Bernard de Rohan's honour bears no stain; and they shall hear his treachery and baseness blazoned in the open day by a tongue unknown to falsehood."

Corse de Leon gazed upon him for a moment with a grave, perhaps one might call it a pitying smile. "You have forgotten," he said, "or never fully known, the court of France. There has there risen up," he added, "within my memory, a habit, an affectation of indifference, if you like to call it so, to all things on this earth; which indifference is born of a corrupt and a degraded heart, and of sated and exhausted appet.i.tes.

To a high mind, furnished with keen and vigorous faculties, nothing on earth can be indifferent; for acuteness of perception--a quality which, in its degree, a.s.similates us to the Divine nature--weighs all distinctions. As G.o.d himself sees all the qualities of everything, whether minute or great, and gives them their due place, so, the grander and the more expansive the intellect may be, the more accurately it feels, perceives, and estimates the good or evil of each individual thing. The low and the base, the palled taste of luxury, the satiated sense of licentiousness, the callous heart of selfishness, the blunted sensibilities of l.u.s.t, covetousness, gluttony, effeminacy, and idleness, take refuge in indifference, and call it to their aid, lest vanity--the weakest, but the last point to become hardened in the heart of man--should be wounded. They take for their protection the shield of a false and tinsel wit, the answer of a sneer, the argument of a supercilious look, and try to gloze over everything, to themselves and others, with a contemptuous persiflage which confounds all right and wrong. Thus will this count and his companions meet you; and you will gain neither answer nor satisfaction, but a jest, a sneer, or a look of pity."

"It matters not," replied Bernard de Rohan, "it matters not! There are some things that men cannot laugh away! Honour, and courage, and virtue are not columns planted so loosely that a light gale can blow them down; and I will mark his brow with such disgrace that an ocean of laughter and light jests will never wash the stain off again. When I have done that, I will seek my Isabel, and by her own wishes shall our future conduct be guided. You have reasoned like a learned scholar, my good friend; but yet you see you have not converted me to your thoughts, though I will own that it much surprises me to find you have such varied knowledge of courts, and, I should think, of schools also."

"I have of both," replied Corse de Leon: "the one I have seen, though in an humble sphere; the other in my youth I frequented, and gained there knowledge which those who taught me did not know that they communicated.

However, I wished not to convince you or to overrule your determination, for that determination is not wrong. I only desired that you should go to its execution with a full knowledge of all that you might meet with.

Follow your plan, therefore, as you have laid it down, and in executing it I will not be far from you in case of need. There is no knowing what a bad man may do, and you ride too slightly attended to offer much resistance in case they sought to do you wrong."

"Oh, I fear not, I fear not," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Here, on the soil of France, I have no fear of any acts of violence, such as that from which I suffered in Savoy."

"Have you not seen to-night," said his companion, "have you not seen this night what wrongs are daily done, even here? However, as I have said, I will not be far from you; so, for the present, farewell, and let not daylight see you a lingerer in this dark city."

Thus saying, he turned and left his young companion, who remained for some time plunged in deep thought; and, though the light of bright hope continued still unextinguished before him, mists and clouds came across the flame from time to time, making it wavering, uncertain, and obscure.

END OF VOL. I.