STRAY PEARLS

MEMOIRS OF MARGARET DE RIBAUMONT

VISCOUNTESS OF BELLAISE

PREFACE

No one can be more aware than the author that the construction ofthis tale is defective. The state of French society, and the strangescenes of the Fronde, beguiled me into a tale which has become rathera family record than a novel. 

Formerly the Muse of the historical romance was an independent andarbitrary personage, who could compress time, resuscitate the dead, give mighty deeds to imaginary heroes, exchange substitutes forpopular martyrs on the scaffold, and make the most stubborn factssubservient to her purpose. Indeed, her most favoured son boldlyasserted her right to bend time and place to her purpose, and to makethe interest and effectiveness of her work the paramount object. Butcritics have lashed her out of these erratic ways, and she is nowbecome the meek hand maid of Clio, creeping obediently in the trackof the greater Muse, and never venturing on more than colouring andworking up the grand outlines that her mistress has left undefined. Thus, in the present tale, though it would have been far moreconvenient not to have spread the story over such a length of time, and to have made the catastrophe depend upon the heroes and heroines, instead of keeping them mere ineffective spectators, or only engagedin imaginary adventures for which a precedent can be found, it hasbeen necessary to stretch out their narrative, so as to be at leastconsistent with the real history, at the entire sacrifice of theplot. And it may be feared that thus the story may partake of theconfusion that really reigned over the tangled thread of events. There is no portion of history better illustrated by memoirs of theactors therein than is the Fronde; but, perhaps, for that very reasonnone so confusing. 

Perhaps it may be an assistance to the reader to lay out the barehistorical outline like a map, showing to what incidents the memoirsof the Sisters of Ribaumont have to conform themselves. 

When Henry IV. Succeeded in obtaining the throne of France, he foundthe feudal nobility depressed by the long civil war, and hisexchequer exhausted. He and his minister Sully returned to thepolicy of Louis XI. , by which the nobles were to be kept down andprevented from threatening the royal power. This was seldom done byviolence, but by giving them employment in the Army and Court, attaching them to the person of the King, and giving them officeswith pensions attached to them. 

The whole cost of these pensions and all the other expenses ofGovernment fell on the townspeople and peasantry, since the clergyand the nobles to all generations were exempt from taxation. Thetrade and all the resources of the country were taking such a springof recovery since the country had been at peace, and the persecutionof the Huguenots had ceased, that at first the taxation provoked fewmurmurs. The resources of the Crown were further augmented bypermitting almost all magistrates and persons who held public officesto secure the succession to their sons on the payment of a tariffcalled LA PAULETTE, from the magistrate who invented it. 

In the next reign, however, an effort was made to secure greaterequality of burthens. On the meeting of the States-General--the onlypopular assembly possessed by France--Louis XIII. , however, afterhearing the complaints, and promising to consider them, shut thedoors against the deputies, made no further answer, and dismissedthem to their houses without the slightest redress. The Assembly wasnever to meet again till the day of reckoning for all, a hundred andseventy years later. 

Under the mighty hand of Cardinal Richelieu the nobles were stillmore effectually crushed, and the great course of foreign war begun, which lasted, with short intervals, for a century. The great mandied, and so did his feeble master; and his policy, both at home andabroad, was inherited by his pupil Giulio Mazarini, while the regencyfor the child, Louis XIV. , devolved on his mother, Anne of Austria--apious and well-meaning, but proud and ignorant, Spanish Princess--whopinned her faith upon Mazarin with helpless and exclusive devotion, believing him the only pilot who could steer her vessel throughtroublous waters. 

But what France had ill brooked from the high-handed son of herancient nobility was intolerable from a low-born Italian, of gracefulbut insinuating manners. Moreover, the war increased the burthens ofthe country, and, in the minority of the King, a stand was made atlast. 

The last semblance of popular institutions existed in the Parliamentsof this was the old feudal Council of the Counts of Paris, consistingof the temporal and spiritual peers of the original county, who hadthe right to advise with their chief, and to try the causesconcerning themselves. The immediate vassals of the King had a rightto sit there, and were called Paris De France, in distinction fromthe other nobles who only had seats in the Parliament in whoseprovince their lands might lie. To these St. Louis, in his anxietyto repress lawlessness, had added a certain number of trained lawyersand magistrates; and these were the working members of theseParliaments, which were in general merely courts of justice for civiland criminal causes. The nobles only attended on occasions ofunusual interest. Moreover, a law or edict of the King became validon being registered by a Parliament. It was a moot question whetherthe Parliament had the power to baffle the King by refusing toregister an edict, and Henry IV. Had avoided a refusal from theParliament of Paris, by getting his edict of toleration for theHuguenots registered at Nantes. 

The peculiarly oppressive house-tax, with four more imposts proposedin 1648, gave the Parliament of Paris the opportunity of trying tomake an effectual resistance by refusing the registration. They werebacked by the municipal government of the city at the Hotel de Ville, and encouraged by the Coadjutor of the infirm old Archbishop ofParis, namely, his nephew, Paul de Gondi, titular Bishop of Corinthin partibus infidelium, a younger son of the Duke of Retz, an Italianfamily introduced by Catherince de Medici. There seemed to be a hopethat the nobility, angered at their own systematic depression, and byMazarin's ascendency, might make common cause with the Parliament andestablish some effectual check to the advances of the Crown. Thiswas the origin of the party called the Fronde, because the speakerslaunched their speeches at one another as boys fling stones from asling (fronde) in the streets. 

The Queen-Regent was enraged through all her despotic Spanishhaughtiness at such resistance. She tried to step in by the arrestof the foremost members of the Opposition, but failed, and onlyprovoked violent tumults. The young Prince of Conde, coming homefrom Germany flushed with victory, hated Mazarin extremely, but hispride as a Prince of the Blood, and his private animosities impelledhim to take up the cause of the Queen. She conveyed her son secretlyfrom Paris, and the city was in a state of siege for several months. However, the execution of Charles I. In England alarmed the Queen onthe one hand, and the Parliament on the other as to the consequencesof a rebellion, provisions began to run short, and a vague hollowpeace was made in the March of 1649. 

Conde now became intolerably overbearing, insulted every one, and somuch offended the Queen and Mazarin that they caused him, hisbrother, and the Duke of Bouillon, to be arrested and imprisoned atVincennes. His wife, though a cruelly-neglected woman whom he hadnever loved, did her utmost to deliver him, repaired to Bordeaux, andgained over the Parliament there, so that she held out four monthsagainst the Queen. Turenne, brother to Bouillon, and as great ageneral as Conde, obtained the aid of Spaniards, and the Coadjutorprevailed on the King's uncle, Gaston, Duke of Orleans, to representthat the Queen must give way, release the Princes, part with Mazarin, and even promise to convoke the States-General. Anne still, however, corresponded with the Cardinal, and was directed by him ineverything. Distrust and dissension soon broke out, Conde and theCoadjutor quarrelled violently, and the royal promises made to bothPrinces and Parliament were eluded by the King, at fourteen, beingdeclared to have attained his majority, and thus that all engagementsmade in his name became void. 

Conde went of to Guienne and raised an army; Mazirin returned to theQueen; Paris shut its gates and declared Mazarin an outlaw. TheCoadjutor (now become Cardinal de Retz) vainly tried to stir up theDuke of Orleans to take a manly part and mediate between the parties;but being much afraid of his own appanage, the city of Orleans, beingoccupied by either army, Gaston sent his daughter to take the chargeof it, as she effectually did--but she was far from neutrality, beingdeluded by a hope that Conde would divorce his poor faithful wife tomarry her. Turenne, on his brother's release, had made his peacewith the Court, and commanded the royal army. War and havoc ragedoutside Paris; within the partisans of the Princes stirred thepopulace to endeavour to intimidate the Parliament and municipalityinto taking their part. Their chief leader throughout was the Dukeof Beaufort, a younger son of the Duke of Vendome, the child ofGabrille d'Estrees. He inherited his grandmother's beauty and hisgrandfather's charm of manner; he was the darling of the populace ofParis, and led them, in an aimless sort of way, whether there wasmischief to be done; and the violence and tumult of this latterFronde was far worse than those of the first. 

A terrible battle in the Faubourg St. Antoine broke Conde's force, and the remnant was only saved by Mademoiselle's insisting on theirbeing allowed to pass through Paris. After one ungrateful attempt toterrify the magistrates into espousing his cause and standing a siegeon his behalf, Conde quitted Paris, and soon after fell ill of aviolent fever. 

His party melted away. Mazarin saw that tranquillity might berestored if he quitted France for a time. The King proclaimed anamnesty, but with considerable exceptions and no relaxation of hispower; and these terms the Parliament, weary of anarchy, and findingthe nobles had cared merely for their personal hatreds, not for thepublic good, were forced to accept. 

Conde, on his recovery, left France, and for a time fought againsthis country in the ranks of the Spaniards. Beaufort died bravelyfighting against the Turks at Cyprus. Cardinal de Retz wasimprisoned, and Mademoiselle had to retire from Court, while otherless distinguished persons had to undergo the punishment for theirresistance, though, to the credit of the Court party be it spoken, there were no executions, only imprisonments; and in after years theFronde was treated as a brief frenzy, and forgotten. 

Perhaps it may be well to explain that Mademoiselle was AnneGenevieve de Bourbon, daughter of Gaston, Duke of Orleans, by hisfirst wife, the heiress of the old Bourbon branch of Montpensier. She was the greatest heiress in France, and an exceedingly vain andeccentric person, aged twenty-three at the beginning of the Fronde. 

It only remains to say that I have no definite authority forintroducing such a character as that of Clement Darpent, but it iswell known that there was a strong under-current of upright, honest, and highly-cultivated men among the bourgeoisie and magistrates, andthat it seemed to me quite possible that in the first Fronde, whenthe Parliament were endeavouring to make a stand for a just right, and hoping to obtain further hopes and schemes, and, acting on higherand purer principles than those around him, be universallymisunderstood and suspected. 

C. M. YONGE. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS

CHAPTER II. A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION

CHAPTER III. CELADON AND CHLOE

CHAPTER IV. THE SALON BLEU

CHAPTER V. IN GARRISON

CHAPTER VI. VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT

CHAPTER VII. WIDOW AND WIFE

CHAPTER VIII. MARGUERITE TO THE RESCUE

CHAPTER IX. THE FIREBAND OF THE BOCAGE

CHAPTER X. OLD THREADS TAKEN UP

CHAPTER XI. THE TWO QUEENS

CHAPTER XII. CAVALIERS IN EXILE

CHAPTER XIII. MADEMOISELLE'S TOILETTE

CHAPTER XIV. COURT APPOINTMENTS

CHAPTER XV. A STRANGE THANKGIVING DAY

CHAPTER XVI. THE BARRICADES

CHAPTER XVII. A PATIENT GRISEL

CHAPTER XVIII. TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL

CHAPTER XIX. INSIDE PARIS (Annora's Narrative)

CHAPTER XX. CONDOLENCE (By Margaret)

CHAPTER XXI. ST. MARGARET AND THE DRAGON

CHAPTER XXII. ST. MARGARET AND THE DRAGON (By Annora)

CHAPTER XXIII. THE LION AND THE MOUSE

CHAPTER XXIV. FAMILY HONOUR

CHAPTER XXV. THE HAGUE

CHAPTER XXVI. HUNKERSLUST

CHAPTER XXVII. THE EXPEDIENT (Annora's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BOEUF GRAS (Annora's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXIX. MADAME'S OPPORTUNITY (Annora's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXX. THE NEW MAID OF ORLEAN (Margaret's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXXI. PORTE ST. ANTOINE (Margaret's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXXII. ESCAPE (Annora's Narrative)

CHAPTER XXXIII. BRIDAL PEARLS

CHAPTER XXXIV. ANNORA'S HOME

STRAY PEARLS

MEMOIRS OF MARGARET DE RIBAUMONT

VISCOUNTESS OF BELLAISE

CHAPTER I. 

WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS. 

I have long promised you, my dear grandchildren, to arrange myrecollections of the eventful years that even your father can hardlyremember. I shall be glad thus to draw closer the bonds betweenourselves and the English kindred, whom I love so heartily, though Imay never hope to see them in this world, far less the dear old homewhere I grew up. 

For, as perhaps you have forgotten, I am an English woman by birth, having first seen the light at Walwyn House, in Dorsetshire. Onebrother had preceded me--my dear Eustace--and another brother, Berenger, and my little sister, Annora, followed me. 

Our family had property both in England and in Picardy, and it waswhile attending to some business connected with the French estatethat my father had fallen in love with a beautiful young widow, Madame la Baronne de Solivet (nee Cheverny), and had brought herhome, in spite of the opposition of her relations. I cannot tellwhether she were warmly welcomed at Walwyn Court by any one but thedear beautiful grandmother, a Frenchwoman herself, who was delightedagain to hear her mother tongue, although she had suffered much amongthe Huguenots in her youth, when her husband was left for dead on theS. Barthelemi. 

He, my grandfather, had long been dead, but I perfectly remember her. She used to give me a sugar-cake when I said 'Bon soir, bonne maman, 'with the right accent, and no one made sugar-cake like hers. Shealways wore at her girdle a string of little yellow shells, which shedesired to have buried with her. We children were never weary ofhearing how they had been the only traces of her or of her daughterthat her husband could find, when he came to the ruined city. 

I could fill this book with her stories, but I must not linger overthem; and indeed I heard no more after I was eight years old. Untilthat time my brother and I were left under her charge in the country, while my father and mother were at court. My mother was one of theLadies of the Bedchamber of Queen Henrietta Maria, who had beenenchanted to find in her a countrywoman, and of the same faith. Iwas likewise bred up in their Church, my mother having obtained theconsent of my father, during a dangerous illness that followed mybirth, but the other children were all brought up as Protestants. Indeed, no difference was made between Eustace and me when we were atWalwyn. Our grandmother taught us both alike to make the sign of thecross, and likewise to say our prayers and the catechism; and oh! weloved her very much. 

Eustace once gave two black eyes to our rude cousin, HarryMerricourt, for laughing when he said no one was as beautiful as theGrandmother, and though I am an old woman myself, I think he wasright. She was like a little fairy, upright and trim, with darkflashing eyes, that never forgot how to laugh, and snowy curls on herbrow. 

I believe that the dear old lady made herself ill by nursing us twochildren day and night when we had the smallpox. She had a stroke, and died before my father could be fetched from London; but I knewnothing of all that; I only grieved, and wondered that she did notcome to me, till at last the maid who was nursing me told me flatlythat the old lady was dead. I think that afterwards we were sentdown to a farmer's house by the sea, to be bathed and made rid ofinfection; and that the pleasure of being set free from our sickchambers and of playing on the shore drove from our minds for thetime our grief for the good grandma, though indeed I dream of heroften still, and of the old rooms and gardens at Walwyn, though Ihave never seen them since. 

When we were quite well and tolerably free from pock-marks, my fathertook us to London with him, and there Eustace was sent to school atWestminster; while I, with little Berry, had a tutor to teach usLatin and French, and my mother's waiting-maid instructed me insewing and embroidery. As I grew older I had masters in dancing andthe spinnet, and my mother herself was most careful of my deportment. Likewise she taught me such practices of our religion as I had notlearnt from my grandmother, and then it was I found that I was to bebrought up differently from Eustace and the others. I cried atfirst, and declared I would do like Eustace and my father. I did notthink much about it; I was too childish and thoughtless to be reallydevout; and when my mother took me in secret to the queen's littlechapel, full of charming objects of devotion, while the others had tosit still during sermons two hours long, I began to think that I wasthe best off. 

Since that time I have thought much more, and talked the subject overboth with my dear eldest brother and with good priests, both Englishand French, and I have come to the conclusion, as you know, mychildren, that the English doctrine is no heresy, and that the Churchis a true Church and Catholic, though, as my home and my duties liehere, I remain where I was brought up by my mother, in the communionof my husband and children. I know that this would seem almostheresy to our good Pere Chavand, but I wish to leave my sentiments onrecord for you, my children. 

But how I have anticipated my history! I must return, to tell youthat when I was just sixteen I was told that I was to go to my firstball at Whitehall. My hair was curled over my forehead, and I wasdressed in white satin, with the famous pearls of Ribaumont round myneck, though of course they were not to be mine eventually. 

I knew the palace well, having often had the honour of playing withthe Lady Mary, who was some years younger than I, so that I was muchless alarmed than many young gentlewomen there making their firstappearance. But, as my dear brother Eustace led me into the outerhall, close behind my father and mother, I heard a strange whistle, and, looking up, I saw over the balustrade of the gallery a drollmonkey face looking out of a mass of black curls, and makingsignificant grimaces at me. 

I knew well enough that it was no other than the Prince of Wales. Hewas terribly ugly and fond of teasing, but in a good-natured way, always leaving off when he saw he was giving real pain, and I likedhim much better than his brother, the Duke of York, who was proud andsullen. Yet one could always trust the Duke, and that could not besaid for the Prince. 

By the time we had slowly advanced up the grand staircase into thebanqueting-hall, and had made our reverences to the king and queen--ah, how stately and beautiful they looked together!--the Prince hadstepped in some other way, and stood beside me. 

'Well, Meg, ' he said, in an undertone--'I beg pardon, Mrs. Margaret--decked out in all her splendour, a virgin for the sacrifice!'

'What sacrifice, sir?' I asked, startled. 

'Eh!' he said. 'You do not know that le futur is arrived!'

'She knows nothing, your Highness, ' said Eustace. 

'What, oh, what is there to know?' I implored the Prince and mybrother in turn to inform me, for I saw that there was some earnestin the Prince's jests, and I knew that the queen and my mother werelooking out for a good match for me in France. 

'Let me show him to you, ' presently whispered the Prince, who hadbeen called off by his father to receive the civilities of anambassador. Then he pointed out a little wizened dried-up old man, who was hobbling up to kiss Her Majesty's hand, and whose courtlysmile seemed to me to sit most unnaturally on his wrinkledcountenance. I nearly screamed. I was forced to bite my lips tokeep back my tears, and I wished myself child enough to be able toscream and run away, when my mother presently beckoned me forward. Ihardly had strength to curtsey when I was actually presented to theold man. Nothing but terror prevented my sinking on the floor, and Iheard as through falling waters something about M. Le Marquis deNidemerle and Mrs. Margaret Ribmont, for so we were called inEngland. 

By and by I found that I was dancing, I scarcely knew how or withwhom, and I durst not look up the whole time, nor did my partneraddress a single word to me, though I knew he was near me; I was onlytoo thankful that he did not try to address me. 

To my joy, when we had made our final reverences, he never came nearme again all the evening. I found myself among some young maidenswho were friends of mine, and in our eager talk together I began toforget what had passed, or to hope it was only some teasing pastimeof the Prince and Eustace. 

When we were seated in the coach on the way to our house my fatherbegan to laugh and marvel which had been the most shy, the gallant orthe lady, telling my mother she need never reproach the English withbashfulness again after this French specimen. 

'How will he and little Meg ever survive to-morrow's meeting!' hesaid. 

Then I saw it was too true, and cried out in despair to beg them tolet me stay at home, and not send me from them; but my mother bade menot be a silly wench. I had always known that I was to be married inFrance and the queen and my half-brother, M. De Solivet, had found anexcellent parti for me. I was not to embarrass matters by any folly, but I must do her credit, and not make her regret that she had notsent me to a convent to be educated. 

Then I clung to my father. I could hold him tight in the dark, andthe flambeaux only cast in a fitful flickering light. 'Oh, sir, 'said I, 'you cannot wish to part with your little Meg!'

'You are your mother's child, Meg, ' he said sadly. 'I gave you up toher to dispose of at her will. '

'And you will thank me one of these days for your secure home, ' saidmy mother. 'If these rogues continue disaffected, who knows whatthey may leave us in England!'

'At least we should be together, ' I cried, and I remember how Ifondled my father's hand in the dark, and how he returned it. Weshould never have thought of such a thing in the light; he would havebeen ashamed to allow such an impertinence, and I to attempt it. 

Perhaps it emboldened me to say timidly: 'If he were not so old---'

But my mother declared that she could not believe her ears that achild of hers should venture on making such objections--sounmaidenly, so undutiful to a parti selected by the queen andapproved by her parents. 

As the coach stopped at our own door I perceived that certain strangenoises that I had heard proceeded from Eustace laughing and chucklingto himself all the way. I must say I thought it very unkind andcruel when we had always loved each other so well. I would hardlybid him good-night, but ran up to the room I shared with nurse andAnnora, and wept bitterly through half the night, little comforted bynurse's assurance that old men were wont to let their wives havetheir way far more easily than young ones did. 

CHAPTER II. 

A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 

I had cried half the night, and when in the morning little Nan wantedto hear about my ball, I only answered that I hated the thought ofit. I was going to be married to a hideous old man, and be carriedto France, and should never see any of them again. I made Nan crytoo, and we both came down to breakfast with such mournful faces thatmy mother chid me sharply for making myself such a fright. 

Then she took me away to the still-room, and set me for an hour tomake orange cakes, while she gave orders for the great dinner that wewere to give that day, I knew only too well for whose sake; and if Ihad only known which orange cake was for my betrothed, would not ithave been a bitter one! By and by my mother carried me off to bedressed. She never trusted the tiring-woman to put the finishingtouches with those clumsy English fingers; and, besides, she bathedmy swollen eyelids with essences, and made me rub my pale cheeks witha scarlet ribbon, speaking to me so sharply that I should not havedared to shed another tear. 

When I was ready, all in white, and she, most stately in blue velvetand gold, I followed her down the stairs to the grand parlour, wherestood my father, with my brothers and one or two persons in black, who I found were a notary and his clerk, and there was a table beforethem with papers, parchment, a standish, and pens. I believe if ithad been a block, and I had had to lay my head on it, like poor LadyJane Grey, I could not have been much more frightened. 

There was a sound of wheels, and presently the gentleman usher cameforward, announcing the Most Noble the Marquis de Nidemerle, and theLord Viscount of Bellaise. My father and brothers went half-way downthe stairs to meet them, my mother advanced across the room, holdingme in one hand and Annora in the other. We all curtsied low, and asthe gentlemen advanced, bowing low, and almost sweeping the groundwith the plumes in their hats, we each had to offer them a cheek tosalute after the English fashion. The old marquis was talking Frenchso fast that I could not understand him in the least, but somehow amist suddenly seemed to clear away from before me, and I found that Iwas standing before that alarming table, not with him, but withsomething much younger--not much older, indeed, than Eustace. 

I began to hear what the notary was reading out, and behold it was--'Contract of marriage on the part of Philippe Marie Francois deBellaise, Marquis de Nidermerle, and Eustace de Ribaumont, BaronWalwyn of Walwyn, in Dorset, and Baron de Ribaumont in Picardy, onbehoof of Gaspard Henri Philippe, Viscount de Bellaise, nephew of theMarquis de Nidemerle, and Margaret Henrietta Maria de Ribaumont, daughter of the Baron de Ribaumont. '

Then I knew that I had been taken in by the Prince's wicked trick, and that my husband was to be the young viscount, not the old uncle!I do not think that this was much comfort to me at the moment, for, all the same, I was going into a strange country, away from every oneI had ever known. 

But I did take courage to look up under my eye-lashes at the form Iwas to see with very different eyes. M. De Ballaise was onlynineteen, but although not so tall as my father or brother, he hadalready that grand military bearing which is only acquired in theFrench service, and no wonder, or he had been three years in theRegiment de Conde, and had already seen two battles and three siegesin Savoy, and now had only leave of absence for the winter beforerejoining his regiment in the Low Countries. 

Yet he looked as bashful as a maiden. It was true that, as my fathersaid, his bashfulness was as great as an Englishman's. Indeed, hehad been bred up at his great uncle's chateau in Anjou, under astrict abbe who had gone with him to the war, and from whom he wasonly now to be set free upon his marriage. He had scarcely everspoken to any lady but his old aunt--his parents had long been dead--and he had only two or three times seen his little sister through thegrating of her convent. So, as he afterwards confessed, nothing buthis military drill and training bore him through the affair. Hestood upright as a dart, bowed at the right place, and in due timesigned his name to the contract, and I had to do the same. Thenthere ensued a great state dinner, where he and I sat together, butneither of us spoke to the other; and when, as I was trying to seethe viscount under my eyelashes, I caught his eyes trying to do thesame by me, I remember my cheeks flaming all over, and I think hismust have done the same, for my father burst suddenly out into alaugh without apparent cause, though he tried to check himself whenhe saw my mother's vexation. 

When all was over, she highly lauded the young gentleman, declaringthat he was an example of the decorum with which such matters wereconducted in France; and when my father observed that he shouldprefer a little more fire and animation, she said: 'Truly, my lord, one would think you were of mere English extraction, that you shouldprefer the rude habits of a farmer or milkmaid to the reserve of atrue noble and lady of quality. '

'Well, dame, I promised that you should have it your own way with thepoor lass, ' said my father; 'and I see no harm in the lad, but I ownI should like to know more of him, and Meg would not object either. It was not the way I took thee, Margaret. '

'I shall never make you understand that a widow is altogether adifferent thing, ' said my mother. 

I suppose they never recollected that I could hear every word theysaid, but I was full in view of them, and of course I was listeningmost anxiously for all I could gather about my new life. If Iremember right, it was an envoy-extraordinary with whom the marquisand his nephew had come, and their stay was therefore very short, sothat we were married after a very few days in the Queen's Chapel, byher own almoner. 

I do not remember much about the wedding, as indeed it was done veryquietly, being intended to be kept altogether a secret; but in someway, probably through the servants, it became known to the mob inLondon, and as we drove home from Whitehall in the great coach withmy father and mother, a huge crowd had assembled, hissing and yellingand crying out upon Lord Walwyn for giving his daughter to a FrenchPapist. 

The wretches! they even proceeded to throw stones. My youngbridegroom saw one of these which would have struck me had he notthrown himself forward, holding up his hat as a shield. The stonestruck him in the eye, and he dropped forward upon my mother's kneesenseless. 

The crowd were shocked then, and fell back, but what good did that doto him? He was carried to his chamber, and a surgeon was sent for, who said that there was no great injury done, for the eye itself hadnot been touched, but that he must be kept perfectly quiet until thelast minute, if he was to be able to travel without danger, when thesuite were to set off in two day's time. They would not let me gonear him. Perhaps I was relieved, for I should not have known whatto do; yet I feared that he would think me unkind and ungrateful, andI would have begged my mother and Eustace to thank him and make myexcuses, but I was too shy, and I felt it very hard to be blamed forindifference and rudeness. 

Indeed, we four young ones kept as much together as we could do inthe house and gardens, and played all our dear old games ofshuttlecock, and pig go to market, and proverbs, and all that you, mychildren, call very English sports, because we knew only too wellthat we should never play at them altogether again. The more I wasblamed for being childish, the more I was set upon them, till at lastmy mother said that she was afraid to let me go, I was so childishand unfeeling; and my father replied that she should have thought ofthat before. He and I were both more English at heart than French, and I am sure now that he perceived better than I did myself that myclinging to my brothers and sister, and even my noisy merriment, werenot the effect of want of feeling. 

As to my bridegroom, I have since known that he was dreadfully afraidof us, more especially of me, and was thankful that the injury kepthim a prisoner. Nay, he might have come downstairs, if he had beenwilling, on the last evening, but he shrank from another presentationto me before the eyes of all the world, and chose instead to act theinvalid, with no companion save Eustace, with whom he had madefriends. 

I will not tell you about the partings, and the promises andassurances that we should meet again. My father had always promisedthat my mother should see France once more, and he now declared thatthey would all visit me. Alas! we little thought what would be theaccomplishment of that promise. 

My father and Eustace rode with us from London to Dover, and all thetime I kept close to them. M. De Bellaise was well enough to ridetoo. His uncle, the marquis, went in a great old coach with theladies, wives of some of his suite, and I should have been there too, but that I begged so hard to ride with my father that he yielded, after asking M. Le Vicomte whether he had any objection. M. LeVicomte opened great eyes, smiled, blushed and bowed, stammeringsomething. I do not think that he had a quite realised previouslythat I was his wife, and belonged to him. My father made him ridewith us, and talked to him; and out in the open air, riding with thewind in our cheeks, and his plume streaming in the breeze, he grewmuch less shy, and began to talk about the wolf-hunts and boar-huntsin the Bocage, and of all the places that my father and I both knewas well as if we had seen them, from the grandam's stories. 

I listened, but we neither of us sought the other; indeed, I believeit seemed hard to me that when there was so little time with myfather and Eustace, they should waste it on these hunting stories. Only too soon we were at Dover, and the last, last farewell andblessing were given. I looked my last, though I knew it not at thatdear face of my father!

CHAPTER III. 

CELADON AND CHLOE

My tears were soon checked by dreadful sea-sickness. We were nosooner out of Dover than the cruel wind turned round upon us, and wehad to go beating about with all our sails reefed for a whole day andnight before it was safe to put into Calais. 

All that time I was in untold misery, and poor nurse Tryphena wasworse than I was, and only now and then was heard groaning out thatshe was a dead woman, and begging me to tell some one to throw herover board. 

But it was that voyage which gave me my husband. He was not exactlyat his ease, but he kept his feet better than any of the othergentlemen, and he set himself to supply the place of valet to hisuncle, and of maid to me, going to and fro between our cabins as besthe could, for he fell and rolled whenever he tried to more; sharpshriek or howl, or a message through the steward, summoned him backto M. Le Marquis, who had utterly forgotten all his politeness andformality towards the ladies. 

However, our sufferings were over at last. My husband, who was bythis time bruised from head to foot by his falls, though he made nocomplaints, came to say we should in a few moments be in port. Hehelped me to dress, for Tryphena thought she was dead, and would notmove; and he dragged me on deck, where the air revived me, and whereone by one the whole party appeared, spectacles of misery. 

M. Le Marquis did not recover himself till he was on shore, andcaused himself to be assisted to the quay between his nephew and thevalet, leaving me to myself; but the dear viscount returned for me, and after he had set me ashore, as he saw I was anxious aboutTryphena, he went back and fetched her, as carefully as if she hadbeen a lady, in spite of the grumblings of his uncle and of her ownrefractoriness, for she was horribly frightened, and could notunderstand a word he said to her. 

Nevertheless, as soon as we had all of us come to ourselves, itturned out that he had gained her heart. Indeed, otherwise I shouldhave had to send her home, for she pined sadly for some time, andnothing but her love for me and her enthusiastic loyalty to him kepther up during the first months. 

As to my husband and me, that voyage had made us as fond of oneanother's company on one side of the Channel as we had been afraid ofit before on the other, but there was no more riding together for us. I had to travel in the great coach with M. Le Marquis, the threeladies, and all our women, where I was so dull and weary that Ishould have felt ready to die, but for watching for my husband'splume, or now and then getting a glance and a nod from him as he rodeamong the other gentlemen, braving all their laughter at hisdevotion; for, bashful as he was, he knew how to hold his own. 

I knew that the ladies looked on me as an ugly little rusticforeigner, full of English mauvaise honte. If they tried to be kindto me, it was as a mere child; and they went on with their chatter, which I could hardly follow, for it was about things and people ofwhich I knew nothing, so that I could not understand their laughter. Or when they rejoiced in their return from what they called theirexile, and found fault with all they had left in England, my cheeksburned with indignation. 

My happy hours were when we halted for refreshments. My husbandhanded me to my place at table and sat beside me; or he would walkwith me about the villages where we rested. The ladies were shocked, and my husband was censured for letting me 'faire l'Anglaise, ' but wewere young and full of spirits, and the being thus thrown on eachother had put an end to his timidity towards me. He did indeed blushup to his curls, and hold himself as upright as a ramrod, when satirewas directed to us as Celadon and Chloe; but he never took any othernotice of it, nor altered his behaviour in consequence. Indeed, wefelt like children escaping from school when we crept down the stairsin early morning, and hand-in-hand repaired to the church in time forthe very earliest mass among the peasants, who left their scythes atthe door, and the women with their hottes, or their swaddled babiesat their backs. We would get a cup of milk and piece of barley-breadat some cottage, and wander among the orchards, fields, or vineyardsbefore Mesdames had begun their toiles; and when we appeared at thedejeuner, the gentlemen would compliment me on my rouge au naturel, and the ladies would ironically envy my English appetite. 

Sometimes we rested in large hostels in cities, and then our walkbegan with some old cathedral, which could not but be admired, Gothicthough it were, and continued in the market-place, where the piles offruit, vegetables, and flowers were a continual wonder and delight tome. My husband would buy bouquets of pinks and roses for me; but inthe coach the ladies always said they incommoded them by their scent, and obliged me to throw them away. The first day I could not helpshedding a few tears, for I feared he would think I did not valuethem; and then I perceived that they thought the little Englishwomana child crying for her flowers. I longed to ask them whether theyhad ever loved their husbands; but I knew how my mother would havelooked at me, and forbore. 

Once or twice we were received in state at some chateau, where ourmails had to be opened that we might sup in full toilet; but this wasseldom, for most of the equals of M. Le Marquis lived at Paris. Sometimes our halt was at an abbey, where we ladies were quartered ina guest-chamber without; and twice we slept at large old convents, where nobody had lived since the Huguenot times, except a lay brotherput in by M. L'Abbe to look after the estate and make the house akind of inn for travelers. There were fine walled gardens run intowild confusion, and little neglected and dismantled shrines, andcrosses here and there, with long wreaths of rose and honeysuckletrailing over them, and birds' nests in curious places. My Viscountlaughed with a new pleasure when I showed him the wren's bright eyepeeping out from her nest, and he could not think how I knew the eggof a hedge-sparrow from that of a red-breast. Even he had never beenallowed to be out of sight of his tutor, and he knew none of thesepleasures so freely enjoyed by my brothers; while as to his sisterCecile, she had been carried from her nurse to a convent, and hadthence been taken at fourteen to be wedded to the grandson and heirof the Count d'Aubepine, who kept the young couple under their owneye at their castle in the Bocage. 

My husband had absolutely only seen her twice, and then through thegrating, and the marriage had taken place while he was in Savoy lastautumn. He knew his brother-in-law a little better, having been hisneighbour at Nid de Merle; but he shrugged his shoulders as he spokeof 'le chevalier, ' and said he was very young, adored by hisgrandparents, and rather headstrong. 

As to growing up together in the unity that had always existedbetween an absolute surprise to him to find that my dear brother wasgrieved at parting with me. He said he had lain and heard our shoutsin the passages with wonder as we played those old games of ours. 

'As though you were in a den of roaring wild beasts, ' I said; for Iventured on anything with him by that time, voices, I teased himabout his feelings at having to carry off one of these same savagebeasts with him; and then he told me how surprised he had been when, on the last evening he spent in his chamber in our house, Eustace hadcome and implored him to be good to me, telling him--ah, I can see mydear brother's boyish way!--all my best qualities, ranging from myalways speaking truth to my being able to teach the little dog toplay tricks, and warning him of what vexed or pained me, evenexacting a promise that he would take care of me when I was away fromthem all. I believe that promise was foremost in my husband's mindwhen he waited on me at sea. Nay, he said when remembered the tearsin my brother's eyes, and saw how mine arose at the thought, hisheart smote him when he remembered that his sister's marriage hadscarcely cost him a thought or care, and that she was an utterstranger to him; and then we agreed that if ever we had children, wewould bring them up to know and love one another, and have preciousrecollections in common. Ah! l'homme propose, mais Dieu dispose. 

It was only on that day that it broke upon me that we were to beseparated immediately after our arrival in Paris. M. De Bellaise wasto go to his regiment, which was at garrison at Nancy, and I was tobe left under the charge of old Madame la Marquise de Nidemerle atParis. I heard of it first from the Marquise himself in the coach, as he thanked one of the ladies who invited me--with him--to hersalon in Paris, where there was to be a great entertainment in thesummer. When I replied that M. De Bellaise would have rejoined hisregiment, they began explaining that I should go into society underMadame de Nidemerle, who would exert herself for my sake. 

I said no more. I knew it was of no use there; but when next I couldspeak with my husband--it was under an arbour of vines in the gardenof the inn where we dine--I asked him whether it was true. He openedlarge eyes, and said he knew I could not wish to withdraw him fromhis duty to his king and country, even if he could do so with honour. 

'Ah! no, ' I said; 'I never thought of that. ' But surely the place ofa wife was with her husband, and I had expected to go with him to hisgarrison at Nancy, and there wait when he took the field. He threwhimself at my feet, and pressed my hands with transport at what hecalled this unheard-of proof of affection; and then I vexed him bylaughing, for I could not help thinking what my brothers would havesaid, could they have seen us thus. 

Still he declared that, in spite of his wishes, it was hardlypossible. His great-uncle and aunt would never consent. I said theyhad no right to interfere between husband and wife, and he repliedthat they had brought him up, and taken the place of parents to him;to which I rejoined that I was far nearer to him. He said I was amutinous Englishwoman; and I rejoined that he should never find memutinous to him. 

Nay, I made up my mind that if he would not insist on taking me, Iwould find means to escape and join him. What! Was I to be carriedabout in the coach of Madame de Nidemerle to all the hateful salonsof Paris, while my husband, the only person in France whom I couldendure, might be meeting wounds and death in the Low Countries whileI might be dancing!

So again I declined when the ladies in the coach invited me to theirhouses in Paris. Should I go to a convent? they asked; and one beganto recommend the Carmelites, another the Visitation, another PortRoyal, till I was almost distracted; and M. Le Marquis began to sayit was a pious and commendable wish, but that devotion had its propertimes and seasons, and that judgment must be exercised as to theduration of a retreat, etc. 

'No, Monsieur, ' said I, 'I am not going into a convent. A wife'sduty is with her husband; I am going into garrison at Nancy. '

Oh, how they cried out! There was such a noise that the gentlementurned their horses' heads to see whether any one was taken ill. When they heard what was the matter, persecution began for us both. 

We used to compare our experiences; the ladies trying to persuade menow that it was improper, now that I should be terrified to death nowthat I should become too ugly to be presentable; while the gentlemenmade game of M. De Bellaise as a foolish young lover, who was soabsurd as to encumber himself with a wife of whom he would soonweary, and whose presence would interfere with his enjoyment of thefreedom and diversions of military life. He who was only just freefrom his governor, would he saddle himself with a wife? Bah!

He who had been so shy defended himself with spirit; and on my side Ideclared that nothing but his commands, and those of my father, should induce me to leave him. At Amiens we met a courier on his wayto England, and by him we dispatched letters to my father. 

M. De Nidemerle treated all like absurd childish nonsense, complimenting me ironically all the while; but I thought he wavered alittle before the journey was over, wishing perhaps that he had nevergiven his nephew a strange, headstrong, English wife, but thinkingthat, as the deed was done, the farther off from himself she was thebetter. 

At least, he no longer blamed his nephew and threatened him with hisaunt; but declared that Madame de Rambouillet would soon put all suchfolly out of our minds. 

I asked my husband what Madame de Rambouillet could have to do withour affairs; and he shrugged his shoulders and answered that thedivine Arthenice was the supreme judge of decorum, whose decisionsno one could gainsay. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE SALON BLEU

We arrived at Paris late in the day, entering the city through agreat fortified gateway, and then rolling slowly through the roughand narrow streets. You know them too well, my children, to be ableto conceive how strange and new they seemed to me, accustomed as Iwas to our smooth broad Thames and the large gardens of the houses inthe Strand lying on its banks. 

Our carriage turned in under the porte cochere of this Hotel deNidemerle of ours, and entered the courtyard. My husband, his uncle, and I know not how many more, were already on the steps. M. DeNidemerle solemnly embraced me and bade me welcome, presenting me atthe same time to a gentlemen, in crimson velvet and silver, as mybrother. My foolish heart bounded for a moment as if it could havebeen Eustace; but it was altogether the face of a stranger, exceptfor a certain fine smile like my mother's. It was, of course, myhalf-brother, M. Le Baron de Solivet, who saluted me, and politelydeclared himself glad to make the acquaintance of his sister. 

The Marquis then led me up the broad stairs, lined with lackeys, toour own suite of apartments, where I was to arrange my dress beforebeing presented to Madame de Nidemerle, who begged me to excuse hernot being present to greet me, as she had caught cold, and had afrightful megrim. 

I made my toilet, and they brought me a cup of eau sucree and a fewsmall cakes, not half enough for my hungry English appetite. 

My husband looked me over more anxiously than ever he had donebefore; and I wished, for his sake, that I had been prettier andfitter to make a figure among all these grand French ladies. 

My height was a great trouble to me in those unformed days. I had somuch more length to dispose of than my neighbours, and I knew theyremarked me the more for it; and then my hair never would remain incurl for half an hour together. My mother could put it up safely, but since I had left her it was always coming down, like flax from adistaff; and though I had in general a tolerably fresh and rosycomplexion, heat outside and agitation within made my whole face, nose and all, instantly become the colour of a clove gillyflower. Ithad so become every afternoon on the journey, and I knew I wasgrowing redder and redder every moment, and that I should put him, myown dear Viscount, to shame before his aunt. 

'Oh! my friend, ' I sighed, 'pardon me, I cannot help it. '

'Why should I pardon thee?' he answered tenderly. 'Because thou hastso great and loving a heart?'

'Ah! but what will thine aunt think of me?'

'Let her think, ' he said. 'Thou art mine, not Madame's. '

I know not whether those words made me less red, but they gave mesuch joyous courage that I could have confronted all the dragoons, had I been of the colour of a boiled lobster, and when he himselfsprinkled me for the last time with essences, I felt ready to defythe censure of all the marchionesses in France. 

My husband took me by the hand and led me to the great chamber, wherein an alcove stood the state bed, with green damask hangings fringedwith gold, and in the midst of pillows trimmed with point-lace sat upMadam la Marquis, her little sallow face, like a bit of oldparchment, in the midst of the snowy linen, and not--to my eyes--wearing a very friendly aspect. 

She had perhaps been hearing of my wilfulness and insubordination, for she was very grand and formal with me, solemnly calling me Madamela Vicomtesse, and never her niece, and I thought all the time that Idetected a sneer. If I had wished for my husband's sake to accompanyhim, I wished it ten thousand times more when I fully beheld thealternative. 

Ah! I am writing treason. Had I been a well-trained French younggirl I should have accepted my lot naturally, and no doubt all thefamily infinitely regretted that their choice has fallen on one soimpracticable. 

I was happier as the supper-table, to which we were soon summoned, for I had become accustomed to M. De Nidemerle, who was always kindto me. Poor old man, I think he had hoped to have something youngand lively in his house; but I never thought of that, and of coursemy husband was my only idea. 

M. De Solivet set by me, and asked many questions about my mother andthe rest of the family, treating me more as a woman than anyone elsehad done. Nor was it long before I caught slight resemblances bothto my mother and to my brother Berenger, which made me feel as homewith him. He was a widower, and his two daughters were beingeducated in a convent, where he promised to take me to visit them, that I might describe them to their grandmother. 

Poor little things! I thought them very stiff and formal, and pitiedthem when I saw them; but I believed they were really full of fun andfolic among their companions. 

M. De Solivet was consulted on this wild scheme of mine, and theMarchioness desired him to show me its absurdity. He began byarguing that it was never when to act in the face of custom, and thathe had only known of two ladies who had followed their husbands tothe wars, and both them only belonged to the petite noblesse, andwere no precedent for me! One of them had actually joined herhusband when wounded and made prisoner, and it was said that her carehad saved his life!

Such a confession on his part rendered me the more determined, and wereminded M. De Nidemerle of his promise to consult Madame deRambouillet, though I would not engage even then to abide by anydecision except my father's, which I daily expected. I overheardpeople saying how much M. De Bellaise was improved by his marriage, and how much more manly and less embarrassed he had become, and Ifelt that my resolution made him happy, so that I became the moredetermined. 

Children, you who have laughed at Les Precieuses can have little ideawhat the Hotel de Rambouillet was when, three nights after arrival, Iwent thither with my husband and his uncle and aunt. 

The large salon, hung and draped with blue velvet, divided by linesof gold, was full of people ranged in a circle, listening eagerly tothe recital of poem by the author, an Abbe, who stood in the midst, declaiming each couplet with emphasis, and keeping time with hisfoot, while he made gestures with his uplifted hand. Indeed, Ithought at first he was in a furious passion and was going to knocksomeone down, till I saw calmly everyone sat; and then again Ifancied we had come to a theatre by mistake; but happily I did notspeak, and, without interrupting the declamation, chairs were givenus, and exchanging a mute salutation with a lady of a noble cast ofbeauty, who guided us to seats, we quietly took our places. She wasJulie d'Argennes, the daughter of Madame de Rambouillet. A gentlemenfollowed her closely, the Duke of Montausier, who adored her, butwhom she could not yet decide on accepting. 

I found it difficult to fit from laughing as the gestures of theAbbe, especially when I thought of my brother and how they would mockthem; but I knew that this would be unpardonable bad taste, and as Ihad come in too late to have the clue to the discourse, I amusedmyself with looking about me. 

Perhaps the most striking figure was that of the hostess, with herstately figure, and face, not only full of intellect, but ofsomething that went far beyond it, and came out of some other higherworld, to which she was trying to raise this one. 

Next I observed a lady, no longer in her first youth, but stillwonderfully fair and graceful. She was enthroned in a large arm-chair, and on a stool beside her sat her daughter, a girl of my ownage, the most lovely creature I had ever seen, with a profusion oflight flaxen hair, and deep blue eyes, and one moment full of gravethought, at another of merry mischief. A young sat by, whose cast offeatures reminded me of the Prince of Wales, but his nose was moreaquiline, his dark blue eyes far more intensely bright and flashing, and whereas Prince Charles would have made fun of all the flourishesof our poet, they seemed to inspire in this youth an ardour he couldbarely restrain, and when there was something vehement about Mon epeeet ma patrie he laid his hand on his sword, and his eyes lit up, sothat he reminded me of a young eagle. 

This was the Princess of Conde, who in the pride of her youthfulbeauty had been the last flame of Henri IV. , who had almost begun awar on her account; this was her lovely daughter, Mademoiselle deBourbon, and her sons, the brave Duke of Enghien, with his deformedbrother, the Prince of Conti. 

When the recital was over, there was a general outburst of applause, in which M. De Nidemerle joined heartily. Madame de Rambouillet gaveher meed of approbation, but her daughter, Mademoiselle d' Argennes, took exception at the use of the word chevaucher, for to ride, bothas being obsolete, and being formed from the name of a single animal, instead of regularly derived from a Latin verb. 

The Abbe defended his word, and for fully twenty minutes there was aneager argument, people citing passages and derivations, and definingshades of meaning with immense animation and brilliant wit, as I nowunderstand, though then it seemed to me a wearisome imbroglio about atrifle. I did not know what real benefit was done by thesediscussions in purifying the language from much that was coarse andunrefined. Yes, and far more than the language, for Madame deRambouillet, using her great gifts as a holy trust for the good ofher neighbour, conferred no small benefit on her generation, nor isthat good even yet entirely vanished. Ah! If there were more womenlike her, France and society would be very different. 

When the discussion was subsiding, Mademoiselle d' Argennes came totake me by the hand, and to present us to the queen of the salon. 

'Here, my mother, are our Odoardo and Gildippe, ' she said. 

You remember, my children, that Odoardo and Gildippe are the namesbestowed by Tasso on the English married pair who went together onthe first crusade, and Gildippe continued to be my name in thatcircle, my nom de Parnasse, as it was called--nay, Madame deMontausieur still gives it to me. 

The allusion was a fortunate one; it established a precedent, and, besides, English people have always been supposed to be eccentric. Iam, however, doing the noble lady injustice. Arthenice, as she wascalled by an anagram of her baptismal name of Catherine, was no blindslave to the conventional. She had originality enough to have beenable to purify the whole sphere in which she moved, and to raise thecommonplace into the ideal. 'Excuse me, ' she said to her friends, and she led my husband apart into a deep window, and there, as hetold me, seemed to look him through and through. And verily he wasone who needed not to fear such an inspection, any more than theclearest crystal. 

Then, in like manner, she called for me, and made me understand thatI was condemning myself to a life of much isolation, and that I mustbe most circumspect in my conduct, whole, after all, I might see verylittle of my husband; I must take good care that my presence was ahelp and refreshment, not a burden and perplexity to him, or he wouldneglect me and repent my coming. 'It may seem strange, ' she said, 'but I think my young friend will understand me, that I have alwaysfound that, next of course to those supplied by our holy religion, the best mode of rendering our life and its inconveniences endurableis to give them a colouring of romance. ' I did not understand herthen, but I have often since thought of her words, when therecollection of the poetical aspect of the situation has aided mycourage and my good temper. Madame de Rambouillet looked into myeyes as she spoke, then said: 'Pardon an old woman, my dear;' andkissed my brow, saying: 'You will not do what I have only dreamt of. '

Finally she led us forward to our great-uncle, saying: 'Madame leMarquis, I have conversed with these children. They love oneanother, and so long as that love lasts they will be better guardiansto one another than ten governors or twenty dames de compagnie. '

In England we should certainly not have done all this in public, andmy husband and I were terribly put to the blush; indeed, I felt mywhole head and neck burning, and caught a glimpse of myself in adreadful mirror, my white bridal dress and flaxen hair making myfiery face look, my brothers would have said, 'as if I had beenskinned. '

And then, to make it all worse, a comical little crooked lady, with akeen lively face, came hopping up with hands outspread, crying: 'Ah, let me see her! Where is the fair Gildippe, the true heroine, who isabout to confront the arrows of the Lydians for the sake of the lordof her heart?'

'My niece, ' said the Marquis, evidently gratified by the sensation Ihad created, 'Mademoiselle de Scudery does you the honour ofrequesting to be presented to you. '

I made a low reverence, terribly abashed, and I fear it would havereduced my mother to despair, but it was an honour that Iappreciated; for now that I was a married woman, I was permitted toread romances, and I had just begun on the first volume of the GrandCurus. My husband read it to me as I worked at my embroidery, andyou may guess how we enjoyed it. 

But I had no power of make compliments--nay, my English heartrecoiled in anger at their making such an outcry, whether of blame orpraise, at what seemed to me the simplest thing in the world. Thecourtesy and consideration were perfect; as soon as these people sawthat I was really abashed and distressed, they turned their attentionfrom me. My husband was in the meantime called to be presented tothe Duke of Enghien, and I remained for a little while unmolested, sothat I could recover myself a little. Presently a soft voice closeto me said 'Madame, ' and I looked up into the beautiful countenanceof Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, her blue eyes shining on me with thesweetest expression. 'Madame, ' she said, 'permit me to tell you howglad I am for you. '

I thanked her most heartily. I felt this was the real tendersympathy of a being of my own age and like myself, and there weresomething so pathetic in her expression that I felt sorry for her. 

'You are good! You will keep good, ' she said. 

'I hope so, Mademoiselle, ' I said. 

'Ah! yes, you will. They will not make you lose your soul againstyour will!' and she clenched her delicate white hand. 

'Nobody can do that, Mademoiselle. '

'What! Not when they drag you to balls and fete away from thecloister, where alone you can be safe?'

'I hope not there alone, ' I said. 

'For me it is the only place, ' she repeated. 'What is the use ofwearing haircloth when the fire of the Bourbons is in one's blood, and one has a face that all the world runs after?'

'Mais, Mademoiselle, ' I said; 'temptation is only to prove ourstrength. '

'You are strong. You have conquered, ' she said, and clasped my hand. 'But then you loved him. '

I suppose I smiled a little with my conscious bliss, for this strangeyoung princess hastily asked: 'Did you love him? I mean, before youwere married. '

'Oh no, ' I said, glad to disavow what was so shocking in my newcountry. 

'But he is lovable? Ah! that is it. While you are praying toHeaven, and devoting yourself to a husband whom you love, rememberthat if I ruin my soul, it is because they would have it so!'

At that moment there was a pause. A gentleman, the Marquis deFeuquieres, had come in, bringing with him a very young lad, in theplian black gown and white collar of a theological student; and itwas made known that the Marquis had been boasting of the wonderfulfacility of a youth was studying at the College of Navarre, and haddeclared that he could extemporise with eloquence upon any subject. Some one had begged that the youth might be fetched and set to preachon a text proposed to him at the moment, and here he was. 

Madame de Rambouillet hesitated a little at the irreverence, but theDuke of Enghien requested that the sermon might take place, and sheconsented, only looking at her watch and saying it was near midnight, so that the time was short. M. Voiture, the poet, carried round avelvet bag, and each was to write a text on a slip of paper to bedrawn out at haphazard. 

We two showed each other what we wrote. My husband's was--'Love isstrong as death;' mine--'Let the wife cleave unto her husband. ' Butneither of them was drawn out. I saw by the start that Mademoisellede Bourbon gave that it was hers, when the first paper was taken out--'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!' a few minutes were offered tothe young Abbe to collect his thoughts, but he declined them, and hewas led to a sort of a dais at the end of the salon, while the chairswere placed in a half-circle. Some of the ladies tittered a little, though Madame de Rambouillet looked grave; but they composedthemselves. We all stood and repeated the Ave, and then seatedourselves; while the youth, in a voice already full and sweet, begansolemnly: 'What is life? what is man?'

I can never convey to you how this world and all its fleeting folliesseemed to melt away before us, and how each of us felt our soul alonein the presence of our Maker, as though nothing mattered, or everwould matter, but how we stood with Him. One hardly dared to drawone's breath. Mademoiselle de Bourbon was almost stifled with thesobs she tried to restrain lest her mother should make her retire. My husband held my hand, and pressed it unseen. He was a deeper, more thoughtful man ever after he heard that voice, which seemed tocome, as it were, from the Angel at Bochim who warned the Israelites;and that night we dedicated ourselves to the God who had not let usbe put asunder. 

I wished we could have gone away at once and heard no more, and somust, I think, the young preacher have felt; but he was surroundedwith compliments. M. Voiture said he had never heard 'so early nor solate a sermon;' while others thronged up with their compliments. 

Madame de Rambouillet herself murmured: 'He might be Daniel hearingthe compliments of Belshazzar on his deciphering the handwriting, ' soimpassively did he listen to the suffrages of the assembly, onlyreplying by a bow. 

The Duke of Enghien, boldest of course, pressed up to him and, takinghis hand, begged to know his name. 

'Bossuet, Monseigneur, ' he answered. 

There were one or two who had the bad taste to smile, for Bossuet (Imust tell my English kindred) means a draught-ox; but once more thelovely sister of the young Duke grasped my hand and said: 'Oh, that Icould hide myself at once! Why will they not let me give myself tomy God? Vanity of vanities! why am I doomed?'

I was somewhat frightened, and was glad that a summons of 'mydaughter' from the Princess of Conde interrupted these strangecommunications. I understood them better when we were called upon toell the old Marchioness the names of every one whom we had met at theHotel de Rambouillet, and on hearing of the presence of Mademoisellede Bourbon she said: 'Ah! yes, a marriage is arranged for the younglady with the Duke of Longueville. '

'But!' exclaimed my husband, 'the Duke is an old man, whose daughteris older than I. '

'What has that to do with it?' said his aunt. 'There is not muchblood in France with which a Montmorency Bourbon can match. Moreover, they say the child is devote, and entetee on Madam de PortRoyal, who is more than suspected of being outree in her devotion; sothe sooner she is married the better!'

Poor beautiful girl, how I pitied her then! Her lovely, wistful, blue eyes haunted me all night, in the midst of my own gladness; fora courier had come that evening bringing my father's reply. He saidmy mother deplored my unusual course, but that for his part he likedhis little girl the better for her courage, and that he preferredthat I should make my husband's home happy to my making it at court. All he asked of me was to remember that I had to guard the honour ofmy husband's name and of my country, and he desired that I shouldtake Tryphena with me wherever I went. 

CHAPTER V. 

IN GARRISON. 

I am almost afraid to dwell on those happiest days of my life that Ispent in garrison. My eyes, old as they are, fill with tears when Iam about to write of them, and yet they passed without my knowing howhappy they were; for much of my time was spent in solitude, much inwaiting, much in anxiety; but ah! there then always was a possibilitythat never, never can return!

Nancy seems to me a paradise when I look back to it, with its broadclean streets and open squares, and the low houses with balconies, and yet there I often thought myself miserable, for I began to learnwhat it was to be a soldier's wife. Madame de Rambouillet had kindlywritten to some of her friends in the duchy of Lorraine respectingme, and they assisted us in obtaining a lodging and servants. Thismight otherwise have been difficult, for the Duke was I the Spanisharmy, while we held his territories, and naturally we were not invery good odour with the people. 

My husband had to leave me, immediately after he had placed me in mylittle house at Nancy, to join the army in Germany under MarshalGuebrian. I lived through that time by the help of the morning mass, of needlework, and of the Grand Cyrus, which I read through and thenbegan again. My dear husband never failed to send me a courier oncea week with letters that were life to me, and sometimes I heard fromEngland; but my mother's letters were becoming full of anxiety, affairs were looking so ill for the king. 

After a gallant victory over the Swedes my Viscount returned to mewithout a wound, and with distinguished praise from the Marshal. That was an important winter, for it saw the deaths of the greatCardinal and of King Louis XIII. , moreover of the old Marchioness. My husband's loving heart sorrowed for her and for his uncle; butthat same week brought thee to my arms, my dear son, my belovedGaspard! Oh! what a fight Tryphena and I had to prevent his beingstifled in swaddling clothes! And how all the women predicted thathis little limbs would be broken and never be straight. 

That winter was only clouded by the knowledge that spring would takemy husband away again. How good he was to me! How much pleasure andamusement he gave up for my sake! He had outgrown his bashfulnessand embarrassment in this campaign, and could take his place incompany, but re remained at home with me. Had neither the grace northe vivacity that would have enabled me to collect a society aroundme, and I seldom saw his brother officers except my brother M. DeSolivet, and his great friend M. De Chamillard, who was quitefatherly to me. 

The Duke of Enghien took the command of the army of Picardy, andasked for our regiment. I entreated not to be sent back to Paris, and prevailed to be allowed to take up my abode at Mezieres, where Iwas not so far from the camp but that my dear M. De Bellaise couldsometimes ride over and see me. He told me of the murmur of theelder men of the army that the fiery young inexperienced prince wasdisregarding all the checks that the old Marshal de l'Hopital put inhis way; but he himself was delighted, and made sure of success. Thelast time he came he told me he heard that Rocroy was invested by theenemy. I was made to promise that in case of any advance on theenemy's part I would instantly set off for Paris. He said it was theonly way to make him fight with a free heart, if a battle there were, and not repent of having permitted me to follow him, and that I mustthink of my child as well as myself; but he did not expect any suchgood fortune as a battle, the old marshal was so set against it!

But I knew that he did expect a battle, by the way he came back andback again to embrace me and his child. 

I have waited and watched many times since that day, but never as Ithen waited. With what agony I watched and prayed! how I livedeither before the altar, or at the window! how I seemed to be alleyes and ears! How reports came that there was fighting, then thatwe had the day, then that all was lost! Then came a calm, and it wassaid that Marshal de l'Hospital had refused to fight, and was in fullretreat, with the Duke of Enghien cursing and swearing and tearinghis hair. My landlord had a visit from the mayor to say that he mustprepare to have some men billeted on him, and I sent out to inquirefor horses, but decided that, as it was only our own troopsretreating, there would be plenty of time. Then one of the maids ofthe house rushed in declaring that firing was plainly to be heard. Half the people were out in the streets, many more had gone outsidethe city to listen. Tryphena sat crying with fright, and rocking thebaby in her lap, and wishing she had never come to this dreadfulcountry. Alas! poor Tryphena she would have been no better off inher own at that moment! I ran from window to door, unable to rest amoment, listening to the cries in the streets, asking the landladywhat she heard, and then running back to my own room to kneel inprayer, but starting up at the next sound in the streets. 

At last, just before sunset, on that long, long 19th of May, all thebells began to ring, clashing as if mad with joy, and a great roaringshout burst out all over the city: 'Victory! Victory! Vive le Roi!Vive le Duc d'Enghien!'

I was at the window just in time to see a party of splendid horsemen, carrying the striped and castellated colours of Spain, gallopingthrough the town, followed by universal shouts and acclamations. Myman-servant, Nicole, frantic with joy, came in to tell me that theyhad only halted at the inn long enough to obtain fresh horses, ontheir way to the Queen-Regent with the news of the great victory ofRocroy. More standards taken, more cannon gained, more of the enemykilled and captive than could be counted, and all owing to thesurpassing valour of the Duke of Enghien!

'And my husband!' I cried, and asked everybody, as if, poor littlefool that I was, any one was likely to know how it fared with onesingle captain of the dragoons of Conde on such a day as that. 

The good landlady and Tryphena both tried to reassure me that ifthere were ill news it would have been sent to me at once; but thoughthey persuaded me at last to go to bed, I could not sleep, tossingabout and listening till morning light, when I dropped into a soundsleep, which lasted for hours. I had longed for the first morningmass to go and pray there, but after all I only heard the bellsthrough my slumber, feeling as if I could not rouse myself, and then--as it seemed to me, in another moment--I heard something that mademe turn round on my pillow and open my eyes, and there he stood--myhusband himself. His regiment had surpassed itself; he had receivedthe thanks of his colonel; he had but snatched a few hours' sleep, and had ridden off to assure his Gildippe of his safety by her owneyes, and to rejoice over our splendid victory. 

And yet he could not but shudder as he spoke. When they had asked aSpanish prisoner how many there had been in the army, 'Count thedead, ' he proudly answered. Nor could my husband abstain from tearsas he told me how the old Spanish guards were all lying as theystood, slain all together, with their colonel, the Count of Fontanes, at their head, sitting in the armchair in which he had been carriedto the field, for he was more than eighty years old, and could notstand or ride on account of the gout. 

The Duke of Enghien had said that if he had not been victorious, thenext best thing would be to have died like that. 

But his charges, his fire, his coolness, his skill, the vehemencewhich had triumphed over the caution of the old marshal, and theresolution which had retrieved the day when his colleague waswounded; of all this M. De Bellaise spoke with passionate ardour andenthusiasm, and I--oh! I think that was the happiest and mostglorious day of all my life!

When we went together to mass, how everybody looked at him! and whenwe returned there was quite a little crowd--M. Le Gouverneur and hisofficials eager to make their compliments to M. De Bellaise, and toask questions about the Duke and about the battle, and whether hethought the Duke would march this way, in which case a triumphalentry should be prepared. They wanted to have regaled M. De Bellaisewith a banquet, and were sadly disappointed when he said he had onlystolen a few hours to set his wife's heart at rest, and must returnimmediately to the camp. 

There was little after that to make me anxious, for our army merelywent through a course of triumphs, taking one city after another inrapid succession. I remained at Mezieres, and M. De Bellaisesometimes was able to spend a few days with me, much, I fear, to thederision of his fellow-soldiers, who could not understand a man'schoosing such a form of recreation. We had been walking under thefine trees in the PLACE on a beautiful summer evening, and weremounting the stairs on our return home, when we heard a voicedemanding of the hostess whether this were the lodging of Captain deBellaise. 

I feared that it was a summons from the camp, but as the strangercame forward I saw that he was a very young man in the dress of agroom, booted, spurred, and covered with dust and dried splashes ofmud, though his voice and pronunciation were those of a gentleman. 

'Do you bring tidings from M. Le Marquis?' inquired my husband, whohad recognized our livery. 

'Ah! I have deceived you likewise, and no wonder, for I should nothave known you, Philippe, ' cried the new comer. 

'Armand d'Aubepine! Impossible! I thought your child was a girl, 'exclaimed my husband. 

'And am I to waste my life and grow old ingloriously on thataccount?' demanded the youth, who had by this time come up to ourrooms. 

'Welcome, then, my brother, ' said my husband a little gravely, as Ithought. 'My love, ' he added, turning to me, 'let me present to youmy brother-in-law, the Chevalier d'Aubepine. '

With infinite grace the Chevalier put a knee to the ground, andkissed my hand. 

'Madame will be good enough to excuse my present appearance, ' hesaid, 'in consideration of its being the only means by which I couldput myself on the path of honour. '

'It is then an evasion?' said my husband gravely. 

'My dear Viscount, do not give yourself the airs of a patriarch. They do not suit with your one-and-twenty years, even though you arethe model of husbands. Tell me, where is your hero?'

'The Duke? He is before Thionville. '

'I shall be at his feet in another day. Tell me how goes the war. What cities are falling before our arms?'

He asked of victories; M. De Bellaise asked of his sister. 'Oh!well, well, what do I know?' he answered lightly, as if the matterwere beneath his consideration; and when I inquired about his child, he actually made a grimace, and indeed he had barely seen her, forshe had been sent out to be nursed at a farmhouse, and he did noteven recollect her name. I shall never forget how he stared, when atthe sound of a little cry my husband opened the door and appearedwith our little Gaspard, now five months old, laughing and springingin his arms, and feeling for the gold on his uniform. The count hadmuch the same expression with which I have seen a lady regard me whenI took a caterpillar in my hand. 

'Ah! ah!' cried our Chevalier; 'with all his legs and arms too! Thatis what comes of marrying an Englishwoman. ' [he did not know I waswithin hearing, for I had gone in to give Tryphena orders about theroom he would occupy. ] 'Beside, it is a son. '

'I hope one day to have a daughter whom I shall love the more, themore she resembles her mother, ' said my husband, to tease him. 

'Bah! You will not have to detest her keeping you back from glory!Tell me, Philippe, could a lettre de cachet reach me here?'

'We are on French soil. What have you been doing, Armand?'

'Only flying from inglorious dullness, my friend. Do not bescandalized, but let me know how soon I can reach the hero of France, and enroll myself as a volunteer. '

'The Duke is at Binche. I must return thither tomorrow. You hadbetter eat and sleep here tonight, and then we can decide what is tobe done. '

'I may do that, ' the youth said, considering. 'My grandfather couldhardly obtain an order instantaneously, and I have a fair start. '

So M. De Bellaise lent him some clothes, and he appeared at supper asa handsome lively-looking youth, hardly come to his full height, forhe was only seventeen, with a haughty bearing, and large, almostfierce dark eyes, under eyebrows that nearly met. 

At supper he told us his story. He was, as you know the only scionof the old house of Aubepine, his father having been killed in aduel, and his mother dying at his birth. His grandparents bred himup with the most assiduous care, but (as my husband told me) it wasthe care of pride rather than of love. When still a mere boy, theymarried him to poor little Cecile de Bellaise, younger still, andfresh from her convent, promising, on his vehement entreaty, that sosoon as the succession should be secured by the birth of a son, heshould join the army. 

Imagine then his indignation and despair when a little daughter--amiserable little girl, as he said--made her appearance, to prolonghis captivity. For some centuries, he said--weeks he meant--heendured, but then came the tidings of Rocroy to drive him wild withimpatience, and the report that there were negotiations for peacecompleted the work. He made his wife give him her jewels and assisthis escape from the window of her chamber; bribed a courier--who wasbeing sent from M. De Nidemerle to my husband--to give him his liveryand passport and dispatches, and to keep out of sight; and thuspassed successfully through Paris, and had, through a course ofadventures which he narrated with great spirit, safely reached us. Even if the rogue of a courier, as he justly called his accomplice, had betrayed him, there was no fear but that he would have time toput himself on the roll of the army, whence a promising young noblevolunteer was not likely to be rejected. 

My husband insisted that he should write to ask the pardon of hisgrandfather, and on that condition engaged to introduce him to theDuke and to the lieutenant-colonel of his regiment. M. De Bellaisethen inquired anxiously after the health of our uncle, who, on thedeath of his wife, had retired to his own estate at Nid de Merle, close to the Chateau d'Aubepine. Of this the young gentleman couldtell little or nothing. 

'Bah!' he said, adding what he thought was a brilliant new militaryaffirmation, unaware that it was as old as the days of the League. 'What know I? He is, as all old men are, full of complaints. '

Handsome, graceful, courteous, spirited as was this young Chevalier, I could not like him, and I afterwards told my husband that Iwondered at his assisting him. 

'My love, ' he said, 'the Chateau d'Aubepine is dull enough to die of. The poor fellow was eating out his own heart. He has followed hisinstinct, and it is the only thing that can save him from worsecorruption. '

'His instinct of selfishness, ' I said. 'His talk was all of glory, but it was of his own glory, not his duty nor the good of hiscountry. He seems to me to have absolutely no heart!'

'Do not be hard on him; remember how he has been brought up. '

'You were brought up in like manner by two old people. '

'Ah! but they loved me. Besides, my tutor and his were as differentas light and darkness. '

'And your poor little sister, ' I said. 

'She must have won his gratitude by her assistance. He will havelearnt to love her when he returns. Come, ma mie, you must forgivehim. If you knew what his captivity was, you could not help it. Hewas the play-fellow of my boyhood, and if I can help him to the morenoble path, my aid must not be wanting, either for his sake or thatof my sister. '

How wise and how noble these two years had made my dear husband; howunlike the raw lad I had met at Whitehall! It was the training inself-discipline that he had given himself for my sake--yes, and forthat of his country and his God. 

CHAPTER VI. 

VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT

No difficulty was made about enrolling the Chevalier d'Aubepine as avolunteer in the regiment of Conde, and as the lettre de cachet, asmy brother De Solivet said, the Cardinal understood his game too wellto send one to bring back a youth who had rushed to place himselfbeneath the banners of his country in the hands of a prince of theblood. 

Indeed, we soon learned that there was no one to pursue him. Hisgrandfather had a stroke of apoplexy in his rage on hearing of thearrest, and did not survive it a week, so that he had become Count ofAubepine. The same courier brought to my husband a letter from hissister, which I thought very stiff and formal, all except theconclusion: 'Oh, my brother, I implore you on my knees to watch overhim and bring him back to me!'

Yet, as far as we knew and believed, the young man had never writtenat all to his poor little wife. My husband had insisted on hisproducing a letter to his grandfather; but as to his wife, heshrugged his shoulders, said that she could see that he was safe, andthat was enough for her. 

He was, in fact, like one intoxicated with the delights of libertyand companionship. He enjoyed a certain eclat from the manner of hiscoming, and was soon a universal favourite among the officers. Unfortunately, the influence and example there were not such as tolead him to think more of his wife. The Duke of Enghien had beenmarried against his will to a poor little childish creature, niece toCardinal de Richelieu, and he made it the fashion to parade, not onlyneglect, but contempt, of one's wife. He was the especial hero ofour young Count's adoration, and therefore it was the less wonderthat, when in the course of the winter, the chaplain wrote that theyoung Madame le Comtesse was in the most imminent danger, afterhaving given birth to the long desired son and heir, he treated thenews with supreme carelessness. We should never have known whethershe lived or died, had not the courier, by whom M. De Bellaise wroteto her as well as to his uncle, brought back one of her formal littleletters, ill-spelt and unmeaning, thanking Monsieur son frere andMadame sa femme for their goodness, and saying she was nearlyrecovered. 

'It cuts me to the heart to receive such letters, ' said my husband, 'and to feel how little I can be to her. Some day I hope I may knowher better, and make her feel what a brother means. '

All this happened while we were in garrison for the winter at Nancy. Again we offered M. D'Aubepine a room in our house; but though hewas, in his way, fond of my husband, and was polite to me, he thoughta residence with us would interfere with his liberty, and, alas! hisliberty consisted in plunging deeper and deeper into dissipation, gambling, and all those other sports which those about him made himthink the privileges of manhood. We could do nothing; he laughed atM. De Bellaise, and so indeed did these chosen friends of his. Ibelieve plenty of wit was expended on us and our happy domestic life;but what was that to us? The courage of M. De Bellaise was wellknown, and he had so much good-temper and kindness that no one durstinsult him. 

He was doubly tender to me that winter and spring because theaccounts from England were so sad. My dear brother Berenger had beenkilled at the battle of Alresford, and affairs looked very ill forthe royal cause. I wept for my brother; but, ah! those tears were asnothing compared with what I was soon to shed. 

The Duke of Enghien arrived. He was not to take the command of thearmy of the Low Countries, but of that of Germany. He came on thevery day we had heard of the loss of Freiburg in Brisgau, and all wasat once activity. I saw the inspection of the army just outside thecity, and a glorious sight it was; bodies of infantry moving like onegreat machine, squadrons of cavalry looking invincible, allglittering with gold, and their plumes waving, the blue and goldbanners above their heads; and the dear regiment of Conde, whencesalutes from eye and hand came to me and my little Gaspard as theyrode past. 

I did not tremble as in the last campaign. Ah! perhaps I did notpray so much. I heard of the crossing of the Rhine at Brisach, andthen came rumours of a tremendous battle at Freiburg. The bells hadonly just begun to ring, when Pierre, our groom, galloped into thetown, and sent up at once his packet. His master, he said, waswounded, but not badly, and had covered himself with glory. I toreopen the packet. There were a few lines by his own dear hand;--

'My heart--I shall be with thee soon to rest in thy care--D. G. Kissyour son. Thy B. '

The rest of the packet was from my half-brother De Solivet, and toldhow, in the frightful attack on the vineyard at Freiburg, seven timesrenewed, my dear, dear Philippe had received a shot in the knee, justas he was grasping a Bavarian standard, which he carried off withhim. He would have returned to the charge, but faintness overpoweredhim, and he was supported on horseback from the field to the tent. The wound had been dressed, and the surgeon saw no occasion foralarm. M. De Solivet, who had a slight wound himself, and M. D'Aubepine, who was quite uninjured, though he had done prodigies ofvalour, would tend him with all their hearts. I had better send thecarriage and horses at once to bring him back, as the number ofwounded was frightful, and means of transport were wanting. Thenfollowed a message of express command from my husband that I was notto think of coming with the carriage. He would not have me atFreiburg on any account. 

I submitted; indeed I saw no cause for fear, and even rejoiced thatfor a long time I should have my husband to myself. I made all readyfor him, and taught my little Gaspard now he would say: 'Soyez lebienvenu, mon papa. '

So passed a week. Then one day there was a clanking of spurs on thestairs; I flew to the door and there stood M. D'Aubepine. 

'Is he near?' I cried, and then I saw he was white and trembling. 

'Ah! no, ' he cried; 'he is at Brisach! We could bring him nofarther. Can you come with me, Madame? He asked incessantly foryou, and it might--it might be that your coming may revive him. '

And then this wild headstrong youth actually sank into a chair, hidhis face on the table, and sobbed as if his heart would break. 

I had no time for weeping then. I sent for the first physician inNancy, and offered him any sum in the world to accompany me; I had tomake almost wild efforts to procure a horse, and at last had to forceone from the governor by my importunities. I collected wine andcordials, and whatever could be of service, and after his firstoutburst my young brother-in-law helped me in a way I can neverforget. No doubt the pestiferous air caused by the horrible carnageof Freiburg had poisoned the wound. As soon as possible my husbandwas removed; but the mischief had been already done; the wound was ina bad state, fever had set in, and though he struggled on stage afterstage, declaring that he should be well when he saw me, the agony hadbeen such on the last day that they barely got him to Brisach, and hethere became delirious, so that M. De Solivet decided on remainingwith him, while the Count came on to fetch me. He had ridden eversince four o'clock in the morning, and yet was ready to set out againas soon as my preparations were complete. Oh, I can never overlookwhat he was to me on that journey!

Hope kept us up through that dismal country--the path of war, whereinstead of harvest on the August day we saw down-trodden, half-burnedwheat fields, where a few wretched creatures were trying to glean afew ears of wheat. Each village we passed showed only blackenedwalls, save where at intervals a farmhouse had been repaired to serveas an estafette for couriers from the French army. The desolation ofthe scene seemed to impress itself on my soul, and destroy the hopeswith which I had set forth; but on and on we went, till the walls ofBrisach rose before us. 

He was in the governor's quarters, and only at the door, I perceivedthe M. D'Aubepine had much doubted whether we should find him alive. However, that one consolation was mine. He knew me; he smiled againon me; he called me by all his fondest names; he said that now hecould rest. For twenty-four hours we really thought that joy wasworking a cure. Alas! then he grew worse again, and when the painleft him, mortification had set in, and we could only send for apriest to administer the last Sacraments. 

I am an old woman now, and what was then the cruelest anguish touchesme with pleasure when I think how he called me his guardian angel, and thanked me for having been his shield from temptation, placinghis son in my sole charge, and commending his sister and his olduncle to me--his poor little sister whose lot seemed to grieve him somuch. He talked to the Count, who wept, tore his hair, and madepromises, which he really then intended to execute, and which atleast comforted my Philippe. 

The good priest who attended him said, he had never seen anythingmore edifying or beautiful, and that he had never heard theconfession of a military man showing a purer heart, more full of holylove, trust, and penitence. There was a great peace upon us all, ashis life ebbed away, and even the Count stood silent and awestruck. They took me away at last. I remember nothing but the priest tellingme that my husband was in Paradise. 

I felt as if it were all a dream, and when presently my brother cameand took my hand, I cried out: 'Oh, wake me! Wake me!' And when heburst into tears I asked what he meant. 

Looking back now I can see how very kind he was to me, though I madelittle return, being altogether bewildered by the sudden strangenessof my first grief. Poor M. De Solivet! he must have had a heavycharge for Armand d'Aubepine was altogether frantic with grief, anddid nothing to help him, while I could not weep, and sat like astatue, hardly knowing what they said to me. Nay, when the tidingscame that my father had been killed in the battle of Marston Moorthree weeks before, I was too dull and dead to grieve. Eustace hadwritten to my husband in order that he might prepare me; I opened theletter, and all that I can remember feeling was that I had no one toshield me. 

I had but one wish and sense of duty at that moment, namely, to carryhome those dear remains to the resting-place of his father in Anjou, where I hope myself to rest. It was of no use to tell me that allplaces would be alike to my Philippe when we should awake on theResurrection day. I was past reason, and was possessed with afeeling that I would be sacrilege to leave him among the countlessunnamed graves of the wounded who, like him, had struggled as far asBrisach to die. I fancied I should not be able to find him, and, besides, it was an enemy's country! I believe opposition made metalk wildly and terrify my brother; at any rate, he swore to me thatthe thing should be done, if only I would return to Nancy and to mychild. I fancied, most unjustly, that this was meant to deceive me, and get me out of the way while they buried him whom I loved so much, and I refused to stir without the coffin. 

How my brother contrived it, I do not know, but the thing was done, and though I was but a cart that carried the coffin to Nancy, I waspacified. 

At Nancy he arranged matters more suitably. Here M. D'Aubepine, infloods of tears, took leave of me to return to the army, and M. DeSolivet, whose wound disabled him from active service, undertook toescort me and my precious to Anjou. 

It was a long tedious journey, and my heart beats with gratitude tohim when I think what he undertook for me, and how dreary it musthave been for him, while I was too dead and dull to thank him, thoughI hope my love and confidence evinced my gratitude in after life. 

My dearest went first in a hearse drawn by mules, as was also mylarge carriage, --that which we had so joyously bought together, saying it would be like a kind of tent on our travels. I traveled init with my child and my women, and M. De Solivet rode with our men-servants. Our pace was too slow for the fatigue to be too much forhim, and he always preceded me to every place where we halted to eat, or where we lodged for the night, and had everything ready without athought or a word being needful from me. He always stood ready togive me his arm to take me to hear mass before we set out each day. The perfect calm, and the quiet moving on, began to do me good. Ifelt as if the journey had always been going on, and only wished itwere endless, for when it was over I should feel my desolation, andhave no more to do for my Philippe. But I began to respond to mypoor boy's caresses and playfulness a little more; I was not so shortand maussade with my women or with my good brother, and I tried topray at mass. My brother has since told me that he never felt morerelieved in his life than once when he made little Gaspard bring mesome blue corn-flowers and wheat, which reminded me of my Englishhome, so that I began to weep so profusely, that he carried away thepoor frightened child, and left me to Tryphena. 

One afternoon at a little village there was a look of festival; thebells were ringing, everybody was hurrying to the church, and when westopped at the door of the inn my brother came to the carriage-windowand said he was afraid that we should not find it easy to proceed atonce, for a mission priest was holding a station, and no one seemedable to attend to anything else. 

'He is a true saint! he is just about to preach, ' said the landlady, who had come out with her gayest apron, her whitest cap, and all hergold chains. 'Ah! the poor lady, it would do her heart good to hearhim preach; and by that time the roast would be ready--an admirablepiece of venison, sent for the occasion. There he is, the blessedman!'

And as I had just alighted from the carriage, for our mules had madea double stage and could not go farther, I saw coming from theprebytere three or four priests, with the sexton and the servingboys. One of them, a spare thin man, with a little bronze crucifixin his hand, paused as he saw the hearse drawn up, clasped his handsin prayer, and then lifted them in benediction of him who lay within. I saw his face, and there was in it an indescribable heavenlysweetness and pity which made me say to my brother: 'I must go andhear him. '

My brother was so glad to hear me express any wish, that I believe, if I had asked to go and dance on the village green, he would almosthave permitted it; and leaving my little one to play in the gardenunder Tryphena's care, he gave me his arm, and we went into thechurch, crowded--crowded so that we could hardly find room; but mydeep mourning made the good people respectfully make place for us andgive us chairs. 

Ah! that sermon! I cannot tell you it in detail; I only know that itgave the strongest sense of healing balm to my sore heart, and seemedin a wonderful way to lift me up into the atmosphere where myPhilippe was gone, making me feel that what kept me so far--far fromhim was not death, nor his coffin, but my own thick husk of sin andworldliness. Much more there was, which seems now to have grown intomy very soul; and by the time it was over I was weeping tears nolonger bitter, and feeling nothing so much as the need to speak tothat priest. 

M. De Solivet promised that I should, but we had long to wait, forthe saintly Abbe de Paul would not postpone the poor to the rich; norcould my grief claim the precedence, for I was not the only broken-hearted young widow in France, nor even in that little village. 

I cannot be grateful enough to my brother that he put up with all theinconveniences of sleeping at this little village, that I might carryout what he though a mere woman's enthusiastic fancy: but in truth itwas everything to me. After vespers the holy man was able to give mean hour in the church, and verily it was the opening of new life tome. Since my light had been taken from me, all had been utterdesolate darkness before me. He put a fresh light before me, whichnow, after fifty years, I know to have been the dawn of bettersunshine than even that which had brightened my youth--and I thank mygood God, who has never let me entirely lose sight of it. 

Very faint, almost disappointing, it seemed to me then. I came awayfrom my interview feeling as if it had been vain to think there couldbe any balm for a crushed heart, and yet when I awoke the nextmorning, and dressed myself to hear mass before resuming my journey, it was with the sense that there I should meet a friend andcomforter. And when I looked at my little son, it was not only withdreary passionate pity for the unconscious orphan, but with a growingpurpose to bring him up as his father's special charge, --nay, as thatfrom even a greater and nearer than my Philippe. 

While, as we journeyed on, I gradually dwelt less on how piteous myarrival would be for myself, and thought more and more of its sadnessfor the poor old Marquis who had loved his nephew so much, till, instead of merely fearing to reach Nid de Merle, I began to lookforward to it, and consider how to comfort the poor old man; for hadnot my husband begged me to be the staff of his old age, and to filla daughter's place to him?

CHAPTER VII. 

WIDOW AND WIFE

We had avoided Paris, coming through Troyes and Orleans, and thus oursad strange journey lasted a full month. Poor old M. De Nidemerlehad, of course, been prepared for our coming, and he came out in hiscoach to meet us at the cross-roads. My brother saw the mourningliveries approaching, and gave me notice. I descended from mycarriage, intending to go to him in his, but he anticipated me; andthere, in the middle of the road, the poor old man embraced me, weeping floods of passionate tears of grief. He was a small man, shrunk with age, and I found him clinging to me so like a child thatI felt an almost motherly sense of protection and tenderness towardshis forlorn old age; but my English shyness was at the momentdistressed at the sense of all the servants staring at such ameeting, and I cried out: 'Oh, sir! you should not have come thus. ''What can I do, but show all honour to the heroic wife of my dearchild?' sobbed he; and, indeed, I found afterwards that mypersistence in bringing home my dearest to the tombs of hisforefathers had won for me boundless gratitude and honour. They tookthe hearse to the church of the convent at Bellaise, where itsprecious burthen was to rest. The obsequies, requiem, and funeralmass were to take place the next day, and in the meantime Iaccompanied the Marquis to the chateau, and we spent the evening andgreat part of the night in talking of him whom we had both loved sodearly, and in weeping together. 

Then came the solemn and mournful day of the funeral. I was takenearly to the convent, where, among the nuns behind the grille, Imight assist at these last rites. 

Thickly veiled, I looked at no one except that I curtsied my thanksto the Abbess before kneeling down by the grating looking into thechoir. My grief had always been too deep for tears, and on that dayI was blessed in a certain exaltation of thoughts which bore meonward amid the sweet chants to follow my Philippe, my brave, pure-hearted, loving warrior, onto his rest in Paradise, and to think ofthe worship that he was sharing there. 

So I knelt quite still, but by and by I was sensible of a terribleparoxysm of weeping from some one close to me. I could scarcely seemore than a black form when I glanced round, but it seemed to me thatit was sinking; I put out my arm in support, and I found a head on myshoulder. I knew who it must be--my husband's poor little sister, Madame d'Aubepine, and I held my arm round her with an impulse ofaffection, as something that was his; but before all was over, I wassure that she was becoming faint, and at last I only moved just intime to receive her in my lap and arms, as she sank down nearly, ifnot quite, unconscious. 

I tore back the heavy veil that was suffocating her, and saw a tinythin white face, not half so large as my little Gaspard's round rosyone. Numbers of black forms hovered about with water and essences;and one tall figure bent to lift the poor child from me, apologizingwith a tone of reproof, and declaring that Madame la Comtesse wasashamed to inconvenience Madame. 

'No, ' I said; 'one sister could not inconvenience another, ' and Ifelt the feeble hand stealing round my waist, and saw a sort of smileon the thin little lips, which brought back one look of myPhilippe's. I threw off my own veil, and raised her in my arms so asto kiss her, and in that embrace I did indeed gain a sister. 

I did not heed the scolding and the murmuring; I lifted her; she wasvery small, and light as a feather; and I was not merely tall, butvery strong, so I carried her easily to a chamber, which one of thenuns opened for us, and laid her on the bed. She clung to me, andwhen some one brought wine, I made her drink it, and prayed that theywould leave us to ourselves a little while. 

I know now that nothing but the privileges of my position on that daywould have prevailed to get that grim and terrible dame de compagnieout of the room. However, we were left alone, and the first thingthe poor young thing did when she could speak or move, was to throwherself into my arms and cry:

'Tell me of him!'

'He sent his love. He commended you to me, ' I began. 

'Did he? Oh, my dear hero! And how is he looking?'

So it was of her husband, not her brother, that she was thinking. Igave me a pang, and yet I could not wonder; and alas, d'Aubepine hadnot given me any message at all for her. However, I told her what Ithought would please her--of his handsome looks, and his favour withthe Duke of Enghien, and her great dark eyes began to shine undertheir tear-swollen lids; but before long, that terrible woman knockedat the door again to say that Madame la Comtesse's carriage wasready, and that M. Le Marquis awaited Madame la Vicomtesse. 

We arranged our disordered dress, and went down hand-in-hand. TheMarquis and the Abbess both embraced the poor little Countess, and Iassured her that we would meet again, and be much together. 

'Madame la Comtesse will do herself the honour of paying her respectsto Madame la Vicomtesse, ' said the dame de compagnie with the elderM. D'Aubepine, and had regulated her household of late years. 

'I congratulate myself on not belonging to that respectablehousehold, ' said my brother. 

M. De Nidemerle laughed, and said the good lady had brought with hera fair share of Calvinist severity. In fact, it was reported thather conversion had been stimulated by the hope that she should beendowed with her family property, and bestowed in marriage on theyoung d'Aubepine, the father of the present youth, and thatdisappointment in both these expectations had embittered her life. Iwas filled with pity for my poor little sister-in-law, who evidentlywas under her yoke; and all the more when, a day or two later, thetow ladies came in great state to pay me a visit of ceremony, and Isaw how pale and thin was the little Countess, and how cowed sheseemed by the tall and severe duenna. 

Little Gaspard was trotting about. The Marquis was delighted withthe child, and already loved him passionately; and the little fellowwas very good, and could amuse himself without troubling any one. 

He took refuge with me from Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau; but as Iheld him to kiss his aunt, her eyes filled with tears; and when Iasked whether her little girl could walk as well as he did, shefaltered so that I was startled, fearing that the child might havedied and I not have heard of it. 

'She is out at nurse, ' at last she murmured. 

'Children are best at farms, ' said Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau;'Madame la Comtesse Douariere is not to be incommoded. ' The old manheld out his arms to my little boy, and said something of his being apleasure instead of an inconvenience; but though the lady answeredpolitely, she looked so severe that my poor child hid his face on mybosom and began to cry, by way of justifying her. 

However, when she was gone, both the gentlemen agreed that the littlefellow was quite right, and showed his sense, and that if they hadbeen only two years old, they would have cried too. 

That was all in my favour when I entreated M. De Nidemerle to let mehave a visit from my sister-in-law, --not a mere call of ceremony, buta stay at the chateau long enough for me to get acquainted with her. Not only was she the only sister of my dear Philippe, but theMarquis, her uncle, was her guardian and only near relative, so thathe had a right to insist, more especially as the old Countess wasimbecile and bedridden. 

I think he felt towards me much as he would have done if he had beenshut up in a room with Gaspard, ready to give me anything I beggedfor, provided I would not cry. He was very good to me, and I couldnot but be sorry for the poor, bereaved, broken old man, and try tobe a daughter to him; and thus our relations were very different fromwhat they had been on our journey to Paris together in the coach. Atany rate, he promised me that I should be gratified, and the dayafter my brother left us, he actually went over to Chateaud'Aubepine, and brought off his niece in the carriage with him, presenting her to me in the hall like the spoils of war. She wasfrightened, formal, and ceremonious all super time, but I thought shewas beginning to thaw, and was more afraid of the Marquis than of me. We played at cards all the evening, the Cure being sent for to makeup the set, and now and then I caught her great eyes looking at mewistfully; indeed, I was obliged to avoid them lest they should makeme weep; for it was almost the look that my Philippe used to cast onme in those early days when we had not begun to know one another. 

At last we went up to bed. The rooms were all en suite, and I hadgiven her one opening into mine, telling her we would never shut thedoor save when she wished it. I saw her gazing earnestly at herbrother's portrait and all the precious little objects consecrated tohis memory, which I had arranged by my benitier and crucifix, but Idid not expect her firs exclamation, when our woman had left us: 'Ah!Madame, how happy you are!'

'I was once!' I sighed. 

'Ah! but you ARE happy. You have your child, and your husband lovedyou. '

'But your husband lives, and your children are well. '

'That may be. I never see them. I have only seen my daughter twice, and my son once, since they were born. They will not let them cometo the chateau, and they say there is no road to the farms. '

'We will see to that, ' I said, and I made her tell me where theywere; but she knew no more of distances than I did, never goinganywhere save in the great family coach. Poor child! When I calledher Cecile, she burst into tears, and said no one had called her bythat name since she had left her friend Amelie in the convent, and asto calling me Marguerite, Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau would be sureto say it was bourgeois and ill-bred to use familiar names, but thenwe need never let her hear us. 

I took the poor little forlorn creature to sleep with me, and then, and in the course of the next day or two, the whole sad state ofthings came before me. 

The little Cecile de Bellaise had been carried to a convent at Angersfrom the farm that she could just remember. Here she had spent allthe happy days of her life. The nuns ere not strict, and they musthave been very ignorant, for they had taught her nothing but herprayers, a little reading, some writing, very bad orthography, embroidery, and heraldry; but they were very good-natured, and had anumber of pensionnaires who seemed to have all run wild together inthe corridors and gardens, and played all sorts of tricks on thenuns. Sometimes Cecile told me some of these, and very unedifyingthey were, --acting ghosts in the passages, fastening up the celldoors, ringing the bells at unearthly hours, putting brushes or shoesin the beds, and the like practical jokes. 

Suddenly, from the midst of these wild sports, while still a merechild under fourteen, Cecile was summoned to be married to Armandd'Aubepine, who was two years older, and was taken at once to Chateaud'Aubepine. 

There was no more play for her; she had to sit upright embroideringunder the eyes of Madame la Comtesse and of Mademoiselle deGringrimeau; nor did she ever go out of doors except for a turn onthe terrace with the ladies, or a drive in the great coach. Ofcourse they were disappointed in having such a little unformed beingon their hands, but they must have forgotten that they had ever beenyoung themselves, when they forced her to conform rigidly to the lifethat suited them, and which they thought the only decorous thing fora lady of any age. 

There was nothing else that was young near her except her husband, and he thought her an ugly little thing, and avoided her as much aspossible. He had expected to be freed from his tutor on hismarriage, and when he was disappointed, he was extremely displeased, and manifested his wrath by neglect of her. His governor must havebeen a very different one from my dear husband's beloved abbe, fro Iknow that if I had been five times as ugly and stupid as I was, myPhilippe would have tried to love me, because it was his duty--andhave been kind to me, because he could not be unkind to any one. Butthe Chevalier d'Aubepine had never learnt to care for any one'spleasure but his own; he was angry at, and ashamed of, the wife whohad been imposed on him; he chafed and raged at not being permittedto join the army and see the world; and in the meantime he, with theconnivance of his governor, from time to time escaped at night toSaumur, and joined in the orgies of the young officers in garrisonthere. 

Nevertheless, through all his neglect, Cecile loved him with apassionate, faithful adoration, surpassing all words, just as I haveseen a poor dog follow faithfully a savage master who gives himnothing but blows. She never said a word of complaint to me of him. All I gathered of this was from her simple self-betrayals, or fromothers, or indeed what I knew of himself; but the whole sustenance ofthat young heart had been his few civil words at times when he couldmake her useful to him. I am persuaded, too, that Mademoiselle deGringrimeau exercised her spite in keeping the two young creaturesfrom any childish or innocent enjoyments that might have drawn themtogether. If etiquette were the idol of that lady, I am sure thatspite flavoured the incense she burned to it. 

I think, if I had been in Cecile's position, I should either havegone mad, or have died under the restraint and dreariness; but shelived on in the dull dream of half-comprehended wretchedness, andgave birth to her daughter, but without being in the least cheered, for a peasant woman was in waiting, who carried the child off whileshe was still too much exhausted to have even kissed it. All sheobtained was universal murmuring at the sex of the poor little thing. It seemed the climax of all her crimes, which might be involuntary, but for which she was made to suffer as much as if they had been herfault. 

Her husband was more displeased than any one else; above all when heheard the news of Rocroy; and then it was that he devised the schemeof running away, and in discussing it with her became more friendlythan ever before. Of course it was dreadful to her that he should goto the war, but the gratification of helping him, keeping his secret, plotting with him, getting a few careless thanks and promises, carried the day, and bore her through the parting. 'He really didembrace me of his own accord, ' said the poor young creature; and itwas on that embrace that she had ever since lived, in hope that whenthey should meet again he might find it possible to give her a fewshreds of affection. 

Of course, when she was found to have been cognizant of hisdeparture, she was in the utmost disgrace. Rage at his evasionbrought on the fit of apoplexy which cost the old count his life; andthe blame was so laid upon her, not only by Mademoiselle deGringrimeau, but by Madame and by her confessor, that she almostbelieved herself a sort of parricide; and she had not yet completedthe course of penitential exercises that have been imposed on her. 

By the time--more than half a year later--her son was born, the oldcountess had become too childish to be gratified for more than amoment. Indeed, poor Cecile herself was so ill that she survivedonly by a wonder, since no one cared whether she lived or died, except her own maid, who watched over her tenderly, and gave her, when she could read it, a letter from her husband upon the joyfulnews. She wore that letter, such as it was, next her heart, andnever told her how my husband had absolutely stood over him while hewrote it. 

So she recovered, if it can be called recovery--for her health hadbeen shattered by all this want of the most care and consideration;she was very weak and nervous, and suffered constantly from headache, and her looks were enough to break one's heart. I suppose nothingcould have made her beautiful, but she had a strange, worn, blighted, haggard, stunted look, quite dreadful for one not yet eighteen; shewas very short, and fearfully thin and pale, but out of the sadlittle face there looked my Philippe's eyes, and now and then hissmile. 

After talking till late I fell asleep, and when I woke to dress formorning mass, I found that she had not slept at all, and had afrightful headache. I bade her lie still till I came back, and sheseemed hardly able to believe in such luxury. Mademoiselle saidnothing but resolution was wanting to shake off a headache. 

'Have you found it so?' I asked. 

'At any rate, it is better than the doses Mademoiselle gives me, ' shesaid. 

'You shall try my remedy this time, ' I said; and I set out for thelittle village church, which stood at the garden-gate, with a fixeddetermination that this state of things--slow torture and murder, asit seemed to me--should not go on. If one work bequeathed to me bymy dear Philippe was to take care of his uncle, another surely was tosave and protect his sister. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

MARGUERITE TO THE RESCUE. 

It was in my favour that M. De Nidemerle had conceived a very highopinion of me, far above my deserts. My dear husband's letters hadbeen full of enthusiasm for me. I found them all among the Marquis'spapers; and his tenderness and gratitude, together with thecircumstances of my return, had invested me with a kind of halo, which made me a sort of heroine in his eyes. 

Besides, I did my best to make the old man's life more cheerful. Iread him the Gazette that came once a week, I played at cards withhim all the evening, and I sometimes even wrote or copied his letterson business; and, when I sat at my embroidery, he liked to come andsit near me, sometimes talking, playing with Gaspard, or dozing. Hewas passionately fond of Gaspard, and let the child domineer over himin a way that sometimes shocked me. 

Thus he was ready to believe what I told him of his niece, andassured me I might keep her with me as long as I wished, if theCountess, her mother-in-law, would consent. The first thing we didtogether was that I took her to see her children. The boy was at afarm not very far off; he was seven months old, and a fine healthyinfant, though not as clean as I could have wished; but then Tryphenaand I had been looked on as barbarians, who would certainly be thedeath of Gaspard, because we washed him all over every evening, andlet him use his legs and arms. Cecile was enchanted; she saw anextraordinary resemblance between her son and his father; and huggedthe little form like one who had been famished. 

Our search for the little Armantine was less prosperous. Cecilecould not ride, nor could even walk a quarter of a mile withoutnearly dying of fatigue; nay, the jolting of the coach as we drovealong the road would have been insupportable to her but for herlonging to see her little one. We drove till it was impossible toget the coach any farther, and still the farm was only just in sight. 

I jumped out and said I would bring the child to her, and I went upbetween the hedges with two lackeys behind me, till I came to afarmyard, where three or four children, muddy up to the very eyes, were quarrelling and playing with the water of a stagnant pool. Imade my way through animals, dogs, and children, to the farm kitchen, where an old grandmother and a beggar sat on two chairs opposite toone another, on each side of the fire, and a young woman was busyover some raw joints of an animal. They stared at me with openmouths, and when I said that Madame la Comtesse d'Aubepine was cometo see her child, and was waiting in the carriage, they looked as ifsuch a thing had never been heard of before. The young woman beganto cry--the old woman to grumble. I think if they had dared, theywould have flown into a passion, and I was really alarmed lest thechild might be sick or even dead. I told them impressively who Iwas, and demanded that they would instantly show me the little one. 

The young woman, muttering something, stepped out and brought in herarms the very dirtiest child of the whole group I had left in thegutter, with the whole tribe behind her. My first impulse was tosnatch it up and carry it away to its mother, taking it home at onceto Nid de Merle; but it squalled and kicked so violently when I heldout my arms to it, that it gave me time to think that to carry itthus away without authority might only bring Cecile into trouble withthose who had the mastery over her, and that to see it in such acondition could only give her pain. I should not have objected tothe mere surface dirt of grubbing in the farmyard (shocking as it maysound to you, Mademoiselle mes Petites Filles). Eustace and I haddone such things at Walwyn and been never the worse for it; but thispoor little creature had a wretched, unwholesome, neglected air abouther that made me miserable, and the making her fit to be seen wouldevidently be a long business, such as could hardly be undertaken inthe midst of the salting of a pig, which was going on. 

I therefore promised the woman a crown if she would make the childtidy and bring her to Nid de Merle on the Sunday. Something wasmuttered about Mademoiselle having said the child was not to beconstantly brought to the house to incommonde Madame la Comtesse; butI made her understand that I meant Nid de Merle, and trusted that thehope of the money would be a bait. 

Cecile was sorely disappointed when I returned without the child, andconjured me at once to tell her the worst, if it were indeed dead;but she let herself be pacified by the hope of seeing it on Sunday, and indeed she was half dead with fatigue from the roughness of theroad. 

The child was duly brought by the foster-mother who was in the fullcostume of a prosperous peasant, with great gold cross and gay apron;but I was not better satisfied about the little on, though she had acleaner face, cap, and frock. Unused to the sight of black, shewould let neither of us touch her, and we could only look at her, when she sat on her nurse's knee with a cake in her hand. I was sureshe was unhealthy and uncared for, her complexion and everythingabout her showed it, and my Gaspard was twice her size. It was wellfor the peace of the young mother that she knew so little what achild ought to be like, and that her worst grief was that the littleArmantine would not go to her. 

'And oh! they will send her straight into a convent as soon as she isweaned, and I shall never have her with me!' sighed Cecile. 

'ON' ON had done many harsh things towards my poor little sister-in-law, and I began now to consider of whom ON now consisted. It seemedto me to be only Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau acting in the name ofthe doting Countess and the absent husband, and that one resoluteeffort might emancipate the poor young thing. 

I was still considering the matter, and rallying my forces, when amessage came from the Chateau l'Aube that Madame la Douariere wasdying, and Madame la Comtesse must return instantly. I went withher; I could not let her return alone to Mademoiselle's tendermercies, and the Marquis approved and went with us. In fact, the twochateaux were not two miles apart, through the lanes and woods, though the way by the road was much longer. 

The old Countess lingered another day and then expired. Before thefuneral ceremonies were over, I had seen how Mademoiselle deGringrimeau tyrannise over this young sister-in-law, who was still amere gentle child, and was absolutely cowed by the woman. When Itried to take her home with me, Mademoiselle had the effrontery tosay that the Count himself, as well as the late dowager, had givenher authority over Madame as dame de compagnie, and that she did notconsider it etiquette to visit after so recent a bereavement, thusdecidedly hitting at me. 

However, I had made up my mind. I entreated my poor weeping Cecileto hold out yet a little longer in hope; and then I returned home tolay the whole situation before the Marquis, and to beg him to asserthis authority as uncle, and formally request that she might resideunder his protection while her husband was with the army--a demandwhich could hardly fail to be granted. 

I wrote also to M. D'Aubepine, over whom I thought I had someinfluence, and added likewise a letter to my half-brother De Solivet, explaining the situation, and entreating him to get the younggentleman into his lodgings, and not let him out till he had writtenhis letters, signed and sealed them!

The plan answered. In due time our courier returned, and with all wewanted in the way of letters, with one great exception, alas! anytrue sign of tenderness for the young wife. There was a formalletter for her, telling her to put herself and her children under thecharge of her uncle and her brother's widow, leaving the charge ofthe chateau and the servants to the intendant and to Mademoiselle deGringrimeau. The poor child had to imbibe what her yearning heartcould extract from the conventional opening and close. I have myshare of the budget still, and her it is:---

'MADAME--You still love to play your part of beneficent angel, and wishto take on your shoulder my impedimenta. Well, be it so then; though Ihave no hope that you will make thereof (en) anything like yourself. Kissing your hands. 'LE COMTE D'AUBEPINE. '

His whole family was thus disposed of in two letters of the alphabet(en). 

M. De Nidemerle received a polite request to undertake the charge ofhis niece, and Mademoiselle had likewise her orders, and I heard frommy brother how he had smiled at my commands, but had found themnecessary, for Armand d'Aubepine had been exactly like a naughty boyforced to do a task. Not that he had the smallest objection to hiswife and children being with me--in fact, he rather preferred it; heonly hated being troubled about the matter, wanted to go to a matchat tennis, and thought it good taste to imitate the Duke of Enghienin contempt for the whole subject. Would he ever improve? Mybrother did not give much present hope of it, saying that onreturning to winter quarters he had found the lad plunged all thedeeper in dissipation for want of the check that my dear husband hadbeen able to impose on him; but neither M. De Solivet nor the Marquistook it seriously, thinking it only what every youth in the army wentthrough, unless he were such a wonderful exception as my dearPhilippe had been. 

Cecile could hardly believe that such peace and comfort were in storefor her, and her tyrant looked as gloomy as Erebus at losing herslave, but we did not care for that; we brought her home in triumph, and a fortnight's notice was given to the foster-mother in which towean Mademoiselle d'Aubepine and bring her to Nid de Merle. 

That fortnight was spent by our guest in bed. As if to justifyMademoiselle de Gringrimeau, she was no sooner under my care than shehad a sharp illness; but Tryphena, who had been so instructed by mygrandmother, Lady Walwyn, as to be more skilful than any doctor, declared that it was in consequence of the long disregard of healthand strain of spirits, and so managed her that, though never strong, she improved much in health, and therewith in looks. Beautiful shecould hardly be, as the world counts beauty, but to me her sweet, tender, wistful expression made her countenance most lovable, and sodid her gentle unmurmuring humility. She sincerely believed that allthe cruel slights she underwent were the result of her own ugliness, stupidity, and ignorance, and instead of blaming her husband, shemerely pitied him for being tied to her. As to grating that herbrother had been a better man than her husband, she would havethought that high treason--the difference was only that her dearMarguerite was so pretty, so clever, amiable, and well taught, thatshe had won his heart. 

In truth, I had outgrown the ungainliness of my girlhood, and, nowthat it did not matter to any one, had become rather a handsomewoman, and it was of no use to tell her that I had been worse thanshe, because there was so much more of me, when my dear young husbandgave me the whole of his honest heart. 

To make herself, at least, less dull was her next desire. One reasonwhy she had so seldom written was that she knew she could not spell, and Mademoiselle insisted on looking over her letters that they mightnot be a disgrace. I doubted whether M. Le Comte would havediscovered the errors, but when the Marquis praised some letters thatI had written to amuse him from Nancy and Mezieres, she was firedwith ambition to write such clever letters as might bewitch herhusband. Besides, if she could teach her daughter, the child neednot be banished to a convent. 

I began to give her a few lessons in the morning, and to read to her. And just then there came to Nid de Merle, to see me, the good AbbeBonchamp, the excellent tutor to whom my dear Philippe always said heowed so much. The good man had since had another employment, and onquitting it, could not help gratifying his desire to me and see thewife and child of his dear pupil, as indeed I had begged him to do, if ever it were in his power, when I fulfilled my husband's wishes bywriting his last greeting and final thanks to the good man. 

I remember the dear quaint form riding up on a little hired mule, which he almost concealed with his cassock. Above, his big hatlooked so strange that Gaspard, who was wonderfully forward for hisage, ran up to me crying: 'A droll beast, mamma! it had four legs anda great hat!' while little Armantine fled crying from the monster. 

All the servants were, however, coming out eagerly to receive theblessing of the good man, who had mad himself much beloved in thehousehold. The Marquis embraced him with tears, and presented him tome, when he fell on his knee, took my hand, pressed it to his lipsand bathed it with his tears, and then held Gaspard to his breastwith fervent love. 

It was necessary to be cheerful before M. De Nidemerle. He had trulyloved his nephew, and mourned for him, but the aged do not like arecurrence to sorrow, so the abbe amused him with the news broughtfrom Saumur, and our party at cards was a complete one that evening. 

But the next day, the Abbe, who had loved his pupil like a son, couldtalk of him to me, and it was a comfort I cannot express to my achingheart to converse with him. Everything had settled into an ordinarycourse. People fancied me consoled; I had attended to other things, and I could not obtrude my grief on the Marquis or on Cecile; but on!My sick yearning for my Philippe only grew the more because I mightnot mention him or hear his name. However, the Abbe only longed tolisten to all I could tell him of the last three years, and in returnto tell me much that I should never otherwise have known of theboyhood and youth of my dear one. 

I felt as if the good man must never leave us, and I entreated M. DeNidemerle to retain him at once as governor to little Gaspard. TheMarquis laughed at securing a tutor for a child not yet three yearsold; but he allowed that the boy could not be in better hands, and, moreover, he was used to the Abbe, and liked to take his arm and tohave him to make up the party at cards, which he played better thanthe cure. 

So the Abbe remained as chaplain and as tutor, and, until Gaspardshould be old enough to profit by his instructions, Cecile and Ientreated him to accept us as pupils. I had begun to feel the needof some hard and engrossing work to take off my thoughts alike frommy great sorrow and my pressing anxieties about my English home, sothat I wished to return to my Latin studies again, and the Abbehelped me to read Cicero de Officiis again, and likewise some of thewritings of St. Gregory the Great. He also read to both of us theGospels and Mezeray's HISTORY OF FRANCE, which I did not know as anadopted Frenchwoman ought to know it, and Cecile knew not at all;nay, the nuns had scarcely taught her anything, even about religion, nor the foundations of the faith. 

No, I can never explain what we, both of us, owe to the AbbeBonchamp. You, my eldest grandchild, can just recollect the good oldman as he sat in his chair and blessed us ere he passed to his restand the reward of his labours. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. 

Yes, the life at Nid de Merle was very peaceful. Just as exquisitelyhappy it was in spite of alarms, anxieties, perplexities, anddiscomforts, so when I contemplate my three years in Anjou I see thatthey were full of peace, though the sunshine of my life was over andCecile had never come. 

We had our children about us, for we took little Maurice d'Aubepinehome as soon as possible; we followed the course of devotion andstudy traced for us by the Abbe; we attended to the wants of thepoor, and taught their children the Catechism; we worked and livedlike sisters, and I thought all that was life to me was over. Iforgot that at twenty-two there is much life yet to come, and thatone may go through many a vicissitude of feeling even though one'sheart be in a grave. 

The old Marquis did not long remain with us. He caught a severe coldin the winter, and had no strength to rally. Tryphena would have itthat he sank from taking nothing but tisanes made of herbs; and thatif she might only have given him a good hot sack posset, he wouldhave recovered; but he shuddered at the thought, and when a doctorcame from Saumur, he bled the poor old gentleman, faintings came on, and he died the next day. I was glad Tryphena's opinion was onlyexpressed in English. 

The poor old man had been very kind to me, and had made me love himbetter than I should have supposed to be possible when we crossedfrom Dover. The very last thing he had done was to write to mymother, placing his hotel at Paris at her disposal in case she andher son should find it expedient to leave England; and when his willwas opened it proved that he had left me personal guardian andmanager of the estates of his heir, my little Gaspard, now M. DeNidemerle, joining no one with me in the charge but my half-brotherthe Baron de Solivet. 

I had helped him, read letters to him, and written them for him, andoverlooked his accounts enough for the work not to be altogether newand strange to me, and I took it up eagerly. I had never forgottenthe sermon by the holy Father Vincent, whom the Church has sinceacknowledged as a saint, and our excellent Abbe had heightened theimpression that a good work lay prepared for me; but he warned me tobe prudent, and I am afraid I was hot-headed and eager. 

Much had grieved me in the six months I had spent in the country, inthe state of the peasantry. I believe that in the Bocage they arebetter off than in many parts of France, but even there they seemedto me much oppressed and weighed down. Their huts were wretched--they had no chimneys, no glass in the windows, no garden, not evenanything comfortable for the old to sit in; and when I wanted to givea poor rheumatic old man a warm cushion, I found it was carefullyhidden away lest M. L'Intendant should suppose the family too welloff. 

Those seigniorial rights then seemed to me terrible. The poor peoplestood in continual fear either of the intendant of the king or of theMarquis, or of the collector of the dues of the Church. At harvesttime, a bough was seen sticking in half the sheaves. In every ten, one sheaf is marked for the tithe, tow for the seigneur, two for theking; and the officer of each takes the best, so that only the worstare left for the peasant. 

Nay, the only wonder seemed to me that there were any to be had atall, for our intendant thought it his duty to call off the men fromtheir own fields for the days due from them whenever he wantedanything to be done to our land (or his own, or his son's-in-law), without the slightest regard to the damage their crops suffered fromneglect. 

I was sure these things ought not to be. I thought infinitely moregood might be done by helping the peasants to make the most of whatthey had, and by preventing them from being robbed in my son's name, than by dealing out gallons of soup and piles of bread at the castlegates to relieve the misery we had brought on them, or by dressingthe horrible sores that were caused by dirt and bad food. I told theAbbe, and he said it was a noble inspiration in itself, but that hefeared that one lady, and she a foreigner, could not change thecustoms of centuries, and that innovations were dangerous. I alsotried to fire with the same zeal for reformation the Abbess ofBellaise, who was a young and spirited woman, open to conviction; butshe was cloistered, and could not go to investigate matters as I did, with the Abbe for my escort, and often with my son. He was enchantedto present any little gift, and it was delightful that the peasantsshould learn to connect all benefits with Monsieur le Marquis, asthey already called the little fellow. 

I think they loved me the better when they found that I was thegrandchild of the Madame Eustace who had been hidden in theircottages. I found two or three old people who still remembered herwanderings when she kept the cows and knitted like a peasant girlamong them. I was even shown the ruinous chamber where my auntThistlewood was born, and the people were enchanted to hear how muchthe dear old lady had told me of them, and of their ways, and theirkindness to her. 

I encouraged the people to make their cottages clean and not to beafraid of comforts, promising that our intendant at least should notinterfere with them. I likewise let him know that I would not havemen forced to leave their fields when it would ruin their crops, andthat it was better that ours should suffer than theirs. He wasobsequious in manner and then disobeyed me, till one day I sent threelabourers back again to secure their own hay before they touchedours. And when the harvest was gathered in the Abbe and I went roundthe fields of the poor, and I pointed out the sheaves that might bemarked, and they were not the best. 

I taught the girls to knit as they watched their cows, and promisedto buy some of their stockings, so that they might obtain sabots forthemselves with the price. They distrusted me at first, but beforelong, they began to perceive that I was their friend, and I began toexperience a nice kind of happiness. 

Alas! even this was too sweet to last, or perhaps, as the good Abbewarned me, I was pleasing myself too much with success, and withgoing my own way. The first murmur of the storm came thus: I hadbeen out all the afternoon with the Abbe, Armantine's bonne, and thetwo children, looking at the vineyards, which always interested memuch because we have none like them in England. In one, where theywere already treading the grapes, the good woman begged that M. LeMarquis and Mademoiselle would for once tread the grapes to bringgood luck. They were frantic with joy; we took off their littleshoes and silk stockings, rolled them up in thick cloths, and letthem get into the trough and dance on the grapes with their littlewhite feet. That wine was always called 'the Vintage of le Marquis. 'We could hardly get them away, they were so joyous, and each carrieda great bunch of grapes as a present to the little boy at home andhis mother. 

We thought we saw a coachman's head and the top of a carriage passingthrough the lanes, and when we came home I was surprised to find mysister-in-law in tears, thoroughly shaken and agitated. 

Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau had been to see her, she said, and hadtold her the Count was in Paris, but had not sent for her; and Ithought that enough to account for her state; but when the childrenbegan to tell their eager story, and hold up their grapes to her, sheburst again into tears, and cried: 'Oh, my dear sister, if you wouldbe warned. It is making a scandal, indeed it is! They call you aplebeian. '

I grew hot and angry, and demanded what could be making a scandal, and what business Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau had to meddle with meor my affairs. 

'Ah! but she will write to my husband, and he will take me from you, and that would be dreadful. Give it up. Oh, Marguerite, give it upfor MY sake!'

What was I to give up? I demanded. Running about the country, itappeared, like a farmer's wife rather than a lady of quality, andstirring up the poor against their lords. It was well known that allthe English were seditious. See what they had done to their king;and here was I, beginning the same work. Had not the Count'sintendant at Chateau d'Aubepine thrown in his teeth what Madame deBellaise did and permitted? He was going to write to Monseigneur, ay, and the king's own intendant would hear of it, so I had bettertake care, and Mademoiselle had come out of pure benevolence toadvise Madame la Comtesse to come and take refuse at her husband'sown castle before the thunderbolt should fall upon me, and involveher in my ruin. 

I laughed. I was sure that I was neither doing nor intending anyharm; I thought the whole a mere ebullition of spite on the duenna'spart to torment and frighten her emancipated victim, and I treatedall as a joke to reassure Cecile, and even laughed at the Abbe fortreating the matter more seriously, and saying it was always perilousto go out of a beaten track. 

'I thought the beaten track and wide road were the dangerous ones, ' Isaid, with more lightness, perhaps, than suited the subject. 

'Ah, Madame, ' he returned gravely, 'you have there the truth; butthere may be danger in this world in the narrow path. '

The most effectual consolation that I could invent for Cecile wasthat if her husband thought me bad company for her, he could not butfetch her to her proper home with him, as soon as peace was made. Did I really think so? The little thing grew radiant with the hope. 

Days went on, we heard nothing, and I was persuaded that the wholehad been, as I told Cecile, a mere figment of Mademoiselle deGringrimeau's. 

I had written to beg my mother, with my brother and sister, to comeand join us, and I as already beginning to arrange a suite of roomsfor them, my heart bounding as it only can do at the thought ofmeeting those nearest and dearest of one's own blood. 

I remember that I was busy giving orders that the linen should beaired, and overlooking the store of sheets, when Gaspard andArmantine from the window called out: 'Horses, horses, mamma! finecavaliers!'

I rushed to the window and recognized the Solivet colours. No doubtthe baron had come to announce the arrival of my mother and the rest, and I hastened down to meet him at the door, full of delight, with myson holding my hand. 

My first exclamation after the greeting was to ask where they were, and how soon they would arrive, and I was terribly disappointed whenI found that he had come alone, and that my mother, with Eustace andAnnora, were at the Hotel de Nidemerle, at Paris, without anyintention of leaving it. He himself had come down on business, asindeed was only natural since he was joined with me in theguardianship of my little Marquis, and he would likewise be in timeto enjoy the chase over the estates. 

He said no more of his purpose then, so I was not alarmed; and heseemed much struck with the growth and improvement of Gaspard. I hadmuch to hear of the three who were left to me of my own family. M. De Solivet had never seen them before, and could hardly remember hismother, so he could not compare them with what they were before theirtroubles; but I gathered that my mother was well in health, andlittle the worse for her troubles, and that my little Nan was as tallas myself, a true White Ribaumont, with an exquisite complexion, whowould be all the rage if she were not so extremely English, moreEnglish even than I had been when I had arrived. 

'And my brother, my Eustace. Oh, why did he not come with you?' Iasked. 

And M. De Solivet gravely answered that our brother was detained by asuit with the Poligny family respecting the estate of Ribaumont, and, besides, that the rapidity of the journey would not have agreed withhis state of health. I only then fully understood the matter, forour letter had been few, and had to be carefully written and madeshort; and though I knew that, at the battle of Naseby, Eustace hadbeen wounded and made prisoner, he had written to me that his hurtwas not severe, and that he had been kindly treated, through theintervention of our cousin Harry Merrycourt, who, to our greatregret, was among the rebels, but who had become surety for Eustaceand procured his release. 

I now heard that my brother had been kept with the other prisoners ina miserable damp barn, letting in the weather on al sides, and withno bedding or other comforts, so that when Harry Merrycourt soughthim out, he had taken a violent chill, and had nearly died, not fromthe wound, but from pleurisy. He had never entirely recovered, though my mother thought him much stronger and better since he hadbeen in France, out of sight of all that was so sad and grievous to aloyal cavalier in England. 

'They must come to me, ' I cried. 'He will soon be well in thisbeautiful air; I will feed him with goat's mild and whey, andTryphena shall nurse him well. '

M. De Solivet made no answer to this, but told me how delighted theQueen of England had to welcome my mother, whom she had at onceappointed as one of her ladies of the bedchamber; and then we spokeof King Charles, who was at Hampton Court, trying to make terms withthe Parliament, and my brother spoke with regret and alarm of thelike spirit of resistance in our own Parliament of Paris, backed bythe mob. I remember it was on that evening that I first heard thename Frondeurs, or Slingers, applied to the speechifiers on eitherside who started forward, made their hit, and retreated, like thelittle street boys with their slings. I was to hear a great dealmore of that name. 

It was not till after supper that I heard the cause of M. DeSolivet's visit. Cecile, who always retired early, went away soonerthan usual to leave us together, so did the Abbe, and then the baronturned to me and said: 'Sister, how soon can you be prepared to comewith me to Paris?'

I was astounded, thinking at first that Eustace's illness must bemore serious than he had led me to suppose, but he smiled and saidnotre frere de Volvent, which was the nearest he could get to Walwyn, had nothing do with it; it was by express command of the QueenRegent, and that I might thank my mother and the Queen of Englandthat it was no worse. 'This is better than a letter de catche, ' headded, producing a magnificent looking envelope with a huge seal ofthe royal French arms, that made me laugh rather nervously to bravemy dismay, and asked what he called THAT. He responded gravely thatit was no laughing matter, and I opened it. It was an official orderthat Gaspard Philippe Beranger de Bellaise, Marquis de Nidemerle, should be brought to the Louvre to be presented to the King. 

'Well, ' I said, 'I must go to Paris. Ought I to have brought my boybefore? I did not know that he ought to pay his homage till he wasolder. Was it really such a breach of respect?'

'You are a child yourself, my sister, ' he said, much injuring mydignity. 'What have you not been doing here?'

Then it came on me. The intendant of the King had actually writtencomplaints of me to the Government. I was sewing disaffection amongthe peasants by the favours I granted my own, teaching them forrebellion like that which raged in England, and bringing up my son inthe same sentiments. Nay, I was called the Firebrand of the Bocage!If these had been the days of the great Cardinal de Richelieu, mybrother assured me, I should probably have been by this time in theBastille, and my son would have been taken from me for ever!'

However, my half-brother heard of it in time, and my mother had flownto Queen Henrietta, who took her to the Queen-Regent, and togetherthey had made such representations of my youth, folly, andinexperience that the Queen-Mother, who had a fellow-feeling for ayoung widow and her son, and at last consented to do nothing worsethan summon me and my child to Paris, where my mother and her Queenanswered for me that I should live quietly, and give no more umbrageto the authorities; and my brother De Solivet had been sent off tofetch me!

I am afraid I was much more angry than grateful, and I said such hotthings about tyranny, cruelty, and oppression that Solivet lookedabout in alarm, lest walls should have ears, and told me he feared hehad done wrong in answering for me. He was really a good man, but hecould not in the least understand why I should weep hot tears for mypoor people whom I was just hoping to benefit. He could not enterinto feeling for Jacques Bonhomme so much as for his horse or hisdog; and I might have argued for years without making him seeanything but childish folly in my wishing for any mode of reliefbetter than doles of soup, dressing wounds, and dowries for maidens. 

However, there was no choice; I was helpless, and resistance wouldhave done my people no good, but rather harm, and would only have ledto my son being separated from me. Indeed, I cherished a hope thatwhen the good Queen Anne heard the facts she might understand betterthan my half-brother did, and that I might become an example andpublic benefactor. My brother must have smiled at me in secret, buthe did not contradict me. 

My poor mother and the rest would not have been flattered by myreluctance to come to Paris; but in truth the thought of them was mydrop of comfort, and if Eustace could not come to me I must have goneto him. And Cecile--what was to become of Cecile?

To come with me of course. Here at least Solivet agreed with me, forhe had as great a horror of Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau as I had, andknew, moreover, that she wrote spiteful letters to the Countd'Aubepine about his poor little wife, which happily were treatedwith the young gentleman's usual insouciance. Solivet was of myopinion that the old demoiselle had instigated this attack. Hethought so all the more when he heard that she was actuallycondescending to wed the intendant of Chateau d'Aubepine. But hesaid he had no doubt that my proceedings would have been stoppedsooner or later, and that it was well that it should be done before Icommitted myself unpardonably. 

Madame d'Aubepine had been placed in my charge by her husband, sothat I was justified in taking her with me. Her husband had spentthe last winter at Paris, but was now with the army in the LowCountries, and the compliments Solivet paid me on my dear friend'simprovement in appearance and manner inspired us with strong hopesthat she might not attract her husband; for though still small, pale, and timid, she was very unlike the frightened sickly child he hadleft. 

I believe she was the one truly happy person when we left the Chateaude Nid de Merle. She was all radiant with hope and joy, and mybrother could not but confess she was almost beautiful, and acreature whom any man with a heart must love. 

CHAPTER X. 

OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 

I think M. De Solivet realised a little better what the sacrifice wasto me, or rather how cruel the parting was to my poor people, when weset forth on our journey. We had tried to keep the time of ourdeparture a secret, but it had not been possible to do so, and thewhole court was filled with people weeping and crying out to theiryoung lord and their good lady, as they called me, not to abandonthem, kissing our dresses as we walked along, and crowding so that wecould hardly pass. 

Indeed, a lame man, whom I had taught to make mats, threw himselfbefore the horses of our carriage, crying out that we might as welldrive over him and kill him at once; and an old woman stood up almostlike a witch or prophetess, crying out: 'Ah! that is the way with youall. You are like all the rest! You gave us hope once, and now youare gone to your pleasure which you squeeze out of our heart'sblood. '

'Ah, good mother, ' I said; 'believe me, it is not by my own will thatI leave you; I will never forget you. '

'I trust, ' muttered Solivet, 'that no one is here to report all thisto that intendant de Roi, ' and he hurried me into the carriage; butthere were tears running down his cheeks, and I believe he emptiedhis purse among them, though not without being told by some of thepoor warm-hearted creatures that no money could repay them for theloss of Madame la Comtesse. 

'I did not know how sweet it is to be beloved, ' he said to me. 'Itis almost enough to tempt one to play the role de bon seigneur. '

'Ah! brother, if you would. You are no foreigner, you are wiser andwould not make yourself suspected like me. '

He only laughed and shrugged his shoulders; but he was as good to ourpoor as it is possible to be as we live here in France, where we areoften absolutely complelled to live at court, and our expenses thereforce us to press heavily on our already hard-driven peasants. Isometimes wonder whether a better time will come, when out good Dukeof Burgundy tries to carry out the maxims of Monseigneur theArchbishop of Cambray; but I shall not live to see that day. [Footnote: No wonder Madame de Bellaise's descendants dust notpublish these writings while the ancien regime continued!]

In due time we arrived in Paris. It was pouring with rain, so no onecame to meet us, though I looked out at every turn, feeling thatEustace must indeed be unwell, or no weather would have kept him fromflying to meet his Meg. Or had he in these six long years ceased tocare for me, and should I find him a politician and a soldier, withhis heart given to somebody else and no room for me?

My heart beat so fast that I could hardly attend to the cries ofwonder and questions of the two children, and indeed of Cecile, towhom everything was as new and wonderful as to them, though in thewet, with our windows splashed all over, the first view of Paris wasnot too promising. However, at last we drove beneath our own portecochere, and upon the steps there were all the servants. AndEustace, my own dear brother, was at the coach-door to meet us andhand me out. 

I passed from his arms to those of my mother, and then to mysister's. Whatever might come and go, I could not but feel thatthere was an indefinable bliss and bien-etre in their very presence!It was home--coming home--more true content and rest than I had feltsince that fatal day at Nancy. 

My mother was enchanted with her grandson, and knew how to welcomeMadame d'Aubepine as one of the family, since she was of course toreside with us. The Abbe also was most welcome to my mother. 

How we all looked at one another, to find the old beings we hadloved, and to learn the new ones we had become! My mother was ofcourse the least altered; indeed, to my surprise, she was moreembonpoint than before, instead of having the haggard worn air that Ihad expected, and though she wept at first, she was soon againsmiling. 

Eustace, Baron Walwyn and Ribaumont, as he now unfortunately hadbecome, sat by me. He was much taller than when we had parted, forhad not then reached his full height, and he looked the taller frombeing very thin. His moustache and pointed beard had likewisechanged him, but there was clear bright colour on his cheek, and hisdear brown eyes shone upon me with their old sweetness; so that itwas not till we had been together some little time that I found thatthe gay merry lad whom I had left had become not only a man, but avery grave and thoughtful man. 

Annora was a fine creature, well grown, and with the clearest, freshest complexion, of the most perfect health, yet so pure anddelicate, that one looked at her like a beautiful flower; but itsomehow struck me that she had a discontented and almost defiantexpression. She seemed to look at me with a sort of distrust, and tobe with difficulty polite to Madame d'Aubepine, while she was almostrude to the Abbe. She scarcely uttered a word of French, and made alittle cry and gesture of disgust, when Gaspard replied to her in hisnative tongue, poor child. 

She was the chief disappointment to me. I had expected to find, notindeed my little playfellow, but my own loving sister Nan; and thisyoung lady was like a stranger. I thought, too, my mother would havebeen less lively, she seemed to me to have forgotten everything inthe satisfaction of being at Paris. At first I feared she waslooking at me with displeasure, but presently I observed that she haddiscarded her widow's veil, and looked annoyed that I still woremine. Otherwise she was agreeable surprised in me, and turned to M. De Solivet, saying:

'Yes, my son, you are right, she is belle, assez belle; and when sheis dressed and has no more that provincial air, she will do verywell. '

It was Eustace, my brother, who gave me unmixed delight that evening, unmixed save for his look of delicate health, for that he should begraver was only suitable to my feelings, and we knew that we were inperfect sympathy with one another whenever our eyes met, as of old, while we had hardly exchanged a word. And then, how gracious andgentle he was with poor little Madame d'Aubepine, who looked up tohim like a little violet at the food of a poplar tree!

Supper passed in inquires after kinsfolk and old friends. Alas! ofhow many the answer was--slain, missing since such a battle. Inprison, ruined, and brought to poverty, seemed to be the best I couldhear of any one I inquired after. That Walwyn was not yet utterlylost seemed to be owing to Harry Merrycourt. 

'He on the wrong side!' I exclaimed. 

'He looks on the question as a lawyer, ' said my brother; 'holding theduty of the nation to be rather to the law than to the sovereign. '

'Base! Unworthy of a gentleman!' cried my mother. 'Who wouldbelieve him the kinsman of the gallant Duc de Mericour?'

'He would be ashamed to count kindred with tat effeminate petitmaitre!' cried Annora. 

'I think, ' said Eustace, 'that the wrong and persecution that hisHuguenot grandfather suffered at the hands of his French family havehad much power in inspiring him with that which he declares is asmuch loyalty as what I call by that honoured name. '

'You can speak of him with patience!' cried my mother. 

'In common gratitude he is bound to do so, ' said Annora. 

For not only had Colonel Merrycourt preserved our brother's lifeafter Naseby, but he had found a plea of service to the King whichavailed at the trial that followed at Westminster. Harry had managedto secure part of the estate, as he had likewise done for our otherkindred the Thistlewoods, by getting appointed their guardian whentheir father was killed Chalgrove. But soldiers had been quarteredon both families; there had been a skirmish at Walwyn with Sir RalphHopton, much damage had been done to the house and grounds, and therewas no means of repairing it; all the plate had been melted up, therewas nothing to show for it but a little oval token, with the King'shead on one side, and the Queen's on the other; and as to the chapletof pearls---

There was a moment's silence as I inquired for them. Annora said:

'Gone, of course; more hatefully than all the rest. '

My brother added, with a smile that evidently cost him an effort:

'You are the only pearl of Ribaumont left, Meg, except this one, 'showing me his ring of thin silver with one pearl set in it; 'I keptback this one in memory of my grandmother. So Nan will have to go toher first ball without them. '

And had little Nan never been to a ball? No; she had never dancedexcept that Christmas when a troop of cavaliers had been quartered atWalwyn--a merry young captain and his lieutenant, who had sent forthe fiddles, and made them have a dance in the hall, Berenger, andNan, and all. And not a week after, the young captain, ay, and ourdear Berry, were lying in their blood at Alresford. Had Nan's heartbeen left there? I wondered, when I saw how little she brightened atthe mention of the Court ball where she was to appear next week, andto which it seemed my mother trusted that I should be invited intoken of my being forgiven. 

I tried to say that I had never meant to return to the world, andthat I still kept to my mourning; but my mother said with authoritythat I had better be grateful for any token of favour that wasvouchsafed to me. She took me into her apartment after supper, andtalked to me very seriously; telling me that I must be very careful, for that I had been so imprudent, that I should certainly have beendeprived of the custody of my son, if not imprisoned, unless my goodgodmother, Queen Henrietta, and herself had made themselvesresponsible for me. 

I told my mother that I had done nothing, absolutely nothing, butattend to the wants of my son's people, just as I had been used tosee my grandmother, and my aunt Thistlewood, or any English lady, doat home. 

'And to what had that brought England?' cried my mother. 'No, child, those creatures have no gratitude nor proper feeling. There isnothing to do but to keep them down. See how they are hampering andimpeding the Queen and the Cardinal here, refusing the registry ofthe taxes forsooth, as if it were not honour enough to maintain theKing's wars and the splendour of his Court, and enable the nobilityto shine!'

'Surely it is our duty to do something for them in return, ' I said;but I was silenced with assurances that if I wished to preserve thewardship of my child, I must conform in everything; nay, that my ownliberty was in danger. 

Solivet had hinted as much, and the protection of my child was apowerful engine; but--shall I confess it?--it galled and chafed meterribly to feel myself taken once more into leading-strings. I, whohad for three years governed my house as a happy honoured wife, andfor three more had been a chatelaine, complimented by the old uncle, and after his death, the sole ruler of my son's domain; I was not atall inclined to return into tutelage, and I could not look on mymother after these six years, as quite the same conclusive authorityas I thought her when I left her. The spirit of self-assertion andself-justification was strong within me, and though I hope I did notreply with ingratitude or disrespect, I would make no absolutepromise till I had heard what my brother Walwyn said of my positionin its secular aspect, and the Abbe Bonchamps in its religious pointof view. So I bade my mother good-night, and went to see how Cecilefared in her new quarters, which, to her grief, were in a wingseparated from mine by a long corridor. 

My mother had arranged everything, ruling naturally as if she werethe mistress of the house. Thus she installed me in the great roomwhere I had seen the old Marquis, though I would rather she hadretained it, and given me that which I had occupied when I was therewith my husband. However, I made no objection, for I felt so muchvexed that I was extremely afraid of saying something to show that Ithought she ought to remember that this was my house, and that shewas my guest. I would not for the world have uttered anything soungenerous and unfilial; and all I could do that night was to praythat she might not drive me to lose my self-command, and that I mightboth do right and keep my child. 

I was too restless and unhappy to sleep much, for I knew my feelingswere wrong, and yet I was sure I was in the right in my wish to dogood to the poor; and the sense of being bridled, and put intoleading-strings, poisoned the pleasure I had at first felt in myreturn to my own family. I cannot describe the weary tumult ofthought and doubt that tossed me, till, after a brief sleep, I heardthe church-bells. I rose and dressed for early mass, taking my boy, who always awoke betimes, leaving the house quietly, and only callingmy trusty lackey Nicolas to take me to the nearest Church, which wasnot many steps off. I do not think I found peace there: there wastoo much SELF in me to reach that as yet; but at any rate I found theresolution to try to bend my will in what might be indifferent, andto own it to be wholesome for me to learn submission once more. 

As I was about to enter our court, I heard a little cough, andlooking round I saw a gentleman and lady coming towards the house. They were my brother and sister, who had been to the daily prayers atthe house of Sir Richard Browne, the English ambassador. I wasstruck at my first glance with the lightsome free look of Annora'sface but it clouded ad grew constrained in an instant when I spoke toher. 

They said my mother would not be awake nor admit us for an hour ortwo, and in the meantime Eustace was ready to come to my apartments, for indeed we had hardly seen one another. Annora anxiously remindedhim that he must take his chocolate, and orders were given that thisshould be served in my cabinet for us both. 

There is no describing what that interview was to us. We, who hadbeen one throughout our childhood, but had been parted all throughthe change to man and woman, now found ourselves united again, understanding one another as no other being could do, and almostwithout words, entering into full sympathy with one another. Yes, without words, for I was as certain as if he had told me that Eustacehad undergone some sorrow deeper than even loss of health, home, andcountry. I felt it in the chastened and sobered tone in which hetalked to me of my cares, as if he likewise had crossed the stream oftears that divides us from the sunshine of our lives. 

He did not think what I had attempted in Anjou foolish andchimerical--he could look at the matter with the eyes of an Englishlord of the manor, accustomed not to view the peasant as a sponge tobe squeezed for the benefit of the master, but to regard the landlordas accountable for the welfare, bodily and spiritual, of his people. He thought I had done right, though it might be ignorantly andimprudently in the present state of things; but his heart hadlikewise burned within him at the oppression of the peasantry, and, loyal cavalier as he was, he declared that he should have doubted onwhich side to draw his sword had things thus in England. He hadstriven to make my mother and Queen Henrietta understand the meaningof what I had been doing, and he said the complaints sent up hadevidently been much exaggerated, and envenomed by spite and distrustof me as a foreigner. He could well enter into my grief at thedesertion of my poor people, for how was it with those at Walwyn, deprived of the family to whom they had been used to look, with manywidows and orphans made by the war, and the Church invaded by a loud-voiced empty-headed fanatic, who had swept away all that had beencarefully preserved and honoured! Should he ever see the old homemore?

However, he took thought for my predicament. I had no choice, hesaid, but to give way. To resist would only make me be treated as asuspected person, and be relegated to a convent, out of reach ofinfluencing my son, whom I might bring up to be a real power forgood. 

Then my dear brother smiled his sweetest smile, the sweeter for thesadness that had come into it, and kissed my fingers chivalrously, ashe said that after all he could not but be grateful to the edict thathad brought back to him the greatest delight that was left to him. 'Ah, ' I said, 'if it had only been in Anjou!'

'If it had only been in Dorset, let us say at once, ' he answered. 

Then came the other question whether I might not stay at home withthe children, and give myself to devotion and good works, instead ofthrowing off my mourning and following my mother to all the gaietiesof the court. 

'My poor mother!' said Eustace. 'You would not wish to make yourexample a standing condemnation of her?'

'I cannot understand how she can find pleasure in these things, ' Icried. 

'There is much in her that we find it hard to understand, ' Eustacesaid; 'but you must remember that this is her own country, and thatthough she gave it up for my father's sake, England has always been aland of exile to her, and we cannot wonder at her being glad toreturn to the society of her old friends. '

'She has Annora to be with her. Is not that enough?'

'Ah, Meg, I trusted to you to soothe poor Annora and make her morecomfortable. '

'She seems to have no intention of putting herself under myinfluence, ' I said, rather hurt. 

'She soon will, when she finds out your English heart, ' said Eustace. 'The poor child is a most unwilling exile, and is acting like our oldfriends the urchins, opposing the prickles to all. But if my motherhas Annora to watch over, you also have a charge. A boy of thislittle man's rank, ' he said, stroking the glossy curls of Gaspard, who was leaning on my lap, staring up in wonder at the unknown tonguespoken by his uncle, 'and so near the age of the king, will certainlybe summoned to attend at court, and if you shut yourself up, you willbe unable to follow him and guide him by your counsel. '

That was the chief of what my dear brother said to me on thatmorning. I wrote it down at the moment because, though I trusted hiswisdom and goodness with all my heart, I thought his being aProtestant might bias his view in some degree, and I wanted to knowwhether the Abbe thought me bound by my plans of devotion, whichhappily had not been vows. 

And he fully thought my brother in the right, and that it was my dutyto remain in the world, so long as my son needed me there; while, asto any galling from coming under authority again, that was probablyexactly what my character wanted, and it would lessen the danger ofdissipation. Perhaps I might have been in more real danger inqueening it at Nid de Merle than in submitting at Paris. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE TWO QUEENS. 

After all, I was put to shame by finding that I had done my poormother an injustice in supposing that she intended to assume thegovernment of the house, for no sooner was I admitted to her roomthan she gave me up the keys, and indeed I believe she was not sorryto resign them, for she had not loved housewifery in her prosperousdays, and there had been a hard struggle with absolute poverty duringthe last years in England. 

She was delighted likewise that I was quite ready to accompany her tothank Queen Henrietta for her intercession, and to take her advicefor the future, nor did she object for that day to my mourningcostume, as I was to appear in the character of a suppliant. When Icaught Annora's almost contemptuous eyes, I was ready to have gone indiamonds and feathers. 

However, forth we set, attended by both my brothers. Lord Walwynindeed held some appointment at the little court, and in due time wewere ushered into the room where Queen Henrietta was seated with apretty little girl playing at her feet with a dog, and a youth ofabout seventeen leaning over the elbow of her couch telling hersomething with great animation, while a few ladies were at work, withgentlemen scattered among them. How sociable and friendly it looked, and how strangely yet pleasantly the English tones fell on my ear!And I was received most kindly too. 'Madame has brought her--ourlittle--nay, our great conspirator, the Firebrand of the Bocage. Come, little Firebrand, ' exclaimed the Queen, and as I knelt to kissher hand she threw her arms round me in an affectionate embrace, andthe Prince of Wales claimed me as an old acquaintance, saluted me, and laughed, as he welcomed me to their court of waifs and strays, cast up one by one by the tide. 

His little sister, brought by the faithful Lady Morton in thedisguise of a beggar boy, had been the last thus to arrive. A verylovely child she was, and Prince Charles made every one laugh bytaking her on his knee and calling her Piers the beggar boy, when shepointed to her white frock, called herself 'Pincess, pincess, notbeggar boy, ' and when he persisted, went into a little rage andpulled his black curls. 

My poor Queen, whom I had left in the pride and mature bloom ofbeauty, was sadly changed; she looked thin and worn, and wasaltogether the brown old French-woman; but she was still as livelyand vivacious, and full of arch kindness as ever, a true daughter ofthe Grand Monarque, whose spirits no disasters could break. When thelittle one became too noisy, she playfully ordered off both thechildren, as she called them, and bade me sit down on the footstoolbefore her couch, and tell her what I had been doing to putintendants, cardinals and Queens themselves into commotion. Thelittle Lady Henrietta was carried off by one of the attendants, butthe Prince would not go; he resumed his former position, saying thathe was quite sure that Madame de Bellaise was in need of an Englishcounsel to plead her cause. He had grown up from a mischievous impof a boy to a graceful elegant-looking youth. His figure, air, andaddress were charming, I never saw them equaled; but his face was asugly as ever, though with a droll ugliness that was more winning thanmost men's beauty, lighted up as it was by the most brilliant ofblack eyes and the most engaging of smiles. You remember that I amspeaking of him as he was when he had lately arrived from Jersey, before his expedition to Scotland. He became a very different personafter his return, but he was now a simple-hearted, innocent lad, andI met him again as an old friend and playfellow, whose sympathy was agreat satisfaction in the story I had to tell, though I was given ina half-mocking way. My mother began by saying:

'The poor child, it is as I told your Majesty; she has only been alittle too charitable. '

'Permit me, Madame, ' I said, 'I did not give half so much as mostcharitable ladies. '

Then the explanation came, and the Queen shook her head and told mesuch things would not do here, that my inexperience might bepardonable, but that the only way to treat such creatures was to feedthem and clothe them for the sake of our own souls. 

Here the Prince made his eyes first flash and then wink at me. 

'But as to teach them or elevating them, my dear, it is as bad forthem as for ourselves. You must renounce all such chimeras, and ifyou had a passion for charity there is good Father Vincent to teachyou safe methods. '

I brightened up when I heard of Father Vincent, and my mother engagedfor me that I should do all that was right, and appealed to mybrother De Solivet to assure the Queen that there had been muchmalignant exaggeration about the presumption of my measures and thediscontent of other people's peasants. 

Queen Henrietta was quite satisfied, and declared that she would atonce conduct me to her sister-in-law, the Queen-Regent, at theTuileries, since she had of course the 'petites entrees, ' take her bystorm as it were, and it was exactly the right hour when the Queenwould be resting after holding council. 

She called for a looking-glass, and made one of her women touch upher dress and bring her a fan, asking whether I had ever beenpresented. No, my first stay in Paris had been too short; besides, my rank did not make it needful, as my husband was only Viscount byfavour of his uncle, who let him hold the estate. 

'Then, ' said the Prince, 'you little know what court is!'

'Can you make a curtsey?' asked the Queen anxiously. 

I repeated the one I had lately made to her Majesty, and they allcried out:

'Oh, oh! that was all very well at home. '

'Or here before I married, ' added Queen Henrietta. 'Since Spanishetiquette has come in, we have all been on our good behaviour. '

'Having come from a barbarous isle, ' added the Prince. 

The Queen therewith made the reverence which you all know, my grand-daughters, but which seemed to me unnatural, and the Prince's facetwinkled at the incredulity he saw in mine; but at the moment aprivate door was opening to give admission to a figure, not in itselfvery tall, but looking twice its height from its upright, haughtybearing. There was the Bourbon face fully marked, with a good dealof fair hair in curls round it, and a wonderful air of complete self-complacency. 

This was la grande Mademoiselle, daughter of Gaston Duke of Orleans, and heiress through her mother of the great old Montpensier family, who lived at the Palais Royal with her father, but was often at theLouvre. She stood aghast, as well she might, thinking how littledignity her aunt, the Queen of England, had to be acting as mistressof deportment to a little homely widow. The Prince turned at once. 

'There is my cousin, ' said he, 'standing amazed to see how we havecaught a barbarous islander of our own, and are trying to train herto civilization. Here--let her represent the Queen-Regent. Now, Meg--Madame de Bellaise, I mean--imitate me while my mother presentsme, ' he ran on in English, making such a grotesque reverence thatnobody except Mademoiselle could help laughing, and his mother made afeint of laying her fan about his ears, while she pronounced him amadcap and begged her niece to excuse him. 

'For profaning the outskirts of the majesty of the Most ChristianKing, ' muttered the Prince, while his mother explained the matter toher niece, adding that her son could not help availing himself of theopportunity of paying her his homage. 

Mademoiselle was pacified, and was graciously pleased to permit me tobe presented to her, also to criticize the curtsey which I had now toperform, my good Queen being so kind in training me that I almostlost the sense of the incongruity of such a lesson at my age and inmy weeds. In fact, with my mother and my godmother commanding me, and Eustace and the Prince of Wales looking on, it was like a returnto one's childhood. At last I satisfied my royal instructress, andas she agreed with my mother that my mourning befitted the occasionoff we set en grande tenue to cross the court to the Tuileries in alittle procession, the Queen, attended by my mother and Lady Mortonas her ladies, and by Lord Jermyn and Eustace as her gentlemen-in-waiting. 

Mademoiselle also came, out of a sort of good-natured curiosity, butthe Prince of Wales shook his head. 

'I have no mind to show Madame the value of a tabouret, ' he said. 'Believe me, Meg, I may sit on such an eminence in the augustpresence of my mother and my regent aunt, but if my small cousin, theMost Christian King, should enter, I must be dethroned, and asuccession of bows must ensue before we can either of us be seated. I always fear that I shall some day break out with the speech of KingLear's fool: 'Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool. ''

This passed while I, who came in the rear of the procession, waswaiting to move on, and I believe Queen Henrietta was descanting toher niece on the blessing that her son's high spirits never failedhim through all their misfortunes. 

However, in due time we reached the apartments of the Queen-Regent, the way lined with guards, servants, and splendid gentlemen, who alleither presented arms or bowed as our English Queen passed along, with an easy, frank majesty about her that bespoke her a daughter ofthe place, and at home there. But what gave me the most courage wasthat as the door of her bedroom was opened to admit Queen Henrietta, Mademoiselle, my mother, and myself, I saw a black cassock, and aface I knew again as that of the Holy Father Vincent de Paul, who hadso much impressed me, and had first given me comfort. 

It was a magnificent room, and more magnificent bed, and sitting upamong her lace and cambric pillows and coverlets was Queen Anne ofAustria, in a rich white lace cap and bedgown that set off hersmooth, fair, plump beauty, and exquisite hands and arms. Ladiesstood round the bed. I did not then see who any of them were, forthis was the crisis of my fate, and my heart beat and my eyes swamwith anxiety. Queen Henrietta made her low reverence, as of coursewe did, and some words of sisterly greeting ensued, after which theEnglish queen said:

'My sister, I have made you this early visit to bring you my littlesuppliant. Allow me to present to your Majesty, Madame la Vicomtessede Bellaise, who is sincerely sorry to have offended you. '

(That was true; I was sincerely sorry that what I had done couldoffend. )

My kind godmother went on to that I had offended only out ofignorance of the rights of seigneurs, and from my charitableimpulses, of which she knew that her Majesty would approve, glancingsignificantly towards Father Vincent as she did so. She was sure, she added, that Her Majesty's tenderness of heart must sympathisewith a young widow, whose husband had fallen in the service of theKing, and who had an only son to bring up. I felt the Regent'sbeautiful blue eyes scanning me, but it was not unkindly, though shesaid:

'How is this, Madame? I hear that you have taught the peasants tocomplain of the seigniorial rights, and to expect to have the corveeand all other dues remitted. '

I made answer that in truth all I had done was to remit those claimshere and there which had seemed to me to press hard upon the tenantsof our own estate; and I think the Regent was moved by a look fromFather Vincent to demand an example, so I mentioned that I would nothave the poor forced to carry our crops on the only fine day in a wetseason. 

'Ah, bah!' said Queen Anne; 'that was an over-refinement, Madame. Itdoes not hurt those creatures to get wet. '

She really had not the least notion that a wetting ruined theircrops; and when I would have answered, my godmother and mother mademe a sign to hold my tongue, while Queen Henrietta spoke:

'Your Majesty sees how it is; my godchild has the enthusiasm ofcharity, and you, my sister, with your surroundings, will not blameher if she has carried it a little into excess. '

'Your Majesty will pardon me for asking if there can be excess?' saidFather Vincent. 'I think I recognize this lady. Did I not meetMadame at the little village of St. Felix?'

'Oh yes, my father, ' I replied. 'I have ever since blessed the day, when you comforted me and gave me the key of life. '

'There, father, ' said the Regent, 'it is your doing; it is you thathave made her a firebrand. You must henceforth take theresponsibility. '

'I ask no better of your Majesty, ' said the holy man. 

'Ah! your Majesty, I can ask no better, ' I said fervently; and Iknelt to kiss the beautiful hand which Anne of Austria extended to mein token of pardon. 

'It is understood, then, ' said she, in a gracious though languid way, as if weary of the subject, 'that your Majesty undertakes that Madamebecomes more prudent in the future, and puts her benevolence underthe rule of our good father, who will never let her go beyond what iswise in the bounds of a young woman's discretion. '

It might be hard to believe that I had been indiscreet, but the grandstately self-possession of that Spanish lady, and the evidentgratification of my mother and Queen Henrietta, quite overpowered meinto feeling like a criminal received to mercy, and I returned thankswith all the genuine humility they could desire; after which theregent overpowered my mother with wonder at her graciousness byinquiring a day for him to kiss the King's hand in the Tuileriesgardens. 

By this time her breakfast was being brought in (it was about oneo'clock), and Queen Henrietta carried us off without waiting for theceremony of the breakfast, or of the toilet, which began with thelittle King presenting his mother with her chemise, with a tenderkiss. Mademoiselle remained, and so did Father Vincent, whom theregent was wont to consult at her breakfast, both on matters ofcharity and of Church patronage. 

My mother was delighted that I had come off so well; she onlyregretted my being put under Father Vincent, who would, she feared, render me too devout. 

The next afternoon, which was Sunday, we went, all except my brotherand sister, who had what my mother called Puritan notions as toSunday, to see royalty walk in the Tuileries gardens. The Queen wasthere, slowly pacing along with one of her sons on each side, andbeautiful boys they were, in their rich dresses of blue velvet andwhite satin, with rich lace garnishings, their long fair hair ontheir shoulders, and their plumed hats less often on their heads thanin their hands, as they gracefully acknowledged the homage that metthem at each step. Perhaps I thought my Gaspard quite as beautiful, but every widow's only son is THE king of her heart; and we had sotrained the boy that he did his part to perfection kneeling andkissing the hand which King Louis extended to him. Yet it had--to mewho was fresh to such scenes--something of the air of a littlecomedy, to see such gestures of respect between the two children sosplendidly dressed, and neither of them yet nine years old. 

The little King did his part well, presented M. Le Marquis deNidemerle to his brother the Duke of Anjou, asked graciously whetherhe could ride and what games he loved best, and expressed a courteousdesire that they might often meet. 

My sister-in-law was also presented to the Queen, who filled her withecstasy by making her some compliment on the services of M. La Comted'Aubepine, and thus began our career at court. We were in favour, and my mother breathed freely. 

CHAPTER XII. 

CAVALIERS IN EXILE. 

My safety and freedom being thus secure, I was asked, as mistress ofthe house, whether I would continue the custom my mother had begun ofreceiving on a Monday, chiefly for the sake of our exiled countryfolkat Paris. 

It had been left in doubt, till my fate and my wishes should beknown, whether the reunion should take place on the Monday or not;but all lived so simply and within so short a distance that it wasvery easy to make it known that Lady Walwyn and Madame de Bellaisewould receive as usual. 

The rule in ordinary French society was then as now, to offer onlyeau-sucree, sherbets, and light cakes as refreshments, but my mothertold me with some disgust that it was necessary to have somethingmore substantial on the buffet for these great Englishmen. 

'Yes, ' said Annora, 'I do believe it is often the only meal worth thename that they get in a week, unless my brother invites them tosupper. '

On learning this Tryphena and I resolved that though pies were themost substantial dish at present prepared, we would do our bestanother time to set before them such a round of salt beef as wouldrejoice their appetites; and oh! the trouble we had in accomplishingit. 

Meantime I submitted to be dressed as my mother wished, much indeedas I am now, except that my hair was put into little curls, and I hadno cap. The Queen-Regent wore none, so why should I? Moreover, mymother said that it would not be good taste to put on any jewelsamong the English. 

Alas! I could see why, as the salon filled with gentlemen and ladies, far fewer of the last than the first, for some wives had been left athome with their children to keep possession of the estates, and sendwhat supplies they could to their lords in exile. Some, like braveLady Fanshawe, traveled backwards and forwards again and again ontheir husbands' affairs; and some who were at Paris could not afforda servant nor leave their little children, and others had no dressfit to appear in. And yet some of the dresses were shabby enough--frayed satin or faded stained brocade, the singes and the creasestelling of hard service and rough usage. The gentlemen were not muchbetter: some had their velvet coats worn woefully at the elbows, andthe lace of their collars darned; indeed those were the best off, forthere were some who had no ladies to take care of them, whose fineFlanders lace was in terrible holes. 

Some gallants indeed there were to ruffle it as sprucely as ever, andthere were a few who had taken service as musketeers or archers ofthe guard; but these were at that time few, for the King was stillliving, and they did not despair of an accommodation which would soonbring them home again. As my mother had predicted, the gentlemenwith the ragged lace tried in vain to affect indifference to the goodthings on the buffet, till they had done their devoir by me as theirhostess. Eustace and Nan were on the watch and soon were caring forthem, and heaping their plates with food, and then it was that mysister's face began to light up, and I knew her for herself again, while there was a general sound of full gruff English voices allround, harsh and cracking my mother called it, but Nan said it wasperfect music to her, and I think she began to forgive me when shefound that to me likewise it had a sound of home. 

But my mother was greatly gratified that evening, for there appearedin our salon the dark bright face of the Prince of Wales, closelyfollowed by a tall handsome man in the prime of life, whom I hadnever seen before. 

'Do not derange yourself, ' said Prince Charles, bending his blackhead, bowing right and left, and signing with his hand to people tocontinue their occupations. 'I always escape to places where I canhear English tongues, and I wanted to congratulate Madame on herreception yesterday, also to present to her my cousin Prince Rupert, who arrived this afternoon. '

Prince Rupert and some of the wiser and more politic gentlemen, Eustace among them, drew apart in consultation, while the Prince ofWales stood by me. 

'They are considering of a descent on the Isle of Wight to carry offmy father from Carisbrooke, ' he said. 

'And will not your Highness be with them?' I asked. 

'Oh yes, I shall be with them, of course, as soon as there isanything to be done; but as to the ways and means, they may arrangethat as they choose. Are you to be at Madame de Choisy's ball'

I was quite provoked with him for being able to think of such matterswhen his father's rescue was at stake; but he bade me ask his motherand mine whether it were not an important question, and then told methat he must make me understand the little comedy in which he was anactor. 

Prince as he was, I could not help saying that I cared more for thetragedy in which we all might be actors; and he shrugged hisshoulders, and said that life would be insupportable if all were tobe taken in the grand serious way. However, Prince Rupert appealedto him, and he was soon absorbed into the consultation. 

My brother told us the next morning of the plan. It was that PrinceRupert, with the ships which he had in waiting at Harfleur, shouldtake a trusty band of cavaliers from Paris, surprise Carisbrooke, andcarry off His Sacred Majesty. Eustace was eager to go with them, andwould listen to no representations from my mother of the danger hishealth would incur in such an expedition in the month of November. She wept and entreated in vain. 

'What was his life good for, ' he said, 'but to be given for theKing's service?'

Then she appealed to me to persuade him, but he looked at me with hisbright blue eyes and said:

'Meg learned better in Lorraine;' and I went up and kissed him withtears in my eyes, and said: 'Ah! Madame, we have all had to learn howloyalty must come before life, and what is better than life. '

And then Annora cried out: 'Well said, Margaret! I do believe thatyou are an honest Englishwoman still. '

My brother went his way to consult with some of the other volunteers, and my mother called for her sedan chair to go and see whether shecould get an order from Queen Henrietta to stop him, while Annoraexclaimed:

'Yes! I know how it is, and mother cannot see it. Eustace careslittle for his life now, and the only chance of his ever overgettingit is the having something to do. How can he forget while he livesmoping here in banishment, with nothing better to do than to strokethe Queen's spaniels?'

Then of course I asked what he had to get over. I knew he had had aboyish admiration for Millicent Wardour, a young lady in LadyNorthumberland's household, but I had never dared inquire after her, having heard nothing about her since I left England. My sister, whose mistrust of me had quite given way, told me all she knew. 

Eustace had prevailed on my father to make proposals of marriage forher though not willingly, for my father did not like the politics ofher father, Sir James Wardour, and my mother did not think the younggentlewoman a sufficient match for the heir of Walwyn and Ribaumont. There was much haggling over the dowry and marriage portion, and inthe midst, Sir James himself took, for his second wife, a stern andsour Puritan dame. My mother and she were so utterly alien to eachother that they affronted one another on their first introduction, and Sir James entirely surrendered himself to his new wife; the matchwas broken off, and Millicent was carried away into the country, having returned the ring and all other tokens that Eustace had givenher. 

'I never esteemed her much, said Nan. 'She was a poor little white, spiritless thing, with a skin that they called ivory, and great browneyes that looked at one like that young fawn with the broken leg. IfI had been Eustace, I would have had some one with a little more willof her own, and then he would not have been served as he was. ' Forthe next thing that was heard of her, and that by a mere chance, wasthat she was marred to Mynheer van Hunker, 'a rascallion of an oldhalf-bred Dutchman, ' as my hot-tongued sister called him, who hadcome over to fatten on our misfortunes by buying up the cavaliers'plate and jewels, and lending them money on their estates. He was ofnoble birth, too, if a Dutchman could be, and he had an Englishmother, so he pretended to be doing people a favour while he wasfilling his own coffers; and, worst of all, it was he who had boughtthe chaplet of pearls, the King's gift to the bravest of knights. 

The tidings were heard in the midst of war and confusion, and so faras Nan knew, Eustace had made no moan; but some months later, when hewas seeking a friend among the slain at Cropredy Bridge, he came uponSir James Wardour mortally wounded, to whom he gave some drink, andall the succour that was possible. The dying man looked up and said:'Mr. Rib'mont, I think. Ah! sir, you were scurvily used. My ladywould have her way. My love to my poor wench; I wish she were inyour keeping, but---' Then he gave some message for them both, and, with wandering senses, pained Eustace intensely by forgetting that hewas not indeed Millicent's husband, and talking to him as such, giving the last greeting; and so he died in my brother's arms. 

Eustace wrote all that needed to be said, and sent the letters, withthe purse and tokens that Sir James had given him for them, with aflag of truce to the enemy's camp. 

Then came still darker days--my father's death at Marston Moor, theyear of losses, and Eustace's wound at Naseby, and his illness almostto death. When he was recovering, Harry Merrycourt, to whom he hadgiven his parole, was bound to take him to London for his trial, riding by easy stages as he could endure it, whilst Harry took asmuch care of him as if he had been his brother. On the Saturday theywere to halt over the Sunday at the castle of my Lord Hartwell, whohad always been a notorious Roundhead, having been one of the firstto take the Covenant. 

Being very strong, and the neighbourhood being mostly of theRoundhead mind, his castle had been used as a place of security bymany of the gentry of the Parliamentary party while the Royal forceswere near, and they had not yet entirely dispersed, so that the placeoverflowed with guests; and when Harry and Eustace came down tosupper, they found the hall full of company. Lord Walwyn wasreceived as if he were simply a guest. While he was being presentedto the hostess on coming down to supper, there was a low cry, then aconfusion among the ladies, round some one who had fainted. 

'The foolish moppet, ' said my unmerciful sister, 'to expose herselfand poor Walwyn in that way!'

I pitied her, and said that she could not help it. 

'I would have run my finger through with my bodkin sooner than havemade such a fool of myself, ' returned Nan. 'And to make it worse, what should come rolling to my poor brother's feet but three or fourof our pearls? The pearls of Ribaumont! That was the way she keptthem when she had got them, letting the string break, so that theyrolled about the floor anyhow!'

She had heard all this from Harry Merrycourt, and also that mybrother had gathered up the pearls, and, with some other gentlemen, who had picked them up while the poor lady was carried from the room, had given them to my Lady Hartwell to be returned to Madame vanHunker, not of course escaping the remark from some of the strictersort that it was a lesson against the being adorned with pearls andcostly array. 

Madame van Hunker's swoon had not surprised any one, for she wasknown to have been in very delicate health ever since a severeillness which she had gone through in London. She had been too weakto accompany her husband to Holland, and he had left her under thecare of Lady Hartwell, who was a kinswoman of her own. Harry hadonly seen her again at supper time the next day, when he marveled atthe suffering such a pale little insignificant faded being couldcause Eustace, who, though silent and resolute, was, in the eyes ofone who knew him well--evidently enduring a great trial withdifficulty. 

I heard the rest from my brother himself. 

He was in no condition to attend the service the next day, not beingable to walk to the Church, nor to sit and stand in the draughtybuilding through the prayer and preaching that were not easilydistinguished from on another. He was glad of such a dispensationwithout offence, for, children, though you suppose all Protestants tobe alike, such members of the English Church as my family, stand asfar apart from the sects that distracted England as we do from theHuguenots; and it was almost as much against my brother's conscienceto join in their worship, as it would be against our own. TheEnglish Church claims to be a branch of the true Catholic Church, andthere are those among the Gallicans who are ready to admit her claim. 

Harry Merrycourt, who was altogether a political, not a religiousrebel, would gladly have kept Lord Walwyn company; but it was needfulnot to expose himself to the suspicion of his hosts, who would havebestowed numerous strange names on him had he absented himself. 

And thus Eustace was left alone in the great hall, lord and lady, guests and soldiers, men and maids, all going off in processionacross the fields; while he had his choice of the cushions in thesunny window, or of the large arm-chair by the wood fire on thehearth. 

All alone there he had taken out his Prayer-book, a little blackclasped book with my father's coat-of-arms and one blood-stain on it--he loved it as we love our Book of the Hours, and indeed, it is muchthe very same, for which reason it was then forbidden in England--andwas kneeling in prayer, joining in spirit with the rest of hisChurch, when a soft step and a rustle of garments made him look up, and he beheld the white face and trembling figure of poor Millicent. 

'Sir, ' she said, as he rose, 'I ask your pardon. I should not haveinterrupted your devotions, but now is your time. My servant'sriding-dress is in a closet by the buttery hatch, his horse is in thestable, there is no sentry in the way, for I have looked all about. No one will return to the house for at least two hours longer; youwill have full time to escape. '

I can see the smile of sadness with which my brother looked into herface as he thanked her, and told her that he was on his parole ofhonour. At that answer she sank down into a chair, hiding her faceand weeping--weeping with such an agony of self-abandonment and griefas rent my brother's very heart, while he stood in grievousperplexity, unable to leave her alone in her sorrow, yet loving hertoo well and truly to dare to console her. One or two broken wordsmade him think she feared for his life, and he made haste to assureher that it was in no danger, since Mr. Merrycourt was assured ofbearing him safely through. She only moaned in answer, and saidpresently something about living with such a sort of people as madeher forget what a cavalier's truth and honour were. 

He were sorely shaken, but he thought the best and kindest mode ofhelping her to recover herself would be to go on where he was in themorning prayer, and, being just in the midst of their Litany, he toldher so, and read it aloud. She knelt with her head on the cushionsand presently sobbed out a response, growing calmer as he went on. 

When it was ended she had ceased weeping, though Eustace said it waspiteous to see how changed she was, and the startled pleading look inthe dark eyes that used to look at him with such confiding love. 

She said she had not heard those prayers since one day in the spring, when she had stolen out to a house in town where there was agathering round one of the persecuted minister, and alas! herstepdaughters had suspected her, and accused her to their father. Hepursued her, caused the train-bands to break in on the congregationand the minister to be carried off to prison. It was this that hadbrought on the sickness of which she declared that she hoped to havedied. 

When Eustace would have argued against this wish, it brought out allthat he would fain never have heard nor known. 

The poor young thing wished him to understand that she had never beenuntrue to him in heart, as indeed was but too plain, and she had onlywithdrawn her helpless passive resistance to the marriage with Mr. Van Hunker when Berenger's death had (perhaps willfully) beenreported to her as that of Eustace de Ribaumont. She had not knownhim to be alive till she had seen him the day before. Deaths in herown family had made her an heiress sufficiently well endowed toexcite Van Hunker's cupidity, but he had never affected muchtenderness for her. He was greatly her elder, she was his secondwife, and he had grown-up daughters who made no secret of theirdislike and scorn. Her timid drooping ways and her Majestysympathies offended her husband, shown up before him as they were byhis daughters, and, in short, her life had been utterly miserable. Probably, as Annora said, she had been wanting in spirit to rise toher situation, but of course that was not as my brother saw it. Heonly beheld what he would have cherished torn from him only to becrushed and flung aside at his very feet, yet so that honour and dutyforbade him to do anything for her. 

What he said, or what comfort he gave her, I do not fully know, forwhen he confided to me what grief it was that lay so heavily on hisheart and spirits, he dwelt more on her sad situation than onanything else. The belief in her weakness and inconstancy had evokedin him a spirit of defiance and resistance; but when she was provedguiltless and unhappy, the burden, though less bitter, was farheavier. I only gathered that he, as the only like-minded advisershe had seen for so long, had felt it his duty to force himself toseem almost hard, cold, and pitiless in the counsel he gave her. 

I remember his very words as he writhed himself with the pain ofremembrance: 'And then, Meg, I had to treat the poor child as if Iwere stone of adamant, and chide her when my very heart was breakingfor her. One moment's softening, and where should we have been? Andnow I have added to her troubles that fancy that I was obdurate in myanger and implacability. ' I assured him that she would honour andthank him in her heart for not having been weak, and he began torepent of what he had left to be inferred, and to assure me of hishaving neither said nor done anything that could be censured, withvehement laudation of her sweetness and modesty. 

The interview had been broken up by the sight of the return fromChurch. Mrs. Van Hunker had had full time to retire to her room andEustace to arrange himself, so that no one guessed at the visitor hehad had. She came down to supper, and a few words and civilities hadpassed between them, but he had never either seen or heard of hersince. 

Harry Merrycourt, who had known of the early passages between them, had never guessed that there was more than the encounter in the hallto cause the melancholy which he kindly watched and bore with in mybrother, who was seriously ill again after he reached their lodgingsin London, and indeed I thought at the time when he was with me inParis, that his decay of health chiefly proceeded from sorrow ofheart. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

MADEMOISELLE'S TOILETTE. 

We were to go to Madame de Choisy's assembly. She was the wife ofthe Chanceller of the Duke of Orleans, and gave a fete every year, towhich all the court went; and, by way of disarming suspicion, all thecavaliers who were in the great world were to attend to order thattheir plans might not be suspected. 

Our kind Queen Henrietta insisted on inspecting Nan and me before wewent. She was delighted with the way in which my mother had dressedour hair, made her show how it was done, and declared it was exactlywhat was suited to her niece, Mademoiselle, none of whose women hadthe least notion of hair-dressing. She was going herself to theLuxembourg to put the finishing touches, and Nan and I must come withher. I privately thought my mother would have been more to thepurpose, but the Queen wanted to show the effect of the handi-work. However, Nan disliked the notion very much, and showed it so plainlyin her face that the Queen exclaimed: 'You are no courtier, Mademoiselle de Ribaumont. Why did you not marry her to herRoundhead cousin, and leave her in England, Madame? Come, my god-daughter, you at least have learnt the art of commanding your looks. '

Poor Annora must have had a sad time of it with my mother when wewere gone. She was a good girl, but she had grown up in rough times, and had a proud independent nature that chafed and checked attrifles, and could not brood being treated like a hairdresser'sblock, even by Queens or Princesses. She was likewise very young, and she would have been angered instead of amused at the scene whichfollowed, which makes me laugh whenever I think of it. 

The Queen sent messages to know whether the Prince of Wales wereready, and presently he came down in a black velvet suits slashedwith white and carnation ribbons, and a little enameled jewel on hisgold chain, representing a goose of these three colours. His motherturned him all round, smoothed his hair, fresh buckled his plume, andadmonished him with earnest entreaties to do himself credit. 

'I will, Madame, ' he said. 'I will do my very utmost to be worthy ofmy badge. '

'Now, Charles, if you play the fool and lose her, I will neverforgive you. '

I understood it soon. The Queen was bent on winning for her son thehand of Mademoiselle, a granddaughter of France, and the greatestheiress there. If all were indeed lost in England, he would thus befar from a landless Prince, and her wealth might become a greatassistance to the royal cause in England. But Mademoiselle wasseveral years older than the Prince, and was besides stiff, haughty, conceited, and not much to his taste, so he answered rather sullenlythat he could not speak French. 

'So much the better, ' said his mother; 'you would only be utteringfollies. When I am not there, Rupert must speak for you. '

'Rupert is too High-Dutch to be much of a courtier, ' said the Prince. 

'Rupert is old enough to know what is for your good, and notsacrifice all to a jest, ' returned his mother. 

By this time the carriage had reached the Palais Royal. We were toldthat Mademoiselle was still at her toilette, and up we all went, through ranks of Swiss and lackeys, to her apartments, to a splendiddressing-room, where the Princess sat in a carnation dress, richlyornamented with black and white, all complete except the fasteningthe feather in her hair. The friseur was engaged in this criticaloperation, and whole ranks of ladies stood round, one of them readingaloud one of Plutarch's Lives. The Queen came forward, with the mostperfect grace, crying: 'Oh, it is ravishing! What a coincidence!' andpointing to her son, as if the similarity in colours had been a merechance instead of a contrivance of hers. 

Then, with the most gracious deference in the world, so as not tohurt the hairdresser's feelings, she showed my head, and beggedpermission to touch up her niece's, kissing her as she did so. Thenshe signed to the Prince to hold her little hand-mirror, and heobeyed, kneeling on one knee before Mademoiselle; while the Queen, with hands that really were more dexterous than those of any one Iever saw, excepting my mother, dealt with her niece's hair, payingcompliments in her son's name all the time, and keeping him in checkwith her eye. She contrived to work in some of her own jewels, rubies and diamonds, to match the scarlet, black and white. I havesince found the scene mentioned in Mademoiselle's own memoirs, butshe did not see a quarter of the humour of it. She was serene in thecertainty that her aunt was paying court to her, and the assurancethat her cousin was doing the same, though she explains that, havinghopes of the Emperor, and thinking the Prince a mere landless exile, she only pitied him. Little did she guess how he laughed at her, hismother, and himself, most of all at her airs, while his mother, scolding him all the time, joined in the laugh, though she alwaysmaintained that Mademoiselle, in spite of her overweening conceit andvanity, would become an excellent and faithful wife, and make herhusband's interests her own. 

'Rather too much so, ' said the Prince, shrugging his shoulders; 'weknow what the Margaret of Anjou style of wife can do for a King ofEngland. '

However, as he always did what any one teased him about, if it werenot too unpleasant, and as he was passionately fond of his mother, and as amused by playing on the vanity of la grande Mademoiselle, heacted his part capitally. It was all in dumb show, for he reallycould not speak French at that time, though he could understand whatwas said to him. He, like a good many other Englishmen, held thatthe less they assimilated themselves to their French hosts, the morethey showed their hopes of returning home, and it was not till afterhis expedition to Scotland that he set himself to learn the language. 

Queen Henrietta's skill in the toilette was noted. She laughinglysaid that if everything else failed her she should go into businessas a hairdresser, and she had hardly completed her work, before amessage was brought from Queen Anne to desire to see Mademoiselle inher full dress. 

I do not know what would have become of me, if my good-natured royalgodmother, who never forgot anybody, had not packed me into acarriage with some of the ladies who were accompanying Mademoiselle. That lady had a suit of her own, and went about quite independentlyof her father and her stepmother, who, though a Princess of Lorraine, was greatly contemned and slighted by the proud heiress. 

I was put au courant with all this by the chatter of the ladies inthe coach. I did no know them, and in the dark they hardly knew whowas there. Men with flambeaux ran by the side of the carriage, andnow and then the glare fell across a smiling face, glanced on a satindress, or gleamed back from some jewels; and then we had a long haltin the court of the Tuileries, while Mademoiselle went to the Queen-Regent to be inspected. We waited a long time, and I heard a greatdeal of gossip before we were again set in motion, and when once offwe soon found ourselves in the court of the Hotel de Choisy, where wemounted the stairs in the rear of Mademoiselle, pausing on the waythrough the anteroom, in order to give a final adjustment to herhead-dress before a large mirror, the Prince of Wales standingobediently beside her, waiting to hand her into the room, so that thetwo black, white, and carnation figures were reflected side by side, which was, I verily believe, the true reason of her stopping there, for Queen Henrietta's handiwork was too skilful to requireretouching. Prince Rupert was close by, to act as interpreter, histall, powerful figure towering above them both, and his dark eyeslooking as if his thoughts were far off, yet keeping in control theyoung Prince's great inclination to grimace and otherwise make gameof Mademoiselle's magnificent affectations and condescensions. 

I was rather at a loss, for the grand salon was one sea of feathers, bright satins and velvets, and curled heads, and though I tried tocome in with Mademoiselle's suite I did not properly belong to it, and my own party were entirely lost to me. I knew hardly any one, and was quite unaccustomed to the great world, so that, though thePrince's dame de compagnie was very kind, I seemed to belong to noone in that great room, where the ladies were sitting in long rows, and the gentlemen parading before them, paying their court to oneafter another, while the space in the middle was left free for somedistinguished pair to dance the menuet de la cour. 

The first person I saw, whom I knew, was the Duchess of Longueville, more beautiful than when I had met her before as Mademoiselle deBourbon, perfectly dazzling, indeed, with her majestic bearing andexquisite complexion, but the face had entirely lost that innocent, wistful expression that had so much enchanted me before. Half adozen gentlemen were buzzing round her, and though I once caught hereye she did not know me, and no wonder, for I was much more changedthan she was. However, there I stood forlorn, in an access ofEnglish shyness, not daring to take a chair near any of thestrangers, and looking in vain for my mother or one of my brothers. 

'Will not Madame take a seat beside me?' said a kind voice. 'I thinkI have had the honour of making her acquaintance, ' she added, as oureyes met; 'it is the Gildippe of happier times. '

Then I knew her for Mademoiselle d'Argennes, now duchess ofMontausieur, the same who had been so kind to me at the Hotel deRambouillet on my first arrival at Paris. Most gladly did I take myseat by her as an old friend, and I learned from her that her motherwas not present, and she engaged me to go and see her at the Hotel deRambouillet the next morning, telling me that M. De Solivet hadspoken of me, and that Madame de Rambouillet much wished to see me. Then she kindly told me the names of many of the persons present, among whom were more gens de la robe than it was usual for us of theold nobility to meet. They were indeed ennobled, and thus had noimposts to pay, but that did not put them on a level with thechildren of crusaders. So said my mother and her friends, but Icould not but be struck with the fine countenance and grave collectedair of the President Matthieu de Mole, who was making his how to thehostess. 

Presently, in the violet robes of a Bishop, for which he looked muchtoo young, there strolled up a keen-faced man with satirical eyes, whom Madame de Montausieur presented as 'Monseigneur le Coadjuteur. 'This was the Archbishop of Corinth, Paul de Gondi, Coadjutor to hisuncle, the Archbishop of Paris. I think he was the most amusingtalker I ever heard, only there was a great spice of malice in allthat he said--or did not say; and Madame de Montausier kept him incheck, as she well knew how to do. 

At last, to my great joy, I saw my brother walking with a young manin the black dress of an advocate. He came up to me and the Duchessbade me present him, declaring herself delighted to make theacquaintance of a brave English cavalier, and at the same timegreeting his companion as Monsieur Darpent. Eustace presently saidthat my mother had sent him in quest of me, and he conducted methrough the salon to another apartment, where the ladies, as before, sat with their backs to the wall, excepting those who were at card-tables, a party having been made up for Monsieur. On my way I wasstruck both with the good mien and good sense of the young lawyer, who still stood conversing with my brother after I had been restoredto my mother. The cloud cleared up from Annora's face as shelistened, making her look as lovely and as animated as when she wasin English company. The conversation was not by any means equallypleasing to my mother, who, on the first opportunity, broke in with'My son, ' and sent my brother off in search of some distinguishedperson to whom she wished to speak, and she most expressingly frownedoff his former companion, who would have continued the conversationwith my sister and me, where upon Nan's face, which was always fartoo like a window, became once more gloomy. 

When we went home, it appeared that my mother was will satisfied thatI should be invited to the Hotel de Rambouillet. It was adistinguished thing to have the entree there, though for her part shethought it very wearisome to have to listen to declamations about sheknew not what; and there was no proper distinction of ranks kept up, any more than at the Hotel de Choisy, where one expected it. And, after all, neither Monsieur nor Madame de Rambouillet were of the oldnoblesse. The Argennes, like the Rambouillets, only dated from thetime of the League, when they had in private confirmed the sentenceof death on the Duke of Guise, which had been carried out by hisassassination. Strange to look at the beautiful and gentle Julie, and know her to be sprung from such a stem!

Then my mother censured Eustace for bad taste in talking over hiscase with his lawyer in public. He laughed, and assured her that hehad never even thought of his suit, but had been discussing one ofthe pictures on the walls, a fine Veronese--appealing to me if itwere not so; but she was not satisfied; she said he should not haveencouraged the presumption of that little advocate by presenting himto his sisters. 

Eustace never attempted argument with her, but went his own way; andwhen Annora broke out with something about Mr. Hyde and otherlawyers, such as Harry Merrycourt, being company for any one inLondon, she was instantly silenced or presuming to argue with herelders. 

I had a happy morning with Mesdames de Rambouillet and De Montausier, who showed the perfect union of mother and daughter. 

In the little cabinet where Madame de Rambouillet read and studied somuch in order to be able to fill her eminent position, she drew outfrom me all my story and all my perplexities, giving me advice as awise woman of my own church alone could do, and showing me how much Imight still do in my life at Paris. She advised me, as I had beenput under Father Vincent's guidance, to seek him at the Church of St. Sulpice, where, on certain days of the week, he was accessible toladies wishing to undertake pious works. For the rest, she said thata little resolution on my part would enable me to reserve the earlypart of the day for study and the education of my son; and she fullyapproved of my giving the evenings to society, and gave me at oncethe entree to her circle. She insisted that I should remain on thatday and dine with her, and Madame de Montausier indited two charmingbillets, which were sent to invite our family to join us there in theevening. 

'It will not be a full circle, ' she said; 'but I think your brothertreats as a friend a young man who is there to make his first essai. '

'M. Darpent?' I asked; and I was told that I was right, and that theyoung advocate had been writing a discourse upon Cicero which he wasto read aloud to the fair critics and their friends. Madame deMontausier added that his father was a counselor in the Parliament, who had originally been a Huguenot, but had converted himself withall his family, and had since held several good appointments. Shethought the young man, Clement Darpent, likely to become a man ofmark, and she did not like him the less for having retained somethingof the Huguenot gravity. 

The dinner was extremely pleasant; we followed it up by a walk in thebeautifully laid out gardens; and after we had rested, the receptionbegan, but only in the little green cabinet, as it was merely aselect few who were to be admitted to hear the young aspirant. Iwatched anxiously for the appearance of my family, and presently incame Eustace and Annora. My mother had the migraine, and my brotherhad taken upon him, without asking leave, to carry off my sister!

I had never seen her look so well as she did, with that little spiritof mischief upon her, lighting her beautiful eyes and colouring hercheeks. Madame de Rambouillet whispered to me that she was a perfectnymph, with her look of health and freshness. Then M. Darpent camein, and his grave face blushed with satisfaction as he saw hisfriend, my Lord Walwyn, present. 

His was a fine face, though too serious for so young a man. It was acomplete oval, the hair growing back on the forehead, and the beardbeing dark and pointed, the complexion a clear pale brown, the eyeswith something of Italian softness in them, rather than of Frenchvivacity, the brows almost as if drawn with a pencil, the mouth verygrave and thoughtful except when lighted by a smile of unusualsweetness. As a lawyer, his dress was of plain black with a littlewhite collar fastened by two silken tassels (such as I remember myLord Falkland used to wear). It became him better than the gay coatsof some of our nobles. 

The circle being complete by this time, the young orator was placedin the midst, and began to read aloud his manuscript, or rather torecite it, for after the fire of his subject began to animate him, heseldom looked at the paper. 

It was altogether grand and eloquent discourse upon the loyalty andnobility of holding with unswerving faith to the old laws andconstitutions of one's country against all fraud, oppression, andwrong, tracing how Cicero's weak and vain character grew stronger atthe call of patriotism, and how eagerly and bravely the once timidman finally held out his throat for the knife. It might be taken asthe very highest witness to the manner in which he had used hisdivine gift of rhetoric, that Fulvia's first thought was to show herbitter hatred by piercing his eloquent tongue! 'Yes, my friends, ' heconcluded, with his eyes glancing round, 'that insult to the dead wasthe tribute of tyranny to virtue!'

Annora's hands were clasped, her cheeks were flushed, her eyesglanced with the dew of admiration, and there were others who werecarried along by the charm of the young orator's voice andenthusiasm; but there were also anxious glances passing, especiallybetween the divine Arthenice and her son-in-law, M. De Montausier, and when there had been time for the compliments the discoursemerited to be freely given, Madame de Rambouillet said: 'My dearfriend, the tribute may be indeed the highest, but it can scarcely bethe most appreciable either by the fortunate individual or hisfriends. I therefore entreat that the most eloquent discourse of ouryouthful Cicero of admires who have listened to it. '

Everybody bowed assent, but the young man himself began, with someimpetuosity: 'Madame will believe me that I had not the slightestpolitical intention. I spoke simply as a matter of history. '

'I am perfectly aware of it, Monsieur, ' returned the Marquise; 'butall the world does not understand as well as I do how one may becarried away by the fervour of imagination to identify oneself andone's surroundings with those of which one speaks. '

'Madame is very severe on the absent, ' said M. Darpent. 

'Monsieur thinks I have inferred more treason than he has spoken, 'said Madame de Rambouillet gaily. 'Well, be it so; I am an oldwoman, and you, my friend, have your career yet to come, and I wouldhave you remember that though the great Cesar be dead, yet the bodkinwas not in his time. '

'I understand, Madame, after the lion comes the fox. I thank you foryour warning until the time---'

'Come, come, we do not intend to be all undone in the meantime, 'exclaimed Madame de Rambouillet. 'Come, who will give us avaudeville or something joyous to put out the grand serious, and sendus home gay. My dear Countess, ' and she turned to a bright-lookingyoung lady, 'relate to us, I entreat of you, one of your charmingfairy tales. '

And the Countess d'Aulnoy, at her request, seated herself in a largearm-chair, and told us with infinite grace the story I have so oftentold you, my grandchildren, of the White Cat and the three princes. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

COURT APPOINTMENT

The expected descent on the Isle of Wight did not take place, forthough Prince Rupert was High Admiral, so large a portion of thefleet was disaffected that it was not possible to effect anything. Before long, he went back to the ships he had at Helvoetsluys, takingthe Prince of Wales with him. My brother Walwyn yielded to anearnest entreaty that he would let us take care of him at Paris tillthere was some undertaking really in hand. Besides, he was awaitingthe issue of his cause respecting the Ribaumont property in Picardy, to which the Count de Poligny set up a claim in right of a grant byKing Henry III. In the time of the League. It must be confessed thatthe suit lingered a good deal, in spite of the zeal of the youngadvocate, M. Clement Darpent, --nay, my mother ad my brother DeSolivet sometimes declared, because of his zeal; for the Darpentfamily were well known as inclined to the Fronde party. 

They had been Huguenots, but had joined the Church some twenty yearsbefore, as it was said, because of the increased disabilities ofHuguenots in the legal profession, and it was averred that much ofthe factious Calvinist leaven still hung about them. At this time Inever saw the parents, but Eustace had contracted a warm friendshipwith the son, and often went to their house. My mother fretted overthis friendship far more, as Annora used to declare, than if he hadbeen intimate with the wildest of the roistering cavaliers, or themost dissipated of the petits maitres of Paris. But Eustace was aman now, made older than his twenty-five years by what he hadundergone, and though always most respectful to my mother, he couldnot but follow his own judgment and form his own friendships. And mymother's dislike to having Clement Darpent at the Hotel de Nidemerleonly led to Walwyn's frequenting the Maison Darpent more than hemight have done if he could have seen his friend at home withoutvexing her. 

I do not think that he much liked the old Counsellor, but he used tosay that Madame Darpent was one of the most saintly beings he hadever seen. She had one married daughter, and two more, nuns at PortRoyal, and she was with them in heart, the element of Augustinianismin the Jansenist teaching having found a responsive chord in her soulfrom her Calvinist education. She spent her whole time, even whileliving in the world, in prayers, pious exercises, and works ofcharity, and she would fain have induced her son to quit secular lifeand become one of those recluses who inhabited the environs of PortRoyal, and gave themselves to labour of mind and of hand, producingworks of devotion and sacred research, and likewise making a paradiseof the dreary unwholesome swamp in which stood Port Royal des Champs. Clement Darpent had, however, no vocation for such a life, or ratherhe was not convinced in his own mind that it was expedient for him. He was eight or nine years old when the conversion of his family hadtaken place, and his mother had taught him carefully her originalfaith. Her conversation had been, no one could doubt, most heartyand sincere, and her children had gone with her in all simplicity;but the seeds she had previously sown in her son's mind sprang up ashe grew older, and when Eustace became his friend, he was, thoughoutwardly conforming, restless and dissatisfied, by no means disposedto return to Calvinism, and yet with too much of the old leaven inhim to remain contented in the Church. He was in danger of throwingoff all thought of faith and of Divine things in his perplexity, andI know many of our advisers would say this was best, provided he diedat last in the bosom of the Catholic Church; but I can never thinkso, and, as things stood, Eustace's advice aided him in remaining atthat time where he was, a member of the Church. My brother himselfwas, my mother ardently hoped, likely to join our communion. TheAbbe Walter Montagu who had himself been a convert, strove hard towin him over, trying to prove to him that the English Church wasextinct, stifled by her own rebellious heretic children, so soon asthe grace that was left in her began to work so as to bring her backto Catholic doctrine and practice. His argument was effectual withmany of our fugitives, but not with my brother. He continued stillto declare that he believed that his Church was in the course ofbeing purified, and would raised up again at last; and his heart wastoo loyal to desert her, any more than his King, because of hermisfortunes. No one shall ever make me believe that he was wrong. As to Annora, I believe she would rather have been a Huguenotoutright than one of us, and she only half trusted me for a longtime. 

We had begun to settle down into regular habits; indeed, except forthe evenings, our days were almost more alike than when in thecountry. I had gone, as Madame de Rambouillet had advised me, toFather Vincent, and he introduced me to the excellent MadameGoussault, who had the sweetest old face I ever saw. She made me amember of the society for attending the poor in the Hotel Dieu, andmy regular days were set apart, twice a week, for waiting on thesick. We all wore a uniform dress of dark stuff, with a white apronand tight white cap, and, unless we were very intimate, were notsupposed to recognize one another. 

There was good reason for this. At the next bed to that of mypatient there was a lady most tenderly, if a little awkwardly, bathing a poor man's face with essences. Her plump form, beautifulhands, and slightly Spanish accent, could only belong to one person, I thought, but I could hardly believe it, and I turned my eyes away, and tried the more diligently to teach my poor ignorant patient themeaning of his Pater and Ave, when suddenly there was a burst ofscolding and imprecation from the other bed. The essence had goneinto the man's eye, and he, a great rough bucheron, was reviling theawkwardness and meddling of ladies in no measured terms, while hisnurse stood helplessly wringing her white hands, imploring hispardon, but quite unaware of what was to be done. Happily, I had asponge and some warm water near, and I ran up with it and washed theman's eyes, while the lady thanked me fervently, but the man growledout:

'That is better; if women will come fussing over us with what theydon't understand--- You are the right sort; but for her---'

'Do not stop him, ' hastily said the lady, with her hand on my arm. 'I love it! I rejoice in it! Do not deprive me, for the love ofHeaven!'

I knew who she was then, and Madame de Montausier told me I wasright; but that I must keep the secret; and so I did, till afterQueen Anne of Austria was dead. She would not let her rank depriveher of the privilege of waiting on the poor, unknown and unthanked;and many hours, when those who blamed her for indolence supposed herto be in bed, she was attending the hospital. 

Cecile was never strong enough to give her attendance there, but shemade clothes which were given to the patients when they came out. Wespent our mornings much as of old; the two elder children generallywent to mass with me at St. Germain l'Auxerrois, and if the day werefine, I would take them for a few turns in the Tuileries Gardensafterwards before I taught them their little lessons, and gave myorders to the servants. 

Then all the family met a breakfast, after which Gaspard had half anhour more of study with the Abbe, for he was beginning Latin, and wasa very promising scholar. He prepared his tasks with me beforebreakfast, and got on admirably. 

Then, unless I had to be at the hospital, we sat together at ourembroidery--Cecile, Annora, and I--while the Abbe read to us. It wasvery hard to poor Nan to sit still, work, and listen. She had beenused to such an active unsettled life during the war, and had beenput to so many shifts, having at times for months together to doservant's work, that she knew not how to be quiet. Embroidery seemedto her useless, when she had cooked and washed, and made broths, andscraped lint for the wounded, and she could not care for the historyof the Romans, even when Eustace had given her his word they were notRoman Catholics. 

She used to say she had the cramp, or that her foot was asleep, andrush off to play with the children, or to see if my mother wantedher. My mother did not care for the reading, but she did want Nan tolearn to sit in her chair and embroider, like a demoiselle bienelevee, instead of a wild maiden of the civil wars. However, mymother spent most of her day in waiting on the Queen of England, whowas very fond of her, and liked to have her at her levee, so that wereally saw very little of her. 

My brother, when not needed by his Queen, nor in consultation withthe cavaliers, or with his lawyers, would often join in our morning'semployment. He was not strong, and he liked to recline in a lagerchair that I kept ready for him, and listen while the Abbe read, orsometimes discuss with him questions that arose in the reading, andthis was a great relief to Nan, who seldom declared that her feettingled when he was there. 

After our dinner we either walked in the garden where the childrenplayed, or went out to make visits. In the evening there werereceptions. We had one evening to which, as I said, came our poorexiled countrymen, and there were other assemblies, to some of whichwe went by invitation; but at the Hotel de Rambouillet, and one ortwo others we knew we were always welcome. There we heard M. Corneille read the Cid, on of his finest pieces, before it was put onthe stage. I cannot describe how those noble verses thrilled in ourears and heart, how tears were shed and hands clasped, and how evenAnnora let herself be carried along by the tide. Clement Darpent wasoften there, and once or twice recited again, but Madame deRambouillet always took care first to know what he was going to say. A poem upon St. Monica was the work of his that I liked bets, but itwas not so much admired as verses more concerned with the present. 

The Prince of Conde came back to Paris for a few weeks, and my poorCecile was greatly disappointed that her husband remained in garrisonand did not come with him. 'But then, ' as she said to consoleherself, 'every month made the children prettier, and she was tryingto be a little more nice and agreeable. '

Two appointments were made for which I was less grateful than was mymother. My little son was made one of the King's gentlemen of thebedchamber, and Mademoiselle requested me to be one of her ladies-in-waiting. She was very good-natured, provided she thought herselfobeyed, and she promised that my turn should always come at the sametime as my son's, so that I might be at home with him. I was alittle laughed at, and my former name of Gildippe was made toalternate with that of Cornelia; but French mothers have always beendevoted to their sons, and there was some sympathy with me among theladies. 

I owned that my presence was required at home, for Gaspard generallycame back a much naughtier boy than he went, and with a collection ofbad words that I had to proscribe. Before the Queen-Regent, thelittle King and the Duke of Anjou were the best boys in the world, and as stately and well-mannered as become the first gentlemen ofFrance; but when once out of her sight they were the most riotous andmischievous children in the world, since nobody durst restrain, farless punish them. They made attacks on the departments of thestewards and cooks, kicking and biting any one who tried to stopthem, and devouring fruit and sweetmeats till their fine clothes wereall bedaubed, and they themselves indisposed, and then their poorvalets suffered for it. The first time this happened my poor Gaspardwas so much shocked that he actually told the King that it wasdishonourable to let another suffer for his fault. 

'I would have you to know, Monsieur le Marquis, ' said Louis XIV. , drawing himself up, 'that the King of France is never in fault. '

However, I will say for His Majesty that it was the Duke of Anjou whotold the Queen that the little Nidemerle had been disrespectful, andthus caused the poor child to be sent home, severely beaten, and witha reprimand to me for not bringing him up better. 

I leave you to guess how furious I was, and how I raged about thehouse till I frightened my mother, Annora backing me up with all hermight. We were almost ready to take Gaspard in our hands and escapeat once to England. Even in its present sad state I should at leastbe able to bring up my boy without having him punished for honourablesentiments and brave speeches. Of course it was the Abbe on the onehand, and Eustace on the other, who moderated me, and tried to showme, as well as my son, that though the little Louis might be anaughty boy, the kingly dignity was to be respected in him. 

'Thou wouldst not blame thy mother even if she were in fault, ' arguedEustace. 

'But my mother never is in fault, ' said Gaspard, throwing himselfinto my arms. 

'Ah, there spoke thy loyal heart, and a Frenchman should have thesame spirit towards his King. '

'Yes, ' broke out Annora; 'that is what you are all trying to force onyour children, setting up an idol to fall down and crush yourselves!For shame, Walwyn, that you, an Englishman, should preach such adoctrine to the poor child!'

'Nay, you little Frondeuse, there is right and safety in making achild's tongue pay respect to dignities. He must separate the officefrom the man, or the child. '

All that could be done was that I should write a humble apology formy son. Otherwise they told me he would certainly be taken from sodangerous a person, and such a dread always made me submissive to thebondage in which we were all held. 

Was it not strange that a Queen who would with her own hands ministerto the suffered in the hospital should be so utterly ignorant of herduties in bringing up the heir of the great kingdom? Gaspard, whowas much younger, could read well, write, and knew a little Latin andEnglish, while the King and his brother were as untaught as peasantsin the fields. They could make the sign of the cross and say theirprayers, and their manners COULD be perfect, but that was all. Theyhad no instruction, and their education was not begun. I have theless hesitation in recording this, as the King has evidentlyregretted it, and has given first his son, then his grandsons, themost admirable masters, besides having taken great pains withhimself. 

I suppose the Spanish dislike to instruction dominated the Queen, andmade her slow to inflict on her sons what she so much disliked, andshe was of course perfectly ignorant of their misbehaviour. 

I am sorry to say that Gaspard soon ceased to be shocked. His auntdeclared that he was becoming a loyal Frenchman who he showed off hisLouvre manners by kicking the lackeys, pinching Armantine, andutterly refusing to learn his lessons for the Abbe, declaring that hewas Monsieur le Marquis, and no one should interfere with him. Oncewhen he came home a day or two before me, he made himself quiteintolerable to the whole house, by insisting on making Armantine andher little brother defend a fortress on the top of the stairs, whichhe attacked with the hard balls of silk and wool out of our work-baskets. Annora tried to stop him, but only was kicked for herpains. It was his HOTEL he said, and he was master there, and so hewent on, though he had given poor Armantine a black eye, and brokentwo panes of glass, till his uncle came home, and came upon him witha stern 'Gaspard. ' The boy began again with his being the Marquisand the master, but Eustace put him down at once. 

'Thou mayst be Marquis, but thou art not master of this house, nor ofthyself. Thou art not even a gentleman while thou actest thus. Goto thy room. We will see what thy mother says to this. '

Gaspard durst not struggle with his uncle, and went off silent andsulky; but Eustace had subdued him into penitence before I came home. And I can hardly tell how, but from that time the principle ofloyalty to the sovereign, without imitation of the person, seemed tohave been instilled into the child, so that I feel, and I am sure hewill agree with me, that I owe my son, and he owes himself, to theinfluence of my dear brother. 

Had it not been for leaving him, my service to Mademoiselle wouldhave been altogether amusing. True, she was marvelously egotisticaland conceited, but she was very good-natured, and liked to make thoseabout her happy. Even to her stepmother and little sisters, whom shedid not love, she was never unkind, though she lived entirely apart, and kept her own little court separately at the Louvre, and very oddthings we did there. 

Sometimes we were all dressed up as the gods and goddesses, she beingalways Minerva--unless as Diana she conducted us as her nymphs to thechase in the park at Versailles. Sometimes we were MademoiselleScudery's heroines, and we wrote descriptions of each other by thesefeigned names, some of which appear in her memoirs. And all the timeshe was hoping to marry the Emperor, and despising the suit of QueenHenrietta for our Prince of Wales, who, for his part, never laughedso much in secret as when he attended this wonderful and classicalCourt. 

CHAPTER XV. 

A STRANGER THANKSGIVING DAY. 

There was a curious scene in our salon the day after the news hadcome of the great victory of Lens. Clement Darpent had been broughtin by my brother, who wished him to hear some English songs which mysister and I had been practicing. He had been trying to learnEnglish, and perhaps understood it better than he could speak it, buthe was somewhat perplexed by those two gallant lines--

 'I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more. '

Annora's eyes flashed with disappointed anger as she said, 'You enternot into the sentiment, Monsieur. I should have hoped that if anyFrenchman could, it would be you!'

'For my part, ' observed my mother, 'I am not surprised at thequestion not being appreciated by the gens de la robe. '

I saw Eustace look infinitely annoyed at this insult to his friend'sprofession, and to make it worse, Gaspard, who had come home thatmorning from the palace, exclaimed, having merely caught the word'honour'--

'Yes, the gens de la robe hate our honour. That is why the Kingsaid, when news of our great victory came, 'Oh, how sorry theParliament will be!'

'Did he?' exclaimed my mother. 'Is it true, my grandson?'

'True; yes indeed, Madame ma Grandmere, ' replied Gaspard. 'And youshould have seen how all the world applauded him. '

'I would not have applauded him, ' said Eustace sadly. 'I would havetried to teach him that nothing can be of more sad omen for a kingthan to regard his Parliament as his enemy. '

'My son, ' returned my mother, 'if you must utter such absurdities, let it not be before this child. Imagine the consequence of hisrepeating them!'

'Ah! sighed Darpent, 'it would be well if only, through child lips orany others, the King and his mother could learn that the Parliamentcan heartily rejoice in all that is for the true glory and honour injustice and in the well-being of her people, and that we love aboveall!'

'There, ' said I, glad to turn the conversation from the dangerouspolitical turn it was taking, 'I knew it was merely the language andnot the sentiment of our song that Monsieur Darpent did notcomprehend. '

And when it was translated and paraphrased, he exclaimed, 'Ah! trulyMademoiselle may trust me that such sentiments are the breath of lifeto those who are both French and of the robe. May ONE at least liveto prove it to her!'

The times were threatening in France as well as in England, for if inthe latter realm, the thunderbolt had fallen, in the former, thetempest seemed to be gathering. They say that it dispersed after afew showers, but there are others who say that it is only stored upto fall with greater fury in later times. Ah, well! if it be so, Ipray that none of mine may be living to see it, for I cannot concealfrom myself that there is much among us that may well call down thevengeance of Heaven. Yet, if our good Duke of Burgundy fulfil thepromise of his youth, the evil may yet be averted. 

The Parliament of Paris had made an attempt to check the recklessexactions of the Court by refusing to register the recent edicts fortaxation, and it was this that made the Queen so angry with them. Eustace began to explain that it had been the unfortunate endeavourto raise money without the consent of Parliament that had been theimmediate cause of the troubles in England for which they were stillsuffering. This implied censure of King Charles so displeased mymother that she declared that she would listen to such treason nolonger, started up and quitted the room, calling Annora with her. Poor Annora gave one of her grim looks, but was obliged to obey; Idid not feel bound to do the same, as indeed I stood in the positionof hostess: so I remained, with Gaspard leaning on my lap, while mybrother and M. Darpent continued their conversation, and the latterbegan to describe the actual matter in debate, the Paulette, namely, the right of magistrates to purchase the succession to their officesfor their sons, provided a certain annual amount was paid to theCrown. The right had to be continually renewed by fresh edicts for acertain term. This term was now over, and the Crown refused to renewit except on condition that all that salaries should be forfeited forfour years. To our English notions the whole system was acorruption, but the horrible ill faith of the Court, which ruined andcheated so many families, was nevertheless shocking to us. ClementDarpent, who had always looked on the Paulette as a useful guarantee, and expected to succeed to his father's office as naturally asEustace had done to the baronies of Walwyn and Ribaumont, could notthen see it in the same light, and expatiated on the speeches made bythe Councillors Broussel, Blancmesnil, and others, on the injusticeof such a measure. 

Gaspard caught the name of Blancmesnil, and looking up, he said'Blancmesnil! It is he that the King says is a scoundrel to resisthis will; but he will soon be shut up. They are going to arresthim. '

'Pray how long have they taken little imps like thee into theircounsels?' demanded Eustace, as we all sat petrified at thisannouncement. 

'It was the Duke of Anjou who told me, ' said Gaspard. 'He wassitting at the foot of the Queen's bed when she settled it all withM. Le Cardinal. They will send to have coup de main made of allthose rogues as soon as the Te Deum is over tomorrow at Notre Dame, and then there will be no more refusing of money for M. Le Prince tobeat the Spaniards with. '

'The Duke should choose his confidants better, ' said Eustace. 'Lookhere, my nephew. Remember from henceforth that whatever passes insecret council is sacred, and even if told to thee inadvertentlyshould never be repeated. Now leave us; your mother needs you nolonger. '

My little boy made his graceful bow at the door, looking muchperplexed, and departed. I rose likewise, saying I would forbid himto repeat his dangerous communication, and I trusted that it would dohim no harm. 

'Madame, ' said M. Darpent, 'I will not conceal from you that I shalltake advantage of what I have heard to warn these friends of myfather. '

'You cannot be expected to do otherwise, ' said Eustace; 'and trulythe design is so arbitrary and unjust that, Cavalier as I am, Icannot but rejoice that it should be baffled. '

'And, ' added Darpent, before I could speak, 'Madame may be securethat no word shall pass my lips respecting the manner in which Ireceived the warning. '

I answered that I could trust him for that. I could not expect anymore from him, and indeed none of us were bound in honour. The faultwas with the Duke of Anjou, who, as we all know, was an incorrigiblechatter-box all his life, and never was trusted with any Statesecrets at all; but his mother must have supposed him not old enoughto understand what she was talking about, when she let him overhearsuch a conversation. 

Gaspard had, however, a private lecture from both of us on the needof holding his tongue, both on this matter and all other palacegossip. He was no longer in waiting, and I trusted that all would beforgotten before his turn came again; but he was to join in the stateprocession on the following day, a Sunday, when the King and Queen-Regent were return thanks at Notre Dame for the victory at Lens. 

Ah, children! we had victories then. Our Te Deums were not sung withdoubting hearts, to make the populace believe a defeat a victory--adelusion to which this French nation of ours is only too prone. Mycountryman, Marlborough, and the little truant Abbe, Eugene of Savoy, were not then the leaders of the opposite armies; but at the head ofour own, we had M. Le Prince and the Vicomte de Turenne in the flowerof their age, and our triumphs were such that they might wellintoxicate the King, who was, so to speak, brought up upon them. Itwas a magnificent sight, which we all saw from different quarters--mymother in the suite of the Queen of England, Gaspard among the littlenoblemen who attended the King, I among the ladies who followedMademoiselle, while my brother and sister, though they might havegone among their own Queen's train, chose to shift for themselves. They said they should see more than if, like us, they formed part ofthe pageant; but I believe the real reason was, that if they had oneearly to Queen Henrietta's apartments in full dress, they must havemissed their English prayers at the Ambassador's, which they neverchose to do on a Sunday. 

The choir part of the nave was filled with tribunes for the royalfamily and their suites; and as the most exalted in rank went thelast, Mademoiselle, and we ladies behind her, came to our placesearly enough to see a great deal of the rest of the procession. Thewhole choir was already a field of clergy and choristers, the whiterobes of the latter giving relief to the richly-embroidered purpleand lace-covered robes of the Bishops, who wore their gold andjeweled mitres, while their richly-gilded pastoral staves and crosseswere borne before them. The Coadjutor of Paris, who was to be theCelebrant, was already by the Altar, his robes absolutely encrustedwith gold; and just after we had taken our places there passed up theCardinal, with his pillars borne before him, in his scarlet hat andhis robes. 

Every lady was, according to the Spanish fashion, which Queen Annehad introduced, in black or in white--the demoiselles in white, themarried in black--and all with the black lace veil on their heads. The French ladies had murmured much at this, but there is no denyingthat the general effect was much better for the long lines of blackabove and white below, and as there was no restriction upon theirjewellery, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds flashed wherever the lightfell on them. 

Beyond, a lane was preserved all down the length of the nave by thetall, towering forms of the Scottish archers, in their richaccoutrements, many of them gallant gentlemen, who had served underthe Marquess of Montrose; and in the aisles behind them surged thewhole multitude--gentlemen, ladies, bourgeois, fishwives, artisans, all sorts of people, mixed up together, and treating one another witha civility and forbearance of which my brother and sister confessedand English crowd would have been incapable, though they showedabsolutely no reverence to the sacred place; and I must own theladies showed as little, for every one was talking, laughing, bowingto acquaintance, or pointing out notorieties, and low whispers weregoing about of some great and secret undertaking of the Queen-Regent. Low, did I say! Nay, I heard the words 'Blancmesnil and Broussel'quite loud enough to satisfy me that if the attempt had beendisclosed, it would not be possible to fix the blame of betraying iton my little son more than on twenty others. Indeed the Queen ofEngland observed to her niece, loud enough for me to hear her, thatit was only too like what she remembered only seven years ago inEngland, when her dear King had gone down to arrest those five roguesof members, and all had failed because of that vile gossip LadyCarlisle. 

'And who told my Lady Carlisle?' demanded Mademoiselle with somearchness; whereupon Queen Henrietta became very curious to knowwhether the handsome Duke of Beaufort were, after his foolishfashion, in the crowd, making himself agreeable to the ladies of themarket-place. 

Trumpets, however, sounded, and all rose from their seats, as up thenave swept Queen Anne, her black mantilla descending over her fairhair from a little diamond crown, her dress--white satin--with a hugelong blue velvet train worked with gold fleurs-de-lys, supported byfour pair of little pages in white satin. Most regal did she look, leading by the hand the little Duke of Anjou; while the young King, who was now old enough to form the climax of the procession, marchednext after in blue and gold, holding his plumed hat in his hand, andbowing right and left with all his royal courtesy and grace, hisbeautiful fair hair on his shoulders, shining with the sun. Andthere was my little Marquis among the boys, who immediately followedhim in all his bright beauty and grace. 

Most glorious was the High Mass that followed. Officer after officermarched up and laid standard after standard before the Altar, heavywith German blazonry, or with the red and gold stripes of Aragon, theembattled castles of Castille, till they amounted to seventy-three. It must have been strange to the Spanish Queen to rejoice over theseas they lay piled in a gorgeous heap before the high Altar, here andthere one dim with weather or stained with blood. The peals of theTe Deum from a thousand voices were unspeakably magnificent, and yetthrough them all it seemed to me that I heard the wail not only ofthe multitudes of widowed wives and sonless parents, but of the poorpeasants of all the nation, crying aloud to Heaven for the breadwhich they were forbidden to eat, when they had toiled for it in thesweat of their brow. Yes, and which I was not permitted to let themenjoy!

Ah! which did the Almighty listen to? To the praise, or to themourning, lamentation, and woe? You have often wondered, mychildren, that I absented myself from the Te Deums of victory whilewe had them. Now you know the reason. 

And then I knew that all this display was only an excuse under whichthe Queen hid her real design of crushing all opposition to her will. She wanted to commit an injustice, and silence all appeals againstit, so that the poor might be more and more ground down! How strangein the woman whom I had seen bearing patiently, nay, joyfully, withthe murmurs of the faggot-seller in the hospital! Truly she knew notwhat she did!

As she left the Cathedral, and passed M. De Comminges, a lieutenantof her Guards, she said: 'Go, and Heaven be with you. '

I was soon at home safely with my boys, to carry an account of ourdoings to my dear little M. D'Aubepine, who, unable to bear thefatigue and the crush of Notre Dame, had taken her little children toa Mass of thanksgiving celebrated by our good Abbe at the nearestChurch. 

We waited long and long for the others to come. I was not uneasy formy mother, who was with the Queen; but the servants brought reportsthat the canaille had risen, and that the streets were in wildconfusion. We could see nothing, and only heard wild shouts fromtime to time. What could have become of Eustace and Annora? Mymother would have been afraid that with their wild English notionsthey had rushed into something most unsuitable to a Frenchdemoiselle, and I was afraid for Eustace, if they were involved inany crowd or confusion, for his strength was far from being equal tohis spirit. We watched, sure that we heard cries and shouts in thedistance, the roar of the populace, such as I remembered on thatwedding day, but sharper and shriller, as French voices are in adifferent key from the English roar and growl. 

It passed, however, and there was long silence. Gaspard andArmantine stood at the window, and at last, as evening twilight fell, cried out that a carriage was coming in at the porte cochere. Presently Annora ran into the room, all in a glow, and Eustacefollowed more slowly. 

'Have you been frightened?' she cried. 'Oh, we have had such anadventure! If they had not screamed and shrieked like peacocks, orfuries, I could have thought myself in England. '

'Alack! that a tumult should seem like home to you, sister, ' saidEustace gravely. 

Then they told how at the ambassador's chapel they had heard thatgood Lady Fanshawe, whom they had known in England, had arrived sickand sad, after the loss of a young child. They determined, therefore, to steal away from Notre Dame before the ceremony wasover, and go to see whether anything could be done for her. Theycould not, however, get out so quickly as they expected, and theywere in the Rue de Marmousets when they saw surging towards them atremendous crowd, shouting, screeching, shrieking, roaring, trying tostop a carriage which was being urged on with six horses, with theroyal guards trying to force their way. Eustace, afraid of his sisterbeing swept from him, looked for some escape, but the mob went fasterthan they could do; and they might soon have been involved in it andtrampled down. There seemed no opening in the tall houses, whensuddenly a little door opened close to them, and there was a cry ofsurprise; a hand was put out. 

'You here! Nay, pardon me, Mademoiselle; take my arm. '

Clement Darpent was there. A few steps more, and taking out a smallkey, he fitted it into the same little door, and led them into a darkpassage, then up a stair, into a large room, simply furnished, andone end almost like an oratory. Here, looking anxiously from thewindow, was an old lady in a plain black dress and black silk hood, with a white apron and keys at her girdle. 

'My mother, ' said Clement, 'this gentleman and lady, M. Le Baron deRibaumont and Mademoiselle sa soeur, have become involved in thiscrowd. They will do us the favour of taking shelter here till theuproar is over. '

Madame Darpent welcomed them kindly, but with anxious inquiries. Herson only threw her a word in answer, prayed to be excused, and dashedoff again. 

'Ah! there he is. May he be saved, the good old man, ' cried MadameDarpent. 

And they could see a carriage with four horses containing theLieutenant Comminges holding a white-haired old man, in a very shabbydressing-gown; while soldiers, men, women, boys, all struggled, fought, and shrieked round it, like the furies let loose. Thecarriage passed on, but the noise and struggle continued, and MadameDarpent was soon intensely anxious about her son. 

It seemed that Clement had carried his warnings, and that four orfive of the councillors had taken care to be beyond the walls ofParis; among them his own father, the Councillor Darpent, who was aprudent man, and thought it best to be on the right side. ThePresident Broussel, a good-humoured, simple, hearty old man, was notquite well, and though he thanked his young friend, he would notbelieve any such harm was intended against him as to make him derangehis course of medicine. 

Thus, when Comminges marched into the house to arrest him, he wassitting at dinner, eating his bouillon, in dressing-gown andslippers. His daughter cried out that he was not fit to leave thehouse. At the same time, an old maid-servant put her head out at awindow, screaming that her master was going to be carried off. 

He was much beloved, and a host of people ran together, trying tobreak the carriage and cut the traces. Comminges, seeing that notime was to be lost, forced the poor old lawyer down to the carriagejust as he was, in his dressing-gown and slippers, and drove off. But the mob thickened every moment, in spite of the guards, and avery few yards beyond where they had taken refuge at MadameDarpent's, a large wooden bench had been thrown across the street, and the uproar redoubled round it--the yells, shrieks, and criesringing all down the road. However, the carriage passed that, anddashed on, throwing down and crushing people right and left; so thatMadame Darpent was first in terror for her son, and then would fainhave rushed out to help the limping, crying sufferers. 

They heard another horrible outcry, but could see no more, except thefluctuating heads of the throng below them, and loud yells, howls, and maledictions came to their ears. By and by, however, Clementreturned, having lost his hat in the crowd; with blood on his collar, and with one of his lace cuffs torn, though he said he was not hurt. 

'They have him!' he said bitterly; 'the tyranny has succeeded!'

'Oh, hush, my son! Take care!' cried his mother. 

'M. Le Baron and I understand one another, Madame, ' he said, smiling. 

He went on to tell that the carriage had been overturned on the Quaides Orfevres, just opposite the hotel of the First President. Comminges sprang out, sword in hand, drove back the crowd, who wouldhave helped out Broussel, and shouted for the soldiers, some of whomkept back those who would have succoured the prisoner with theirdrawn swords. Clement himself had been slightly touched, but wasforced back in the scuffle; while the good old man called out to himnot to let any one be hurt on his behalf. 

Other soldiers were meantime seizing a passing carriage, and takingout a poor lady who occupied it. Before it could be brought near, the raging crowd had brought axes and hacked it to pieces. Commingesand his soldiers, well-armed, still dragged their victim along till atroop of the Queen's guards came up with another carriage, in whichthe poor old President was finally carried off. 

'And this is what we have to submit to from a Spaniard and anItalian!' cried Clement Darpent. 

He had come back to reassure his mother and his guests, but thetumult was raging higher than ever. The crowd had surrounded theTuileries, filling the air with shouts of 'Broussel! Broussel!' andthreatening to tear down the doors and break in, overwhelming theguards. Eustace and his host went out again, and presently reportedthat the Marshal de Meileraye had been half killed, but had beenrescued by the Coadjutor, who was giving the people all manner ofpromises. This was verified by shouts of 'Vive le Roi!' and by andby the crowd came past once more, surrounding the carriage, on thetop of which was seated the Coadjutor, in his violet robes, but withhis skull cap away, and his cheek bleeding from the blow of a stone. He was haranguing, gesticulating, blessing, doing all in his power topacify the crowd, and with the hope of the release of the councilorsall was quieting down; and Clement, after reconnoitering, thought itsafe to order the carriage to take home his guests. 

'No one can describe, ' said my sister, 'how good and sweet Madamewas, though she looked so like a Puritan dame. Her face was sowonderfully calm and noble, like some grand old saint in a picture;and it lighted up so whenever her son came near her, I wanted to askher blessing! And I think she gave it inwardly. She curtsied, andwould have kissed my hand, as being only bourgeois, while I wasnoble; but I told her I would have no such folly, and I made her giveme a good motherly embrace!'

'I hope she gave you something to eat, ' I said, laughing. 

'Oh, yes; we had an excellent meal. She made us eat before sendingus home, soup, and ragout, and chocolate--excellent chocolate. Shehad it brought as soon as possible, because Eustace looked so paleand tired. Oh, Meg! She is the very best creature I have seen inFrance. Your Rambouillets are nothing to her! I hope I may see heroften again!'

And while Eustace marveled if this were a passing tumult or thebeginning of a civil war, my most immediate wonder was what my motherwould say to this adventure. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE BARRICADES

My mother did not come home till the evening, when the streets hadbecome tolerably quiet. She had a strange account to give, for shehad been at the palace all the time in attendance on Queen Henrietta, who tried in vain to impress her sister-in-law with a sense that thematter was serious. Queen Anne of Austria was too proud to believethat a parliament and a mob could do any damage to the throne ofFrance, whatever they might effect in England. 

There she sat in her grand cabinet, and with her were the Cardinal, the Duke of Longueville, and many other gentlemen, especiallyMessieurs de Nogent and de Beautru, who were the wits, if not thebuffoons of the Court, and who turned all the reports they heard intoridicule. The Queen-Regent smiled in her haughty way, but the Queenof England laid her hand sadly on my mother's arm and said, 'Alas, mydear friend, was it not thus that once we laughed?'

Presently in came Marshal de la Meilleraye and the Coadjutor, andtheir faces and gestures showed plainly that they were seriouslyalarmed; but M. De Beautru, nothing daunted, turned to the Regent, saying, 'How ill Her Majesty must be, since M. Le Coadjutor is cometo bring her extreme unction, ' whereupon there was another greatburst of applause and laughter. 

The Coadjutor pretended not to hear, and addressing the Queen toldher that he had come to offer his services to her at a moment ofpressing danger. Anne of Austria only vouchsafed a little nod withher head, by way at once of thanks, and showing how officious andsuperfluous she thought him, while Nogent and Beautru continued tomimic the dismay of poor Broussel, seized in his dressing-gown andslippers, and the shrieks of his old housekeeper from the window. 'Did no one silence them for being so unmanly?' cried Annora, as sheheard this. 

'Child, thou art foolish!' said my mother with dignity. 'Why shouldthe resistance of canaille like that be observed at all, save to makesport?'

For my poor mother, since she had been dipped again into the Courtatmosphere, had learned to look on whatever was not noble, as not ofthe same nature with herself. However, she said that Marshal de laMeilleraye, a thorough soldier, broke in by assuring the Queen thatthe populace were in arms, howling for Broussel, and the Coadjutorbegan to describe the fierce tumult through which he had made hisway, but the Cardinal only gave his dainty provoking Italian smile, and the Queen-Regent proudly affirmed that there neither was norcould be a revolt. 

'We know, ' added Mazarin, in his blandest tone of irony, 'that M. LeCoadjuteur is so devoted to the Court, and so solicitous for hisflock, that a little over-anxiety must be pardoned to him!'

This was while shouts of 'BROUSSEL! BROUSSEL!' were echoing throughthe palace, and in a few moments came the Lieutenant-Colonel of theGuards to say that the populace were threatening to overpower thesoldiers at the gates; and next came the Chancellor, nearlyfrightened out of his wits, saying that he had seen the peoplehowling like a pack of wolves, carrying all sorts of strange weapons, and ready to force their way in. Then old Monsieur Guitauet, theColonel of the Guards, declared 'that the old rogue Broussel must besurrendered, dead or alive. '

'The former step would not be accordant with the Queen's piety norher justice, ' broke in the Coadjutor; 'the second might stop thetumult. '

'I understand you, M. Le Coadjuteur, ' broke out the Queen. 'You wantme to set Broussel at liberty. I would rather strangle him with myown hands, and those who---'

And she held those plump white hands of hers almost close to theArchbishop's face, as if she were ready to do it, but CardinalMazarin whispered something in her ear which made her less violent, and the next moment the lieutenant of police came in, with such aterrific account of the fury of the mob and their numbers, that therewas no more incredulity; it was plain that there was really a mostfrightful uproar, and both the Regent and the Cardinal entreated theCoadjutor to go down and pacify the people by promises. He tried toobtain from the Queen some written promise. 

'He was right, ' said Eustace. 

'Right!' cried my mother. 'What! to seek to bind Her Majesty down bywritten words, like a base mechanical bourgeois? I am ashamed ofyou, my son! No, indeed, we all cried out upon him, Archbishopthough he were, and told him that Her Majesty's word was worth tenthousand bonds. '

'May it be so proved!' muttered Eustace, while my mother went on todescribe how the Coadjutor was pressed, pushed, and almost draggeddown the great stair-case to speak to the infuriated people who wereyelling and shrieking outside the court. Monsieur de Meilleraye wentbefore him, backed by all the light horse drawn up in the court, andmounting his horse, drew his sword crying, 'Vive le Roi! Liberty forBroussel!' he was met by a cry of 'To arms, to arms!' and there wasa rush against him, some trying to pull him off his horse, and oneattacking him with a rusty old sword. The Marshal fired at him andhe fell, severely wounded, just as the Coadjutor came down, andseeing him lying in the gutter like one dead, knelt down by him, heard his confession, and absolved him. 

(It was afterwards said that the man was a pick-lock, but we alwayssuspected that the Coadjutor had made the worst of him by way ofenhancing a good story. )

Just as the absolution was finished, some more of the mob came up, and one threw a stone which hit the Archbishop on the cheek, andanother pointed a musket at him. 'Unhappy man, ' he cried, 'if yourfather saw you!' This seemed to touch the man; he cried: 'Vive leCoadjuteur!' And so easily were the people swayed, that they allbegan to applaud him to the skies, and he led them off to the market-place. 

'We thought ourselves rid of them, ' said my mother, 'we began tobreathe again, and I was coming home, but, bah! No such thing! Theyare all coming back, thirty or forty thousand of them, only withouttheir weapons. At least the gentlemen said so, but I am sure theyhad them hidden. Up comes M. Le Coadjuteur again, the Marshal deMeileraye leading him by the hand up the Queen, and saying: 'Here, Madame, is one to whom I owe my life, but to whom your Majesty owesthe safety of the State, nay, perhaps of the palace. ''

The Queen smiled, seeing through it all, said my mother, and theCoadjutor broke in: 'The matter is not myself, Madame, it is Paris, now disarmed and submissive, at your Majesty's feet. '

'It is very guilty, and far from submissive, ' said the Queen angrily;'pray, if it were so furious, how can it have been so rapidly tamed?'And then M. De Meilleraye must needs break in furiously: 'Madame, anhonest man cannot dissemble the state of things. If Broussel is notset at liberty, tomorrow there will not be one stone upon another atParis. '

But the Queen was firm, and put them both down, only saying: 'Go andrest, Monsieur, you have worked hard. '

'Was that all the thanks he had?' exclaimed Annora. 

'Of course it was, child. The Queen and Cardinal knew very well thatthe tumult was his work; or at least immensely exaggerated by him, just to terrify her into releasing that factious old mischief-maker!Why, he went off I know not where, haranguing them from the top ofhis carriage!'

'Ah! that was where we saw him, ' said Nan. 'Madame, indeed there wasnothing exaggerated in the tumult. It was frightful. They made tentimes the noise our honest folk do in England, and did ten timesless. If they had been English, M. Broussel would be safe at homenow!'

'No the tumult was not over-painted, that I can testify, ' said mybrother. 

But when my mother came to hear how he and Annora had witnessed thescene from the windows of M. Darpent's house, her indignation knew nobounds. I never saw her so angry with Eustace as she now was, thathe should have taken his sister into the house of one of thesecouncillors; a bourgeois house was bad enough, but that it shouldhave been actually one of the disaffected, and that the Darpentcarriage should have been seen at our door, filled her with horror. It was enough to ruin us all for ever with the Court. 

'What have we to do with the Court?' cried my sister, and this, ofcourse, only added fuel to the flame, till at last my mother came todeclaring that she should never trust her daughter with my brotheragain, for he was not fit to take care of her. 

But we were all surprised by Eustace, when he bade my mother good-night, quietly bending his dark curled head, ad saying: 'My mother, Iask your pardon, I am sorry I offended you. '

'My son, my dear son, ' she cried, embracing him. 'Never think of itmore, only if we never go home, I cannot have your sister made a merebourgeoise'

'How could you, brother!' cried Annora, waiting outside the door. 'Now you have owned yourself in the wrong!'

'I have not said so, Nan, ' he answered. 'I have simply said I wassorry to have offended my mother, and that is true; I could not sleepunder her displeasure. '

'But you do not care about ruining yourself with this perfidiousforeign Court. '

'Not a rush, so long as I do not bring Meg and her son into danger. '

Things were quiet that night, but every one knew that it was only alull in the storm. 

I set off to morning mass with my son and little Armantine as usual, thinking all would be quiet so early in our part of the city, butbefore the service was over there was the dull roar of the populacein a fury to be heard in the distance, and Nicole met me at thechurch door entreating me to get home as quickly as possible. 

To my dismay there was a large heavy chain across the end of thestreet, not such as to stop foot passengers, but barring the wayagainst carriages, and the street was fast filling with shopkeepers, apprentices, market-women, and all sorts of people. The childrenclung to my hands, half frightened and half eager. Suddenly we saw acarriage stopped by the chain, and the people crowding round it. Outof it sprang two gentlemen and a lady, and began hurrying forwardlike people hunted. I drew the children back into the church porch, and was shocked to see that those who were then fleeing in haste andterror were the Chancellor, M. Seguier, with his brother, the Bishopof Meaux, and his daughter the beautiful young Duchess de Sully. Itried to attract their attention and draw them into the church as aplace of safety, but they were in too much haste and terror toperceive me, and a man began shouting after them:

'To arms, friends, to arms! There's the enemy. Kill him! and weshall have vengeance for all we suffer!'

The mob rushed after, shouting horribly. Armantine began to cry, andI took her in my arms, while Nicole held my son. 

The whole crowd rushed past us, never heeding us, as we stood abovethem, and as we were only thirty yards from home I hoped soon toreach it, though I hesitated, as the screeches, yells, and howls werestill to be heard lower down the street, and fresh parties of men, women, and children kept rushing down to join the throng. If itshould surge back again before we could get home, what would becomeof us?

Suddenly Gaspard cried out: 'My uncle!' And there was indeed mybrother. 'Good heavens!' he cried, 'you there, sister! They told meyou were gone to church, but I could hardly believe it! Come homebefore the mob comes back. '

I asked anxiously for the Chancellor, and heard he had escaped intothe Hotel de Luynes, which was three doors beyond ours. He had setout at six in the morning for the palace, it was believed to takeorders for breaking up the Parliament. His daughter, thinking theremight be danger, chose to go with him, and so did his brother theBishop; but the instant he was known to be entangled in the streets, the mob rose on him, the chains were put up, he had to leave hiscarriage and flee on foot to the Hotel de Luynes, where his brother-in-law lived. There the door was open, but no one was up but an oldservant, and, in the utmost terror, the unhappy Chancellor rushedinto a little wainscoted closet, where he shut himself up, confessinghis sins to the Bishop, believing his last moments were come. Infact, the mob did search all over the hotel, some meaning to make hima hostage for Broussel, and others shouting that they would cut himto pieces to show what fate awaited the instruments of tyranny. Theydid actually beat against the wainscot of his secret chamber, buthearing nothing, they left the spot, but continued to keep guardround the house, shouting out execrations against him. 

Meantime Eustace had brought us safely home, where the first thing wedid was to hurry up to the balcony, where Annora was already watchinganxiously. 

Presently, Marshal de Meilleraye and his light horse came gallopingand clattering down the street, while the mob fled headlong, hitherand thither, before them. A carriage was brought out, and theChancellor with his brother and daughter was put into it, but as theywere driving off the mob rallied again and began to pursue them. Ashot was fired, and a poor woman, under a heavy basket, fell. Therewas another outburst of curses, screams, howls, yells, shots; andcarriage, guards, people, all rushed past us, the coach going at thefull speed of its six horses, amid a shower of stones, and evenbullets, the guards galloping after, sometimes firing or cutting withtheir swords, the people keeping up with them at a headlong pace, pelting them with stones and dirt, and often firing at them, for, indeed, the poor young Duchess received a wound before they couldreach the palace. Meanwhile others of the mob began ransacking theHotel de Luynes in their rage at the Chancellor's escape, and theymade dreadful havoc of the furniture, although they did not pillageit. 

My mother wept bitterly, declaring that the evil days she had seen inEngland were pursuing her to France; and we could not persuade herthat we were in no danger, until the populace, having done theirworst at the Hotel de Luynes, drifted away from our street. Eustacecould not of course bear to stay shut up and knowing nothing, and heand the Abbe both went out different ways, leaving us to devour ouranxiety as best we could, knowing nothing but that there was a chainacross each end of our street, with a double row of stakes on eitherside, banked up with earth, stones, straw, all sorts of things, andguarded by men with all manner of queer old weapons that had comedown from the wars of the League. Eustace even came upon one of theold-fashioned arquebuses standing on three legs to be fired; and, what was worse, there was a gorget with the portrait of the murdererof Henri III. Enameled on it, and the inscription 'S. JacquesClement, ' but the Coadjutor had the horrible thing broken uppublicly. My brother said things did indeed remind him of the rustyold weapons that were taken down at the beginning of the Rebellion. He had been to M. Darpent's, and found him exceedingly busy, and hadlearned from him that the Coadjutor was at the bottom of all thisday's disturbance. Yes, Archbishop de Gondi himself. He had beenbitterly offended at the mocking, mistrustful way in which hisservices had been treated, and besides, reports came to him thatCardinal talked of sending him of Quimper Corentin, and Broussel toHavre, and the Chancellor to dismiss the Parliament! He had takencounsel with his friends, and determined to put himself and the headof the popular movement and be revenged upon the Court, and one ofhis familiar associates, M. D'Argenteuil, had disguised himself as amason, and led the attack with a rule in his hand, while a lady, Madame Martineau, had beaten the drum and collected the throng toguard the gates and attack the Chancellor. There were, it wascomputed, no less than 1260 barricades all over Paris, and theParliament was perfectly amazed at the excitement produced by thecapture of Broussel. Finding that they had such supporters, theParliament was more than ever determined to make a stand for itsrights--whatever they might be. 

The Queen had sent to command the Coadjutor to appease the sedition, but he had answered that he had made himself so odious by hisexertions of the previous day that he could not undertake what wasdesired of him. 

The next thing we heard was that the First President, Mathieu Mole, one of the very best men then living, had gone at the head of sixty-six Counsellors of Parliament, two and two, to seek an audience ofthe Queen. They were followed by a huge multitude, who supposedBroussel to be still at the Palais Royal. 

The Counsellors were admitted, but the Queen was as obdurate as ever. She told them that they, their wives and children, should answer forthis day's work, and that a hundred thousand armed men should notforce her to give up her will. Then she got up from her chair, wentout of the room, and slammed the door! It is even said that shetalked of hanging a few of the Counsellors from the windows tointimidate the mob; but Mademoiselle assured me that this was nottrue; though M. De Meilleraye actually proposed cutting offBroussel's head and throwing it out into the street. 

The Counsellors were kept waiting two hours in the Great Gallery, while the mob roared outside, and the Cardinal, the Dukes of Orleansand Longueville, and other great nobles, argued the matter with theQueen. The Cardinal was, it seems, in a terrible fright. The Queen, full of Spanish pride and high courage, would really have ratherperished than yielded to the populace; but Mazarin was more and moreterrified, and at last she yielded, and consented to his going to theCounsellors to promise the release of the prisoners. He wastrembling all over, and made quite an absurd appearance, andpresently the Parliament men appeared again, carrying huge sealedletters; Broussel's was borne by his nephew in triumph. We couldhear the Vivas! With which the people greeted them, as the promise ofrestoration was made known. At eleven at night there was a freshoutcry, but this was of joy, for M. Blancmesnil had actually comeback from Vincennes; but the barricades were not taken down. Therewas to be no laying down of arms till Broussel appeared, and therewere strange noises all night, preventing sleep. 

At eight o'clock the next morning Broussel had not appeared; thepeople were walking about in a sullen rage, and this was made worseby a report that there were 10, 000 soldiers in the Bois de Boulogneready to chastise the people. We could see from our house-top theglancing or arms at every barricade where the sun could penetrate, and in the midst came one of the servants announcing Monsieur ClementDarpent. 

He had a sword by his side, and pistols at his belt, and he said thathe was come to assure the ladies that there would be no danger forthem. If any one tried to meddle with the house, we might say wewere friends of M. Darpent, and we should be secure. If the accountof the soldiers outside were true, the people were determined not toyield to such perfidy; but he did not greatly credit it, only it waswell to be prepared. 

'Alas! my friend, ' said Eustace, 'this has all too much the air ofrebellion. '

'We stand on our rights and privileges, ' said Darpent. 'We upholdthem in the King's name against the treachery of a Spanish woman andan Italian priest. '

'You have been sorely tried, ' said Eustace; 'but I doubt me whetheranything justifies taking arms against the Crown. '

'Ah! I am talking to a Cavalier, ' said Clement. 'But I must notargue the point. I must to my barricade. '

Nan here came forward, and desired him to carry her commendations andthanks to Madame sa mere, and he bowed, evidently much gratified. She durst not go the length of offering her good wishes, and she toldme I ought to have been thankful to her for the forbearance, when, under a strong sense of duty, I reproved her. Technically he wasonly Maitre Darpent, and his mother only would have been calledMademoiselle. Monsieur and Madame were much more jealously limitedto nobility than they are now becoming, and the Darpents would notpurchase a patent of nobility to shelter themselves from taxation. For, as Eustace said, the bourgeoisie had its own chivalry of ideas. 

There was no more fighting. By ten o'clock Broussel was in the city, the chains were torn down, the barricades leveled, and he made atriumphal progress. He was taken first to Notre Dame, and as he leftthe carriage his old dressing-gown was almost torn to pieces, everyone crowding to kiss it, or his feet, calling him their father andprotector, and anxiously inquiring for his health. A Te Deum wassung--if not so splendid, much more full of the ring of joy than thegrand one two days before! Engravings of his portrait were soldabout the streets, bearing the inscription 'Pierre Broussel, fatherof his country;' and the good-natured old man seemed quite bewilderedat the honours that had befallen him. 

There were a few more alarms that night and the next day, but at lastthey subsided, the barricades were taken down, and things returned totheir usual state, at least to all outward appearance. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A PATIENT GRISEL

Matters seemed to be getting worse all round us both in France andEngland. King Charles was in the hands of his enemies, and all thegood news that we could hear from England was that the Duke of Yorkhad escaped in a girl's dress, and was on board the fleet athelvoetsluys, where his brother the Prince of Wales jointed him. 

And my own dear brother, Lord Walwyn, declared that he could nolonger remain inactive at Paris, so far from intelligence, but thathe must be with the Princes, ready to assist in case anything shouldbe attempted on the King's behalf. We much dreaded the effect of theDutch climate on his health. And while tumultuous assemblies wereconstantly taking place in Parliament, and no one could guess whatwas coming next, we did not like parting with our protector; but hesaid that he was an alien, and could do nothing for us. The army wason its way home, and with it our brother de Solivet, and M. D'Aubepine; and his clear duty was to be ready to engage in the causeof his own King. We were in no danger at Paris, our sex wassufficient protection, and if we were really alarmed, there could beno reason against our fleeing to Nid de Merle. Nay, perhaps, if theCourt were made to take home the lesson, we might be allowed toreside there, and be unmolested in making improvements. He hadanother motive, which he only whispered to me. 

'I cannot, and will not, give up my friend Darpent; and it is notfitting to live in continual resistance to my mother. It does muchharm to Annora, who is by no means inclined to submit, and if I amgone there can be no further question of intercourse. '

I thought this was hard upon us all. Had we not met M. Darpent atthe Hotel Rambouillet, and was he not a fit companion for us?

'Most assuredly, ' said Eustace; 'but certain sentiments may arisefrom companionship which in her case were better avoided. '

As you may imagine, my grandchildren, I cried out in horror at theidea that if M. Darpent were capable of such presumption, my sister, a descendant of the Ribaumonts, could stoop for a moment to favour amere bourgeois; but Eustace, Englishman as he was, laughed at myindignation, and said Annora was more of the Ribmont than the deRibaumont, and that he would not be accessory either to the breakingof hearts or to letting her become rebellious, and so that he shouldput temptation out of her way. I knew far too well what was becomingto allow myself to suppose for a moment that Eustace thought aninclination between the two already could exist. I forgot how thingshad been broken up in England. 

As to Annora, she thought Eustace's right place was with the Prince, and she would not stretch out a finger to hold him back, only shelonged earnestly that he would take us with him. Could he notpersuade our mother that France was becoming dangerous, and that shewould be safe in Holland? But of course he only laughed at that; andwe all saw that unless the Queen of England chose to follow her sons, there was no chance of my mother leaving the Court. 

'No, my sister, ' said Eustace tenderly, 'there is nothing for you todo but to endure patiently. It is very hard for you to be both firmand resolute, and at the same time dutiful; but it is a noble part inits very difficulty, and my Nan will seek strength for it. '

Then the girl pressed up to him, and told him that one thing he mustpromise her, namely, that he would prevent my mother from disposingof her hand without his consent. 

'As long as you are here I am safe, ' said she; 'but when you are goneI do not know what she may attempt. And here is this Solivet son ofhers coming too!'

'Solivet has no power over you, ' said Eustace. 'You may makeyourself easy, Nan. Nobody can marry you without my consent, for myfather made me your guardian. And I doubt me if your portion, solong as I am living, be such as to tempt any man to wed such a littlefury, even were we at home. '

'Thanks for the hint, brother, ' said Annora. 'I will take care thatany such suitor SHALL think me a fury. '

'Nay, child, in moderation! Violence is not strength. Nay, ratherit exhausts the forces. Resolution and submission are ourwatchwords. '

How noble he looked as he said it, and how sad it was to part withhim! my mother wept most bitterly, and said it was cruel to leave usto our fate, and that he would kill himself in the Dutch marshes; butwhen the actual pain of parting with him was over, I am not sure thatshe had not more hope of carrying out her wishes. She would havebegun by forbidding Annora to go, attended only by the servants, toprayers at the England ambassador's: but Eustace had foreseen this, and made arrangements with a good old knight and his lady, SirFrancis Ommaney, always to call for my sister on their way to church, and she was always ready for them. My mother used to say that herdevotion was all perverseness, and now and then, when more thanusually provoked with her, would declare that it was quite plain thather poor child's religion was only a heresy, since it did not makeher a better daughter. 

That used to sting Annora beyond all measure. Sometimes she wouldreply by pouring out a catalogue of all the worst offences of our ownChurch, and Heaven knows she could find enough of them! Or at othersshe would appeal to the lives of all the best people she had everheard of in England, and especially of Eustace, declaring that sheknew she herself was far from good, but that was not the fault of herreligion, but of herself; and she would really strive to besubmissive and obliging for many days afterwards. 

Meantime the Prince of Conde had returned, and had met the Court atRuel. M. D'Aubepine and M. De Solivet both were coming with him, andmy poor little Cecile wrote letter after letter to her husband, quitecorrect in grammar and orthography, asking whether she should havethe Hotel d'Aubepine prepared, and hire servants to receive him; butshe never received a line in reply. She was very anxious to knowwhether the concierge had received any orders, and yet she could notbear to betray her ignorance. 

I had been startled by passing in the street a face which I wasalmost sure belonged to poor Cecile's former enemy, MademoiselleGringrimeau, now the wife of Croquelebois, the intendant of theestate; and setting old Nicole to work, I ascertained that this sameagent and his wife were actually at the Hotel d'Aubepine, having cometo meet their master, but that no apartments were made ready for him, as it was understood that being on the staff he would be lodge in theHotel de Conde. 

'His duty!' said Cecile; 'he must fulfil his duty, but at least Ishall see him. '

But to hear of the intendant and his wife made me very uneasy. 

The happier wives were going out in their carriages to meet theirhusbands on the road, but Cecile did not even know when he wascoming, nor by what road. 

'So much the better, ' said our English Nan. 'If I had a husband, Iwould never make him look foolish in the middle of the road with awoman and a pack of children hanging on him!'

No one save myself understood her English bashfulness, shrinking fromall display of sentiment, and I--ah! I had known such blissfulmeetings, when my Philippe had been full of joy to see me come out tomeet him. Ah! will he meet me thus at the gates of Paradise? Itcannot be far off now!

I knew I should weep all the way if I set out with my mother to meether son; and Cecile was afraid both of the disappointment if she didnot meet her husband, and of his being displeased if he should come. So she only took with her Annora and M. De Solivet's two daughters, Gabrielle and Petronille, who were fetched from the Convent of theVisitation. There they sat in the carriage, Nan told me, exactlyalike in their pensionnaire's uniform, still and shy on the edge ofthe seat, not daring to look to the right or left, and answeringunder their breath, so that she longed to shake them. I foundafterwards that the heretic Mademoiselle de Ribaumont was a fearfulspectacle to them, and that they were expecting her all the time tobreak out in the praises of Luther, or of Henry VIII. , or of some onewhom they had been taught to execrate; and whenever she opened herlips they thought she was going to pervert them, and were quitesurprised when she only made a remark, like other people, on thecarriages and horsemen who passed them. 

Meanwhile Cecile saw her little girl and boy dressed in their best, and again rehearsed the curtsey and the bow and the little speecheswith which they were to meet their father. She was sure, she said, that whatever he might think of her, he must be enchanted with them;and truly they had beautiful eyes, and Armantine was a charmingchild, though Maurice was small and pale, and neither equaled myGaspard, who might have been White Ribaumont for height andcomplexion, resembling much his uncle Walwyn, and yet in countenancelike his father. Then Cecile and I, long before it was reasonable, took our station near a window overlooking the porte-cochere. I satwith my work, while the children watched on the window-seat, and she, at every exclamation of theirs, leaped up to look out, but only tosee some woodcutter with his pile of faggots, or a washer-womancarrying home a dress displayed on its pole, or an ell of breadcoming in from the baker's; and she resumed her interruptedconversation on her security that for the children's sake her husbandwould set up his household together with her at the Hotel d'Aubepine. She had been learning all she could, while she was with us, and ifshe could only be such that he need not be ashamed of her, and wouldlove her only a little for his children's sake, how happy she shouldbe!

I encouraged her, for her little dull provincial convent air wasquite gone; she had acquired the air of society, my mother had taughther something of the art of dress, and though nothing would ever makeher beautiful in feature, or striking in figure, she had such asweet, pleading, lovely expression of countenance that I could notthink how any one could resist her. At last it was no longer a falsealarm. The children cried out, not in vain. The six horses wereclattering under the gateway, the carriage came in sight before thesteps. Cecile dropped back in her chair as pale as death, murmuring:'Tell me if he is there!'

Alas! 'he' was not there. I only saw M. De Solivet descend from thecarriage and hand out my mother, my sister, and his two daughters. Icould but embrace my poor sister-in-law, and assure her that I wouldbring her tidings of her husband, and then hurry away with Gaspardthat I might meet my half-brother at the salon door. There he was, looking very happy, with a daughter in each hand, and they hadlighted up into something like animation, which made Petronilleespecially show that she might some day be pretty. He embraced me, like the good-natured friendly brother he had always been, andexpressed himself perfectly amazed at the growth and beauty of mylittle Marquis, as well he might be, for my mother and I both agreedthat there was not such another child among all the King's pages. 

I asked, as soon as I could, for M. D'Aubepine, and heard that he wasattending the Prince, who would, of course, first have to dress, andthen to present himself to the Queen-Regent, and kiss her hand, afterwhich he would go to Madame de Longueville's reception of the King. It was almost a relief to hear that the Count was thus employed, andI sent my son to tell his aunt that she might be no longer insuspense. 

I asked Solivet whether we might expect the young man on leaving theLouvre, and he only shrugged his shoulders and said: 'What know I?'It became plain to me that he would not discuss the matter before hisdaughters, now fourteen and fifteen, and we all had to sit down to anearly supper, after which they were to be taken back to theirconvent. M. D'Aubepine appeared, and was quite cheerful, for shefigured to herself once more that her husband was only detained byhis duties and his value to his Prince, and was burning every momentto see his little ones. She asked questions about him, and becameradiant when she heard of his courage at Lens, and the complimentsthat M. Le Prince had paid to him. 

After supper the little pensionnaires were to be taken back, and assome lady must escort them, I undertook the charge, finding withgreat delight that their father would accompany them likewise. Ieffaced myself as much as I could on the way, and let the father anddaughters talk to one another; and they chattered freely about theirtasks, and works, and playfellows, seeming very happy with him. 

But on the way home was my opportunity, and I asked what my half-brother really thought of M. D'Aubepine. 

'He is a fine young man, ' he said. 

'You have told me that before; but what hopes are there for hiswife?'

'Poor little thing, ' returned Solivet. 

'Can he help loving her?' I said

'Alas! my sister, he has been in a bad school, and has before him anexample--of courage, it is true, but not precisely of conjugalaffection. '

'Is it true, then, ' I asked, 'that the Princess of Conde is keptutterly in the background in spite of her mother-in-law, and that thePrince publishes his dislike to her?'

'Perfectly true, ' said my brother. 'When a hero, adored by hisofficers, actually declares that the only thing he does not wish tosee in France is his wife, what can you expect of them? Even somewho really love their wives bade them remain at home, and will stealaway to see them with a certain shame; and for Aubepine, he is onlytoo proud to resemble the Prince in being married against his will toa little half-deformed child, who is to be avoided. '

I cried out at this, and demanded whether my little sister-in-lawcould possibly be thus described. He owned that she was incrediblyimproved, and begged my pardon and hers, saying that he was onlyrepeating what Aubepine either believed or pretended to believe herto be. 

'If I could only speak with him!' I said. 'For my husband's sake Iused to have some influence with him. I would give the world to meethim before he sees the intendant and his wife. Could we contriveit?'

In a few moments we had settled it. Happily we were both in fulldress, in case friends should have dropped in on us. Both of us hadthe entree at Madame de Longueville's, and it would be quite correctto pay her our compliments on the return of her brother. 

I believe Solivet a little questioned whether one so headstrong hadnot better be left to himself, but he allowed that no one had everdone as much with Armand d'Aubepine as my husband and myself, andwhen he heard my urgent wish to forestall the intendant, whose wifewas Cecile's old tyrant, Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau, he thought itworth the venture. He said I was a warlike Gildippe still, and thathe would stand by me. 

So the coachman received his orders; we fell in among the long lineof carriages, and in due time made our way to the salon, where Madamele Duchesse de Longueville sat enthroned in all the glory of her fairhair and beautiful complexion, toying with her fan as she conversedwith the Prince of Marsillac, the most favoured at that time of awhole troop of admirers and devoted slaves. She was not anintellectual woman herself, but she had beyond all others who I eversaw the power of leading captive the very ablest men. 

The hero had not yet come from the palace, and having made ourcompliments, and received a gracious smile and nod, we stood aside, waiting and conversing with others, and in some anxiety lest thePrince should be detained at the Louvre. However, before long hecame, and his keen eagle face, and the stars on his breast, flashedon us, as he returned the greetings of one group after another inhis own peculiar manner, haughty, and yet not without a certaincharm. 

A troop of officers followed, mingling with the gay crowd of ladiesand gentlemen, and among them Solivet pointed out the Countd'Aubepine. I should not otherwise have known him, so much was healtered in these six years, changing him from youth to manhood. Hishair was much darker, he had a small pointed beard, and the childishcontour of cheek and chin had passed away, and he was altogetherdeveloped, but there was something that did not reassure me. Heseemed to have lost, with his boyhood, that individuality which wehad once loved, and to have passed into an ordinary officer, like allthe rest of the gay, dashing, handsome, but often hardened-lookingmen, who were enjoying their triumphant return into ladies' society. 

Solivet had accosted him. I saw his eye glance anxiously round, thenhe seemed reassured, and came towards me with some eagerness, greeting me with some compliment, I know not what, on my appearance;but I cut this as short as I could be saying: 'Know you, Monsieur, why I am here? I am come to ask you to bestow a little half-hour onone who is longing to see you. '

'Madame, I am desolated to refuse you, but, you see, I am inattendance, and on duty; I am not the master!'

However, my brother observed that he would not be required for atleast two hours, and his movements would be quite free until theparty broke up. And after a little importunity, I actually carriedhim off, holding up his hands and declaring that he could notwithstand Madame de Bellaise, so as to cast over his concession anair of gallantry without which I believe his vanity would never haveyielded. 

However, I had my hopes; I would not blame him when I had such anadvantage over him as having him shut up with me in my coach, for weleft Solivet to make his excuses, and as we told him, for a hostage, to come back when I released my prisoner. I trusted more to theeffect of the sight of my sweet little Cecile than to any exhortationin my power; indeed, I thought I had better keep him in good humourby listening amiably to his explanation of the great favour that hewas doing me in coming to see Madame, my mother, and howindispensable he was to M. Le Prince. 

He must have known what I was carrying him to see, but he did notchoose to show that he did, and when he gave me his arm and I tookhim into the pansy salon, there sat my mother with my sister, two orthree old friends who had come to congratulate her, and to see M. DeSolivet, and Cecile, who had not been able to persuade herself tosend her children to bed, though she knew not of my audaciousenterprises. 

I saw that he did not know her in the least, as he advanced to mymother, as the lady of the house, and in one moment I recollected howmy grandfather had fallen in love with my grandmother without knowingshe was his life. Cecile, crimson all over, with her children besideher, sprang forward, her heart telling her who he was. 'Ah, Monsieur, embrace your son, ' she murmured. And little Armantine andMaurice, as they had been tutored, made their pretty reverences, andsaid, 'Welcome, my papa. '

He really was quite touched. There was something, too, in thesurroundings which was sympathetic. He embraced them all, andevidently looked at his wife with amazement, sitting down at lastbeside her with his little boy upon his knee. 

We drew to the farther end of the room that they might beunembarrassed. Annora was indignant that we did not leave themalone, but I thought he wanted a certain check upon him, and that itwas good for him to be in the presence of persons who expected him tobe delighted to see his wife and children. 

I believe that that quarter of an hour was actual pain to Cecile fromthe very overflowing rush of felicity. To have her husband seatedbeside her, with his son upon his knee, had been the dream and prayerof her life for six years, and now that it was gratified the veryintensity of her hopes and fears choked her, made her stammer andanswer at random, when a woman without her depth of affection mighthave put out all kinds of arts to win and detain him. 

After a time he put the child down, but still held his hand, came upto the rest of the company and mingled with it. I could have wishedthey had been younger and more fashionable, instead of a poor oldScottish cavalier and his wife, my mother's old contemporary Madamede Delincourt, and a couple of officers waiting for Solivet. Annorawas the only young brilliant creature there, and she had much too lowan opinion of M. D'Aubepine to have a word to say to him, andcontinued to converse in English with old Sir Andrew Macniven aboutthe campaigns of the Marquis of Montrose, both of them hurling outbarbarous names that were enough to drive civilized ears out of theroom. 

Our unwilling guest behaved with tolerably good grace, and presentlymade his excuse to my mother and me, promising immediately to sendback Solivet to his friends. His wife went with him into the outerroom, and when in a few minutes Armantine ran back to call me---

'Papa is gone, and mama is crying, ' she said. 

It was true, but they were tears of joy. Cecile threw herself on mybosom perfectly overwhelmed with happiness, poor little thing, declaring that she owed it all to me, and that though he could notremain now, he had promised that she should hear from him. He wasenchanted with his children; indeed, how could he help it? And shewould have kept me up all night, discussing every hair of hismoustache, every tone in the few words he had spoken to her. When atlast I parted from her I could not help being very glad. Was thevictory indeed won, and would my Philippe's sister become a happywife?

I trusted that now he had seen her he would be armed against MadameCroquelebois, who you will remember had been his grandmother's damede compagnie, and a sort of governess to him. She had petted him asmuch as she had afterwards tyrannized over his poor little wife, andmight still retain much influence over him, which she was sure toexert against me. But at any rate he could not doubt of his wife'sadoration for him. 

We waited in hope. We heard of the Prince in attendance on theQueen-Regent, and we knew his aide-de-camp could not be spared, andwe went on expecting all the morning and all the evening, assuringCecile that military duty was inexorable, all the time that we wereboiling over with indignation. 

My mother was quite as angry as we were, and from her age andposition could be more effective. She met M. D'Aubepine one eveningat the Louvre, and took him to task, demanding when his wife was tohear from him, and fairly putting him out of countenance in thepresence of the Queen of England. She came home triumphant at whatshe had done, and raised our hopes again, but in fact, though itimpelled him to action, there was now mortified vanity added toindifference and impatience of the yoke. 

There was a letter the next day. Half an hour after receiving it Ifound Cecile sunk down on the floor of her apartment, upon which allher wardrobe was strewn about as if to be packed up. She fell intomy arms weeping passionately, and declaring she must leave us. Toleave us and set up her menage with her husband had always been herambition, so it was plain that this was not what she meant; but for along time she neither would nor could tell me, or moan out anythingbut a 'convent, ' 'how could he?' and 'my children. '

At last she let me read the letter, and a cruel one it was, beginning'Madame, ' and giving her the choice of returning to Chateaud'Aubepine under the supervision of Madame Croquelebois, or ofentering a convent, and sending her son to be bred up at the Chateauunder a tutor and the intendant. She had quite long enough livedwith Madame de Bellaise, and that young Englishman, her brother, whowas said to be charming. 

It was an absolute insult to us all, and as I saw at once was thework of Madame Croquelebois, accepted by the young Count as aconvenient excuse for avoiding the ennui and expense of setting up ahousehold with his wife, instead of living a gay bachelor life withhis Prince. I did not even think it was his handwriting except thesignature, an idea which gave the first ray of comfort to my poorsister-in-law. It was quite provoking to find that she had no spiritto resent, or even to blame; she only wept that any one should be socruel, and, quite hopeless of being heard on her own defence, wasready to obey, and return under the power of her oppressor, if onlyshe might keep her son. All the four years she had lived with us hadnot taught her self-assertion, and the more cruelly she was wounded, the meeker she became. 

The Abbe said she was earning a blessing; but I felt, like Annora, much inclined to beat her, when she would persist in loving andadmiring that miserable fellow through all, and calling him 'sonoble. '

We did not take things by any means so quietly. We were the lesssorry for my brother's absence that such an insinuation almostdemanded a challenge, though in truth I doubt whether they would havedared to make it had he been at hand. Annora did wish she could takesword or pistols in hand and make him choke on his own words, and shewas very angry that our brother de Solivet was much too cool andprudent to take Eustace's quarrel on himself. 

Here, however, it was my mother who was most reasonable, and knewbest how to act. She said that it was true that as this was myhouse, and the charge of M. D'Aubepine had been committed to me, Ihad every right to be offended; but as she was the eldest lady in thehouse it was suitable for her to act. She wrote a billet to himdemanding a personal interview with him that he might explain theinsinuations which concerned the honour of herself, her son, and herdaughter. 

I believe a duel would have been much more agreeable to him than sucha meeting, but my mother so contrived it that he knew that he couldnot fail to meet her without its being known to the whole Court, andthat he could not venture. So he came, and I never saw anything moreadmirably managed than the conference was on my mother's part, forshe chose to have me present as mistress of the house. She had puton her richest black velvet suit, and looked a most imposingchatelaine, and though he came in trying to carry it off withmilitary bravado and nonchalance, he was evidently ill at ease. 

My mother then demanded of him, in her own name, her son's, and mine, what right or cause he had to make such accusations, as he hadimplied, respecting our house. 

He laughed uneasily, and tried to make light of it, talking ofreports, and inferences, and so on; but my mother, well assured thatthere was no such scandal, drove him up into a corner, and made himconfess that he had heard nothing but from Madame Croquelebois. Mymother then insisted on that lady being called for, sending her ownsedan chair to bring her. 

Now the Baronne de Ribaumont Walwyn was a veritable grande dame, andMadame Croquelebois, in spite of her sharp nose, and sharper tongue, was quite cowed by her, and absolutely driven to confess that she hadnot heard a word against Madame la Comtesse. All that she had goneupon was the fact of their residence in the same house, and that aservant of hers had heard from a servant of ours that M. Le Barongave her his hand to go in to dinner every day when there were novisitors. 

It all became plain then. The intendant's wife, who had neverforgiven me for taking her victim away from her, had suggested thishint as an excuse for withdrawing the Countess from me, withoutobliging the Count to keep house with her, and becoming the attentivehusband, who seemed, to his perverted notions, a despicable being. Perhaps neither of them had expected the matter to be taken up soseriously, and an old country-bred Huguenot as Madame Croqueleboishad originally been, thought that as we were at Court, gallantry wasour natural atmosphere. 

Having brought them to confession, we divided them. My mother talkedto the intendante, and made her perceive what a wicked, cruelinjustice and demoralization she was leading her beloved young Countinto committing, injuring herself and his children, till the womanactually wept, and allowed that she had not thought of it; she wantedto gratify him, and she felt it hard and ungrateful that she shouldnot watch over his wife and children as his grandmother had alwaysintended. 

On my side I had M. D'Aubepine, and at last I worked down to theArmand I had known at Nancy, not indeed the best of subjects, butstill infinitely better than the conceited, reckless man who hadappeared at first. The one thing that touched him was that I shouldthink him disrespectful to me, and false to his friendship for myhusband. He really had never thought his words would hurt me for amoment. He actually shed tears at the thought of my Philippe, anddeclared that nothing was farther from his intention than anyimputation on any one belonging to me. 

But bah! he was absolutely driven to find some excuse! How could heplay the devoted husband to a little ugly imbecile like that, whowould make him ridiculous every moment they appeared together? Yes, he knew I had done the best I could for her, but what was she afterall? And her affection was worst of all. Everybody would made gameof him. 

There was no getting farther. The example of the Prince of Conde andthe fear of ridicule had absolutely steeled his heart and blinded hiseyes. He could not and would not endure the innocent wife who adoredhim. 

Finally my mother, calling in Solivet, came to the followingarrangement, since it was plain that we must part with our inmates. Cecile and her children were to be installed in the Hotel d'Aubepine, to which her husband did not object, since he would be either inattendance on the Prince, or with his regiment. This was better thansending her either to a convent or to the country, since she wouldstill be within our reach, although to our great vexation we couldnot prevail so far as to hinder Madame Croquelebois from beinginstalled as her duenna, the intendant himself returning to LaVendee. 

To our surprise, Cecile did not seem so much dismayed at returningunder the power of her tyrant as we had expected. It was doing whather husband wished, and living where she would have news of him, andperhaps sometimes see him. 

That was all she seemed to think about, except that she would haveher children still with her, and not be quite cut off from us. 

And I took this consolation, that she was in better health and awoman of twenty-two could not be so easily oppressed as a sicklychild of sixteen. 

But we were very unhappy about it, and Annora almost frantic, aboveall at Cecile's meek submission. She was sure the poor thing wouldbe dead in a month, and then we should be sorry. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

TWELTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 

My mother declared that M. D'Aubepine would fare the better if weleft her alone and did not excite the jealousy of MadameCroquelebois, who would be quite capable of carrying her off into thecountry if she were interfered with. 

Indeed it was not an easy or a pleasant thing to go about Paris justthen, and we were obliged to stay at home. The town was in arestless state, mobs went about, hooting or singing political songs, or assembled in front of the Louvre to abuse the Cardinal, and anyone who was supposed to belong to the Court party might at any timebe mobbed. Annora and I much missed the explanations that ourbrother, Lord Walwyn, used to make to us; and the listening to hisconversations with M. Darpent. The Duchess de Rambouillet and herfamily had wisely retired to their estates, so that there were nomore meetings in the Salon Bleu; and after what my brother had saidto me, I durst not make the slightest demonstration towards ClementDarpent, though I continued to give my weekly receptions to our poorhungry cavaliers, as I had promised Eustace that I would do. It wasfrom one of them, Sir Andrew Macniven, a clever man who had been alaw student in Scotland and at Leyden, that we came to someunderstanding of what was going on around us. 

Under the great Cardinal de Richelieu, the Crown had taken moreauthority then ever, and raised taxes at its will. The Parliamentwas only permitted to register the edicts of the Crown, but not torefuse them, as it claimed to do. As nobody who was noble paid taxesthe noblesse did not care, and there had hitherto seemed to be noredress. But at this moment, when the war taxes were weighing moreheavily than ever, and the demand of a house-tax had irritated thepeople of Paris, there were a very large number of the nobility muchincensed against Cardinal Mazarin, and very jealous of his favourwith the Queen-Regent. What they would endure from a French noblemanlike Richelieu they abhorred from a low-born foreigner such Mazarinwas; and it seemed to the Parliament that this was the moment to makea stand, since they had the populace on their side, and likewise somany of the Court party. There was the Archbishop of Corinth, theCoadjutor to the Archbishop of Paris, who had been mortally offendedby the way in which the Queen had treated him on the day of thebarricades; there was the handsome, fair-haired Duke of Beaufort, agrandson of Henri IV. , who used to be called 'Le roi des halles, ' hewas such a favourite with the market-women; there was the cleverbrilliant Prince de Marsillac (you know will his maxims, writtenafter he had become Duke of Rochefoucauld). He could do anythingwith Madame de Longueville; and she was thought able to do anythingwith her brothers, the Prince of Code and Conti. Every one had beenwatching to see what side the Prince would take, but at this time heseemed inclined to the Crown, though it was not likely he could go onlong without quarrelling with Mazarin. All this made the Frondeurshope much from beginning to resist; but I remember Sir Andrew saidthat he did not believe that these nobles and princes cared in theleast for relieving the people, but merely for overthrowing theCardinal, and he could not find out that the Parliament had anydefinite scheme, or knew what they wished. In fact, Sir Andrewdreaded any movement. He had been so much disappointed, and sobroken-hearted at the loss of friends and the ruin of the country, that his only thought was to leave all alone. And above all he sothought, when every letter from England told how the enemy wereproceeding to hunt down his Sacred Majesty. 

What a change it was when my son and I had to go into waiting at theLouvre! Before the Queen-Regent there was nothing but vituperationof the Parliament, but the Duke of Orleans hates the Cardinal quiteas much as the Parisians did; and his daughter, Mademoiselle, wantedhim to lead the Frondeuse, and chatted to me of her plan of leadingthe party, together with the Prince of Conde, whom she eagerlydesired to marry if his poor wife could be divorced. I used to shakemy head at her and say I knew she was too good at the bottom todesire anything so shocking, and she took it in good part. She wasmuch better than she chose to seem. 

Thus the eve of the Epiphany came, and there was a feast for the Kingand his little companions. Gaspard had the Bean, and the Queencrowned him and made him King of the night. King Louis himself hadto bend the knee, which he did with the best grace in the world. (You must all have seen the little enamelled Bean-flower badge thatyour father received on that night. )

Every one went to see the children at their feast, where the littleEnglish lady Henrietta sat between her two royal cousins, lookinglike a rosebud, all ignorant, poor child, of the said disaster whichwas falling on her. Her mother was looking on, smiling in the midstof her cares to see the children's glee. 

The Queen-Regent was in the highest spirits. We had never seen herdignity so relax into merriment as when she set the little ones todance together after the supper was over; but she sent them to bedearly, much earlier than her sons desired. We heard his real Majestysaying to Gaspard, 'M. Le Marquis, since you are King of the Bean, command that we should be like all other revelers, and sit up tillmorning. '

My boy looked up to me, and read in my face that he must not presume. 

'Ah! sire, ' said he, 'though we are called kings, these ladies arethe higher powers. '

It was applauded as a grand witticism, although Gaspard meant it inall simplicity, and had no notion of the meaning attributed to it. Nay, he thought all the praise was approval of him as a good boyinducing the King to be obedient. 

After the children had gone to bed, including Mademoiselle's threelittle half-sisters, dull little girls of whom she spokecontemptuously but always treated very kindly, she led the way to theapartment where her father was sitting by a great fire, fretful withgout, and wanting the amusement which she tried to give him bydescribing the children's diversions. Some one came and whisperedsomething to her, and in the tone of one who has an excellent joketo rehearse she went up to the Duke of Orleans, exclaiming--

'Monsieur! Here is news! We are all to start for St. Germain thisvery night!'

Monsieur made no answer, and immediately after bade her good night. She then went to her stepmother's room, and I remained with some ofthe other ladies, who were pretty well convinced that it was a truereport, and that the Queen had been only waiting the arrival of thetroops from the Low Countries to quit Paris and crush the resistanceof the Parliament. What was to become of us we did not know, whetherwe were to stay or go; but as we heard no more, and Mademoiselle cameout and went to bed, we followed her example. 

Between three and four we were all awakened by a loud knocking at thedoor, and Mademoiselle's shrill voice calling out to her maids toopen it. Through the anteroom, where the Comtess de Fiesque and Iwere sleeping, there came M. De Comminges. Mademoiselle, in herlaced night-cap, rose on her pillows and asked--

'Are we going?'

'Yes, Mademoiselle, ' was the reply. 'The King, the Queen, andMonsieur, are waiting for you in the court, and here is a letter fromMonsieur. '

She put it aside, saying she did not want Monsieur's orders to makeher obey those of the Queen, but he begged her to read it. Sheglanced at it, and then declared that she would be ready immediately. M. De Comminges departed, and then began the greatest bustleimaginable, everybody dressing at once in the greatest confusion, putting on each other's things by mistake, and Mademoiselle talking--talking through all. 

They were afraid to leave her behind, she said, lest she should haveheaded a party. No doubt M. Le Prince dreaded her influence, and sodid the Queen. They had made her father issue his commands withoutwarning lest she should disobey. 

In fact she had the greatest desire to disobey, only she did notquite venture, and we her ladies had no notion what we were to do, whether to stay or go, while I was in great anxiety as to what theymight have done with my boy. 

Somehow or other we all found ourselves in the court of the Louvre, strongly lighted by flambeaux, and by the windows of the building. There stood a row of carriages; Mademoiselle called for hers, but itwas not forthcoming, and M. De Comminges, bowing low, offered her hisown; but another gentleman came up and handed her into the royal one, where already were the King and Queen, the two Princesses of Conde, the Prince of Conti, and a lady. 

I heard Mademoiselle asserting her right to one of the best seats, and then declaring that she yielded 'as the young must give place tothe old, ' a little cut at the Princess Dowager of Conde. She bade M. De Fiesque follow with her carriage and properties, and we were leftin the most wonderful confusion in that dark court, the carriagesmoving away one after another, the mounted servants carrying torches, and the guards trampling and clinking behind them; servants, gentlemen, and ladies running about wildly, some of the women cryingand wringing their hands. Among these was Madame de Fiesque, who wasof a timid nature, and was frightened out of her wits at the notionof having to follow, whither she did not even know, while I wasequally wild, though I hope I did not make quite so much noise, aboutmy son. 

One of the gentlemen at last came and spoke to us, and told us thatthe King and Queen were gone to St. Germain. It had all beendetermined upon for some time past (as soon in fact as the Queen knewthat the Prince of Conde would support her, and that the troops werenear enough to be of use), and this night had been chosen because shecould get off more easily in a time of revelry. Monsieur had knownit all the evening, but had been afraid to tell his daughter becauseof 'her ideas, ' which meant that he was by no means sure that shemight choose to obey, unless she were taken by surprise, but mightwant to represent the House of Orleans at Paris. The Queen ofEngland was not gone; and, as to M. Le Marquis de Nidemerle---

That question was answered by a sound of bare, pattering feet, and acry of 'Mamma, mamma!' and my little Marquis himself, with nothing onbut his little white shirt and black velvet breeches, his long hairstreaming behind him, came and threw himself on me, followed by twoor three more little fellows in the same state of dishabille. 'Oh, mamma!' he cried, 'we thought they were all gone, and had left us tobe murdered by the cruel Parliament; and then I saw you from thewindow in the court. ' So there they all were, except one littleCount from Burgundy, who slept serenely through the tumult. 

By this time we could recollect that it was a January night, and thatwe had better retreat into the great hall, where the fire was notout. I had a great mind, since we were thus deserted, to return homewith my son, but my poor Princess could not be left without a singleattendant, or any clothes save what had been huddled on in haste, norperhaps even a bed, for we knew that St. Germain was dismantled offurniture, and that no preparations had been made for fear of givingalarm. 

M. De Fiesque declared that she should die if she tried to pass thestreets of Paris, where we began to hear loud cries. The maidsseemed to have all run away, and she implored me to go, with all thatwas most necessary, to Mademoiselle. 

'You are English! You are a very Gildippe. You have been in thewars--you fear nothing, ' said the poor woman. 'I implore you to go!'

And as I had my son with me, and it seemed to be a duty or even acharity that no one else would undertake, though it was not likelythat any harm could come to us, I sent Gaspard to dress himself, withmy faithful Nicolas, who had come to light. The gentlemen undertookto find us Mademoiselle's coach, and we hurried back to get togetherwhat we could for our mistress. I laugh now to think of M. DeFiesque and myself trying with our inexperienced hands to roll up amattress and some bedding, and to find the linen and the toiletrequisites, in which we had but small success, for the femmes dechamber kept everything, and had all either run away or slept too faroff to hear us. We managed at last to fasten up the mattress withthe other things in it, tied by a long scarf at each end, anddragging it to the top of the stairs we rolled it down each flight. At the second it upset at unfortunate lackey, who began to yell, firmly persuaded that it was a corpse, and that the Frondeurs had gotin and were beginning a general slaughter. 

How we recovered from the confusion I do not know, but Gaspard joinedme at the top of the stairs, bringing with him a page of his own age, the little Chevalier de Mericour, whom he entreated me to take withus. All the other boys had relations close at hand; but this child'smother was dead, and his father and brothers with the army. Beingreally a cousin of Harry Merrycourt's, he had always seemed like arelation, and he was Gaspard's chief friend, so I was very willing togive him a seat in the carriage, which came from somewhere, and intowhich the mattress was squeezed by some means or other. Off we set, but no woman of any rank would accompany me, for they said I had thecourage of an Amazon to attempt to make my way through the mob thatwas howling in the streets. 

It certainly was somewhat terrible when we came out into the streetthronged with people carrying lanterns and torches, and tried to makeour way step by step. We had not gone far before a big man, abutcher I should think, held up a torch to the window, and seeing myson's long fair hair, shouted, 'The King! the King! Here is theQueen carrying the King and the Duke of Anjou!'

The whole mob seemed to surge round us, shrieking, screaming, andyelling; some trying to turn the horses, others insisting that weshould alight. No one heard my assurances that we were no suchpersonages, that this was Mademoiselle's carriage, and that the Queenwas gone long ago; and, what was more fortunate, their ears did notcatch young Mericour's denunciations of them as vile canaille. Amarket woman mounted on the step, and perceiving the mattress, screeched out, 'The Cardinal--they are carrying off the Cardinalrolled up in a mattress!'

Their fury was redoubled. I began to unite it to show them there wasnothing, but we had drawn the knots too tight, and Gaspard's littlesword would not of course cut, nay, the gleam of it only added to thegeneral fury. I really think if the Cardinal had been there theywould have torn him to pieces. They were trying to drag open thedoors, and would have done so much sooner but for the crowds who werepushed against them and kept them shut. At last there seemed to besome one among them with a more authoritative tone. The pressure onthe door lessened, and it was to my dismay torn open; but at thatmoment my son called out, 'M. Darpent! Oh, M. Darpent, come to mymother!' Immediately M. Clement Darpent, unarmed and in his usualdress, with only a little came in his hand, made his way forward. Before I saw him I heard his welcome voice calling, 'Madame deBellaise here! I am coming, M. Le Marquis! The Queen! Betise! Itell you it is a lady of my acquaintance. '

'The Cardinal! She is carrying off the Italian rolled up in amattress! Down with the fox!' came another terrible outcry; but bythis time M. Darpent had been hustled up to the door, and put himselfbetween us and the throng. He could hear me now when I told him itwas merely Mademoiselle's bedding which we were carrying out to her. He shouted out this intelligence, and it made a lull; but one horridfellow in a fur cap sneered, 'We know better than that, Monsieur!Away with traitors! And those who would smuggle them away!'

'Oh! show it to them!' I cried; and then I saw a face that I hadknown in the hospital, and called him by name. 'Jean Marie, my goodfriend, have you your knife to cut these cords and show there isnothing inside?'

The man's honest face lighted up. 'Hein! The good tall lady whobrought me bouillons! I warrant there is no harm in her, brothers!She's a good Frondeuse, and has nothing to do with foreign traitors. '

He ranged himself beside Clement Darpent, offering a big knife, wherewith in a moment the bands were cut and the mattress help up toview, with a few clothes inside. 

I made my two defenders understand that they were Mademoiselle'sgarments, and when this was repeated there was a general shout:'Vive la bonne dame! Vive Mademoiselle! Vive Monsieur! Vive laFronde!'

Jean Marie, who had worked in a furniture shop, would have rolled upthe bed in a trice much better than before, but M. Darpent observedthat as we were not yet out of Paris is might bring us into trouble, and, inconvenient as it was, he advised us to keep it open till wewere beyond the gates. He asked permission to accompany me toprevent any further annoyance, and Jean Marie, to the extreme disgustof the servants, mounted the box, to serve as an additional guard. 

No one could be kinder than M. Darpent. He was very sad about thisflight of the Court. He said he feared it was the beginning of acivil war, and that he had thought better of the blood royal andnoblesse of France than to suppose they would assist a Spanish womanand an Italian priest to trample down and starve their fellow-countrymen in the name of a minor king. He expected that there wouldbe a siege, for he was sure that the temper of the people was averseto yielding, and the bourgeois put their trust in the archers. 

I asked if he thought there would be any danger, thinking that Iwould either join my mother and sister or endeavour to fetch themaway; but he assured me that they would be safe. Was not the Queenof England left, as I assured him, and the Duchess of Longueville? M. Le Prince would allow no harm to touch the place where lived thesister he so passionately loved. I might be secure that the Hotel deNid de Merle was perfectly safe, and he would himself watch to seethat they were not annoyed or terrified. He gave me the means ofwriting a billet to my mother from his little Advocate's portfolio, and he promised himself to convey it to her and assure her of oursafety, a message which I thought would make him welcome even to her. He was most kind in every way, and when we came near the gatebethought him that the two little boys looked pale and hungry, aswell they might. He stopped the carriage near a baker's shop, whichwas already open, and going in himself, returned with not only bread, but a jug and cup of milk. I think we never enjoyed anything somuch; and in the meantime the excellent Jean Marie rolled up ourmattress so close that, as Gaspard said, it could hardly have beensupposed to contain in puppy dog. 

They saw us safely through the barriers. M. Darpent gave his word forus, and out we went into the country while scarcely the dawn was yetseen. At a turn in the road we saw only the morning star hanginglike a great lamp in the east, and I showed it to the little boys, and told them of the three kings led by the Star to the Cradle. Iheard afterwards that the little Chevalier thought we saw the realStar in the East sent to guide us to St. Germain, forgetting that itwas the wrong direction; but he had been very little taught, and thiswas the first he had ever heard of the Gospel, which was familiar tomy boy. They both fell asleep presently on the cushions, and I thinkI did so likewise, for I was surprised to find myself at St. Germainin broad daylight. Everybody was gone to mass for the festival, andwe crept in after them. 

Mademoiselle was delighted to see me, and always believed we had madeour passage so safely in consequence of the respect paid to her andher carriage. It was a strange day; no one did anything but runabout and hear or tell news of how the people in Paris were takingthe departure of the Court, and wonder when the troops would come upto begin the siege, or, what was more pressing, what was to be donefor food and for bedding? We ate as we could. Eggs and fowls werebrought in from the farms, but plates and dishes, knives and forks, were very scarce. Some of us were happy when we could roast an eggin the embers for ourselves, and then eat it when it was hard enough, and I thought how useful Annora would have been, who had done allsorts of household work during the troubles at home. But we werevery merry over these devices. 

The night was a greater difficulty. Most of the windows had noframes nor glass in them, and hardly any one had a bed. Mademoiselleslept in a long gallery, splendidly painted and gilt, but with thewind blowing at every crevice through the shutters, no curtains; onlya few marble tables against the wall by way of furniture, and themattress spread upon the floor for her and her youngest sister, whowould not sleep unless she sang, and who woke continually. 

I rolled up my two little boys in my great fur cloak, which I hadhappily brought with me, for no one seemed disposed to take anycharge of poor little Mericour, and Nicolas fetches me the cushionsfrom the carriage, so that they were tolerably comfortable. 

As to us ladies and gentlemen, we rejoiced that at least faggotscould be had. We made up a great fire, and sat round it, someplaying at cards, other playing at games, telling stories, orreciting poetry, interspersed with the sillier pastime of love-making. Every one nodded off to sleep, but soon to wake again, --and, oh, how still we were, and how our bones ached after two such nights!

And the saddest and most provoking thing, at least to many of us, wasthe high spirits of the Queen-Regent. 

To be sure, she had not been without a bed in an unglazed room allnight, and had a few maids and a charge of clothes, but she hadprobably never been so much out of reach of state in her life, andshe evidently found it most amusing. She did not seem to have anidea that it was a fearful thing to begin a civil war, but thoughtthe astonishment and disappointment of the Parisians an excellentjoke. Grave and stately as she was by nature, she seemed quitetransformed, and laughed like a girl when no gold spoon could befound for her chocolate and she had to use a silver one. Yes, andshe laughed still more at the ill-arranged limp curls and tumbledlace of us poor creatures who had sat up all night, and tried todress one another, with one pocket-comb amongst us all!

All that day and all the text, however, parts of different people'sequipages kept coming from Paris. Mademoiselle's were escorted by M. De Fiesque, who had been so civilly treated that Mademoiselle gavepassports for the Queen's wagons to come through Paris; and it wasconsidered to be a great joke that one of the bourgeois, examining alarge box of new Spanish gloves, was reported to have been quiteovercome by the perfume, and to have sneezed violently when he cameto examine them. 

We were in a strange state up there on the heights of St. Germain. Some of the Court had no hangings for their great draughty rooms, others had no clothes, and those who had clothes had no bedding. Very few of us had any money to supply our wants, and those who hadsoon lent it all to the more distressed. The Queen herself wasobliged to borrow from the Princess Dowager, even to provide food, and the keeping up of separate tables was impossible. We all dinedtogether, King and Queen, Monsieur, Madame, and all, and the firstday there was nothing but a great pot au feu and the bouilli out ofit; for the cooks had not arrived. Even the spoons and knives wereso few that we had to wash them and use them in turn. However, itwas all gaiety on those first days, the Queen was so merry that itwas every one's cue to be the same; and as to the King and the Dukeof Anjou, they were full of mischief; it was nothing but holiday tothem to have no Court receptions. 

At eight o'clock in the evening there came a deputation from Paris. They were kept waiting outside in the snow while the Queen consideredwhether to receive them; and she could hardly be persuaded to allowthem to sleep under shelter at St. Germain, though on the road atthat time of night they were in danger from brigands, travelingsoldiers, and I know not what!

They were at last admitted to the ranger's lodgings, and had aninterview with the Chancellor, who was harsh and peremptory, perhapsfeeling himself avenged for his troubles and fright on the day of thebarricades. 

When I heard that the President Darpent was among the deputation Isent Nicolas to find out whether his son were there; and by and by Ireceived a little billet, which excited much more attention than Iwished. Some told me I was a Frondeuse, and M. Le Baron de Lamontpretended to be consumed with jealousy. I had to explain publiclythat it was only from my sister, and then they pretended not tobelieve me. It was in English, a tongue of which nobody knew asingle word, except that scandal declared that the Duke of Buckinghamhad taught the Queen to say 'Ee lofe ou;' but it said only: 'We arequite well, and not alarmed, since we know you are safe. We hadheard such strange rumors that my mother welcomed our friend as anangel of consolation. '

I translated this to all whom it concerned; but M. De Lamont annoyedme much with his curiosity and incredulity. However, when I foundthat the unfortunate deputies were permitted to spend the night inthe guard-room I sent Nicolas to see whether he could be of any useto the Darpents. Truly it was a night when, as the English say, onewould not turn out one's enemy's dog, and the road to Paris was farfrom safe; but the ranger's house was a wretched place for elderlymen more used to comfort than even the noblesse, whose castles areoften bare enough, and who are crowded and ill accommodated when inwaiting at the palaces. 

At that moment a bed was to ourselves a delightful luxury, which M. De Fiesque and I were to share, so Nicolas could not do much for poorold Darpent, whom he found wet through from having waited so long inthe snow, melting as it fell; but he did lend him his own dry cloak, and got some hot drink for him. Clemet professed himself eternallygrateful for this poor attention when in the morning I sent my sonwith another note in return to be sent to my mother and sister; andhe promised to watch over them as his own life. 

This was the last communication I had with my family for two months. The Queen had declared that her absence would be only 'a littleexpedition of a week;' but week after week passed on, and there westill were on the hill. The troops could not entirely surroundParis, but no such thing. I think we were, on the whole, more hungrythan those whom we blockaded. 

As each set of officials finished their time of waiting they retired, and nobody came to replace them, so our party became smaller from dayto day, which was the less to be regretted as our Lent was Lentindeed. Nobody had any money, and provisions ran very short;everybody grumbled but the Queen and Cardinal, and Mademoiselle, whoenjoyed the situation and laughed at everybody. 

In the intervals of grumbling every one was making love. M. DeJuvizy actually was presumptuous enough to make love to the Queen, orto boast that he did. Mademoiselle, I am sorry to say, was in love, or, more truly, in ambition with the Prince of Conde; M. De S. Maigrin was said to be in love with the Princess, M. De Chatillonwith Mademoiselle de Guerchy, and so on. 

Even I, who had always declared that it was a woman's own fault ifshe had a lover, did not escape. I had not my mother to shield me, and nobody had anything to do, so it was the universal fashion; andM. De Lamont thought proper to pursue me. I knew he was dissipatedand good-for-nothing, and I showed the coldest indifference; but thatonly gave him the opportunity of talking of my cruelty, and he evenpersuaded Mademoiselle to assure me that he was in earnest. 

'No doubt, ' said I, 'he would like to meddle with the administrationof Nid de Merle. I have no doubt he is in earnest about that!'

But there was no escape, as we lived, from being beset. We had allto attend the Queen to the Litanies at the chapel. She used toremain in her little orator praying long after they were finished, Mademoiselle with her, and, by her own account, generally asleep. Iam ashamed to say how much chatter, and how many petits soins, wenton among those waiting outside. I used to kneel, as I heard peoplesay, like a grim statue over my chair, with my rosary hanging from myhands, for if I did but hear a rustle and turn my head, there stoodM. De Lamont with a bonbonniere, or an offer to shield me from thedraught, and I could hear a tittering behind me. 

Yet there was enough to make us grave. In a fight with the Frondeursfor Charenton, M. De Chatillon, one of the handsomest and gayest ofour cavaliers, was killed. He was the grandson of the Admiral deColigny, and was said to have been converted to the Church by themiracle of the ducks returning regularly to the pond where the sainthad bound them to come. I think he must have made up his mindbeforehand. But it was a great shock to have that fine young manthus cut down the day after he had been laughing and dancing in ourgallery. Yet all people seemed to think of, when everybody went tocondole with his young widow in her bed, was that she had set herselfoff to the best advantage to captivate M. De Nemours!

And then came the great thunderbolt--the tidings of the death of theKing of England! I knew it would almost kill Eustace; I thought ofmy poor godmother, Queen Henrietta, and there I was among people whodid not really care in the least! It was to them merely a greatpiece of news, that enabled them to say, 'Yield an inch to theParliament and see what it will come to. '

That kind, dignified, melancholy countenance as I last saw it wasconstantly before me. The babble of the people around seemed to medetestable. I answered at haphazard, and begged permission ofMademoiselle to keep my room for a day, as I thought I should bedistracted if I could not get out of reach of M. De Lamont. 

She gave permission, but she said it was an affectation of mine, forhow could I care for a somber old prince whom I had not seen for tenyears?

CHAPTER XIX. 

INSIDE PARIS

Annora's narrative. 

My sister has asked me to fill up the account of the days of theFronde with what I saw within the city. She must permit me to do soin English, for I have taken care to forget my French; and if I writeperilous stuff for French folk to read she need not translate it. 

I will begin with that Twelfth-day morning when we were wakened bymore noise and racket than even Paris could generally produce. Therehad been a little tumult about once a week for the last six months, so we could endure a great deal, but this was plainly a much largerone. Some of the servants who went out brought word that the Queenhad carried off the King in order to be revenged on Paris, and thatthe people, in a rage, were breaking the carriages of her suite topieces, plundering the wagons, and beating, if not killing, every onein them. We were of course mightily troubled for my sister, andbeing only two women we could not go out in quest of her, while eachrumour we heard was more terrible than the last. Some even said thatthe Louvre had been asked and plundered; but old Sir Andrew Macniven, who had made his way through the mob like a brave old Scottishknight, brought us word that he could assure us that our own Queenwas safe in her own apartments, and that there had been no attack onthe palace. 

Still he had himself seen carriages plundered and broken to pieces bythe mob, and the gates were closely guarded. Seeing our distress, hewas about to go with Abbe to the Louvre, to learn whether my sisterand her son were there, when one of the servants came up to tell usthat M. Clement Darpent requested to see my mother, having brought ustidings of Madame la Vicomtesse. 

My poor mother never could endure the name of M. Darpent, because shedid not like my brother's friendship with any one not noble, but shewas as glad to see him then as if he had been a Montmorency or aCoucy. 

I always like his manners, for they were even then more English thanFrench. Though going through all due form, he always seemed torespect himself too much to let any one be supercilious with him; andhowever she might begin at a vast distance, she always ended bytalking to him just as if he were, as she called it, our equal. Asif he were not infinitely the superior of the hundreds of trumperylittle apes of nobles who strutted about the galleries of the Louvre, with nothing to do but mayhap to carry the Queen's fan, or curl herpoodle's tail!

I see I have been writing just as I felt in those fervent days of myyouth, when the quick blood would throb at my heart and burn in mycheek at any slight to the real manhood and worth I saw in him, andpreference for the poor cringing courtiers I despised. The thoughtof those old days has brought me back to the story as all then seemedto me--the high-spirited, hot-tempered maiden, who had missed all hersmall chances of even being mild and meek in the troubles at home, and to whom Paris was a grievous place of banishment, only tolerableby the aid of my dear brother and my poor Meg, when she was not tooFrench and too Popish for me. But that was not her fault, poorthing. 

My mother, however, was grateful enough to Clement Darpent for thenonce, when he told how he had seen Meg safe beyond the gates. Moreover, he assured us that so far from 8000 horse being ready tostorm the city (I should like to have seen them! Who ever took afortress with a charge of horse?) barely 200 had escorted theirMajesties. The Coadjutor had shown M. Blancmesnil a note from theQueen telling him so, and summoning him to St. Germain. 

It was likely, M. Darpent said, that the city would be besieged, buthe did not foresee any peril for us, and he promised to watch overus, as he would over his own mother, and that he would give uscontinual intelligence so that we might provide for our safety. Itwas amusing to see how eagerly my mother accepted this offer, thoughshe had almost forbidden him the house when my brother left us. 

I am sure my mother was as uneasy as any of us when he did not appearon the morning after he had gone with his father on the deputation toSt. Germain. However, he did come later on in the afternoon, bringing a note from Meg. He had not seen her, only Nicolas andlittle Gaspard, and he, like all the rest, was greatly incensed atthe manner in which the magistrates had been treated. His fatherhad, he said, caught a violent cold, and had been forced to go to bedat once. In fact it really was the poor old man's death-stroke, andhe never quitted his chamber, hardly even his bed. 

The Parliament, in a rage, put forth a decree, declaring the Cardinalan enemy to the State, and ordering him to leave the Court andkingdom on that very day, calling on all loyal subjects to fall onhim, and forbidding any one to give him shelter. 

We heard loud acclamations, which made us think something unusual wasgoing on, and it was the publication of this precious edict. Iwondered who they thought was going to attend to it when M. Darpentbrought in a copy. And my mother began to cry and talk about LordStrafford. I had to think of Eustace and bite my tongue to keep mypatience at our noble 'thorough' Wentworth being likened to that basecringing Italian. 

Clement Darpent said, however, that every one had passed it byacclamation, except Bernai, who was a mere cook, and gave finedinners to such a set of low, loose creatures that he was called 'lecabaretier de la cour. ' Moreover, they proceeded to give orders forlevying 4000 horse and 10, 000 foot. This really did mean civil war. 

'I knew it, ' said my mother, 'it is the next step after denouncingthe King's minister. We shall see you next armed cap-a-pie, like ouryoung advocates at home, all for the King's behalf, according tothem. '

Of course she was thinking of Harry Merrycourt, but she was surprisedby the answer. 

'No, Madam, nothing shall induce me to bear arms against the King. So much have I learned from the two living persons who I esteem themost. '

'And they are?' asked my lady. 

'My mother and monsieur votre fils, ' he replied. 

And I could not help crying out---

'Oh, sir, you are right. I know that Harry Merrycourt feels NOW thatnothing can justify rebellion, and that he little knew whither heshould be led. '

'And yet, ' said he, clasping his hands together with intensity offervour, 'when all is rotten to the core, venal, unjust, tyrannical, how endure without an endeavour at a remedy? Yet it may be that animposing attitude will prevail! Self-defence without a blow. '

It seemed as if such war as they were likely to wage could do no onemuch damage, for they actually chose as their generalissimo thatridiculous little sickly being, the Prince de Conty, who hadquarrelled with the Court about a cardinal's hat, and had run awayfrom his mother's apron string at St. Germain to his sister's atParis. 

On recalling it, all was a mere farce together, and the people werealways stringing together lampoons in rhyme, and singing them in thestreets. One still rings in my head, about a dissolute impoverishedMarquis d'Elbeuf, one of the house of Lorraine, whom the prospect ofpay induced to offer his services to the Parliament. 

 'Le pauvre Monseigneur d'Elbeuf, Qui n'avait aucun ressource, Et qui ne mangeait que du boeuf. Le pauvre Monseigneur d'Elbeuf, A maintenant un habit neuf Et quelques justes dans sa bourse. Le pauvre Monseigneur d'Elbeuf, Qui n'avait aucun ressource. '

There was more sense in taking the Duke of Bouillon, though he wasnot his brother, M. De Turenne. These young men were in highspirits. You will find no traces of their feelings in the memoirs ofthe time, for of course nothing of the kind would be allowed to passthe censors of the press. But there was a wonderful sense of libertyof speech and tongue during that siege. The younger gens de la robe, as they were called, who, like Clement Darpent, had read their Livyand Plutarch, were full of ideas of public virtue, and had meetingsamong themselves, where M. Darpent dwelt on what he had imbibed frommy brother of English notions of duty to God, the King and the State. It may seem strange that a cavalier family like ourselves should haveinfused notions which were declared to smack of revolution, but theconstitution we had loved and fought for was a very Utopia to theseyoung French advocates. They, with the sanguine dreams of youth, hoped that the Fronde was the beginning of a better state of things, when all offices should be obtained by merit, never bought and sold, and many of them were inventions of the Court for the express purposeof sale. The great Cardinal had actually created forty offices forcounselors merely in order to sell them and their reversions! Theholders of these were universally laughed at, and not treated as on alevel with the old hereditary office-bearers, who at least mightthink themselves of some use. 

We smile sadly now to think of the grand aspirations, noble visions, and brave words of those young advocates, each of whom thoughthimself a very Epaminondas, or Gracchus, though M. Darpent, onlooking back, had to confess that his most enthusiastic supporterswere among the younger brothers, or those with less fortunatefathers, for whom the Paulette had never been paid, or who felt itvery hard to raise. He himself brought sincere ardour for his ownpart, and was full of soaring hope and self-devotion, though Isuspect his father would soon have silenced him if the poor man hadbeen able to think of anything beyond his own sick-chamber. 

The real absurdity, or rather the sadness, of it was, as we two saw, that the fine folk in whom the Parliament put its trust merely wantedto spite the Cardinal, and cared not a rush for the Parliament, unlike my Lord Essex, and our other Roundhead noblemen, who, right orwrong, were in honest earnest, and cared as much about the Bill ofRights and all the rest of their demands as Sir Harry Vane or GeneralCromwell himself, whereas these were traitors in heart to the causethey pretended to espouse. Even the Coadjutor, who was the primemover of all, only wanted to be chief of a party. 

One part of his comedy, which I should like to have seen, was theconducting the Duchesses of Longueville and Bouillon along the Greveto the Hotel de Ville to ask protection, though I do not know whatfor. 

However, there they were, exquisitely dressed, with Madame deLongueville's beautiful hair daintily disheveled, on foot, and eachwith a child in her arms. Crowds followed them with shouts ofecstasy, and the Coadjutor further gratified the world by having ashower of pistoles thrown from the windows of the Hotel de Ville. 

It was good sport to hear Sir Andrew Macniven discourse on the sight, declaring that the ladies looked next door to angels, and kenned itfull well too, and that he marvelled what their gudemen would havesaid to see them make a raree show of themselves to all the loons inParis!

The streets soon became as quiet as they ever were, and we could goabout as usual, except when we had warning of any special cause fordisturbance. We were anxious to know how poor little Madamed'Aubepine was getting on, and, to our surprise, we found hertolerably cheerful. In truth, she had really tamed the Croquelebois!As she said afterwards in her little pathetic tone, so truly French, when they both so truly loved Monsieur le Comte (wretch that he was)how could they differ? You see he was not present to causejealousies, and when Madame Croquelebois found that Cecile neverblamed him or murmured she began to be uneasy at his neglect andunkindness. 

Though, of course, at that moment he was out of reach, being in thearmy that was blockading us. Not that we should ever have found outthat we were blockaded, if we could have got any letters from anyone, except for the scarcity of firewood. My mother wanted much toget to our own Queen, but the approaches to the Louvre were watchedlest she should communicate with the Regent; and we were cut off fromher till M. Darpent gave his word for us, and obtained for us a pass. And, oh! it was a sad sight to see the great courts and longgalleries left all dreary and empty. It made me think of Whitehalland of Windsor, though we little knew that at that very time therewas worse there than even desolation. 

And when at last we reached our poor Queen's apartments, there wasnot a spark of fire in them. She was a guest there. She had nomoney, and all the wood had either been used up or pillaged; andthere we found her, wrapped in a great fur cloak, sitting by the bedwhere was the little Lady Henrietta. 

When my mother cried out with grief that the child should be ill, thepoor Queen replied with that good-humoured laugh with which she metall the inconveniences that concerned herself alone: 'Oh, no, Madame, not ill, only cold! We cannot get any firewood, and so bed is thesafest place for my little maid, who cares not if she can have hermother to play with her! Here is a new playfellow for thee, ma mie. Sweet Nan will sit by thee, and make thee sport, while I talk to hermother. '

So the child made the big four-post bed, all curtained round, into afortress, and I besieged her there, till she screamed with glee, while the Queen took my mother's arm, and they paced the roomstogether, sadly discussing the times and the utter lack of news fromhome, when the last tidings had been most alarming. Poor lady! Ithink it was a comfort to her, for she loved my mother; but we couldnot but grieve to see her in such a plight. As we went home weplanned that we would carry a faggot in the carriage the next day, and that I would take it upstairs to her. And so I actually did, butthe sentry insisted on knowing what I was carrying hidden in a cloak, and when he saw it, the honest man actually burst into tears that thedaughter of Henri IV. Should be in such straits. The Queen kissed mefor it, and said I was like the good girl in Madame d'Aulnoy's tales, and she would fain be the benevolent fairy to reward me. And thenthe little Princess insisted that I was Capuchon Rouge, and that shewas my Grandmother Wolf, and after making her great eyes at me, sheate me up with kisses over and over again! Ah! how happy childrencan be. It was strange to remember that this was the way KingCharles's little daughter spent that 30th of January!

We had told M. Darpent of the condition in which we found the Queen, and he told the Coadjutor, who went himself to see her, and thenstirred up the Parliament to send her regular supplies both of firingand provisions, so that she never suffered again in the same way. 

Each day increased our anxiety for His Sacred Majesty. Lord Jermynmade his way into Paris, and came to consult with my mother, tellingher that he had little doubt that the iniquitous deed had beenconsummated, and between them, by way of preparing the unhappy Queen, they made up a story that the King had been led out to execution, buthad been rescued by the populace. I could not see that this would beof much use in softening the blow; in fact, I thought all thesedelicate false-hoods only made the suspense worse, but I was toldthat I was a mere downright English country lass, with no notion ofthe refinements such things required with persons of sensibility. 

So I told them, if ever I were in trouble, all I asked of them was tolet me know the worst at once. One great pleasure came to the Queenat this time in the arrival of the Duke of York, who made his wayinto Paris, and arriving in the midst of dinner, knelt before hismother. He knew no more of his father than we did, and the Queen'surgent entreaty, undertook to go to St. Germain with a letter fromher, asking what Queen Anne had heard from England. 

The siege was not so strait but that unsuspected persons could get inand out, but after all, the poor Queen's anxiety and suspense weresuch that Lord Jermyn was forced to disclose the truth to her beforeSir Andrew came back with the letters. She stood like a statue, andcould neither move nor speak till night, when the Duchess of Vendomecame and caressed her until at last the tears broke forth, and shesobbed and wept piteously all night. The next day she retired intothe Carmelite convent in the Faubourg St. Jaques, taking my motherwith her. As, according to French fashion, I was not to be left tokeep house myself, my mother invited Sir Francis and Lady Ommaney tocome and take charge of me, and a very good thing it was, for we atleast had food enough, and my dear good friends had very little. 

We were all stunned by the dreadful news from England. It was verysad old Sir Francis, who had borne without complaint the loss ofland, honours, and home, nay, who had stood by to see his only sondie at Naseby, sitting like one crushed, and only able to mutter nowand then: 'My Master, my good Master. ' You might know an Englishexile in those days by the mourning scarf and sad countenance. Iremember a poor wild cavalier whom my mother and Meg never liked toadmit when Eustace was not at home, going down on his knees to LadyOmmaney for a bit of black silk, when he looked as if he wasstarving. 

We could not, of course, have evening receptions for our poor hungrycountrymen in the absence of my mother, and with such sorrow upon usall, but Lady Ommaney and I did contrive pies and pasties, and allsorts of food that could be sent as gifts without offence to thefamilies we thought most straitened. 

The poor of Paris itself were not so very ill-off, for there werecontinual distributions of money and flour to keep them in goodhumour, and there were songs about. 

 'Le bon tems que c'etait A Paris Durant la famine, Tout le monde s'entrebaisait A Paris Durant la famine, La plus belle se contentait D'un simple boisseau de farine. '

La plus belle was the Duchess of Longueville, who tried hard topersuade the people that she was one with them. Her second son hadbeen born only a few days after her expedition to the Hotel de Ville, and she asked the City of Paris to stand godmother to him in theperson of the provosts and echevins. Afterwards she had a greatreception, which Clement Darpent attended, and he told us the nextmorning that it had been the most wonderful mixture of black gownsand cassocks, with blue scarfs and sword-knots, lawyers, ladies, warriors, and priests. 

He continued to bring us tidings every day, and Sir Francis and LadyOmmaney really liked him, and said he was worthy to be an Englishman. 

His father remained very ill, and day by day he told of the poor oldman's pain and shortness of breath. Now Lady Ommaney had great skillin medicine, indeed there were those who said she had done the workof three surgeons in the war; and she had been of great service to mydear brother, Lord Walwyn, when he first came to Paris. She thoughtlittle or nothing of the French doctors, and waxed eloquent indescribing to Clement Darpent how she would make a poultice of branor of linseed. Now he had learned of my mother to read Englisheasily, and to converse in it on all great matters of state andpolicy, but the household terms and idioms were still far beyond him, and dear good Lady Ommaney had never learned more French than enabledher to say 'Combien' when she made a purchase. Or if they hadunderstood one another's tongue, I doubt me if any one could havelearned the compounding of a poultice through a third person, andthat a man!

So, while I was labouring to interpret, Lady Ommaney exclaimed, 'Butwhy should I not come and show your mother?'

'Ah! if you would, Madame, that would verily be goodness, ' returnedClement in his best English. 

Well, I knew Eustace and Meg would have called me self-willed, whenmy mother had once made such a noise about our taking shelter fromBroussel's mob at the Maison Darpent; but this was a mere visit ofcharity and necessity, for it was quite certain that the two goodladies could never have understood one another without me tointerpret for them. Moreover, when Clement Darpent had rescued mysister from the mob, and was always watching to protect us, we surelyowed him some return of gratitude, and it would have been merebourgeois. 

So I went with Lady Ommaney, and was refreshed by the sight of thatcalm face of Madame Darpent, which she always seemed to me to haveborrowed from the angels, and which only grew the sweeter and moreexalted the greater was her trouble, as if she imbibed more and moreof heavenly grace in proportion to her needs. 

We did our best, Lady Ommaney and I, to show and explain, but I donot think it was to much purpose. The materials were not like ourEnglish ones, and though mother and son were both full of thanks andgratitude, Madame Darpent was clearly not half convinced that whatwas good for an Englishman was good for a Frenchman, and even if shehad been more fully persuaded, I do not think her husband would haveendured any foreign treatment. 

When we took leave she said, 'Permettez moi, ma chere demoiselle, 'and would have kissed my hand, but I threw my arms round her neckembraced her, for there was something in her face that won my heartmore than it had ever gone out to any woman I ever saw; and I saw byLady Ommaney's whole face and gesture that she thought a great sorrowwas coming on the good woman. I believe she was rather shocked, forshe was a Huguenot by birth, and a Jansenist by conviction, and thusshe did not approve of any strong signs of affection and emotion; butnevertheless she was touched and very kind and good, and she returnedmy embrace by giving me her sweet and solemn blessing. 

And as he put me into the carriage, Clement, that foolish Clement, must needs thank me, with tears in his eyes, for my goodness to her. 

'What do you mean, sir, ' said I, 'by thanking me for what I delightin and value as a daughter?'

Whereupon I, equally foolish, knew what I had said, and felt my faceand neck grow crimson all over, and what must he do, but kiss my handin a rapture. 

And all the way home I could hear old Lady Ommaney murmuring toherself, quite unconscious that she was speaking aloud, 'My stars! Ihope I have not done wrong! What will my Lady Walwyn say? Not thathe would be altogether a bad match for her after our notions. Herfather was only a baron, and theirs is a good old family of thecitizen sort, but then my Lady Walwyn is a Frenchwoman, and thinksall that is not noble the dirt under her feet. '

My heart gave a great bound, and then seemed to swell and take awaymy breath, so that I could not at first speak to stop those utteredthoughts, which made me presently feel as if I were prying into aletter, so as soon as I could get my voice I said, as well as Icould, 'My Lady, I hear you. '

'Hear me! Bless me, was I talking to myself! I only was thinkingthat the poor old gentleman there is not long for this world. Butmaybe your mother would not call him a gentleman. Ha! What havethey got written up there about the Cardinal?'

I read her the placard, and let her lead me away from the subject. Icould not talk about it to any one, and how I longed for Eustace!

However, I believe terror was what most ailed the old gentleman (notthat the French would call him so). He must always have beenchicken-hearted, for he had changed his religion out of fear. Hiswife was all sincerity, but the dear good woman was religious forboth of them!

And as time went on his alarms could not but increase. TheParliament really might have prevailed if it had any constancy, forall the provincial Parliaments were quite ready to take part with it, and moreover the Duke of Bouillon had brought over his brother, theVicomte de Turenne, to refuse to lead his army against them, or tokeep back the Spaniards. The Queen-Regent might really have beendriven to dismiss the Cardinal and repeal the taxes if the city hadheld out a little longer, but in the midst the First President Molewas seized with patriotic scruples. He would not owe his success tothe foreign enemies of his country, and the desertion of the army, and he led with him most of his compeers. I suppose he was right---Iknow Clement thought so---but the populace were sorely disappointedwhen negotiations were opened with the Queen and Court, and it becameevident that the city was to submit without any again but somerelaxation of the tax. 

The deputies went and came, and were well mobbed everywhere. TheCoadjutor and Duke of Beaufort barely restrained the populace fromflying at the throat of the First President, who they fancied hadbeen bribed to give them up. One wretch on the steps of the Palaisde Justice threatened to kill the fine old man, who calmly replied, 'Well, friend, when I am dead I shall want nothing but six feet ofearth. '

The man fell back, daunted by his quietness, and by the majesty ofhis appearance in his full scarlet robes. These alarms, thecontinual shouting in the streets, and the growing terror lest on thearrival of the Court all the prominent magistrates should be arrestedand sent to the Bastille, infinitely aggravated President Darpent'sdisorder. We no longer saw his son every day, for he was whollyabsorbed in watching by the sick-bed, and besides there was nofurther need, as he averred, of his watching over us. However, SirFrancis went daily to inquire at the house, and almost always sawClement, who could by this time speak English enough to make himselfquite intelligible, but who could only say that, in spite ofconstantly being let blood, the poor old man grew weaker and weaker;and on the very day the treaty was signed he was to receive the lastrites of the Church. 

CHAPTER XX

CONDOLENCE

(By Margaret)

Our siege was over at last. I can hardly explain how or why, forthere was no real settlement of the points at issue. I have sincecome to understand that the Queen and the Cardinal were alarmed lestthe Vicomte de Turenne with his army should come to the assistance ofhis brother, the Duke of Bouillon, and thus leave the frontier opento the Spaniards; and that this very possibility also worked upon theFirst President Mole, who was too true a Frenchman not to prefergiving way to the Queen to bringing disunion into the army andadmitting the invader. Most of the provincial Parliaments were ofthe same mind as that of Paris, and if all had united and stood firmthe Court would have been reduced to great straits. It was well forus at St. Germain that they never guessed at our discomforts on ourhill, and how impossible it would have been to hold out for a morecomplete victory. 

I was glad enough to leave St. Germain the day after the terms hadbeen agreed upon. The royal family did not yet move, but my term ofwaiting had long been expired; I burned to rejoin my mother andsister, and likewise to escape from the assiduities of M. De Lamont, who was becoming more insufferable than ever. 

So I asked permission of the Queen to let my son resume his studies, and of Mademoiselle to leave her for the time. Both were gracious, though the Queen told me I was going into a wasp's nest; while, onthe other hand, Mademoiselle congratulated me on returning to thosedear Parisians, and said she should not be long behind me. I was toomuch afraid of being hindered not to set out immediately after havingreceived my license, so as to take advantage of the escort of some ofthe deputies with whom I had a slight acquaintance. I also hoped toavoid M. De Lamont's leave-takings, but I was not fortunate enough todo this. The absurd man, learning that I was on the point ofdeparture, came rushing headlong into the court where the carriagesstood, having first disordered his hair and untied his scarf, so asto give himself a distracted appearance, and thus he threw himself onhis knees between me and the coach door, declaring that I was killinghim and breaking his heart by my cruelty. 

I was very angry, and afraid of showing any excitement, lest itshould give him any advantage, so I only drew up my head coldly andsaid:

'Let me pass, sir. ' But that only made him throw himself on theground as if he would kiss my robe, whereupon Gasppard, with his handon his little sword, said: 'Why don't you give him a good kick, mama?' This made everybody laugh; and I said, still keeping my headstiff: 'We will go round to the other door, my son, since there isthis obstruction in our way. '

This we did before he could follow us; and the last I saw of M. DeLamont as I quitted St. Germain, he was still kneeling in the court, in the attitude of an Orlando Furioso, reaching out his arms towardsthe departing carriage. I did not pity him, for I did not for amoment believe his passion a serious one, and I thought his wifewould not be much happier than my poor little sister-in-law, aboutwhom I was very anxious, and as to these extravagances, they were theordinary custom of those who professed to be lovers. He was one ofthe equerries-in-waiting on the Duchess of Orleans, and thus happilycould not follow; and I never rejoiced more than when Gaspard and I, with my two women, had turned our backs on St. Germain and began todescend through the scattered trees of the forest towards Paris. 

No less than forty carriages came out to meet the deputies on theirreturn, and our progress was very slow, but at last we foundourselves at our hotel, where we were entirely unexpected, and theporter was so much surprised that, instead of announcing us properly, he rushed into the courtyard, screaming out: 'Madame! Monsieur leMarquis!' The whole household came rushing down the steps pell-mell, so that it was plain at the first glance that my mother was notthere. Annora was the first to throw herself into my arms, with ashriek and sob of joy, which gave me a pleasure I cannot describewhen I contrasted this meeting with our former one, for now again Ifelt that we were wholly sisters. 

Gaspard sprang to the Abbe's neck, and declared himself tired of hisholidays, and quite ready to resume his studies. They would be muchpleasanter than running after the King and Duke of Anjou, and bearingthe blame of all their pranks. My mother, I heard, was at theConvent of St. Jaques with her poor bereaved Queen, and she had leftmy sister in the charge of Sir Francis and Lady Ommaney. 

The old lady came to welcome me; Sir Francis was out gone to inquirefor the President Darpent; and before I had been an hour in thehouse, I found how entirely different a world it was from that whichI had left, and how changed were the interests that absorbed it. Ofmy poor little Cecile scarcely anything was known. Annora had onlyseen her once or twice, and even the poor English Queen was second ininterest to the illness of M. Darpent, and the fatigues of his wifein nursing him. It seemed to me as if Lady Ommaney and my sisterdiscussed, as if he had been their near relation, every symptom ofhim, who, in the eyes of all my recent companions, was nothing betterthan an old frondeur, a rebel richly deserving to be put to death. 

If Lady Ommaney had understood French, I really believe she wouldhave gone to help Madame Darpent, who had now been sitting up forseveral nights; and though her son was most dutiful, and shared hervigils, taking every imaginable care of his father, he could notrelieve her materially. The old man died the morning after my returnhome, and Sir Francis, who had been to inquire, reported that thefuneral was to take place the next night by Madame's desire, as shewas resolved that it should not be made an occasion for the meetingof inveighing against the Government as the remote cause of hisdeath. 

The city was, in fact, in a very unquiet state; nevertheless, QueenHenrietta returned to her apartments at the Louvre, and my mothercame back to us, though when she found me at home, she only remainedfor one night. The Queen wanted her, and it was not convenient, inthe condition of things, to be carried about in a sedan chair. Moreover I had a visit from my sister-in-law; I was astonished at herventuring out, but though very thin, she looked radiant, for herhusband had come into Paris in the train of the Princes, and hadactually passed half an hour with her! I was less gratified when Ifound what he had come for. It was to desire his wife to come to meand inform me that it was the will and pleasure of the Prince ofConde that I should accept the addresses of the Baron de Lamont. 

'Thank you, sister, ' I said, smiling a little, for I knew it was ofno use to scold her or argue with her, and I would have spoken ofsomething else, but she held my hand and entreated:

'You will, then?'

'Oh! you have been charged to throw your influence into the scale, 'I said, laughing; and the poor thing had to confess that he had saidto her, with an air so noble, so amiable, that here was anopportunity of being of some real use to him if she would persuadeMadame de Bellaise to marry M. De Lamont. 

'To him!' I might well exclaim. 

'Well, you see, ' Cecile explained, 'M. Le Prince said to him: 'TheBellaise is your sister-in-law, is she not? It is for you toovercome her ridiculous scruples and make her accept Lamont, who isdesperately in love with her, and whose fortune needs to berepaired. ''

'I see, ' I replied; 'but I cannot carry my complaisance so far. '

'But, ' faltered Cecile, 'he is very handsome and very distinguished--'

'Come, Cecile, you have done your duty. That is enough. '

But the poor little thing thought herself bound still to persuade mewith the arguments put into her mouth, till I asked her whether shecould wish me to forget her brother, or if in my place she would dosuch a thing as give a father like M. De Lamont to her children. Thenshe began to weep, and asked me to forgive her, ending in hersimplicity with:

'The Prince would have been pleased with my husband, and perhaps hewould borne me good will for it!'

'Ah! Cecile, ' I said, embracing her; 'I would do much for you, butyou must not ask me to do this. '

The next question was about a visit of condolence to be paid toMadame Darpent. We still kept the Ommaneys with us, on the pretextthat the presence of a gentleman gave a sense of security in thecondition of the city, but chiefly because we feared that they wouldbe half-starved in their lodgings. 

Sir Francis told us that Madame Darpent was, 'after your Frenchfashion, ' as he said, receiving visits of condolence in her bed, and, considering how good and obliging the young man had been, he supposedwe should pay one. Annora's eyes shone, but to my surprise she saidnothing, and I was quite ready to consent, since I too felt undersuch obligations to the younger Darpent that I could let no scrupleabout condescension stand in my way, and I was glad that my mothercould not hear of it until after it was done. 

Lady Ommaney, however, looked rather old and mysterious. She came tomy room and told me that she thought I ought to know, though she hadno opportunity of telling my mother, that she could not but believethat she had observed a growing inclination between Mistress Annoraand the young Monsieur Darpent. I suppose my countenance showed acertain dismay, for she explained that it might be only an oldwoman's fancy; but knowing what were our French notions as tonobility and rank, and how we treated all honest gentry withouttitles like the dirt under our feet, she thought we ought to bewarned. Though for her part, if the young gentleman were not aPapist and Frenchman, she did not see that Mistress Nan could do muchbetter even if we were in England. Then she began giving meinstances of barons' daughters marrying gentlemen learned in the law;and I listened with dismay, for I knew that these would serve to makemy sister more determined, if it were really true that any suchpassion were dawning. I saw that to her English breeding it wouldnot seem so unworthy as it would to us, but to my mother it would beshocking, and I could not tell how my brother would look on it. Theonly recommendation in my eyes would be the very contrary in his, namely, that she might be led to embrace our religion; but then Ithought Clement Darpent so doubtful a Catholic that she would be morelikely to lead him away. My confidence was chiefly in his bourgeoispride, which was not likely to suffer him to pay his addresses wherethey would be disdained by the family, and in his scrupulous goodfaith, which would certainly prevent his taking advantage of theabsence of the maiden's mother and brother. 

However, I knew my sister well enough to be aware that to contradicther was the surest mode of making her resolute, and I thought itwiser that there should be no appearance of neglect or ingratitude torouse her on behalf of the Darpents. So I agreed with Lady Ommaneythat we would seem to take no notice, but only be upon our guard. Wedid not propose Annora's accompanying us on our visit of condolence, but she was prepared when the carriage came round, and we made ourway, falling into a long line of plain but well-appointed equipagesof the ladies of the robe, who were all come on the same errand, andwe were marshalled into the house, and up the stairs by lackeys inmourning. 

At the top of the great staircase, receiving everybody, stood ClementDarpent, looking rather pale, and his advocate's black dressdecorated with heavy weepers of crape. When he saw us his facelighted up, and he came down to the landing to meet us, an attentionof course due to our rank; but it was scarcely the honour done to thefamily that made his voice so fervent in his exclamation, 'Ah! thisis true goodness, ' though it was only addressed to me, and of courseit was my hand that he held as he conducted us upstairs, and to thegreat chamber where his mother sat up in her bed, not, as you mayimagine, in the cloud of lace and cambric which had coquettishlyshrouded the widowhood of poor little Madame de Chatillon. All wasplain and severe, though scrupulously neat. There was not anornament in the room, only a crucifix and a holy-water stoup by theside of the bed, and a priest standing by, of the grave and severeaspect which distinguished those connected with Port Royal auxChamps. Madame Darpent's face looked white and shrunken, but therewas a beautiful peace and calmness on it, as if she dwelt in a regionfar above and beyond the trifling world around her, and onlysubmitted, like one in a dream, to these outward formalities. I feltquite ashamed to disturb her with my dull commonplace compliment ofcondolence, and I do not think she in the least saw or knew who wewere as her lips moved in the formula of thanks. Then Clement led usaway in the stream to the buffet, where was the cake and wine ofwhich it was etiquette for every one to partake, though we only drankout of clear glass, not out of silver, as when the mourners arenoble. Monsieur Verdon and some familiars of the house, whetherfriends or relations I do not know, were attending to this, and therewas a hum of conversation around; but there was no acquaintance ofours present, and nobody ventured to speak to us, except that Clementsaid: 'She will be gratified, when she has time to understand. ' Andthen he asked whether I had heard anything of my brother. 

As the streets were tolerably clear, I thought we had better drive atonce to the Louvre, to see my poor god-mother Queen and my mother. 

Certainly it was a contrast. Queen Henrietta had been in agonies ofgrief at first, and I believe no day passed without her weeping forher husband. Her eyes were red, and she looked ill; but she wasquite as ready as ever to take interest in things around her; andshe, as only English were present, made me come and sit on a stool ather feet and describe all the straits we had endured at St. Germain, laughing her clear ringing laugh at the notion of her solemn, punctilious Spanish sister-in-law living, as she said, en bergere inthe middle of the winter, and especially amusing herself over herniece Mademoiselle's little fiction that her equipage had securedrespect. 

'That young Darpent is a useful and honest man, ' she said. 'It iswell if your beaux yeux have secured him as a protector in thesetimes, my goddaughter. '

'It is for my brother's sake that he has been our friend, ' I saidstiffly, and my mother added that he had been engaged in our cause inthe Ribaumont suit, as if that naturally bound him to our service, while the indignant colour flushed into Annora's cheek at thusdispensing with gratitude. However, we were soon interrupted, fornow that the way into the city was opened, and the widowed Queen hadleft her first solitude, every one was coming to pay their respectsto her; and the first we saw arrive was Mademoiselle, who had nosooner exchanged her compliments with her royal aunt, than, profitingby another arrival, she drew me into a window and began: 'But, mygood Gildippe, this is serious. You have left a distracted lover, and he is moving heaven and earth to gain you. Have you considered?You would gain a position. He has great influence with M. Le Prince, who can do anything here. '

'Ah! Mademoiselle! Your Royal Highness too!' was all I could say, but I could not silence her. M. De Lamont had interested the Princeof Conde in his cause, and Mademoiselle, with her insane idea ofmarrying the hero, in case the poor young Princess should die (andsome people declared that she was in a decline), would have thoughtme a small sacrifice to please him. So I was beset on all sides. Ithink the man was really enough in love to affect to be distracted. Though far less good-looking in my early youth than my sister, I wasso tall and blonde as to have a distinguished air, and myindifference piqued my admirer into a resolution to conquer me. 

Mademoiselle harangued me on the absurdity of affecting to be adisconsolate widow, on the step in rank that I should obtain, and theantiquity of M. De Lamont's pedigree, also upon all the ladies ofantiquity she could recollect who had married again; and when Icalled Artemisia and Cornelia to the front in my defence, shebetrayed her secret, like poor Cecile, and declared that it was veryobstinate and disobedient in me not to consent to do what wouldrecommend HER to the Prince. 

Next came M. D'Aubepine, poor young man, with the air of recklessdissipation that sat so ill on a face still so youthful, and a stillmore ridiculous affectation of worldly wisdom. He tried to argue meinto it by assuring me that the Prince would henceforth be all-powerful in France, and that M. De Lamont was his protege, and that Iwas not consulting my own interest, those of my son, or of my family, by my refusal. When he found this ineffectual, he assured meperemptorily that it was the Prince's will, to which I replied, 'Thatmay be, Monsieur, but it is not mine, ' to which he replied that I wasMademoiselle, but that I should repent it. I said M. Le Prince wasnot King of France, and I trusted that he never would be, so that Idid not see why I should be bound to obey his will and pleasure. Atwhich he looked so much as if I were uttering blasphemy that I couldnot help laughing. I really believe, poor fellow, that M. Le Princewas more than a king to him, the god of his idolatry, and that allhis faults might be traced to his blind worship and imitation. 

I was not even exempt from the persuasions or commands of the greatman himself, who was at that time dominating the councils of France, and who apparently could not endure that one poor woman should resisthim. But he, being a Bourbon and a great captain to boot, set aboutthe thing with a better grace than did the rest. It was in thismanner. When peace, such as it was, was agreed upon, the Princescame in to Paris, and of course they came to pay their visit ofceremony to Queen Henrietta. It was when I happened to be present, and before leaving her apartment, the Prince came to me, and bendinghis curled head and eagle face, said, with a look and gesture clearlyunaccustomed to opposition: 'Madame, I understand that you persist incruelty to my friend, M. De Lamont. Permit me to beg of you toreconsider your decision. On the word of a Prince, you will not havereason to repent. He is under my protection. '

I thanked His Highness for his condescension, but I assured him thatI had made up my mind not to marry again. 

This made him frown, and his face, always harsh, and only redeemedfrom ugliness by the fire of his eyes, became almost frightful, sothat it might have terrified a weak person into yielding; but ofcourse all he could then do was to make a sign to M. De Lamont toapproach, present him to me, and say, 'I have requested Madame toreconsider her decision, ' with which he bowed and left us tete-a-tetein the throng. 

Then I tried to cut short M. De Lamont's transports by telling himthat he must not take the Prince's requesting as the same thing as mydoing it. Moreover, I did what my mother said was brutal andunbecoming; I informed him that he was mistaken if he thought heshould obtain any claim over my son's estate, for I had nothing butmy husband's portion, and there were other guardians besides myself, who would not suffer a stranger to have any share in theadministration. Therewith he vehemently exclaimed that I did himinjustice, but I still believe that his intention was, if his Princehad remained all-powerful, to get the disposition of my son'sproperty thrown into his hands. My brother Solivet was away with thearmy, Eustace in Holland, whence I longed to recall him. 

Meantime, Sir Francis Ommaney had had become intimate with theDarpents, and so too had our good Abbe Bouchamp, who had assisted atthe funeral ceremonies, and from whom the widow derived muchconsolation. From them we heard that she would fain have retiredinto the convent at Port Royal, only she would not leave her son. There were those who held that it was her duty not to let him standbetween her and a vocation, especially as he was full grown, andalready in the world; but she retained enough of her old trainingamong the Huguenots to make her insist that since God had given herchildren, it was plain that He meant her to serve Him through herduty to them, and that if, through her desertion of him, Clement weretempted to any evil courses, she should never forgive herself. Andour Abbe was the more inclined to encourage her in this resolve thathe did not love the Jansenists, and had a mind sufficiently imbuedwith theology to understand their errors. 

Certainly Clement showed no inclination to evil courses. In fact, hewas so grave and studious that his mother cherished the hope oftaking him with her to Port Royal to become one of the solitaries whotransformed the desert into a garden. She said that with patienceshe should see him come to this, but in the meantime youth wassanguine, and he had not renounced the hope of transforming theworld. I think she also foresaw that the unavowed love for Annoracould scarcely lead to anything but disappointment, and she thoughtthat, in the rebound, he would be willing to devote himself as one ofthose hermits. 

He was certainly acting in a manner to astonish the world. He wasnot yet of sufficient age or standing to succeed to his father'schair as the President of one of the Chambers of the Parliament, buthis promotion as one of the gens du roi (crown lawyers) had beensecured by annual fees almost ever since he was born, and the robe ofthe Consellor who was promoted to the Presidency in the elderDarpent's room was awaiting him, when he declared his intention ofaccepting nothing that had been bought for him, but of continuing asimple advocate, and only obtaining what he could earn by his merits, not what was purchased. To this no doubt the feelings imbibed frommy brother and sister had brought him. The younger men, and all theparty who were still secret frondeurs, applauded him loudly, and hewas quietly approved by the Chief President Mole who had still hopesthat the domineering of the Prince of Conde and the unpopularity ofCardinal Mazarin would lead to changes in which ardent and self-devoted souls, like Clement's, could come to front and bring aboutimprovements. The Coadjutor de Gondi, who was bent on making himselfthe head of a party, likewise displayed much admiration for one sodisinterested, but I am afraid it was full of satire; and most peoplespoke of young Darpent as a fool, or else as a dangerous character. 

And it might very possibly be that if he fell under suspicion, hissolitude might not be that of Port Royal but of the Bastille. Yet Iam not sure that his mother did not dread the patronage of theCoadjutor most of all. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

ST. MARGARET AND THE DRAGON

I was day after day worried and harassed by my suitor, so that I wasvery glad when, in the autumn, Madame de Rambouillet invited mysister and me to come and pass a few days with her, and see hervintage. We left my son under the care of the Abbe and of SirFrancis and Lady Ommaney, and set forth together in our coach with mywomen, and, as usual, mounted servants enough to guard us from any ofthe thieves or straggling soldiers who infested the roads. 

For about a league all went well and quietly, but just at the cross-road leading to Chevreuse, a troop of horsemen sprang out upon us. There was a clashing of swords, a pistol-shot or two; I found myselftorn from the arms in which my sister was trying to hold me fast, dragged out in spite of all our resistance, and carried into anothercarriage, at the door of which I was received by two strong arms; ahandkerchief was thrown over my mouth to stop my screams, and thoughthe inside of the coach was already darkened, my hands were tied andmy eyes blinded as I was placed on the seat far in the corner; thedoor banged fast, and we drove swiftly away. 

At first I was exhausted with my struggles, and in an agony ofsuffocation with the gag, which hindered me from getting my breath. I fancy I must have made some sound which showed my captors thatunless they relieved me, I should perish in their hands. So thehandkerchief was removed, and while I was panting, a voice said:

'It shall not be put on again, if Madame will give her word not tocry out. '

'It is of no use at present, ' I gasped out, and they let me alone. Ithought I knew that threats and entreaties could avail me little inthe existing circumstances, and I thought it wiser to rally my forcesfor the struggle that no doubt was impending; so I sat as still as Icould, and was rewarded by finding my hands unbound, when I tried toraise one to my face, and again the voice said:

'Believe us, Madame, you are with friends who would not hurt you forthe universe. '

I made no answer. Perhaps it was in the same mood in which, when Iwas a child at home and was in a bad temper, I might be whipped andshut up in a dark room, but nothing would make me speak. Only now Isaid my prayers, and I am sure I never did so in those old days. Wewent on and on, and I think I must have dozed at last, for I actuallythought myself wearied out with kicking, scratching, and screaming onthe floor of the lumber-room at Walwyn, and that I heard the deargrandmother's voice saying:

'Eh! quoi! she is asleep; the sullen had stopped, and with the words, 'Pardon me, Madame, ' I was lifted out, and set upon my feet; but mytwo hands were taken, and I was led along what seemed to be endlesspassages, until at length my hands were released, and the same voicesaid:

'Madame will be glad of a few moments to arrange her dress. She willfind the bandage over her eyes easy to remove. '

Before, however, I could pull it away, my enemy had shut the doorfrom the outside, and I heard the key turn in it. I looked about me;I was in a narrow paved chamber, with one small window very high up, through which the sunbeams came, chequered by a tall tree, so highthat I knew it was late in the day, and that we must have driven far. There was the frame of a narrow bedstead in one corner, a strawchair, a crucifix, and an empty cell in a deserted convent; but therewas a stone table projecting from the wall, on which had been placeda few toilette necessaries, and a pitcher of water stood on thefloor. 

I was glad to drink a long draught, and then, as I saw there was noexit, I could not but make myself more fit to be seen, for my hairhad been pulled down and hung on my shoulders, and my face--ah! ithad never looked anything like that, save on the one day when Eustaceand I had the great battle, and our grand-mother punished us both bybread and water for a week. 

After I had made myself look a little more like a respectable widow, I knelt down before the crucifix to implore that I might be defended, and not be wanting to my son or myself. I had scarcely done so, however, when the door was opened, and as I rose to my feet I beheldmy brother-in-law, d'Aubepine. 

'Armand, brother, ' I cried joyfully, 'are you come to my rescue? Didyou meet my sister?'

For I really thought she had sent him, and I readily placed my handin his as he said: 'It depends only on yourself to be free. ' Eventhen I did not take alarm, till I found myself in a little baredilapidated chapel, but with the altar hastily decked, a priestbefore it in his stole, whom I knew for the Abbe de St. Leu, one ofthe dissipated young clergy about Court, a familiar of the Condeclique, and, prepared to receive me, Monsieur de Lamont, in a satinsuit, lace collar and cuffs, and deep lace round his boots. 

I wrenched my hand from M. D'Aubepine, and would have gone back, butthree or four of the soldiers came between me and the door. Theywere dragoons of the Conde regiment; I knew their uniform. Then Iturned round and reproached d'Aubepine with his wicked treachery tothe memory of the man he had once loved. 

Alas! this moved him no longer. He swore fiercely that this shouldnot be hurled at his head again, and throughout the scene, he wasworse to me than even M. De Lamont, working himself into a rage inorder to prevent himself from being either shamed or touched. 

They acted by the will and consent of the Prince, they told me, andit was of no use to resist it. The Abbe, whom I hated most of all, for he had a loathsome face, took out a billet, and showed it to me. I clearly read in the large straggling characters--'You are welcometo a corporal's party, if you can by no other means reduce the prideof the little droll. ---L. DE B. '

'Your Prince should be ashamed of himself, ' I said. 'I shall takecare to publish his infamy as well as yours. '

The gentlemen laughed, the Abbe the loudest, and told me I was quitewelcome; such victories were esteemed honourable. 

'Yes, ' I said, 'for a short time, among cowards and rogues. '

Armand howled at the word cowards. 

'Cowards, yes, ' I said, 'who must needs get a company of soldiers toovercome one woman. '

I saw a good long scratch on Lamont's face just then, and I flatteredmyself that it was due to Nan's nails. They all beset me, Lamont atmy feet, pleading the force of his passion, entreating with all theexaggeration of the current language; the Abbe arguing about thesplendid position I should secure for my son and myself, and the wayI should be overthrown if I held out against the Prince; d'Aubepineraging and threatening. I had lost myself already, by my absence andgoings on, the estate; the Prince had but to speak the word, and Ishould be in the Bastille. 

'Let him, ' I said. 

'It is of no use to dally with her, ' cried Armand. 'I will hold herwhile the rite is performed. '

I looked at him. I was quite as tall as he, and, I believe, quite asstrong; at any rate he quailed, and called out:

'Have you any spirit, Lamont? Here, one of you fellows, come andhelp to hold her. '

'At your peril!' I said. 'Gentlemen, I am the widow of your braveofficer, Captain de Bellaise, killed at Freibourg. Will you see thiswrong done?'

'I command you, as your officer--forward!' he said; and though onewavered, the others stepped forward. 

Then I saw there was only one thing to do. A big stone image stoodnear me. Before they could touch me I had fallen on my knees, andwound my arms so closely round it that they could not unloose themwithout absolute violence and injury. I knew that in such a positionit was impossible even to go through the semblance of marrying me. Ifelt Armand's hand and the Abbe's try to untwist my arms and unclaspmy hands, but they could not prevail against that grip with which Iheld, and I spoke not one word. 

At last they drew back, and I heard them say one to the other: 'Itis of no use. She must yield in time. Leave her. '

I heard them all clank out with their spurs, and lock the door, andthen I looked up. There was no other way out of the little conventchapel, which looked as if it had been unused for years, exceptperhaps for an annual mass, but the altar had been dressed inpreparation for the sacrilege that was intended. Then I turned tothe figure to which I had clung, and I was encouraged by seeing thatit bore the emblems of St. Margaret, my own patroness. I knew verywell that my brother and sister would shake their heads, and say itwas a superstitious fancy, if they called it by no harder name; butthey did not understand our feelings towards the saints. Still itwas not to St. Margaret I turned to help me, but to St. Margaret'sMaster and mine, when I prayed to be delivered from the mouth of thedragon, though I did trust that she was entreating for me. 

I would not move away from her, I might need to clasp her at anymoment; but I prayed fervently before the altar, where I knelt till Igrew faint with weariness; and then I sat at her feet, and thoughtover all the possibilities of being rescued. If my sister were freeI knew she would leave no stone unturned to deliver me, and that myrescue could be only a matter of time; but she might also have beenseized, and if so---? Anyhow, I was absolutely determined that theyshould kill me before I consented to become the wife of M. De Lamont, or to give him any right over my son. 

After a time the door was cautiously opened, and one of the dragoonscame in, having taken off his boots and spurs that he might move morenoiselessly. 

'Madame, ' he said, 'pardon me. I loved our brave captain; I knowyou. You sent me new linen in the hospital. Captain de Bellaise wasa brave man. '

'And you will see no wrong done to his widow and child, my goodfriend?' I cried. 

'Ah, Madame, you should command all of us. But we are under orders. '

'And that means doing me unmanly violence, unworthy of a bravesoldier! You cannot help me?'

'If Madame would hear me! The gentlemen are at dinner. They may sitlong over their wine to give them courage to encounter Madame again. My comrade, Benlot, is on duty. I might find a messenger to Madame'sfriends. '

Then he told me what I had little guessed, that we had been drivenround and round, and were really only in the Faubourg St. Medand, inthe Priory of the Benedictines, giving title and revenue to the AbbeSt. Leu, which had contained no monks ever since the time of theHuguenots. He could go into Paris and return again before his turnto change guard was likely to come. 

Should I send him, or should I thus only lose a protector? He so farreassured me that he said his comrades were, like himself, resolvednot to proceed to extremities with the widow of their captain--aboveall in a chapel. They would take care not to exert all theirstrength, and if they could, without breach of discipline, they woulddefend me. 

I decided. I knew not where my sister might be searching, or if shemight not be likewise a prisoner; so I directed him first to thehouse of M. Darpent, who was more likely to know what to do than SirFrancis Ommaney. Besides, the Rue des Marmousets, where stood MaisonDarpent, was not far off. 

I heard a great clock strike four, five, six, seven, eight o'clock, and by and by there was a parley. M. De Lamont opened the door ofthe chapel, and as I shuddered and kept my arm on my patroness, heimplored me to believe that no injury was intended to me--the queenof his thoughts, or some such nonsense--I might understand that bythe presence of my brother-in-law. He only besought me not to hurtmy precious health, but to leave the cold chapel for a room that hadbeen prepared for me, and where I should find food. 

'No, ' I said; 'nothing should induce me to leave my protectress. '

At least, then, he conjured me to accept food and wine, if I took itwhere I was. I hastily considered the matter. There was nothing Idreaded so much as being drugged; and yet, on the other hand, thebecoming faint for want of nourishment might be equally dangerous, and I had taken nothing that day except a cup of milk before we setout from home; and it was now a matter of time. 

I told him, therefore, that I would accept nothing but a piece ofbread and some pure water, if it were brought me where I was. 

'Ah, Madame! you insult me by your distrust, ' he cried. 

'I have no reason to trust you, ' I said, with a frigidity that Ihoped would take from him all inclination for a nearer connection;but he only smote his forehead as if it had been a drum, andcomplained of my cruelty and obduracy. 'Surely I had been nurturedby tigresses, ' he said, quoting the last pastoral comedy he had seen. 

He sent M. D'Aubepine to conduct some servant with a tray of variousmeats and drinks; I took nothing but some bread and water, mybrother-in-law trying to argue with me. This was a mistake on theirpart, for I was more angry with him than with his friend, in whomthere was a certain element of extravagant passion, less contemptiblethan d'Aubepine's betrayal of Phillipe de Bellaise's widow merely outof blind obedience to his Prince. He assured me that resistance wasutterly useless, that bets had passed at the Prince's court on theEnglishwoman's being subdued by Lamont before mid-night, and thePrince himself had staked, I know not how much, against those whobelieved in my obstinacy. Therefore Armand d'Aubepine, who wasflushed with wine, and not in the least able to perceive howcontemptible he was, urged me to yield with the best grace I could, since there was no help for it. And so saying he suddenly pinionedboth my arms with his own. 

No help! Was there no help in Heaven above, or earth below? Was mydragoon on his way?

The doors opened. Again the Abbe opened his book. 

'Brave dragoons!' I cried out; 'if there be not a man among you whowill stir a hand to save me, bear witness that I, Margaret deRibaumont, widow of Philippe de Bellaise, your own officer, protestagainst this shameful violence. Whatever is here done is null andvoid, and shall be made known to M. L'Abbe's superiors. '

There was a dead pause. Then Lamont whispered something to thepriest, who began again. I felt Armand's held relaxing, and making asudden struggle, I shook myself free with such force that hestaggered back, while I bounded forward and snatched the book fromthe priest's hand, throwing it on the floor, and then, regaining oncemore the statue of St. Margaret, I stood grasping her with one armwith desperate energy, while I cried: 'A moi, soldiers of Freibourg!'

'Drag her away, ' said d'Aubepine to the men. 

'By your leave, my captain, ' said their sergeant, 'except in time ofwar, it is not permitted to lay hands on any one in sanctuary. It isnot within our discipline. '

D'Aubepine swore an oath that they would see what their Colonel saidto their insubordination; but the sergeant replied, not without somemalice:

'It falls within the province of the reverend Father. '

'I command you, then!' shrieked the Abbe, in a furry. 

'Nay, Monsieur l'Abbe is not our officer, ' said the sergeant, saluting with great politeness. 

'Madame, ' cried Lamont, 'will you cause these men to be put to deathfor disobedience to their officer?'

I scarcely believed him. And yet---

There was a sound at the outside. 

'Make haste!' cried d'Aubepine. 'Here is the Prince come to seewhether he has won his wager. '

CHAPTER XXII

ST. MARGARET AND THE DRAGON

(By Annora)

A fine country to live in was la belle France, where a godly, modest, discreet, and well-living widow could be spirited away by main forcefrom her sister and her servants, on the King's highway in broaddaylight, and by soldiers wearing the King's own uniform! 'In thename of the Prince!' said they. Verily, I think it was in the nameof the Prince of darkness. They tore poor Meg from me, though weboth fought and struggled as hard as we could, in hopes of some onecoming to our rescue. Luckily my gloves were off, and I think I gavea few tolerable scratches to somebody's face, in spite of hisabominable cache-nez. If the servants had had a tenth part of thevalour of our poor fellows who lie dead at Newburry and Alresford wecould have brought her off; but these were but Frenchmen, and wereoverawed by those dragoons, or dragons, in their cuirasses. 

When poor Meg was dragged out, I held her fast, and tumbled out withher; but even as we fell, she was rent from me, and I think I musthave been half-stunned. At any rate, I found myself flung back intoour own carriage, and the door shut upon me, while the horses wereturned round, and we were made to gallop back by the road we hadcome. 

Our women, screaming and crying like mad things, helped me up fromthe bottom of the carriage. I bade them hold their tongues and stopthe horses. The one they could not do, the other they would not. SoI was forced to open the door myself, and shout to the coachman tostop that instant. He would not at first, but happily I saw apistol, which one of the wretches had dropped in the scuffle, and Ithreatened him with it. Then, when my voice could be heard, Iordered the two outriders to gallop after the coach in which mysister had been carried off, and see where she was taken, while wemade as much speed as we could after them; but the cowardly roguesabsolutely began to cry, and say that the leader of the party hadturned the horses' heads, and declared that he would shoot any onedead who attempted to follow. 

Luckily I was in a close-fitting black cloth suit, being still inmourning for our blessed martyr, and intending to make my toilette atRambouillet. I bade one of the fellows who had dismounted to give mehis cloak, and while they were still staring at me, I sprang into thesaddle, arranged the cloak, and rode off in pursuit. I knew I couldkeep my seat even on a man's saddle, for cavaliers' daughters had hadto do strange things, and it was thus that I was obliged to come awayfrom my dear Berenger's side. But then I rode between my father andEustace. Now, if I did not find out where my poor Margaret wasgone, who was to deliver her?

The men had heart of grace enough to follow me, more of them, indeed, than I wanted, as of course it was better to go quietly than to havethem clattering with me. I told them to keep a little in the rear, and I rode on, trying to see above the hedges the glancing of thehelmets of the dragoons. Across some vineyards I once caught sightof something like a carriage and a troop of horse, quite in adifferent direction from what I expected, and presently, when I cameto a cross-road, I saw by the marks in the mud and more that theymust have turned that way. I must follow by such guidance as thesesupplied, and fortunately there had recently been rain, so that thewheel and hoof marks could be tracked. To my amazement they ledthrough many turns and twists at last towards Paris; but to mydismay, when I came to the paved roads that surround the city, I lostall traces. I knew I was a remarkable figure when we were on thehigh roads, and so I kept back, making one of the servants inquire ata little cabaret on the road whether a carriage, attended bydragoons, had passed that way. 

'Yes, ' they brought me word. 'A close carriage, no doubt containinga state prisoner, had been escorted by dragoons on the way to theBastille. '

The man brought me back the answer, weeping. I scolded the fellowwell for thinking that these rogues SAYING Madame was at theBastille made it so, and yet it echoed my own alarm. I had at leastascertained one point. She had not been transported to some solitarycastle in the country, but must be near at hand. 

I must now go home, and see what help was to be had; but as theywould never let me pass the gates of Paris looking as I knew I mustlook, I was obliged to ride back and meet the carriage, which hadbidden to follow us, and return to it in order to re-enter the city. 

My mother was at St. Germain with our own Queen; who would be myresource? I thought I had better first go home and see what SirFrancis Ommaney's counsel would be, and whether he thought theEnglish ambassador, Sir Richard Browne, could give any help, though, unfortunately, poor Meg was no longer an English subject. There wasconsternation enough when I came in with my terrible news, but atleast there was common-sense, and not shrieking. Sir Francisrecommended me at once to dress myself to go to St. Germain, while hewould repair to the embassy, since Sir Richard was the most likelyperson to be able to advise him. We also thought of sending acourier to Solivet, who was with the army on the frontier; and I puton a dress fit to obtain admission at St. Germain. Lady Ommaney wasscolding me into taking some food before starting, and crying, because she had a bad attack of rheumatism, and her husband would notlet her go with us, when there was a knock, and one of the women ranin. 'News, news, Mademoiselle! News of Madame la Vicomtesse! Butah! she is in a sad plight. '

Down I ran headlong, and whom should I find but the dear andexcellent Madame Darpent. She, who never left her home but forChurch, had come to help us in our extremity. It seemed that Meg'sdragoon (about whom she has told her own story) had disguised himselfas soon as he came within Paris, and come in hot haste to M. Darpent, telling him how once my brave sister had repulsed the whole crew ofvillains, and how he had hurried away while the gentlemen (prettygentlemen, indeed!) were drinking wine to get up their courage foranother encounter, in which they were determined to succeeded sincethey were heavy bets at the Prince's camp that the pride of la grandAnglaise should be subdued before midnight. The dragoon had notventured to come any farther than Maison Darpent, lest he should bemissed and his comrades should not be able to conceal his absence buthe assured M. Darpent that though they might appear to obey orders, they were resolved to give the lady every opportunity of resistance. Was she not the wife of the best captain they had ever had, and hadshe not knelt like one of the holy saints in a mystery play?

I was for setting forth at once with Sir Francis, sure that theiniquity could not proceed when it was made public. Of course wewould have risked it, but we might not have been able to force ourway in without authority, since the vile Abbe was on his own ground, and Madame Darpent told us her son had devised a better plan. He hadgone to the Coadjutor, who in the dotage of his uncle, the Archbishopof Paris, exercised all his powers. As one of their monkish clergy, this same Abbe was not precisely under his jurisdiction, but thecelebration of a marriage, and at such an hour, in a Priory Chapel, was an invasion of the privileges of the parish priest, and thus theBishop of the See had every right to interfere. And this sameCoadjutor was sure to have an especial delight in detecting ascandal, and overthrowing a plan of the Prince of Conde and theruling party at Court, so that if he could be found there was littledoubt of his assistance. 

In order to lose no time, Clement Darpent had gone instantly insearch of him, and his good mother had come at once in her sedan tosee if I were returned, relieve our minds about my sister, and if mymother were within reach, prepare her to go in search of Margaret, since the Coadjutor, Bishop though he were, was still young, and notat all the sort of man who could be suffered to bring her homewithout some elder matron as her escort. Or if my mother were out ofreach, Madame Darpent was prepared, as an act of charity andgoodness, to go herself in quest of our poor Meg. The carriage hadfollowed her to the door for the purpose as soon as it could be gotready, and to add to my exceeding gratitude, she was willing to takeme with her. Sir Francis insisted on going to my mother. He said itwas right, but we doubted whether it would do any good. We waitedonly for tidings which her son had promised to send, and they came atlast in a small billet sent by one of his clerks. The Coadjutor hadabsolutely fired at the notion of such a hit to the opposite party, and was only getting together what were called the "First ofCorinthians, " namely, the corps who had belonged to him during thesiege, and had obtained the nickname because he was titularArchbishop of Corinth. 

Clement would not leave him a moment, lest he should be diverted fromhis purpose, but sent word to Madame Darpent that she, or whoever wasto escort Madame de Bellaise, was to meet him at seven o'clock in theopen space by the Barriere, showing a green light through thecarriage window, when he would show a red one. 

Oh! what might not had happened before we could get there! I thoughtI was used enough to suspense, I who had heard the rattle of themusketry in more than one battle, but I should have been wild had notthat best of women held my hands and soothed me and helped me to saymy prayers. 

Hours seemed to go by as we sat in the dark with our lamp behind thegreen curtain over the window, but at last the trampling of horseswas heard and the red light appeared. Presently Clement came to ourdoor, and exchanged a few words, but he said he must return to theCoadjutor, who was in the best humour in the world. 

The gates were closed, but the Coadjutor had no difficulty in passingthem, and we followed in his train. It was a dark night, but mountedservants carried flambeaux, and we saw the light glance on theCorinthians who guarded us. At last we stopped. We could not seethen, but I visited the place afterwards, and saw it was a tall brickhouse, with a high wall round a courtyard. Here the Coadjutor'scarriage drew up, and entrance was demanded for "Monseigneurl'Archeveque de Corinthe, Coadjutor de Paris. " It may be supposedthat the dragoon who kept the door made no difficulty. 

The carriage moved on, we drew up, and Clement, who had waited, handed us out saying: 'He tells me we are just in time. Be as silentas possible. '

We found the court lighted with torches, the Coadjutor's chaplainarranging his purple robe, as he walked on through the doors thatwere opened for him. Sir Francis led Madame Darpent, Clement gave mehis had, as we followed closely and noiselessly. 

The chapel had its great wax candles alight on the altar. We couldsee in, as we paused in the darkness of the antechapel, outside thescreen, while the Coadjutor advanced the door. My Margaret knelt, clinging closely to a great stone image. The vile coward d'Aubepinewas commanding--for we heard him--his soldiers to seize her. TheAbbe stood finding the place in his book; Lamont was at a safedistance, however, trying to induce her to rise. The Coadjutor'sclear voice was heard. 

'Benedicite, Messieurs, ' he said, and oh! the start they gave! 'Whathole function am I interrupting, M. L'Abbe? The lady is in theattitude of a penitent, but I was not aware that it was one of thecustoms of your order to absolve thus in public. '

'Monseigneur, ' said the Abbe, 'neither was I aware that Episcopalsurveillance extended to religious houses. '

 Margaret here broke in. She had risen to her feet, and looking atthe Archbishop, with eyes beaming in her pale face, she cried: 'Oh!Monseigneur, you are come to save me! These wicked men are strivingto marry me against my will. '

'To celebrate the marriage sacrament, ' continued the Coadjutor, inhis calm sneering tone; 'then M. L'Abbe, I suppose you have procuredthe necessary permission from the curate of the parish to perform therite at this strange time and place? I am sorry, Messieurs, to breakup so romantic a plan, savouring of the fine days of the quatre filsAymon, but I must stand up for the claims of the diocese and theparish. '

M. De Lamont turned round to my sister, and made one of his lowestbows, such as no one but a French courtier CAN make (thank Heaven!). 

'Madame, ' he said, 'we are disconcerted, but I shall still put mytrust in the truth that beauty ever pardons the efforts of love. '

'So it may be Monsieur, ' returned Margaret, already fully herself, and looking as tall, white, and dignified among them as a goddessamong apes, 'so it may be, where there is either beauty or love;' andshe made him a most annihilating curtsey. Then turning to theCoadjutor she said: 'Monseigneur, I cannot express my obligations toyou;' and then as Clement stood behind him, she added: 'Ah, Monsieur, I knew I might reckon on you, ' holding out her hand, English fashion. She did not see us, but M. D'Aubepine, who was slinking off thescene, like a beaten hound, as well he might, unaware that we were inthe antechapel, caught his foot and spur in Madame Darpent's longtrailing cloak, and came down at full length on the stone floor, being perhaps a little flustered with wine. He lay still for thefirst moment, and there was an outcry. One of the soldiers cried outto the other as Madame Darpent's black dress and white cap flashedinto the light:

'It is the holy saint who has appeared to avenge the sacrilege! Shehas struck him dead. '

And behold the superstition affected even the licentious good-for-nothing Abbe. Down he dropped upon his knees, hiding his eyes, andsobbing out: 'Sancta Margarita, spare me, spare me! I vow thee asilver image. I vow to lead a changed life. I was drawn into it, holy Lady Saint. They showed me the Prince's letter. '

He got it all out in one breath, while some of them were lifting upd'Aubepine, and the Coadjutor was in convulsions of suppressedlaughter, and catching hold of Clement's arm whispered: 'No, no, Monsieur, I entreat of you, do not undeceive him. Such a scene isworth anything! Madame, I entreat of you, ' to Meg, who was steppingforward. 

However, of course it could not last long, though as d'Aubepinealmost instantly began to swear, as he recovered his senses, MadameDarpent unconsciously maintained the delusion, by saying solemnly inher voice, the gravest and deepest that I ever heard in aFrenchwoman: 'Add not another sin, sir, to those with which you haveprofaned this holy place. '

The Abbe thereupon took one look and broke into another tempest ofentreaties and vows, which Madame Darpent by this time heard. 'M. L'Abbe, ' she said, 'I pray you to be silent, I am no saint, but afriend, if Madame will allow me so to call myself, who has come tosee her home. But Oh! Monsieur, ' she added, with the wonderfuldignity that surrounded her, 'forget not, I pray you, that what isinvisible is the more real, and that the vows and resolution you haveaddressed to me in error are none the less registered in Heaven. '

Mocker as the Coadjutor habitually was, he stood impressed, anduttered no word to mar the effect, simply saying: 'Madame, we thankyou for the lesson you have given us! And now, I think, these ladieswill be glad to close this painful scene. '

Meg, who with Madame Darpent, had satisfied herself that the wretchd'Aubepine had not hurt himself anything like as much as he deserved, declared herself ready and thankful to go away. The Abbe and Lamontboth entreated that she would take some refreshment before returninghome, but she shuddered, and said she could taste nothing there, andholding tight by my arm, she moved away, though we paused whileMadame Darpent was kneeling down and asking the Archbishop to blessher. He did so, and her spirit seemed to have touched his lighterand gayer one, and to have made him feel what he was, for he gave thebenediction with real solemnity and unaffected reverence for the oldlady. 

He himself handed her into the carriage, and he must greatly haverespected her, for though he whispered something to her son about thegrand deliverance of the victim through St. Margaret and the Dragon(an irresistible pun on the dragoon), yet excellent story as couldhave been made of the free-thinking Abbe on his knees to the oldFrondeur's widow, he never did make it public property. I believethat it is quite true, as my sister's clever friend Madame de Sevignedeclares, that there was always more good in Cardinal de Retz, as henow is called, than was supposed. 

Poor Meg had kept up gallantly through all her terrible struggle ofmany hours, but when we had her safely in the carriage in the dark, she sank back like one exhausted, and only held my hand and MadameDarpent's to her lips by turns. I wanted to ask whether she felt illor hurt in any way, but after she had gently answered, 'Oh, no, onlyso thankful, so worn out, ' Madame Darpent advised me not to agitateher by talking to her, but to let her rest. Only the kind, motherlywoman wanted to know how long it was since she had eaten, and seeingthe light of a little CABARET on the road, she stopped the carriageand sent her son to fetch some bread and a cup of wine. 

For I should have said that M. Darpent had been obliged to return inthe same carriage with us, since he could not accompany the Coadjutoron his way back. He wished to have gone outside, lest his presenceshould incommode our poor Meg; but it had begun to rain, and we couldnot consent. Nor was Meg like a Frenchwoman, to want to break out infits the moment the strain was over. 

He brought us out some galettes, as they call them, and each of ussisters had a draught of wine, which did us a great deal of good. Then we drove on in the dark as fast as we could, for the Coadjutor'scarriage had passed us while we were halting, and we wanted to enterthe gates at the same time with him. 

I sat beside my sister, holding her hand, as it seemed to give her asense of safety; Madame Darpent was on her other side, Clementopposite. We kept silence, for Madame Darpent declared that noquestions ought to be asked of Madame de Bellaise till the nextmorning. 

Presently we heard an unmistakable snoring from the old lady'scorner, and soon after I felt my sister's fingers relax and dropmine, so that I knew she slept. Then I could not but begin to tell, in the quiet and stillness, how my dear brother would thank and blesshim for what he had done for us. 

I am an old woman now, but I have only to shut my eyes and it allcomes back on me--the dark carriage, the raindrops against the windowglancing in the light of the flambeaux, the crashing of the wheels, and the steady breathing of the sleepers, while we two softly talkedon, and our hearts went out to one another, so that we knew our ownfeelings for one another. 

I think it came of talking of Eustace and his not being able to keepback, that, though Eustace was in some sort the guiding star of hislife, yet what he had done for us was not merely for my brother'ssake, but for another much more unworthy, had he only known it. 

Then he found he had betrayed himself, and asked my pardon, declaringthat he had only meant to watch me at a distance (poor me), knowingwell the vast gulf between our stations. What could I answer butthat this was only French nonsense; that we knew better in Englandwhat a gentleman meant, and that I was sure that my brother wouldfreely and joyfully give me to him, poor, broken, ruined cavalierexile as I was? And then we got hold of each other's hands, and hecalled me all sorts of pretty names in French and in English; and Ifelt myself the proudest and happiest maiden in France, or England toboot, for was not mine the very noblest, most upright anddisinterested of hearts?

Only we agreed that it would be better to let no one at Paris knowwhat was between us until my brother should return. We knew that hewould be the most likely person to obtain my mother's consent, and hereally stood in the place of a father to me; while if we disclosed itat once there was no knowing what my mother might not attempt in hisabsence, and his mother would never permit us to be in opposition tomine. She would not understand that, though I might not disobey mymother, it was quite impossible that my feelings and opinions shouldbe guided by one of different religion, nation, and principlesaltogether. 

However, we agreed to write to my brother in Holland as soon as wecould find a safe conveyance, and when there were signs of waking onthe part of our companions we unlocked the hands that had beenclasping one another so tightly. 

(Finished by Margaret. )

So you thought I was asleep, did you, Mistress Nan? I suppose afterall these years you will not be ready to box my ears for havingheard? It was no feigning; I really was so worn and wearied out thatI lay back on the cushions they had arranged for me in a sort ofassoupissement, only at first able to feel that I was safe, and thatAnnora was with me. She says that I dropped her hand. Well, perhapsI may have dozed for a moment, but it seems to me that I never lostthe knowledge of the sound of the wheels, nor of the murmuringvoices, though I could not stir, nor move hand nor foot, and though Iheard it all, it was not till I was lying in bed the next morningthat I recollected any part of it, and then it was more as if I haddreamt it than as a reality. 

Moreover, Annora was hovering over me, looking perfectly innocent, and intent on making me rest, and feeding me upon possets, andburning to hear my story. Then came my mother from St. Germain, having received a courier who had been dispatched at dawn. Sheembraced me and wept over me, and yet--and yet I think there mingledwith her feeling something of vexation and annoyance. If I were tobe carried off at all by a man of rank and station, it would havebeen almost better if he had succeeded in marrying me than that theaffair should be a mere matter of gossip. Certainly, that my rescueshould be owing to one of the factious lawyers, and to thatmischievous party leader the Coadjutor, was an unmixed grievance. After all my follies at Nid de Merle, I was quite sufficiently in illodour with the Court to make it needful to be very careful. If I hadonly waited till morning, the Queen would have taken care to deliverme without my having given a triumph which the Frondeurs would notfail to make the most of. 

'Where should I have been in the morning?' I said. 'Did she not knowthat the horrible wager related to midnight?'

She supposed any woman could take care of herself. At any rate I hadcontrived to offend everybody. The Prince was paramount at Court, and carried all before him. Mademoiselle, in her devotion to him, and the Queen-Regent would never forgive my trafficking with theFrondeurs. On the whole, my mother really thought that the best wayto regain my favour or even toleration, would be to accept M. DeLamont with a good grace, since he was certainly distractedly in lovewith me, and if I fell into disgrace with the authorities, I mighthave my son and the administration of his property taken away from mein a still more distressing manner, whereas it would only depend onmyself to rule M. De Lamont. 

'I have only to say, ' observed Annora, 'that if she were to do such athing I should never speak to her again. '

Whereupon my mother severely reproved my sister, declaring that itwas all her fault, and that she had gone beyond all bounds when leftto herself, and would be a disgrace to the family. 

Annora coloured furiously, and said she did not know what might beesteemed a disgrace in France, but she should certainly do nothingthat would disgrace her English name. Then it flashed on me thatwhat had passed in the carriage had been a reality, and I saw whatshe meant. 

Of course, however, I did not betray my perception. Disputes betweenmy mother and sister were what we all chiefly dreaded; it was soimpossible to make them see anything from the same point of view, soI thought it best to turn the conversation back to my own affairs, bysaying that I thought that to marry M. De Lamont would only makematters worse, and that no loss of favour or any other misfortunecould be equal to that of being bound to such a husband as he hadshown himself. 

I had them all against me except my sister and my English friends, and my saintly guide, Father Vincent de Paul, who assured me that Iwas by no means bound to accept a man like that; and as for silencingscandal, it was much better to live it down. That devout widow, Madame de Miramion, had endured such an abduction as mine at hands ofBussy Rabutin, and had been rescued by her mother-in-law, who hadraised the country-people. No one thought a bit the worse of her forit, and she was one of the foremost in her works of charity. 

This gave me the comfort of knowing that I was right, and I knewbesides that such a marriage would be a sore grief to my brother, soI resolved to hold out against all persuasions; but it was a wretchedtime that now began, for Lamont would not desist from persecuting mewith his suit, and I had no remission from him either at Court or inmy own house, for if I excluded him my mother admitted him. Mymother dragged me to Court as a matter of form, but I was unwelcomethere, and was plainly shown that it was so. 

The Queen could not forgive me for being rescued by the Frondeurs;Mademoiselle was in the Prince's interest; the Prince was dominant, and all his satellites made it a point of honour that none of themshould fail in carrying any point. Even Cecile d'Aubepine followedthe stream. Her husband was very angry with her, and said I had puton grand airs, and made myself ridiculous; and the foolish littlething not only obeyed but believed him, though he neglected her asmuch as ever. I never dared to drive, scarcely ever to walk out, without escort enough to prevent any fresh attempt at abduction; andeven my poor Gaspard was in disgrace, because he was not courtierenough to bear in silence taunts about his mother. 

I had only one thing to look forward to, and that was the return ofmy brother. The new King of England had arrived, and we trusted thathe would appear with him; but alas! no, he was detained on the King'sbusiness in Jersey, and could not come. 

Meantime Annora kept her own counsel, and though she was my onlysupporter, except of course of Ommaneys, in my resistance, the wantof confidence made a certain separation between us. I do not thinkshe had any secret communication with Clement Darpent--they were toohonourable for that--but she drew more to old Lady Ommaney than to meduring this time. 

Reports began to circulate that the Prince's insolence had gone toofar, and that the Cardinal had been holding secret conferences withthe Coadjutor, to see whether his help and that of Paris could berelied on for the overthrow of the Prince. I remember that Annorawas in high spirits, and declared that now was the time for honestmen if they only knew how to profit by it. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

We were greatly amazed when late one January evening Cecile rushedinto my room like one distracted, crying:

'The monsters, they have arrested him!'

We knew there was only on of the nobler sex in the eyes of my poorCecile, and my first question was:

'What has he done?' expecting to hear that he had been fighting aduel, or committing some folly. My surprise was greater when I heardher answer:

'He was going to carry off the Cardinal's nieces. '

'He seems to have a turn for such exploits, ' Annora said. 'Whowanted to marry them?'

'It was for no such thing!' Cecile said, with as much heat as shecould show; 'it was to take them as hostages. '

'As hostages!'

'Oh, yes! Do not you know? For the Prince. '

Our astonishment was redoubled. 

'Eh, quoi! Messieus les Prince de Conde and Conty, and the Duke ofLongueville, are all arrested, coming from the council, by thetreason of the Cardinal. They are sent off no one knows where, butmy husband, you understand, was with M. De Boutteville and a hundredother brave officers in the garden of the Hotel de Conte when thenews came. M. De Boutteville immediately proposed to gallop to Val deGrace and then seize on the Demoiselles Mazarin and Mancini as thebest means of bringing the Cardinal to reason, and instantly it isdone; but the cunning Cardinal had foreseen everything; the youngladies had been seized and carried off, I know not where, ' and sheburst into a flood of tears. 

With some difficulty we elicited from her that she had learned thetidings from a sergeant who had been in attendance on the Count, andhad fled when he was taken. At the same time horrible noises andshouts were heard all over the city. 

'Treason! Treason! Down with the Cardinal! Beaufort is taken! TheCoadjutor! Vengeance! Vengeance!'

Sir Francis hurried out to learn the truth, and then my mother in herfright cried out:

'Will no one come and protect us? Oh! where is M. Darpent?' whileAnnora called to me to take our cloaks and come up to the roof of thehouse to see what was going on. She was in high spirits, no doubtlaughing within herself to see how every danger made my mother invokeM. Darpent, and finding in a tumult a sure means of meeting him, forshe could trust to him to come and offer his protection. 

I SAW that she heard his voice on the stairs before he actually madehis appearance, telling my mother that he had hastened to assure herthat we were in no danger. The rising was due to M. De Boutteville, who, being disappointed in his plan of seizing the Cardinal's niecesas hostages, had gone galloping up and down Paris with his sworddrawn, shouting that the two darlings of the people, M. De Beaufortand the Coadjutor, had been seized. He wildly hoped that the uproarthis was sure to excite would frighten the Queen-Regent intoreleasing the Princes as she had before released Broussel. 

But the Coadjutor had come out with torches carried before him, andhad discovered the name of the true prisoners, whose arrogance had sodeeply offended the populace. He had summoned the Duke of Beaufort--the King of the Markets, as he was called--and he was riding aboutthe streets with a splendid suite, whose gilded trappings glistenedin the torchlight. 

So deeply had the Prince's arrogance offended all Paris that thewhole city passed from rage into a transport of joy, and the servantscame and called us up to the top of the house to see the strangesight of the whole city illuminated. It was wonderful to behold, every street and all the gates marked out by bright lights in thewindows, and in the open spaces and crossings of the street bonfires, with dark figures dancing wildly round them in perfect ecstasies offrantic delight; while guns were fired out, and the chorus of songscame up to us; horrid, savage, abusive songs, Sir Francis said theywere, when he had plodded his way up to us on the roof, after havingagain reassured my mother, who had remained below trying to comfortthe weeping Cecile. 

Sir Francis said he had asked a tradesman with whom he dealt, ordinarily a very reasonable and respectable man, what good theyexpected from this arrest that it should cause such mad delirium ofjoy. The man was utterly at a loss to tell him anything but that theenemies of Paris were fallen. And then he began shouting and dancingas frantically as ever. 

It was to his wife and me that the English knight told hisadventures; Annora and M. Darpent had drawn apart on the oppositeside of the paraget. If to Madame d'Aubepine this great stroke ofpolicy meant nothing but that her husband was in prison, to my sistera popular disturbance signified chiefly a chance of meeting ClementDarpent; and Lady Ommaney and I exchanged glances and would not lookthat way. Nay, we stayed as long as we could bear the cold of thatJanuary night to give them a little more time. For, as I cannot toooften remind you, my grand-daughters, we treated an English maiden, and especially one who had had so many experiences as my sister, verydifferently from a simple child fresh from her convent. 

Nicolas at last came up with a message from Madame la Baronne to begthat we would come down. We found that the Intendante Corquelebois(erst Gringrimeau) had brought the children in a panic, lest thehouses of the partisans of the Princes should be attacked. She hadput on a cloak and hood, made them look as like children of thepeople as she could, and brought them on foot through the streets;and there stood the poor little things, trembling and crying, andvery glad to find their mother and cling to her. She had neverthought of this danger, and was shocked at herself for desertingthem. And it was a vain alarm; for, as M. Darpent assured her, M. D'Aubepine was not conspicuous enough to have become a mark forpublic hatred. 

She was a little affronted by the assurance, but we appeased her, andas the tumult was beginning to die away, M. Darpent took his leave, promising my mother to let her know of any measure taken on themorrow. He offered to protect Madame d'Aubepine and her childrenback to their own hotel, but we could not let the poor wife go backwith her grief, nor the children turn out again on the winter'snight. I was glad to see that she seemed now on perfectly good termswith herdame de compagnie, who showed herself really solicitous forher and her comfort, and did not seem displeased when I took her tomy room. I found my poor little sister-in-law on the whole lessunhappy than formerly. People do get accustomed to everything, andshe had somehow come to believe that it was the proper andfashionable arrangement, and made her husband more distinguished, that he should imitate his Prince by living apart from her, and onlyoccasionally issuing his commands to her. He had not treated her oflate with open contempt, and he had once or twice take a littlenotice of his son, and all this encouraged her in her firm and quiettrust that in process of time, trouble, age, or illness would bringhim back to her. Her eyes began to brighten as she wondered whethershe could not obtain his liberty by falling at the Queen's feet witha petition, leading her children in her hands. 'They were sobeautiful. The Queen must grant anything on the sight of her littlechevalier!'

And then she had a thousand motherly anecdotes of the children'ssweetness and cleverness to regale me with till she had talkedherself tolerably happily to sleep. 

We kept her with us, as there were reports the next day of arrestsamong the ladies of the Princes' party. The two Princesses of Condewere permitted to retire to Chantilly, but then the Dowager-Princesswas known to be loyal, and the younger one was supposed to be anonentity. Madame de Longueville was summoned to the Palace, but shechose instead to hide herself in a little house in the Faubourg St. Germain, whence she escaped to Normandy, her husband's Government, hoping to raise the people there to demand his release and that ofher brothers. 

The Prince's INTENDANT was taken, and there was an attempt to arrestthe whole Bouillon family, but the Duke and his brother, M. DeTurenne, were warned in time and escaped. As to the Duchess and herchildren, their adventures were so curious that I must pause to telltheir story. A guard was sent to her house under arms to keep herthere. There were four little boys, and their attendants, on seeingthe guards, let them straight out through the midst of them, as ifthey were visitors, the servants saying: 'You must go away. Messieurs les petits Princes cannot play to-day. They are madeprisoners. ' They were taken to the house of Marshal de Guesbriant, where they were dressed as girls, and thus carried off toBellechasse, whence they were sent to Blois. 

There the little Chevalier of seven years old (Emmanuel Theodore washis name, and he is now a Cardinal) fell ill, and could not go onwith his brothers when they were sent southwards, but was left with alady named Flechine. By and by, when the Court came to Guienne, Madame de Flechine was afraid of being compromised if she was foundto have a son of the Duke of Bouillon in the house. She recollectedthat there was in a very thick wood in the park a very thick bush, forming a bower or vault, concealed by thorns and briers. There sheplaced the little boy with his servant Defargues, giving them somebread, wine, water, a pie, a cushion, and an umbrella in case ofrain, and she went out herself very night to meet Defargues and bringhim fresh provisions. His Eminence has once told me all about it, and how dreadfully frightened he was a thunderstorm in the valet'sabsence, and when a glow-worm shone out afterwards the poor childthought it was lightning remaining on the ground, and screamed out toDefargues not to come in past it. He says Defargues was a mostexcellent and pious soul, and taught him more of his religion thanever he had known before. Afterwards Madame de Flechine moved themto a little tower in the park, where they found a book of the LIVESOF THE SAINTS, and Defargues taught his little master to make wickerbaskets. They walked out on the summer nights, and enjoyedthemselves very much. 

As to poor Madame de Bouillon, her baby was born on that very day ofthe arrest. Her sister-in-law and her eldest daughter remained withher, and Madame Carnavalet; the captain of the guards had to watchover them all. He was of course a gentleman whom they already knew, and he lived with them as a guest. As soon as Madame de Bouillon hadrecovered, they began to play at a sort of hide-and-seek, daring himto find them in the hiding-places they devised, till at last he wasnot at all alarmed at missing them. Then M. De Boutteville and herdaughter escaped through a cellar-window, and they would have gotsafely off, if the daughter had not caught the smallbox. Her mother, who was already on the way to Boxdeaux, came back to nurse her, andwas taken by the bedside, and shut up in the Bastille. 

The two Princesses were at Chantilly, and rumours reached us that theyounger lady was about to attempt something for the deliverance of hehusband, and thereupon M. D'Aubepine became frantic to join them, andto share in their councils. We tried to convince her that she couldbe of no use, but no--suppose they were going to raise their vassals, she could do the same by those of d'Aubepine, and she, who hadhitherto been the most timid and helpless of beings, now rose intostrong resolution and even daring. It was in vain that I representedto her that to raise one's vassals to make war on the King was rankrebellion. To her there was only one king--the husband who deservedso little from her. She had given him her whole devotion, soul andbody, and was utterly incapable of seeing anything else. And MadameCroquelebois, being equally devoted to M. Le Comte, was thus more inher confidence than we were. She told us at last with a thousandthanks that she had resolved on offering her services to thePrincesses, and that she should send the children with MadameCroquelebois into Anjou; where she thought they would be safer thanat Paris. We were sorry, but there was a determination now in ourlittle Cecile that made her quite an altered woman. So she repairedto Montroud, where the younger Princess of Conde had retired, and wasacting by the advice of M. Lenet, the Prince's chief confidant. 

The next thing we heard of her was astonishing enough. The Princess, a delicate sickly woman, together with our little Countess, had leftMontroud in the night with fifty horses. The Princess rode on apillion behind M. De Coligny, Cecile in the same way, and the littleDuke of Enghien was on a little saddle in front of Vialas, hisequerry. On they went, day and night, avoiding towns and villages, and seldom halting except in the fields. Happily it was the month ofMay, or those two delicate beings never could have lived through it, but Cecile afterwards told us that she had never felt so well in herlife. 

Near the town of Saint Cere they met the Dukes of Bouillon and LaRochefoucauld, with eight hundred men, mostly gentlemen, who wereready to take up their cause. The Princess, hitherto so shy, gracefully and eagerly greeted and thanked them, and the little Dukemade his little speech. 'Indeed I am not afraid of Mazarin any more, since I see you here with so may brave men. I only expect theliberty of my good papa through their valour and yours. '

There were great acclamations at this pretty little address, and thenthe boy rode with his mother through the eight squadrons in which thetroop was drawn up, saluting the officers like a true little Prince, with his hat in his hand, while there were loud shouts of 'Vive leRoi! Vivent les Prince!' and such a yell of 'Down with Mazarin!' asmade Cecile tremble. 

She was expecting her own share in the matter all along, andpresently she had the delight of seeing twenty more men coming withCroquelebois at their head, and by his side, on a little pony, herown little Maurice, the Chevalier d'Aubepine. Was not Cecile a proudwoman then? I have a letter of hers in which she says (poor dearthing!) that he was a perfect little Prince Charmant; and he reallywas a pretty little fellow, and very well trained and good, adoringher as she deserved. 

I will go on with her story, though only at second hand, before Iproceed with my own, which for a time took me from the scene of myfriend's troubles. This is written for her grandchildren as much asmy own and my sister's, and it is well they should know what a womanshe truly was, and how love gave her strength in her weakness. 

The Prince of Conde, whose history and whose troubles were only toolike her own, already loved her extremely, and welcomed her littleson as a companion to the Duke of Enghien. The Duke of Bouillon tookthem to his own fortress-town of Turenne, where they remained, whilethe little bourg of Brive la Gaillarde was taken from the royaltroops by the Dukes. The regiment sent by the Cardinal to occupy theplace was Prince Thomas of Savoy's gendarmes, and as of course theyloved such generals as Turenne and Conde better than any one else, the loyalty of most of them gave way, and they joined the Princess'slittle army. 

The Duke of Bouillon entertained his guests splendidly, though hispoor Duchess was absent in the Bastille. The ladies had to dineevery day in the great hall with all the officers, and it was aregular banquet, always beginning and ending with Conde's health. Great German goblets were served out to everybody, servants and all, and the Duke of Bouillon began by unsheathing his sword, and takingoff his hat, while he vowed to die in the service of the Princes, andnever to return his sword to the scabbard--in metaphor, I suppose--till it was over. Everybody shouted in unison, waved the sword, flourished the hat, and then drank, sometimes standing, sometimes ontheir knees. The two little boys, with their tiny swords, weredelighted to do the same, though their mothers took care that thereshould be more water than wine in their great goblets. 

I afterwards asked Cecile, who was wont to shudder at the very sightof a sword, how she endured all these naked weapons flourishing roundher. 'Oh, ' she said, 'did not I see my husband's liberty throughthem?'

The ladies were then escorted, partly on horseback, partly by boat, to Limeuil, and that same day their Dukes gained a victory over theroyal troops, and captured all their baggage, treasure, and plate, sothat Cecile actually heard the sounds of battle, and her husbandmight say, as the Prince did at Vincennes: 'A fine state of thingsthat my wife should be leading armies while I am watering pinks. '

The wives had their pinks too, for the whole road to Bordeaux wasscattered with flowers, and every one trooped out to bless thePrincess and her son. As she entered the city the 400 vessels in theport fired all their guns three times over, and 30, 000 men, escortinga splendid carriage, in which she went along at a foot's pace, cameforth to welcome her. Her son was dressed in white taffety turned upwith black and white feathers. He was held in a gentleman's arms atthe window, and continually bowed, and held out his little hands tobe kissed, saying that his father and grandfather had been quiteright to love people who had such an affection for their house asthese seemed to have. Maurice d'Aubepine, at the opposite window, was nodding away with a good-will at the people who were obliged toput up with him instead of the little Duke. 

They came to a handsome house, which had been appointed for thePrince's gentleman, took great care of them, though the two Dukesremained outside with their little army. The next day the Princess, attended of course by Madame d'Aubepine, and a whole train ofnoblesse and influential people, went to the Parliament of Bordeauxwith her petition for aid. She personally addressed each counsellorin the passage to the great hall, and represented to them the crueltyand ingratitude of Mazarin towards her husband, while her little sonkissed and embraced and begged them for his father's liberty. 

When all had assembled in the great chamber, and they had begun todeliberate, the Princess burst in on them, threw herself on herknees, and began a speech. When she broke off, choked by tears, herlittle son fell on his knees and exclaimed: 'Gentlemen, be insteadof a father to me; Cardinal Mazarin has taken away mine!'

Then there was a general weeping, and the Parliament promised thePrincess their protection. There was more hesitation about admittingthe two Dukes, but at last it was done. There were the headquartersof the army that resisted the Crown. At least this was the principleon which the Duke of Bouillon acted. His family had from the firsttried to maintain the privileges which the old feudal vassalsattributed to themselves, and he was following up their traditions, as well as fighting for the deliverance of his wife from hercaptivity. 

The Duke of Rochefoucauld was throughout more the lover of Madame deLongueville then anything else, and the Princess of Conde simplythought of obtaining her husband's release, and nothing else. She hadno notions of State policy nor anything else of the kind, any morethan had Madame d'Aubepine, who assisted daily at her little agitatedcourt. They were the two gentlest, simplest, weakest conspiratorswho ever rebelled against the Crown, and it was all out of pureloyalty to the two husbands who had never shown a spark of affection, scarcely of courtesy, to either of them. 

Well, the Queen herself and her son and all the Court came to reduceBordeaux, Mademoiselle and all, for she had been for the timedetached from the adoration of the Prince, by, of all things in theworld, hopes given her of marrying her little cousin, the King, though he was only twelve and she was double that age. So Bordeauxwas besieged, and held out against the royal troops for some days, being encouraged by the resolute demeanour of the Princess; but atlast, when on the faubourgs had been taken, the Parliament, uneasy inconscience at resisting the Crown, decided on capitulating, and, tothe bitter disappointment and indignation of the ladies, made nostipulations as to the liberty of the husband. 

No attempt was made on the liberty of the lady herself, and she wasordered to depart to Chantilly. Though unwell, she had visited everycounsellor in his own house, and done her utmost to prepare for therenewal of the resistance in case her husband was not released; andshe was almost exhausted with fatigue when she went on board a vesselwhich was to take her to Larmont, whence she meant to go to Coutras, where she was to be permitted to stay for three days. 

Many nobles and people of condition, and half the population ofBordeaux, came down to the port with her, uttering lamentations, benedictions on her and her boy, and curses on Mazarin. 

While about to embark she met Marshal de la Meilleraye, who advisedher to go and see the Queen at Bourg, and she accordingly put herselfunder his direction, Cecile of course accompanying her as herattendant. The Duke of Damville came to fetch them in a carriage, and after alighting at Marshal de la Meilleraye's quarters, kindmessages of inquiry were sent them by the Court, even by the King andQueen. By every one indeed except Mademoiselle, who kept up herdislike. 

My son, who was present, described all to me, and how his bloodboiled at the scornful airs of Mademoiselle and the stiffness of theQueen. He said, however, that his aunt looked quite like a changedwoman as she entered, leading Maurice in the rear of the other motherand son. 

The poor Princess had been bled the day before, and had her arm in ascarf, and Mademoiselle actually tittered at the manner in which itwas put on, when this devoted wife was presented to the Queen, leading her little son. 

Falling on her knees before the Queen she made her a really touchingspeech, begging her to excuse the attempts of a lady who had thehonour of being married to the first Prince of the blood, when shestrove to break his fetters. 'You see us on our knees, Madame, tobeg for the liberty of what is dearest to us. Grant it to the greatactions the Monsieur mon mari has performed for the glory of yourMajesty, and the life he has ventured so often in the service of theState, and do not refuse our tears and humble prayers. '

The Queen answered coldly enough. Cecile told me afterwards that itwas like ice, dashing all her hopes, to see the stern, haughtydignity of Anne of Austria unmoved by the tender, tearful, imploringform of Claire Clemence de Breze, trembling all over with agitation, and worn down with all she had attempted. 'I am glad, cousin, ' saidthe Queen, 'that you know your fault. You see you have taken a bedmethod of obtaining what you ask. Now your conduct is to bedifferent, I will see whether I can give you what you desire. '

In spite of her fright and the Queen's chilly pride, Cecile, feelingthat this was her only chance, fell almost on her face before theQueen, with Maurice by her side, and cried: 'Grace, grace, greatQueen, for my husband. '

My little Marquis, as he told me, could not bear to see them thusalone, so he ran forward, and knelt on her other side, holding herhand. And he heard a horrid little laugh, something about a newedition and an imitation; but the Queen, who had forgotten all abouther, asked who she was and what her husband was. 

Then, when it was explained that the Count d'Aubepine had drawn hissword and tried to aid Boutteville, there was another smile. Perhapsit was that the contrast might mortify the poor Princess, but theQueen said:

'There! stand up, Madame la Comtesse! We will send orders that theCount shall be released. He has expiated his own zeal, and will knowbetter another time. '

Can any one conceive our Cecile's joy? She rose up and embraced boththe boys passionately, and Gaspard could not refrain fromcongratulating her with the words, scarcely complimentary: 'My aunt, is it not indeed the lion and the mouse? Now my uncle must love you, as my papa loved my mama. '

The Princess, always too sweet and gentle for envy, kissed andcongratulated Madame d'Aubepine, and left her on retiring to Milly. Nor did Cecile quit the Court till she actually was the bearer of anorder for the release of her husband. 

CHAPTER XXIV

FAMILY HONOUR

I have gone on with the d'Aubepine side of the story, but while thesetwo devoted wives were making exertions at Bordeaux so foreign totheir whole nature, which seemed changed for their husband's sake, Iwas far away at the time, even from my son. 

It was in March that we received a letter from my brother, LordWalwyn, bidding us adieu, being, when we received it, already on thehigh seas with the Marquis of Montrose, to strike another blow forthe King. He said he could endure inaction no longer, and that hishealth had improved so much that he should not be a drag on theexpedition. Moreover, it was highly necessary that the Marquisshould be accompanied by gentlemen of rank, birth, and experience, who could be entrusted with commands, and when so many hung back itwas the more needful for some to go. It was a great stroke to us, for besides that Sir Andrew Macniven went on reiterating that it wasmere madness, and there was not a hope of success--the idea ofEustace going to face the winds of spring in the islands of Scotlandwas shocking enough. 

'The hyperborean Orcades, ' as the Abbe called them, made us think ofnothing but frost and ice and savages, and we could not believe SirAndrew when he told us that the Hebrides and all the west coast ofScotland were warmer than Paris in the winter. 

After this we heard nothing--nothing but the terrible tidings thatthe Great Marquis, as the Cavaliers called him, had been defeated, taken by treachery, and executed by hanging--yes, by hanging atEdinburgh! His followers were said to be all dispersed anddestroyed, and our hearts died within us; but Annora said she neitherwould nor could believe that all was over till she had more positivenews, and put my mother in mind how many times before they had heardof the deaths of men who appeared alive and well immediately after. She declared that she daily expected to see Eustace walk into theroom, and she looked round for him whenever the door was opened. 

The door did open at last to let in tidings from the Hague, but notbrought by Eustace. It was Mr. Probyn, one of the King's gentlemen, however, who told me he had been charged to put into my hands thefollowing letter from His Majesty himself:--

'Madame--If you were still my subject I should command you, as you are evermy old playfellow. Meg, I entreat you to come without delay to a truesubject and old playfellow of mine, who, having already sorely imperiled hisneck and his health, and escaped, as they say, by the skin of his teeth, would fain follow me into the same jeopardy again did I not commit him tosuch safe warship as that of Madame de Bellaise. Probyn will tell youfurther. He also bears a letter that will secure you letters and passportsfrom the Queen-Regent. When next you hear of me it will be with one of mycrowns on my head. CHARLES R. '

Therewith was a brief note from Eustace himself:--

'Sweet Meg--Be not terrified at what they tell you of me. I have beenpreserved by a miracle in the miserable destruction of our armament and ournoble leader. Would that my life could have gone for his! They take such apassing ailment as I have often before shaken off for more than it is worth, but I will write more from shipboard. Time presses at present. With myloving and dutiful greetings to my mother, and all love to my sister, 'Thine, 'E. WALWYN AND RIBAUMONT. '

Mr. Probyn told us more, and very sad it was, though still we hadcause for joy. When Montrose's little troop was defeated and brokenup at the Pass of Invercharron my brother had fled with the Marquis, and had shared his wanderings in Ross-shire for some days; but, asmight only too surely have been expected, the exposure brought backhis former illness, and he was obliged to take shelter in the cabinof a poor old Scotchwoman. She--blessings be on her head!--wasfaithful and compassionate, and would not deliver him up to hisenemies, and thus his sickness preserved him from being taken withhis leader by the wretched Macleod of Assynt. 

Just as he grew a little better her son, who was a pedlar, arrived atthe hut. He too was a merciful man, and, moreover, was loyal inheart to the King, and had fought in Montrose's first rising; and heundertook to guide my brother safely across Scotland and obtain hispassage in one of the vessels that traded between Leith andAmsterdam. Happily Eustace always had a tongue that could readilycatch the trick of dialects, and this excellent pedlar guarded himlike his own brother, and took care to help him through all pressingand perplexing circumstances. Providentially, it was the height ofsummer, and the days were at their longest and warmest, or I know nothow he could have gone through it at all; but at last he safelyreached Leith, passing through Edinburgh with a pack on his back thevery day that the Marquis of Huntly was executed. He was safelyembarked on board at Dutch lugger, making large engagement ofpayment, which were accepted when he was known to have estates inFrance as well as in England; and thus he landed at Amsterdam, andmade his way to the Hague, where all was in full preparation for theKing's expedition to Scotland on the invitation of the nation. 

So undaunted was my dear brother's spirit that, though he wasmanifestly very ill from the effects of exposure and fatigue, and ofa rough voyage in a wretched vessel, he insisted that he shouldrecover in a few days, and would have embarked at once with the Kinghad not absolute orders to the contrary, on his duty as a subject, been laid upon him. Mr. Probyn did not conceal from us that thelearned Dutch physician, Doctor Dirkius, though his condition veryserious, and that only great care could save his life. 

Of course I made up my mind at once to set forth and travel asquickly as I could--the King had kindly secured my permission--and totake Tryphena with me, as she knew better than any one what to do forEustace. Annora besought permission to accompany me, and, to mysurprise, my mother consented, saying to me in confidence that shedid not like leaving her in Lady Ommaney's care while she herself waswith the Queen of England. Lady Ommaney was not of sufficient rank, and had ideas. In effect, I believe my mother had begun to have hersuspicions about Clement Darpent, though separation a good thing, never guessing, as I did, that one part of Nan's eagerness to be withher brother was in order to confide in him, and to persuade him asshe had never been able to do by letter. There remained my son to bedisposed of, but I had full confidence in the Abbe, who had bred uphis father so well, and my boy would, I knew, always look up to himand obey him, so that I could leave him in his care when not inwaiting, and they were even to spend the summer together in a littleexpedition to Nid de Merle. I wanted to see my son love his countryhome as English gentlemen lover theirs; but I fear that can never be, since what forms affection is the habit of conferring benefits, andwe are permitted to do so little for our peasants. 

Thus, then, it was settled. I went to Mademoiselle, who was alwaysgood-natured where her vanity was not concerned, and who freely-granted me permission to absent myself. The Queen-Regent had beenprepared by her nephew, and she made no difficulties, and thus mygreat traveling carriage came again into requisition; but as anescort was necessary, we asked Sir Andrew Macniven to accompany us, knowing that he would be glad to be at the Hague in case it should beexpedient to follow His English Majesty to Scotland. We sent acourier to find my brother Solivet at Amiens, that he might meet andcome part of the way with us. As to M. De Lamont, I was no longer indread of him, as he had gone off to join the troops which the Duke ofBouillon and Rochefoucauld were collecting to compel the deliveranceof the Princes; but the whole time was a dangerous one, for disbandedsoldiers and robbers might lurk anywhere, and we were obliged to takesix outriders armed to the teeth, besides the servants upon thecarriage, of all of whom Sir Andrew took the command, for he couldspeak French perfectly, having studied in his youth in the Universityof Leyden. 

Thus we took leave of Paris and of my mother, many of our friendscoming out with us the first stage as far as St. Denys, where we alldined together. I could have excused them, as I would fain have hadmy son all to myself, and no doubt my sister felt the same, forClement Darpent had also come. For the Frondeurs, or those supposedto be Frondeurs, were at this time courted by both parties, by thefriends of the Prince in order to gain their aid in his release, andby the Court in order to be strengthened against the Prince'ssupporters; and thus the lawyers were treated with a studied courtesythat for the time made it appear as if they were to be henceforth, asin England, received as gentlemen, and treated on terms more likeequality; and thus Clement joined with those who escorted us, and hada few minutes, though very few, of conversation with my sister, inwhich he gave her a packet for my brother. 

I was not obliged to be cautious about knowing anything now that Ishould be out of reach of my mother, and all was to be laid before mybrother. I could say nothing on the road, for our women were in thecoach with us. The posts were not to be so much relied on as theyare at present, and we had to send relays of horses forward to awaitus at each stage in order to have no delay, and he, who had made thejourney before, managed all this excellently for us. 

At night we two sisters shared the same room, and then it was that Iasked Nan to tell me what was in her heart. 

'What is the use?' she said; 'you have become one of these proudFrench nobility who cannot see worth or manhood unless a man cancount a lineage of a hundred ancestors, half-ape, half-tiger. '

However, the poor child was glad enough to tell me all, even though Iargued with her that, deeply English as she was in faith and inhabits and modes of thought, it would hardly result in happiness evenif she did extort permission to wed one of a different nation andreligion, on whom, moreover, she would be entirely dependent forcompanionship; since, though nothing could break the bonds ofsisterly affection between her and me, all the rest of the persons ofher own rank would throw her over, since even if M. Darpent could beennobled, or would purchase an estate bringing a title, hers wouldstill be esteemed a mesalliance, unworthy the daughter of Anselme deRibaumont the Crusader, and of the 'Bravest of Knights, ' who gainedthe chaplet of pearls before Calais. 

'Crusader!' said Annora; 'I tell you that his is truly a holy waragainst oppression and wrong-doing. Look at your own poor peasants, Meg, and say if he, and those like him, are not doing their best tosave this country from a tyranny as foul as ever was the Saracengrasp on the Holy Sepulchre!'

'He is very like to perish in it, ' I said. 

'Well, ' said Nan, with a little shake in her voice, 'if they toldthose who perished in the Crusades that they died gloriously andtheir souls were safe, I am sure it may well be so with one whopleads the cause of the poor, and I despite of his own danger neverdrew his sword against his King. '

There was no denying, even if one was not in love, and a little tetemontee besides, like my poor Nan, that there was nobility of heart inClement Darpent, especially as he kept his hands clear of rebellion;and I would not enter into the question of their differing religions. I left that for Eustace. I was certain that Annora knew, even betterthan I did, that the diversity between our parents had not been forthe happiness of their children. In my own mind I saw little chancefor the lovers, for I thought it inevitable that the Court and thePrinces would draw together again, and that whether Cardinal Mazarinwere sacrificed or not, the Frondeurs of Paris would be overthrown, and that Darpent, whose disinterestedness displeased all partiesalike, was very likely to be made the victim. Therefore, though Icould not but hope that the numerous difficulties in the way mightprevent her from being linked to his fate, and actually sharing hisruin. 

She was not in my hands, and I had not to decide, so I let her talkfreely to me, and certainly, when we were alone together, her tongueran on nothing else. I found that she hoped that Eustace wouldinvite her lover to the Hague, and let them be wedded there by one ofthe refugee English clergy, and then they would be ready to meetanything together; but that M. Darpent was withheld by filialscruples, which actuated him far more than any such considerationsmoved her, and that he also had such hopes for his Parliament that hecould not throw himself out of the power of serving it at thiscritical time, a doubt which she appreciated, looking on him as equalto any hero in Plutarch's LIVES. 

Our brother De Solivet met us, and conducted into Amiens, where hehad secured charming rooms for us. He was very full of an excellentmarriage that had been offered to him for one of his littledaughters, so good that he was going to make the other take the veilin order that her sister's fortune might be adequate to the occasion;and he regretted my having left Paris, because he intended to haveset me to discover which had the greatest inclination to the worldand which the chief vocation for the cloister. Annora's Protestanteyes grew large and round with horror, and she exclaimed at last:

'So that is the way in which you French fathers deliberate how tomake victims of your daughters?'

He made her a little bow, and said, with is superior fraternal air:

'You do not understand, my sister. The happiest will probably be shewho leads the peaceful life of a nun. '

'That makes it worse, ' cried Annora, 'if you are arranging a marriagein which you expect your child to be less happy than if she were anun. '

'I said not so, sister, ' returned Solivet, with much patience andgood-humour. 'I simply meant what you, as a Huguenot, cannotperceive, that a simple life dedicated to Heaven is often happierthan one exposed to the storms and vicissitudes of the world. '

'Certainly you take good care it should prove so, when you makemarriages such as that of the d'Aubepines, ' said Nan. 

Solivet shrugged his shoulders by way of answer, and warned myafterwards to take good care of our sister, or she would do somethingthat would shock us all. To which I answered that the family honourwas safe in the hand of so high-minded a maiden as our Annora, and hereplied:

'Then there is, as I averred, no truth in the absurd report that shewas encouraging the presumptuous advances of that factious rogue andFrondeur, young Darpent, whom our brother had the folly to introduceinto the family. '

I did not answer, and perhaps he saw my blushes, for he added:

'If I thought so for a moment, she may be assured that his muddybourgeois blood should at once be shed to preserve the purity of thefamily with which I have the honour to be connected. '

He was terribly in earnest, he, a Colonel in His Majesty's service, afather of a family, a staid and prudent man, and more than fortyyears old! I durst say no more but that I though Eustace was thenatural protector and head of the Ribaumont family. 

'A boy, my dear sister; a mere hot-headed boy, and full of unsettledfancies besides. In matters like this it is for me to think for thefamily. My mother depends on me, and my sister may be assured that Ishall do so. '

I wondered whether my mother had given him a hint, and I alsoconsidered whether to put Annora upon her guard; but there wasalready quite enough mutual dislike between her and our half-brother, and I thought it better not to influence it. Solivet escorted us asfar as his military duties permitted, which was almost to Calais, where we embarked for the Meuse, and there, when our passports hadbeen examined and our baggage searched, in how different a world wefound ourselves! It was like passing from a half-cultivated, poverty-stricken heath into a garden, tilled to the utmost, everyfield beautifully kept, and the great haycocks standing up tall inthe fields, with the hay-makers round them in their curious caps, while the sails of boats and barges glided along between the trees inthe canals that traversed them unseen; and as to the villages, theywere like toys, their very walks bright with coloured tiles, and thefronts of the houses shining like the face of a newly-washed child. Indeed, as we found, the maids do stand in front of them everymorning and splash them from eaves to foundation with buckets ofwater; while as to the gardens, and with palings painted of fancifulcolours. All along the rivers and canals there were little paintedhouses, with gay pavilions and balconies with fanciful carvedrailings overhanging the water, and stages of flower-pot arranged inthem. Sometimes a stout Dutch vrow with full, white, spotlesssleeves, many-coloured substantial petticoats, gold buckles in hershoes, and a great white cap with a kind of gold band round her head, sat knitting there; or sometimes a Dutchman in trunk hose was fishingthere. We saw them all, for we had entered a barge or trekschuyt, towed by horses on the bank, a great flat-bottomed thing, thatperfectly held our carriage. Thus we were to go by the canals to theHague, and no words can describe the strange silence and tranquillityof our motion along still waters. 

My sister and her nurse, who had so often cried out against both thenoisiness and the dirtiness of poor France, might well be satisfiednow. They said they had never seen anything approaching to it inEngland. It was more like being shut up in a china closet thananything else, and it seemed as if the people were all dumb or dead, as we passed through those silent villages, while the great windmillsalong the banks kept waving their huge arms in silence, till Annoradeclared she felt she must presently scream, or ride a tilt with themlike Don Quixote. 

And all the time, as we came nearer and nearer, our hearts sank moreand more, as we wondered in what state we should find our dearbrother, and whether we should find him at all. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE HAGUE

At last we passed a distant steeple and large castle, which we weretold belonged to Ryswyk, the castle of the Prince of Orange; then wewent along through long rows of trees, and suddenly emerging fromthem we beheld a vast plain, a great wood, and a city crowned withtowers and windmills. 

Sir Andrew had been there before, and after showing our passports, and paying our fare to the boatman, who received it in a leathernbag, he left the servants to manage the landing of the carriage atthe wharf, and took us through the streets, which were asscrupulously clean and well-washed, pavement and all, as if they hadbeen the flags of an English kitchen, and as silent, he said, as aSunday morning in Edinburgh. Even the children looked like littlemodels of Dutchmen and Dutchwomen, and were just as solid, sober, andsilent; and when Sir Andrew, who could speak Dutch, asked a littleboy our way to the street whence my brother had dated his letter, thechild gave his directions with the grave solemnity of a judge. 

At last we made out way to the Mynheer Fronk's house, where we hadbeen told we should find my Lord Walwyn's lodgings. It was a verytall house, with a cradle for a stork's nest at the top, and one ofthe birds standing on a single long thin leg on the ridge of the veryhigh roof. There were open stalls for cheese on either side of thedoor, and a staircase leading up between. Sir Andrew made it knownto a Dutchman, in a broad hat, that we were Lord Walwyn's sisterscome to see him, and he thereupon called a stout maid, in a snowyround cap and kerchief, who in the first place looked at our shoes, then produced a brush and a cloth, and, going down on her knees, proceeded to wipe them and clean them. Sir Andrew submitted, as onequite accustomed to the process, and told us we might think ourselvesfortunate that she did not actually insist on carrying us allupstairs, as some Dutch maids would do with visitors, rather thanpermit the purity of their stairs and passages to be soiled. 

He extracted, meantime, from the Dutchman, that the Englishman hadbeen very ill with violent bleedings at the lungs, but was somewhatbetter; and thus we were in some degree prepared, when we had mountedup many, many stairs, to find our Eustace sitting in his cloak, though it was a warm summer day, with his feet up on a wooden chairin front of him, and looking white, wasted, weak, as I had never seenhim. 

He started to his feet as the door opened and he beheld us, and wouldhave sprung forward, but he was obliged to drop back into his chairagain, and only hold out his arms. 

'My sisters, my sisters!' he said; 'I had thought never to have seenyou again!'

'And you would have sailed again for Scotland!' said Annora. 

'I should have been strong in the face of the enemy, ' he replied, butfaintly. 

There was much to be done for him. The room was a very poor and bareone, rigidly clean, of course, but with hardly and furniture in itbut a bed, table, and two chairs, and the mistress or her maidruthlessly scoured it every morning, without regard to the damp thatthe poor patient must inhale. 

It appeared that since his expedition to Scotland the estate inDorset had been seized, so that Harry Merrycourt could send him nomore remittances, and, as the question about the Ribaumont propertyin Picardy was by no means decided, he had been reduced to sadstraits. His Dutch hostess was not courteous, and complained verymuch that all the English cavaliers in exile professed to have richkindred who would make up for everything, but she could not see thatanything came of it. However, she did give him house-room, and, though grumbling, had provided him with many comforts and good fare, such as he was sure could not be purchased out of the very small sumhe could give her by the week. 

'And how provided?' he said. 'Ah! Nan, can you forgive me? I havehad to pledge the last pearl of the chaplet, but I knew that Megwould redeem it. '

He had indeed suffered much, and we were eager to do our utmost forhis recovery. We found the house crowded with people, and redolentof cheese. This small, chilly garret chamber was by no means properfor a man in his state of health, nor was there room for us in thehouse. So, leaving Nan with him, I went forth with Sir Andrew toseek for fresh lodgings. I need not tell how we tramped about thestreets, and asked at many doors, before we could find any abode thatwould receive us. There were indeed lodgings left vacant by thegentlemen who had attended the King to Scotland, but perforce, somany scores had been left unpaid that there was great reluctance toreceive any cavalier family, and the more high-sounding the name, theless trust there was in it. Nothing but paying down a monthbeforehand sufficed to obtain accommodation for us in a housebelonging to a portly widow, and even there Nan and I would have toeat with the family (and so would my brother if he were well enough), and only two bedrooms and one sitting-room could be allotted to us. However, these were large and airy; the hangings, beds, and linenspotless; the floors and tables shining like mirrors; the windowsclean, sunny, and bright; so we were content, and had our mailsdeposited there at once, though we could not attempt to move mybrother so late in the day. 

Indeed, I found him so entirely spent and exhausted by hisconversation with Annora, that I would not let him say any more thatnight, but left him to the charge of Tryphena, who would not hear ofleaving him, and was very angry with Mistress Nan, who, she said, inher English speech, would talk a horse's head off when once shebegan. In the morning Sir Andrew escorted us to the lodgings, wherewe found my brother already dressed, by the help of Nicolas, andlooking forward to the change cheerfully. I have given Sir Andrew mypurse, begging him, with his knowledge of Dutch, to discharge thereckoning for me, after which he was to go to find a chair, a coach, or anything that could be had to convey my brother in, for indeed hewas hardly fit to walk downstairs. 

Presently the Scottish knight knocked at the door, and desired tospeak with me. 'What does this mean, Madame?' he said, looking muchamused. 'My Lord here has friends. The good vrow declares that allhis charges have been amply paid by one who bade her see that hewanted for nothing, and often sent dainty fare for him. '

'Was no name given?'

'None; and the vrow declares herself sworn to secrecy; but I observedthat by a lapsus linguoe she implied that the sustenance came from afemale hand. Have you any suspicions that my lord has a secretadmirer?'

I could only say that I believed that many impoverished cavaliers hadmet with great and secret kindness from the nobility of Holland; thatthe King of England, as he knew, had interested himself about mybrother, and as we all had been, so to say, brought up in intimacywith the royal family, I did not think it impossible that thePrincess of Orange might have interested herself about him, thoughshe might not wish to have it known, for fear of excitingexpectations in others. Of course all the time I had othersuspicions, but I could not communicate them, though they wereincreased when Sir Andrew went with Eustace's pledge to redeem thepearl; but he came back in wrath and despair, telling me that arascally Dutch merchant had smelt it out, and had offered a hugeprice for it, which the goldsmith had not withstood, despairing ofits ransom. 

Eustace did not ask who the merchant was, but I saw the hot bloodmounting in his pale cheek. Happily Annora was not present, soinconvenient questions were avoided. He was worn out with the beingcarried in a chair and then mounting the stairs, even with the aid ofSir Andrew's arm. 

Tryphena, however, had a nourishing posset for him, and we laid himon a day-bed which had been made ready for him, where he smiled atus, said, 'This is comfort, ' and dropped asleep while I sat by him. There I stayed, watching him, while Nan, whose nature never was tosit still, went forth, attended by Sir Andrew and Nicolas, to obtainsome needments. If she had known the language, and if it had beenfitting for a young demoiselle of her birth, she might have gonealone; these were the safest streets, and the most free from riot orviolence of any kind that I ever inhabited. 

While she was gone, Eustace awoke, and presently began talking to me, and asking me about all that had passed, and about which we had notdared to write. Nan, he said, had told him her story, and he washorrified at the peril I had incurred. I replied that was all past, and was as nothing compared with the consequences, of which my sisterhad no doubt informed him. 'Yes, ' he said, 'I did not think it ofDarpent. ' I said I supposed that the young man could not help theoriginal presumption of loving Annora, and that I could beartestimony that they had been surprised into confessing it to oneanother. He sighed, and said: 'True. I had thought that the barrierbetween the robe and the sword was so fixed in a French mind that Ishould as soon have expected Nicolas to aspire to Mademoiselle deRibaumont's hand as Clement Darpent. '

'But in her own eyes she is not Mademoiselle de Ribaumont so much asMistress Annora Ribmont, ' I said; 'and thus she treated him in amanner to encourage his audacity. '

'Even so, ' said Eustace, 'and Annora is no mere child, not one ofyour jeunes filles, who may be disposed of at one's will. She is awoman grown, and has been bred in the midst of civil wars. She hadrefused Harry Merrycourt before we left home, and she knows how tofrighten away all the suitors our mother would find for her. Darpentis deeply worthy. We should esteem and honour him as a gentleman inEngland; and were he there, and were our Church as once it was, hewould be a devout and thankful member of it. Margaret, we mustpersuade my mother to consent. '

I could not help rejoicing; and then he added: 'The King has beenwell received, and is about to be crowned in Scotland. It may wellbe that our way home may be opened. In that case, Meg, you, myjoint-heiresses, would have something to inherit, and before going toScotland I had drawn up a will giving you and your Gaspard the Frenchclaims, and Annora the English estates. I know the division is notequal; but Gaspard can never be English, and Annora can never beFrench; and may make nearly as much of an Englishman of Darpent asour grandfather was. '

'Nay, nay, Eustace, ' I said; 'the names of Walwyn and Ribaumont mustnot be lost. '

'She may make Darpent deserve a fresh creation, then, ' he answered, smiling sadly. 'It will be best to wait a little, as I have toldher, to see how matters turn out at home. '

I asserted with all my heart, and told him what our brother Solivethad said. 

'Yes, ' he said; 'Solivet and our mother will brook the matter muchbetter if she is to live in England, the barbarous land that they canforget. And if I do not live, I will leave them each a letter thatthey cannot quite disregard. '

I said I was glad he had not consented to Annora's notion of bringingDarpent to Holland, since Solivet might lie in wait for him, andbesides, it would not be treating our mother rightly. 

'No, ' said Eustace; 'if I am ever strong enough again I must returnto Paris, and endeavour to overcome their opposition. ' And he spokewith a weary sigh, though I augured that he would soon improve underour care, and that of Tryphena, who had always been better for himthan any doctor. Then I could not help reproaching him a little withhaving ventured himself in that terrible climate and hopeless cause. 

'As to the climate, that was not so much amiss, ' said Eustace. 'Western Scotland is better and more wholesome than these Dutchmarshes. The sea-gull fares better than the frog. '

'But the cause, ' I said. 'Why did you not wait to go with the King?'

'There were reasons, Meg, ' he said. 'The King was hounding---yes, hounding out the Marquis to lead the forlorn hope. Heaven forgive mefor my disloyalty in thinking he wished to be quit of one sodistasteful to the Covenanters who have invited him. '

And when I broke forth in indignation, Eustace lowered his voice, andsaid sadly that the King was changed in many points from the Princeof Wales, and that listening to policy was not good for him. Then Iasked why, if the King hounded, as he called it, the Marquis, on thisunhappy expedition, should Eustace have share in it?

'It was enough to anger any honest man, ' said Eustace, 'to see theflower of all the cavaliers thus risked without a man of rank orweight to back him, with mere adventurers and remnants of Goring'sfellows, and Irishmen that could only do him damage with the Scots. I, with neither wife nor child, might well be the one to share theventure. '

'Forgetting your sisters, ' said I. 'Ah, Eustace, was there no othercause to make you restless?'

'You push me hard, Meg. Yes, to you I will say it, that there was aface among the ladies here which I could not look on calmly, and Iknew it was best for her and for myself that I should be away. '

'Is she there still?' I asked. 

'I know not. Her husband had taken her to his country-house lasttime I heard, and very few know that I am not gone with the King. Itwas but at the last moment that he forbade me. It is better so. '

I thought of what his hostess had told me, but I decided for thepresent to keep my own counsel. 

We thought it right to pay our respects to the Princess of Orange, but she was keeping very little state. Her husband, the Stadholder, was on bad terms with the States, and had just failed in a greatattack on Amsterdam; and both he and she were indisposed. ThePrincess Royal replied therefore to our request for admittance, thatshe could not refuse to see such old friends of her family as theladies of Ribaumont, but that we must excuse her for giving us aprivate reception. 

Accordingly we were conducted through numerous courts, up a broadstaircase of shining polished wood, through a large room, to acabinet hung with pictures, among which her martyered father held theforemost place. She was a thin woman, with a nose already too largefor her face, inherited no doubt from her grandfather, the GrandMonarque, and her manner had not the lively grace of her mother's, but seemed as if it had been chilled and made formal by her being soearly transported to Holland. She was taken thither at ten yearsold, and was not yet nineteen; and though I had once or twice playedwith her before my marriage, she could not be expected to rememberme. So the interview was very stiff at first, in spite of her kindinquiries for my brother, whom she said the King loved and valuedgreatly. I wondered whether it could have been she who had providedfor his needs, and threw out a hint to see if so it were, but sheevidently did not understand me, and our visit soon ended. 

Our way of life at the Hague was soon formed. Eustace was our firstthought and care, and we did whatever we thought best for his health. I would fain have taken him back to Paris with us, but autumn wassetting in, and he was not in a state to be moved, being only able towalk from one room to the other, and I could hardly hope that hewould gain strength before the winter set in, since a sea voyagewould be necessary, as we could not pass through the SpanishNetherlands that lay between us and France. Besides, while the Kingwas in Scotland, he always entertained the hope of a summons toEngland. Other exiles were waiting in the same manner as ourselves, and from time to time we saw something of them. The gentlemen wouldcome and sit with my brother, and tell him of the news, and weexchanged visits with the ladies, whom Annora recognised at the roomwhere an English minister held their service; but they were a muchgraver and quieter set of exiles than those we had known at Paris. They could hardly be poorer than those; indeed, many were lessstrained, but they did not carry off their poverty in the same gayand lively manner, and if they had only torn lace and soiledthreadbare garments, they shut themselves up from all eyes, insteadof ruffling gaily as if their rags were tokens of honour. 

Besides, more than one event occurred to sadden that banishedcompany. The tidings came of the death of the young Lady Elisabeth, who had pine away in the hands of her keepers, and died a week afterher arrival at Carisbrooke, where her father had been so long aprisoner, her cheek resting her open Bible. 

Annora, who had known her as a grave, sweet, thoughtful child, grieved much for her, broken-hearted as she seemed to have been forher father; and the Princess of Orange, knowing that Nan had seen thepoor young lady more lately than herself, sent for her to converseand tell of the pretty childish ways of that 'rosebud born in snow, 'as an English poet prettily termed the young captive. 

Ere long the poor Princess was in even more grievous trouble. Herhusband, the young Prince of Orange, died of smallpox, whereupon shefell into such transports of grief that there was the greatestanxiety respecting her, not only from compassion, but because she wasthe staunch supporter of her exiled family to the best of herability. 

Eight days later, on her own nineteenth birthday, her son was born;and in such gloom, that it was a marvel that mother or babe survived, for the entire rooms were hung with black, and even the cradle of thechild was covered completely with black velvet, so that the poorlittle puny infant seemed as if he were being put into a coffin. Wesaw the doleful chamber ourselves, for Eustace sent us to pay ourrespects, and Queen Henrietta honoured me with commands to write hera report of her widowed daughter and first grandson. 

For we were still at the Hague, Eustace gradually regaining strength, and the bleedings had almost entirely ceased; but the physician whoattended him, the best I think whom I have even known, and whoseregimen did him more good than any other he had adopted, charged me, as I valued his life, not to attempt a journey with him till afterthe winter should be over, and summer entirely set in. If theeffusion of blood could be prevented he might even yet recover andlive to old age, but if it recurred again Dr. Dirkius would notanswer for his life for an hour; nor must he do aught that would givehim a rheum or renew his cough. 

After all, we were very peaceful and happy in those rooms at theHague, though Eustace was very anxious about the King, Annora's heartwas at Paris, and I yearned after my son, from whom I had neverthought to be so long parted; but we kept our cares to ourselves, andwere cheerful with one another. We bought or borrowed books, andread them together, we learned to make Holland lace, studied Dutchcookery, and Annora, by Eustace's wish, took lessons on the lute andspinnet, her education in those matters having been untimely cutshort. By the way, she had a real taste for music, and the findingthat her performance and her singing amused and refreshed him gaveher further zeal to continue the study and conquer the difficulties, though she would otherwise have said she was too old to go to school. 

Then the frost set in, and all the canals and sluggish streams weresheets of ice, to which the market people skated, flying along uponthe ice like birds. We kept my brother's room as warm as it was inour power to do, and made him lie in bed till the house wasthoroughly heated, and he did not suffer much or become materiallyworse in the winter, but he was urgent upon us to go out and see thecurious sights and share the diversions as far as was possible forus. Most of the Dutch ladies skated beautifully, and the youngerones performed dances on the ice with their cavaliers, but all wasdone more quietly than usual on account of the mourning, the Princeof Orange being not yet buried, and his child frail and sickly. TheBaptism did not take place till January, and then we were especiallyinvited to be present. Though of course my brother could not go, Annora and I did so. The poor child had three sets of States-Generalfor his godfathers, his godmothers being his grandmother, the elderPrincess of Orange, and his great aunt, Queen Elisabeth of Bohemia. The Duke of York, who had lately arrived, was asked to carry thelittle Prince to church, but he shuddered at the notion of touching ababy, as much as did his sister a the idea of trusting her preciouschild with him, so the infant was placed in the arms of one of hisyoung aunts, Mademoiselle Albertine of Nassau. 

I saw no more than a roll of ermine, and did not understand much ofthe long sermon with which the Dutch minister precluded the ceremony, and which was as alien to my sister's ideas of a christening as itwas to mine. Many other English ladies were mingled with the Dutchones in the long rows that lined the aisle, and I confess that myeyes wandered a good deal, guessing which were my countrywomen. Nearly opposite to me was one of the sweetest faces I have ever seen, the complexion quite pearly white, the hair of pale gold, in shininglittle rings over the brow, which was wonderfully pure, though withan almost childish overtone. There was peace on the soft dark eyesand delicately-moulded lips and the fair, oval, though somewhat thincheeks. It was a perfect refreshment to see that countenance, and itreminded me of two most incongruous and dissimilar ones--namely, theangelic face of the Dutchess de Longueville when I had first seen herin her innocent, untainted girlhood, and of the expression on theworn old countenance of Madame Darpent. 

I was venturing a glance now and then to delight myself withoutdisconcerting that gentle lady, when I felt Annora's hand on my arm, squeezing so hard, poor maid, that her fingers left a purple markthere, and though she did not speak, I beheld, as it were, darts andarrows in the gleam of her eyes. And then it was that I saw on theblack velvet dress worn by the lady a part of a necklace of largepearls--the pearls of Ribaumont--though I should not have known themagain, or perhaps would Nan, save for the wearer. 

'Flaunting them in our very faces, ' muttered poor Nan; and if eyescould have slain, hers would have killed the poor Vrow van Hunker onthe spot. As it was, the dark eyes met her fierce glance and sunkbeneath it, while such a painful crimson suffused the fair cheeksthat I longed to fly to the rescue, and to give at least a look ofassurance that I acquitted her of all blame, and did not share mysister's indignation. But there was no uplifting of the eyelidsagain till the ceremony was ended, and we all had to take our placesagain in one of the thirty state coaches in which the company hadcome to the christening. 

I saw Madame van Hunker led out by a solid, wooden-faced oldDutchman, who looked more like her father than her husband; and Itold Annora that I was sure she had worn the pearls only because hecompelled her. 

'Belike, ' said my sister. 'She hath no more will of her own than ahank of flax! That men can waste their hearts on such moppets asthat!'

But though we did not at all agree on the impression Madame vanHunker had made on us, we were of one mind to say nothing of it toEustace. 

Another person laid her hand on Annora's arm as she was about toenter our carriage. 'Mistress Ribmont!' she exclaimed; 'I knew notthat you were present in this land of our exile. '

I looked and saw a lady, as fantastically dressed as the mourningwould permit, and with a keen clever face, and Nan curtsied, saying:'My Lady Marchioness of Newcastle! let me present to you my sister, Madame la Vicomtesse de Bellaise. '

She curtsied and asked in return for Lord Walwyn, declaring that herlord would come and see him, and that we must come to visit her. 'Weare living poorly enough, but my lord's good daughter Jane Doth herbest for us and hath of late sent us a supply; so we are making merrywhile it lasts, and shall have some sleighing on ice-hills to-morrow, after the fashion of the country. Do you come, my good lad iscruelly moped in yonder black-hung place, with his widowed sister andher mother-in-law, and I would fain give him a little sport withyoung folk. '

Lady Newcastle's speech was cut short by her lord, who came to insiston her getting into the coach, which was delaying for her, and on theway home Nan began to tell me of her droll pretensions, which werelike an awkward imitation of the best days of the Hotel Rambouillet. 

She also told me about the noble-hearted Lady Jane Cavendish, thedaughter of the Marquis's first marriage--how she held out a house ofher father against the rebels, and acted like a brave captain, untilthe place was stormed, and she and her sister were made prisoners. The Roundhead captain did not treat them with over-ceremony, but suchwas the Lady Jane's generous nature that when the Royalists came toher relief, and he was made captive in his turn, she saved his lifeby her intercession. 

She had since remained in England, living in a small lodge near theruins of her father's house at Bolsover, to obtain what she could forhis maintenance abroad, and to collect together such remnants of thebetter times as she might, such as the family portraits, and thehangings of the hall. I longed to see this very worthy and noblelady, but she was out of our reach, being better employed in England. Nan gave a little sigh to England, but not such a sigh as she wouldonce have heaved. 

And we agreed on the way home to say nothing to my brother of ourmeeting with poor Millicent. 

My Lord Marquis of Newcastle showed his esteem for my brother bycoming to see him that very day, so soon as he could escape from thebanquet held in honour of the christening, which, like all that wasdone by the Dutch, was serious and grim enough, though it could notbe said to be sober. 

He declared that he had been ignorant that Lord Walwyn was at theHague, or he should have waited on him immediately after arrivingthere, 'since nothing, ' said the Marquis, 'does me good like thesight of an honest cavalier. ' I am sure Eustace might have said thesame; and they sat talking together long and earnestly about how itfared with the King in Scotland, and how he had been made to take theCovenant, which, as they said, was in very truth a dissembling whichmust do him grievous ill, spiritually, however it might servetemporally. My Lord repeated his lady's invitation to a dinner, which was to be followed up by sleighing on hills formed of ice. Annora, who always loved rapid motion as an exhilaration of spirits, brightened at the notion, and Eustace was anxious that it should beaccepted, and thus we found ourselves pledged to enter into thediversions of the place. 

CHAPTER XXVI

HUNDERSLUST

So to my Lord Marquis of Newcastle's dinner we went, and foundourselves regaled with more of good cheer than poor cavaliers couldusually offer. There was not only a good sirloin of beer, but agoose, and many choice wild-fowl from the fens of the country. Therewas plum porridge too, which I had not seen since I left England atmy marriage. Every one was so much charmed at the sight that Ithought I ought to be so too, but I confess that it was too much forme, and that I had to own that it is true that the English are grossfeeders. The Duke of York was there, looking brighter and more manlythan I had yet seen him, enlivened perhaps by my Lady Newcastle, whotalked to him, without ceasing, on all sorts of subjects. She wouldnot permit the gentlemen to sit after dinner, because she would haveus all out to enjoy her sport on the ice-hills, which were slopesmade with boards, first covered with snow, and then with water pouredover them till they were perfectly smooth and like glass. I cannotsay that I liked the notion of rushing down them, but it seemed tofill Annora with ecstasy, and my lady provided her with a sleigh anda cavalier, before herself instructing the Duke of York in theguidance of her own sledge upon another ice-hill. 

My Lord Marquis did me the honour to walk with me and converse on mybrother. There was a paved terrace beneath a high wall which wasswept clear of snow and strewn with sand and ashes, so that those whohad no turn for the ice-hills could promenade there and gaze upon thesport. When his other duties as a host called him away, his lordshipsaid, with a smile, that he would make acquainted with each other twoof his own countrywomen, both alike disguised under foreign names, and therewith he presented Madame van Hunker to me. Being on thesame side of the table we had not previously seen one another, norindeed would she have known me by sight, since I had left Englandbefore her arrival at Court. 

She knew my name instantly, and the crimson colour rushed into thosefair cheeks as she made a very low reverence, and murmured somefaltering civility. 

We were left together, for all the other guest near us wereHollanders, whose language I could not speak, and who despised Frenchtoo much to learn it. So, as we paced along, I endeavoured to saysomething trivial of the Prince's christening and the like, whichmight begin the conversation; and I was too sorry for her to speakwith the frigidity with which my sister thought she ought to betreated. Then gradually she took courage to reply, and I found thatshe had come in attendance on her stepdaughter Cornelia, who wasextremely devoted to these sleighing parties. The other daughter, Veronica, was at home, indisposed, having, as well as her father, caught a feverish cold on a late expedition into the country, andMadame would fain have given up the party, as she thought Cornelialikewise to be unwell, but her father would not hear of his favouriteKeetje being disappointed. I gather that the Yung-vrow Cornelia hadall the true Dutch obstinacy of nature. By and by she venturedtimidly, trying to make her voice sound as if she were onlyfulfilling an ordinary call of politeness, to hope that my LordWalwyn was in better health. I told her a little of his condition, and she replied with a few soft half-utterance; but before we hadgone far in our conversation there was a sudden commotion among thesleighing party--an accident, as we supposed--and we both hurriedforward in anxiety for our charges. My sister was well, I was atonce reassured by seeing her gray and ermine hood, which I knew well, for it was Mademoiselle van Hunker who lay insensible. It was notfrom a fall, but the cold had perhaps struck her, they said, forafter her second descent she had complained of giddiness, and hadalmost immediately swooned away. She was lying on the sledge, quiteunconscious, and no one seemed to know what to do. Her stepmotherand I came to her; I raised her head and put essences to her nose, and Madame van Hunker took off her gloves and rubbed her hands, whilemy Lady Newcastle, hurrying up, bade them carry her into the house, and revive her by the fire; but Madame van Hunker insisted andimplored that she should not be taken indoors, but carried home atonce, showing a passion and vehemence quite unlike one so gentle, andwhich our good host and hostess withstood till she hinted that shefeared it might be more than a swoon, since her father and sisterwere already indisposed. Then, indeed, all were ready enough tostand aloof; a coach was procured, I know not how, and poor Corneliawas lifted into it, still unconscious, or only moaning a little. Icould not let the poor young stepmother go with her alone, and no oneelse would make the offer, the dread of contagion keeping all at adistance, after what had passed. At first I think Madame van Hunkerhardly perceived who was with her, but as I spoke a word or two inEnglish, as we tried to accommodate the inanimate form between us, she looked up and said: 'Ah! I should not have let you come, Madame!I do everything wrong. I pray you to leave me!' Then, as I ofcourse refused, she added: 'Ah, you know not---' and then whisperedin my ear, though the poor senseless girl would scarce have caughtthe sound, the dreadful word 'smallpox. ' I could answer at once thatI had had it--long, long ago, in my childish days, when mygrandmother nursed me and both my brothers through it, and shebreathed freely, I asked her why she apprehended it, and she told methat some weeks ago her husband had taken the whole party down to hispleasure-house in the country, to superintend some arrangement in hisgarden, which he wished to make before the frost set in. 

He and his daughter Veronica had been ailing for some days, but itwas only on that very morning that tidings had come to the Hague thatthe smallpox had, on the very day of their visit, declared itself inthe family of the gardener who kept the house, and that two of hischildren were since dead. Poor Millicent had always had a feeblewill, which yielded against her judgment and wishes. She had not hadthe malady herself, 'But oh! my child, ' she said, 'my little Emilia!'And when I found that the child had not been on the expedition toHunderslust, and had not seen her father or sister since they hadbeen sickening, I ventured to promise that I would take her home, andthe young mother clasped my hand in fervent gratitude. 

But we were not prepared for the scene that met us when we drove intothe porte cochere. The place seemed deserted, not a servant was tobe seen but one old wrinkled hag, who hobbled up to the door sayingsomething in Dutch that made Madame van Hunker clasp her hands andexclaim: 'All fled! Oh, what shall we do?'

At that moment, however, Dr. Dirkius appeared at the door. He spokeFrench, and he explained that he had been sent for about an hour ago, and no sooner had he detected smallpox than Mynheer's valet had fledfrom his master's room and spread the panic throughout the household, so that every servant, except one scullion and this old woman, haddeserted it. The Dutch have more good qualities than the French, their opposites, are inclined to believe, but they have also aheadstrong selfishness that seems almost beyond reach. Nor perhapshad poor Mynheer van Hunker been a master who would win muchaffection. 

I know not what we should have done if Dr. Dirkius had not helped meto carry Cornelia to her chamber. The good man had also locked thelittle Emilia into her room, intending, after having taken the firstmeasures for the care of his patients, to take or send her to theladies at Lord Newcastle's, warning them not to return. Madame vanHunker looked deadly pale, but she was a true wife, and said nothingshould induce her to forsake her husband and his daughters; besides, it must be too late for her to take precautions. Dirkius looked herall over in her pure delicate beauty, muttering what I think was:'Pity! pity!' and then agreed that so it was. As we stood by the bedwhere we had laid Cornelia, we could hear at one end old Hunker'svoice shouting--almost howling--for his vrow; and likewise the poorlittle Emilia thumping wildly against the door, and screaming for hermother to let her out. Millicent's face worked, but she said: 'Shemust not touch me! She had best not see me! Madame, God sent in youan angle of mercy. Take her; I must go to my husband!'

And at a renewed shout she ran down the corridor to hide her tears. The doctor and I looked at one another. I asked if a nurse wascoming. Perchance, he said; he must go and find some old woman, andold Trudje must suffice meantime. There would as yet be no risk inmy taking the child away, if I held her fast, and made her breatheessences all through the house. 

It was a strange capture, and a dreadful terror for the poor littlegirl. By his advice I sprinkled strong essences all over the poorlittle girl's head, snatched her up in my arms, and before she hadbreath to scream hurried down stairs with her. She was about threeyears old, and it was not till I was almost at the outer door thatshe began to kick and struggle. My mind was made up to return assoon as she was safe. It was impossible to leave that poor woman todeal alone with three such cases, and I knew what my brother wouldfeel about it. And all fell out better than I could have hoped, forunder the porte cochere was the coach in which we had come to LadyNewcastle's. My sister, learning that I had gone home with Madamevan Hunker, had driven thither to fetch me, and Nicolas was vainlytrying to find some one to tell me that she was waiting. I carriedthe child, now sobbing and calling for her mother, to the carriage, and explained the state of affairs as well as I could while trying tohush her. Annora was quick to understand, and not slow to approve. 'The brutes!' she said. 'Have they abandoned them? Yes, Meg, youare safe, and you cannot help staying. Give me the poor child! Iwill do my best for her. O yes! I will take care of Eustace, andI'll send you your clothes. I wish it was any one else, but he willbe glad. So adieu, and take care of yourself! Come, little one, donot be afraid. We are going to see a kind gentleman. '

But as poor little Emilia knew no English, this must have failed toconsole her, and they drove away amid her sobs and cries, while Ireturned to my strange task. I was not altogether cut off from home, for my faithful Nicolas, though uncertain whether he had been securedfrom the contagion, declared that where his mistress went he went. Tryphena would have come too, but like a true old nurse she had noconfidence in Mistress Nan's care of my brother, or of the child, andit was far better as it was, for the old women whom the doctor foundfor us were good for nothing but to drink and to sleep; whereasNicolas, like a true French laquais, had infinite resources in timeof need. He was poor Madame's only assistant in the terrible nursingof her husband; he made the most excellent tisanes and bouillons forthe patients, and kept us nurses constantly supported with good meatsand wines, without which we never could have gone through thefatigue; he was always at hand, and seemed to sleep, if he slept atall, with one ear and one eye open during that terrible fifteen daysduring which neither Madame van Hunker, he, nor I, ever took off ourclothes. Moreover, he managed our communication with my family. Every day in early morning he carried a billet from me which heplaced in a pan of vinegar at their door; and, at his whistle, Annoralooked out and threw down a billet for me, which, to my joy andcomfort, generally told me that my brother was no worse, and that thelittle maid was quite well, and a great amusement to him. He was theonly one who could speak any Dutch, so that he had been able to domore with her than the others at her first arrival; and though shevery soon picked up English enough to understand everything, and tomake herself understood in a droll, broken baby tongue, she continuedto be devoted to him. She was a pretty, fair child of three yearsold, with enough of Dutch serenity and gravity not to be troublesomeafter the first shock was over, and she beguiled many of his wearyhours of confinement by the games in which he joined her. He sentout to by for her a jointed baby, which Annora dressed for her, and, as she wrote, my lord was as much interested about the LadyBelphoebe's robes (for so had he named her) as was Emilia, and he washer most devoted knight, daily contriving fresh feasts and pageantsfor her ladyship. Nan declared that she was sometimes quite jealousof Belphoebe and her little mistress; but, on the whole, I think sheenjoyed the months when she had Eustace practically to herself. 

For we were separated for months. Poor Cornelia's illness was veryshort, the chill taken at the sleighing party had been fatal to herat the beginning of the complaint, and she expired on the third day, with hardly any interval of consciousness. 

Her sister, Veronica, was my chief charge. I had to keep herconstantly rolled in red cloth in a dark room, while the fever ranvery high, and she suffered much. I think she was too ill to feelgreatly the discomfort of being tended by a person who could notspeak her language, and indeed necessity enabled me to understand atongue so much like English, which indeed she could herself readilyspeak when her brain began to clear. This, however, was not for fulla fortnight, and in the meantime Mynheer van Hunker was growing worseand worse, and he died on the sixteenth day of his illness. His wifehad watched over him day and night with unspeakable tenderness anddevotion, though I fear he never showed her much gratitude in return;he had been too much used to think of woman as mere housewifelyslaves. 

She had called me in to help in her terror at the last symptoms ofapproaching death, and I heard him mutter to her: 'Thou hast come tobe a tolerable housewife. I have taken care thou dost not lavish allon beggarly stranger. '

At least so the words came back on me afterwards; but we wereabsorbed in our attendance on him in his extremity, and when deathhad come at last I had to lead her away drooping and utterly spent. Alas! it was not exhaustion alone, she had imbibed the dreadfuldisease, and for another three weeks she hung between life and death. Her stepdaughter left her bed, and was sent away to the country-houseto recover, under the care of the steward's wife, before Millicentcould open her eyes or lift her head from her pillow; but she did atlast begin to revive, and it was in those days of slow convalescencethat she and I became very dear to one another. 

We could talk together of home, as she loved to call England, and ofher little daughter, of whom Annora sent me daily reports, which drewout the mother's smiles. She could not be broken-hearted for Mynheervan Hunker, nor did she profess so to be, but she said he had beenkind to her--much kinder since she had really tried to please him;and that, she said--and then broke off--was after he--your brother--my lord--- And she went no further, but I knew well afterwards whatthat chance meeting had done for her--that meeting which, with suchmen as I had too often seen at Paris, might have been fatal for everto her peace of mind and purity of conscience by renewing vainregrets, not to be indulged without a stain. Nay, it had insteadgiven her a new impulse, set her in the way of peace, and helped herto turn with new effort to the path of duty that was left to her. And she had grown far happier therein. Her husband had been kinderto her after she ceased to vex him by a piteous submission anddemonstrative resignation; his child had been given to brighten herwith hope; and that she had gained his daughter's affection I hadfound by Veronica's conversation about her, and her tears whenpermitted to see her--or rather to enter her dark chamber for a fewmoments before going to Hunkerslust, the name of the country-housenear Delf. Those days of darkness, when the fever had spent itself, and the strength was slowly returning, were indeed a time when heartscould flow into one another; and certainly I had never found anyfriend who so perfectly and entirely suited me as that sweetMillicent. There was perhaps a lack of strength of resolute will;she had not the robust temper of my high-spirited Annora, but, on theother hand, she was not a mere blindly patient Grisel, like my poorsister-in-law, Cecily d'Aubepine, but could think and resolve forherself, and hold staunchly to her duty when she saw it, whatever itmight cost her; nor did terror make her hide anything, and thus shehad won old Hunker's trust, and he had even permitted her to attendthe service of exiled English ministers at the Hague. 

One of them came to see her two or three times--once when she seemedto be at the point of death, and twice afterwards, reading prayerswith her, to her great comfort. He spoke of her as an angel ofgoodness, spending all the means allowed her by her husband among herpoor exiled countrymen and women. And as she used no concealment, and only took what was supplied to her for her own 'menus plaisirs, 'her husband might grumble, but did not forbid. I knew now that mybrother had loved in her something more than the lovely face. 

And oh for that beauty! I felt as though I were trying to guard atreasure for him as I used every means I had heard of to save it fromdisfigurement, not permitting one ray of daylight to penetrate intothe room, and attempting whatever could prevent the marks fromremaining. And here Millicent's habits of patience and self-commandcame to her aid, and Dr. Dirkius said he had never had a better or agentler sick person to deal with. 

Alas! it was all in vain. Millicent's beauty had been of thatdelicate fragile description to which smallpox is the most fatalenemy, with its tendency not only to thicken the complexion, but todestroy the refined form of the features. We were prepared for thedreadful redness at first, and when Millicent first beheld herself inthe glass she contrived to laugh, while she wondered what her littleEmilia would say to her changed appearance, and also adding that shewondered how it fared with her step-mother, a more importantquestion, she tried to say, than for herself, for the young lady wasbetrothed to a rich merchant's son, and would be married as soon asthe days of mourning were over. However, as Veronica had never beenreckoned a beauty, and les beaux yeux de sa cassette had beenavowedly the attraction, we hoped that however it might be, therewould not be much difference in her lot. 

We were to joint her at Hunkerslust to rid ourselves of infection, while the house was purified from it. Before we went, Annora dailybrought little Emilia before the window that her mother might see thelittle creature, who looked so grown and so full of health as torejoice our hearts. My brother and sister seemed to have made thelittle maid much more animated than suited a Dutch child, for sheskipped, frolicked, and held up her wooden baby, making joyousgestures in a way that astonished the solemn streets of Graavehage, as the inhabitants call it. She was to come to us at Hunkerslust sosoon as the purification was complete; and then I was to go back tomy brother and sister, for as the spring advanced it was needful thatwe should return to France, to our mother and my son. 

It was April by the time Madame van Hunker was fit to move, and thegreat coach came to the door to carry us out the three or four milesinto the country. I shall never forget the charm of leaving thepest-house I had inhabited so long, and driving through the avenues, all budding with fresh young foliage, and past gardens glowing withthe gayest of flowers, the canals making shining mirrors for tree, windmill, bridge, and house, the broad smooth roads, and Milicent, holding one of my hands, lay back on the cushions, deeply shrouded inher widow's veil, unwilling to speak, but glad of the delight I couldnot help feeling. 

We arrived at the house, and entered between the row of limes clippedin arches. Never did I behold such a coup d'oeil as the gardenpresented, with its paved and tiled paths between little beds of themost gorgeous hyacinths and tulips, their colours assorted toperfection, and all in full bloom. I could not restrain a childishcry of wonder and absolute joy at the first glance; it was such asurprise, and yet I recollected the next moment that there wassomething very sad in the display, for it was in going to superintendthis very garden that poor Mymheer van Hunker had caught his death, and here were these his flowers blooming away gaily in the sun unseenby him who had cared for them so much. 

Veronica had come to meet us, and she and her step-mother wept ineach other's arms at the sight and the remembrances it excited; buttheir grief was calm, and it appeared that Veronica had had a visitfrom her betrothed and his mother, and had no reason to bedissatisfied with their demeanour. Indeed, the young lady's portionmust be so much augmented by her sister's death that it was like tocompensate for the seams in her cheeks. 

No matter of business had yet come before the widow, but it wasintimated to her that the notary, Magister Wyk, would do himself thehonour of coming to her at Hunkerslust so soon as she felt herselfstrong enough to receive him, and to hear the provisions of the will. 

Accordingly he came, the whole man impregnated with pungent perfumesand with a pouncet-box in his hand, so that it almost made one sneezeto approach him. He was by no means solicitous of any nearneighbourhood to either of the ladies, but was evidently glad to keepthe whole length of the hall-table between them and himself, at leastso I heard, for of course I did not thrust myself into the matter, but I learned afterwards that Mynheer van Hunker had left a verylarge amount of money and lands, which were divided between hisdaughters, subject to a very handsome jointure to his wife, who wasto possess both the houses at the Hague and at Hunkerslust for herlife, but would forfeit both these and her income should she marryany one save a native of the States of Holland. Her jewels, however, were her own, and the portion she had received from her father, SirJames Wardour. 

As she said to me afterwards, her husband hated all foreigners, andshe held him as having behaved with great kindness and liberality toher; but, she added with a smile, as she turned bravely towards amirror behind her, he need not have laid her under the restriction, for such things were all over for her. And happily he had notforbidden her to do as she pleased with her wealth. 

That very evening she began to arrange for packets of dollars fromunknown hands to find themselves in the lodgings of the poorestcavaliers; and for weekly payments to be made at the ordinaries thatthey might give their English frequenters substantial meals at anominal cost. She became quite merry over her little plots; butthere was a weight as of lead on my heart when I thought of mybrother, and that her freedom had only begun on such terms. Nay, Iknew not for what to hope or wish!

Permission had been given for Emilia to return to her mother, and asVeronica had some purchases to make in the city, she undertook todrive in in the coach, and bring out her little sister. I shouldhave availed myself of the opportunity of going back with her butthat Millicent would have had to spend the day alone, and I could seethat, though her mother's heart hungered for the little one, yet shedreaded the child's seeing her altered face. She said she hopedVeronica might not return till twilight or dusk, so that Emilia mightrecognize her by her voice and her kisses before seeing her face. 

She had been bidden to be out in the air, and she and I had walkeddown the avenue in search of some cukoo-flowers and king-cups thatgrew by the canal below. She loved them, she said, because they grewat home by the banks of the Thames, and she was going to dress somebeaupots to make her chamber gay for Emilia. The gardens might beher own, but she stood in too much awe of the gardener to touch atulip or a flower-de-luce, scarce even a lily of the valley; but whenI taxed her with it, she smiled and said she should ever love theEnglish wild-flowers best. 

So we were walking back under the shade of the budding lime-tresswhen a coach came rolling behind us. The horses were not the fatdappled grays of the establishment, but brown ones, and Millicent, apprehending a visit from some of her late husband's kindred, andunwilling to be seen before they reached the house, drew behind atree, hoping to be out of sight. 

She had, however, been descried. The carriage stopped. There was ajoyful cry in good English of 'Mother! mother! mother!' and thelittle maiden flew headlong into her arms, while at the same momentmy dear brother, looking indeed thin, but most noble, most handsome, embraced me. He explained in a few words that Mademoiselle vanHunker was dining with her future mother-in-law, and that she hadpermitted him to have the honour of giving up his charge to Madame. 

Millicent looked up at him with the eyes that could not but be sweet, and began to utter her thanks, while he smiled and said that thepleasure to him and Annora had been so great that the obligation wastheirs. 

The little girl, now holding her hand, was peering up curiously underher hood, and broke upon their stiffness and formality by a suddenoutcry:

'No! no! mother is not ugly like Vronikje. She shall not be ugly. She is Emilia's own dear pretty mother, and nobody shall say no. '

No doubt the little one felt the inward attraction of child tomother, that something which so infinitely surpasses mere complexion, and as she had been warned of the change, and had seen it in hersister, she was really agreeable surprised, and above all felt thatshe had her mother again. 

Millicent clasped her to her bosom in a transport of joy, whileEustace exclaimed:

'The little maid is right; most deeply right. That which trulymatters can never be taken away. '

Then Millicent raised her eyes to him and said, with quivering lip:'I had so greatly dreaded this moment. I owe it to you, my lord, that she has come to me thus. '

Before he could answer Emilia had seen the golden flowers in hermother's hand, and with a childish shriek of ecstasy had claimedthem, while Millicent said:

'I had culled them for thee, sweetheart. '

'I'll give some to my lord!' cried the child. 'My lord loves king-cups. '

'Yes, ' said Eustace, taking the flowers and kissing the child, butwith his eyes on her mother's all the time; 'I have loved king-cupsever since on May day when there was a boat going down the river toRichmond. '

Her eyes fell, and that strange trembling came round her mouth. For, as I learned afterwards from my sister, it was then that they haddanced in Richmond Park, and he had made a crown of king-cups and setit on her flaxen hair, and then and there it was that love had firstbegun between those two, whom ten years had so strangely changed. But Eustace said no more, except to tell me that he had come to askif I could be ready to return to Paris the second day ensuing, as SirEdward Hyde was going, and had a pass by which we could all togethergo through the Spanish Netherlands without taking ship. If Madamevan Hunker could spare me on such sudden notice he would like to takeme back with him at once. 

There was no reason for delay. Millicent had her child, and wasreally quite will again; and I had very little preparation to make, having with me as little clothing as possible. She took Eustace tothe tiled fireplace in the parlour, and served him with manchet-cakeand wine, but prayed him to pardon her absence while she went to aidme. I think neither wished for a tete-a-tete. They had understoodone another over the king-cups, and it was no time to go farther. Ineed not tell of the embraces and tears between us in my chamber. They were but natural, after the time we had spent together, but atthe end Millicent whispered:

'You will tell him all, Margaret! He is too noble, but hisgenerous soul must feel no bondage towards one who has nothing--noteven a face or a purse for him. '

'Only a heart, ' I said. But she shook her head in reproof, and Ifelt that I had done wrong to speak on the matter. 

After a brief time we took leave with full and stately formality. Ithink both she and I were on our guard against giving way before mybrother, who had that grave self-restrained countenance which onlyEnglishmen seem able to maintain. He was thin, and there was acertain transparency of skin about his cheeks and hands; but to mymind he looked better than when he left us at Paris, and I could notbut trust that the hope which had returned to him would be anabsolute cure for all his ill-health. I saw it in his eyes. 

We seated ourselves in the carriage, and I dreaded to break thesilence at first, but we had not long turned into the high road fromthe avenue when hoofs came behind us, and a servant from Hunkerslustrode up to the window, handing in a packet which he said had beenleft behind. 

I sat for a few minutes without opening it, and deemed it was my Bookof Hours, for it was wrapped in a kerchief of my own; but when Iunfolded that, behold I saw a small sandal-wood casket, and turningthe key, I beheld these few words--'Praying my Lord Walwyn to permitrestitution to be made. --M. Van H. ' And beneath lay the pearls ofRibaumont. 

'No! no! no, I cannot!' cried my brother, rising to lean from thewindow and beckon back the messenger; but I pulled him by the skirts, telling him it was too late, and whatever he might think fit to do, he must not wound the lady's feelings by casting them back upon herin this sudden manner, almost as if he were flinging them at herhead. He sat down again, but reiterated that he could not acceptthem. 

I told him that her jewels were wholly her own, subject to norestrition, but this only made him ask me with some displeasurewhether I had been privy to this matter; the which I could whollydeny, since not a word had passed between us, save on the schemes forsending aid to the distressed families. 

'I thought not, ' he returned; and then he began to show me, whatneeded little proof, how absolutely inexpedient it was for his honouror for hers, that he should accept anything from her, and how muchmore fitting it was that they should be absolutely out of reach ofall intercourse with one another during her year of mourning, oruntil he could fitly address her. 

'No, ' he said; 'the pearls must remain hers unless she can come withthem; or if not, as is most like, we shall be the last of theRibaumonts--and she may do as she will with them. '

'You have no doubts, Eustace?' I cried. 'You care not for her wealth, and as to her face, a year will make it as fair and sweet as ever. '

'As sweet in my eyes, assuredly!' he said. But he went on to say thather very haste in this matter was a token that she meant to have nomore to do with him, and that no one could wish her to give up herwealth and prosperity to accept a poor broken cavalier, health andwealth alike gone. 

I would have argued cheeringly, but he made me understand that hisown Dorset estates, which Harry Merrycourt had redeemed for himbefore, had been absolutely forfeited by his share in Montrose'sexpedition. The Commonwealth had in a manner condoned what had beendone in the service of King Charles, but it regarded as treason theespousing the cause of his son; and it was possible that the chargeon the Wardour estates might be refused to Millicent should she uniteherself with one who was esteemed a rebel. 

My mother's jointure had been charged on the Ribaumont estate, and ifEustace failed to gain the suit which had been lingering on so long, there would hardly be enough rents to pay this to her, leaving almostnothing for him. Nor, indeed, was it in my power to do much fortheir assistance, since my situation was not what it would have beenif my dear husband had lived to become Marquis de Nidemerle. And wewere neither of us young enough to think that even the most constantlove could make it fit to drag Millicent into beggary. Yet still Icould see that Eustace did not give up hope. The more I began todespond, the more cheerful he became. Was not the King in Scotland, and when he entered England as he would certainly do next summer, would not all good Cavaliers--yes, and all the Parliament men who hadhad enough of the domineering of General Cromwell--rise on hisbehalf? My brother was holding himself in readiness to obey thefirst summons to his standard, and when he was restored, all would beeasy, and he could offer himself to Millicent worthily. 

Moreover, my mother had written something about a way that had openedfor accommodating the suit respecting the property in Picardy, andEustace trusted the report all the more because our brother Solivethad also written to urge his recall, in order to confer with hisantagonist, the Comte de Poligny, respecting it. So that, as thedear brother impressed on me, he had every reason for hoping that ina very different guise; and his hopes raised mine, so that I let thempeep through the letter with which I returned the jewels toMillicent. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE EXPEDIENT

(Annora's Narrative)

And what was this expedient of their? Now, Madame Meg, I forewarnyou that what I write here will be a horror and bad example to allyour well-brought-up French grandchildren, demoiselles bien elevees, so that I advise you to re-write it in your own fashion, and show meup as a shocking, willful, headstrong, bad daughter, deserving of theworst fate of the bad princesses in Madame d'Aulnoy's fairly tales. Nay, I am not sure that Mademoiselle de Nidemerle might not think Ihad actually incurred a piteous lot. But chacun a son gout. 

Well, this same expedient was this. M. De Poligny, who claimed thebest half of the Picardy estates in right of a grant from Henry III. When in the power of the League, had made acquaintance with our half-brother, Solivet, who had presented him to our mother, and he hadoffered, with the greatest generosity possible--said my mother--towaive his claims and put a stop to the suit (he knew it could nothold for a moment), provided she would give her fair daughter to hisson, the Chevalier de Poligny, with the reversion of the Ribaumontproperty, after my brother, on whom, vulture that he was, he hadfixed his eyes, as a man in failing health. My mother and her eldestson were absolutely enraptured, and they expected Eustace to beequally delighted with this escape from all difficulties. They werecloseted with him for two hours the morning after our return, whileMeg was left to enjoy herself with her son, and to converse with M. D'Aubepine. That poor little thing's Elysium had come to an end assoon as the Princes were released from prison. No sooner did herhusband find that his idol, the Prince on Conde, showed neithergratitude nor moderate civility to the faithful wife who had foughtso hard for him, than his ape must needs follow in his track and castoff Cecile--though, of course, she still held that his duty kept himin attendance on the Prince, and that he would return to her. 

I do not know whether they were afraid of me, for not a word did anyof them say of the results of their conferences, only I was informedthat we were to have a reception in the evening, and a new whitetaffeta dress, with all my mother's best jewels, was put out for me, and my mother herself came to preside at my toilette and arrange mycurls. I did not suspect mischief even then, for I thought it wasall in honour of Solivet's poor little Petronille, whom he hadsucceeded in marrying to a fat of Duke. What a transformation it wasfrom the meek little silent persionnaire without a word to say forherself, into a gay butterfly, with a lovelock on her shoulder, acoquettish twist of her neck, and all the language of the fan, aswell as of tongue, ready learned! I do not think her father wasquite happy about her manners, but then it served him right, and hehad got a dukedom for his grandchildren by shutting up his other poordaughter in a convent. 

By and by I saw my brother bowing with extra politeness, and thenSolivet found me out, and did himself the honour to present to meMonsieur le Comte de Poligny, who, in his turn, presented M. LeChevalier. The Count was a rather good-looking Frenchman, with theair of having seen the world; the Chevalier was a slight littlewhipper-snapper of a lad in the uniform of the dragoons, and lookingmore as if he were fastened to his sword and spurs than they to him. I think the father was rather embarrassed not to find me a littleprim demoiselle, but a woman capable of talking about politics likeother people; and while I rejoiced that the Cardinal had been put toflight by the Prince, I told them that no good would come of it, unless some one would pluck up a spirit and care more for his fellow-creatures than for his own intrigues. 

Solivet looked comically dismayed to hear such independent sentimentscoming out of my mouth; I know now that he was extremely afraid thatM. De Poligny would be terrified out of is bargain. If I had onlyguessed at his purpose, and that such an effect might be produced, Iwould almost have gone the length of praising Mr. Hampden and SirThomas Fairfax to complete the work; instead of which I stupidlybethought me of Eustace's warning not to do anything that mightdamage Margaret and her son, and I restrained myself. 

The matter was only deferred till the next morning, when I wassummoned to my mother's chamber, where she sat up in bed, with herbest Flanders-lace nightcap and ruffles on, her coral rosary blessedby the Pope, her snuff-box with the Queen's portrait, and her big fanthat had belonged to Queen Marie de Medicis, so that I knew somethingserious was in hand; and, besides, my brothers Solivet and Walwyn saton chairs by the head of her bed. Margaret was not there. 

'My daughter, ' said my mother, when I had saluted her, and she hadsigned to me to be seated, 'M. Le Comte de Poligny has done you thehonour to demand your hand for his son, the Chevalier; and I haveaccepted his proposals, since by this means the proces will beterminated respecting the estates in Picardy, and he will come to afavourable accommodation with your brother, very important in thepresent circumstances. '

I suppose she and Solivet expected me to submit myself to my fatelike a good little French girl. What I did was to turn round andexclaim: 'Eustace, you have not sold me for this?'

He held out his hand, and said: 'No, sister. I have told my motherand brother that my consent depends solely on you. '

Then I felt safe, even when Solivet said:

'Nor does any well-brought-up daughter speak of her wishes when herparents have decided for her. '

'You are not my parent, sir, ' I cried; 'you have no authority overme! Nor am I what you call a well-brought-up girl--that is, a poorcreature without a will!'

'It is as I always said, ' exclaimed my mother. 'She will be ascandal. '

But I need not describe the whole conversation, even if I couldremember more than the opening. I believe I behaved very ill, andwas in danger of injuring my own cause by my violence; my mothercried, and said I should be a disgrace to the family, and Solivetlooked fierce, handled the hilt of his sword, and observed that heshould know how to prevent that; and then Eustace took my hands, andsaid he would speak with me alone, and my mother declared that hewould encourage me in my folly and undutifulness; while Solivetadded: 'Remember we are in earnest. This is no child's play!'

A horrible dread had come over me that Eustace was in league withthem; for he always imperatively cut me short if I dared to say I wasalready promised. I would hardly speak to him when at last hebrought me to his own rooms and shut the door; and when he called mehis poor Nan, I pushed him away, and said I wanted none of his pity, I could not have thought it of him. 

'You do not think it now, ' he said; and as I looked up into his cleareyes I was ashamed of myself, and could only murmur, what could Ithink when I saw him sitting there aiding in their cruel manoeuvres, --all for your own sake, too?

'I only sat there because I hoped to help you, ' he said; and then hebade me remember that they had disclosed nothing of these intentionsof theirs in the letters which spoke of an accommodation. If theyhad done so, he might have left me in Holland with some of theEnglish ladies so as to be out of reach; but the scheme had only beenpropounded to him on the previous morning. I asked why he had notrefused it at once, and he pointed out that it was not for him todisclose my secret attachment, even had it been expedient so to do. All that he had been able to do was to declare that the whole mustdepend on my free consent. 'And, ' he said, with a smile, 'methoughtthereby I had done enough for our Nan, who has no weak will unless byviolence she over-strain it. '

I felt rebuked as well as reassured and strengthened, and he againassured me that I was safe so long as he lived from being pressedinto any marriage contract displeasing to me. 

'But I am promised to M. Darpent, ' was my cry. 'Why did you hinderme from saying so?'

'Have you not lived long enough in France to know that it would gofor nothing, or only make matters worse?' he said. 'Solivet wouldnot heed your promise more than the win that blows, except that hemight visit it upon Darpent. '

'You promised to persuade my mother, ' I said. 'She at least knowshow things go in England. Besides, she brought him here constantly. Whenever she was frightened there was a cry for Darpent. '

Eustace, however, thought my mother ought to know that my word wasgiven; and we told her in private the full truth, with the fullapprobation of my mother, the head of the family, and he reminded herthat at home such a marriage would be by no means unsuitable. Poormother! she was very angry with us both. She had become so entirelyimbued with her native French notions that she considered the word ofa demoiselle utterly worthless, and not to be considered. As to myhaving encouraged Avocat Darpent, une creature comme ca, she would assoon have expected to be told that I had encouraged her valet LaPierre! She was chiefly enraged with me, but her great desire wasthat I should not be mad enough, as she said, to let it be known thatI had done anything so outrageous as to pass my word to any youngman, above all to one of inferior birth. It would destroy myreputation for ever, and ruin all the chance of my marriage. 

Above all, she desired that it should be concealed from Solivet. Shewas a prudent woman, that poor mother of mine, and she was afraid ofher son's chastising what she called presumption, and thus embroilinghimself with the Parliament people. I said that Solivet had no rightover me, and that I had not desire to tell him, though I had feltthat she was my mother and ought to be warned that I never would begiven to any man save Clement Darpent; and Eustace said that thoughhe regretted the putting himself in opposition to my mother, heshould consider it as a sin to endeavour to make me marry one man, while I loved another to whom I was plighted. But he said that therewas no need to press the affair, and that he would put a stop toDarpent's frequenting the house, since it only grieved my mother andmight bring him into danger. He would, as my mother wished, keep outattachment as a secret, and would at present take no steps if I wereunmolested. 

In private Eustace showed me that this was all he could do, andcounseled me to put forward no plea, but to persist in my simplerefusal, lest I should involve Clement Darpent in danger. Had notSolivet ground his teeth and said order should be taken if he couldbelieve his sister capable of any unworthy attachment? 'Andremember, ' said Eustace, 'Darpent is not in good odour with eitherparty, and there is such a place as the Bastille. '

I asked almost in despair if he saw any end to it, or any hope, towhich he said there always was hope. If our King succeeded inregaining his crown we could go home, and we both believed thatClement would gladly join us there and become one of us. For thepresent, Eustace said, I must be patient. Nobody could hinder himfrom seeing Darpent, and he could make him understand how it all was, and how he must accept the ungrateful rebuffs that he had receivedfrom my mother. 

No one can tell what that dear brother was to me then. He replied inmy name and his own to M. De Poligny, who was altogether at a loss tounderstand that any reasonable brother should attend to the views ofa young girl, when such a satisfactory parti as his son was offered, even though the boy was at least six years younger than I was; and asmy mother and Solivet did not fail to set before me, there was nodanger of his turning out like that wretch d'Aubepine, as he was agentle, well-conducted, dull boy, whom I could govern with a silkenthread if I only took the trouble to let him adore me. I thankedthem, and said that was not exactly my idea of wedded life; and theygroaned at my folly. 

However, it turned out that M. De Poligny really wished his littleChevalier to finish his education before being married, and had onlyhastened his proposals because he wished to prevent the suit fromcoming up to be pleaded, and so it was agreed that the matter shouldstand over till this precious suitor of mine should have mastered hisaccidence and grown a little hair on his lip. I believe my motherhad such a wholesome dread of me, especially when backed by my owntrue English brother, that she was glad to defer the tug of war. Andas the proces was thus again deferred, I think she hoped that mybrother would have no excuse for intercourse with the Darpents. Shehad entirely broken off with them and had moreover made poor old SirFrancis and Lady Ommaney leave the Hotel de Nidemerle, all inpoliteness as they told us, but as the house was not her own, Ishould have found it very hard to forgive their expulsion had I beenMargaret. 

As for me, my mother now watched over me like any other lady of hernation. She resorted far less to Queen Henrietta than formerly, andalways took me with her whenever she went, putting an end now, in mytwenty-fourth year, to the freedom I had enjoyed all my life. Shedid not much like leaving me alone with Eustace, and if it had notbeen for going to church on Sunday, I should never have gone out withhim. He was not strong enough now to go to prayers daily at SirRichard Browne's chapel, but he never failed that summer to take methither on a Sunday, though he held that it would be dishonourable tolet this be a way for any other meetings. 

My mother had become devout, as the French say. She wore only black, went much more to church, always leaving me in the charge of MadameCroquelebois, whom she borrowed from the d'Aubepines for the purpose, and she set all she could in train for the conversion of my brotherand myself. There was the Abbe Walter Montagu, Lord Mandeville'sbrother, and one or two others, who had despaired of our Church andjoined hers, and she was always inviting them and setting them toargue with us. Indeed, she declared that one chief reason of herdesiring this wedding for me was that it would bring me within thefold of the true Church. They told us that our delusion, as theycalled our Church, was dead; that the Presbyterians and FifthMonarchy men and all their rabble had stifled the last remnant oflife that had been left in her; that the Episcopacy, even if wescouted the Nag's Head fable, was perishing away, and that Englandwas like Holland or the Palatinate. But Eustace smiled gravely atthem, and asked whether the Church had been dead when the RomanEmperors, or the heretic Arians, persecuted her, and said that heknew that, even if he never should see it, she would revive brighterand purer than ever--as indeed it has been given to us to behold. That dear brother, he was so unlike the Calvinists, and held so muchin common with the French Church, that the priests always thoughtthey were converting him; but he stood all the firmer for knowingwhat was truly Catholic. Of course it was no wonder that as WalterMontagu, like all my Lord Mandeville's sons, had been bred a Puritan, he should have been amazed to perceive that the Roman Catholics werenot all that they had been painted, and should find rest in thetruths that had been hidden from him; but with us it was quiteotherwise, having ever known the best alike of ours and of theirs. The same thing was going on at the Louvre. 

Queen Henrietta was bent on converting her son, the Duke ofGloucester. He was a dear good lad of twelve years old, who had justbeen permitted to join her. I think the pleasantest times I had atall in those days were with him. He clung to us because I had knownand loved his sweet sister, the Lady Elisabeth, who had been hiscompanion in his imprisonment, and though he seldom spoke of her itwas easy to see that the living with her had left a strong mark onhis whole character. 

I knew that Eustace had seen the Darpents and made Clement understandthat I was faithful, and that he was to believe nothing that he heardof me, except through my brother himself. That helped me to somepatience; and I believe poor Clement was so much amazed that hisaddresses should be tolerated by M. Le Baron de Ribaumont that he wasquite ready to endure any suspense. 

There were most tremendous disturbances going on all the time out ofdoor. Wonderful stories came to us of a fearful uproar in theParliament between the Prince and the Coadjutor de Gondi, when theDuke of Rochefoucauld got the Coadjutor between two folding-doors, let down the iron bar of them on his neck, and was as nearly aspossible the death of him. Then there was a plot for murdering thePrince of Conde in the streets, said to be go up by the Queen-Regentherself, after consulting one of her priests, who told her that shemight regard the Prince as an enemy of the State, and that she mightlawfully rid herself of him by private means when a public executionwas inexpedient. A fine religion that! as I told my mother when M. D'Aubepine came in foaming at the mouth about it; though Eustacewould have persuaded me that it was not just to measure a wholeChurch by one priest. The Prince fortified his house, and lived likea man in a state of siege for some time, and then went off toChantilly, take d'Aubepine with him--and every one said a new Frondewas beginning, for the Queen-Regent was furious with the Princes, anddetermined to have Cardinal Mazarin back, and the Prince was equallyresolved to keep him out, while as to the Parliament, I had nopatience with it; it went on shilly-shallying between the two, andhad no substance to do anything by hang on to some selfish Courtparty. 

There were a few who understood their real interests, like the oldPremier-President Mathieu Mole, and these hoped that by standingbetween the two parties they might get the only right thing done, namely, to convoke the States-General, which is what really answersto our own English Parliament. People could do things then in Paristhey never dream of now; and Clement Darpent worked hard, getting upmeetings among the younger counsellors and advocates, and some of themagistrates, where they made speeches about constitutional liberty, and talked about Ciecero, who was always Clement's favourite hero. My brother went to hear him sometimes, and said he had a great giftof eloquence, but that he was embarked on a very dangerous course. Moreover, M. Darpent had been chosen as a deputy of the Town Councilat the Hotel de Ville. This council consisted of the mayor andechevins, as they called them, who were something like our aldermen, all the parish priests, deputies from the trades, and from all thesixteen quarters of the city, and more besides. They had themanagement of the affairs of the city in their hands, and ClementDarpent, owning a house, and being respected by the respectablecitizens of his department of St. Antoine, was chosen to representit. Thus he felt himself of use, which always rejoiced him. As tome, I only saw him once that whole autumn, and then I met him byaccident as I was walking with Eustace and Margaret in the Cours dela Reine. [footnote: the Champs-Elysees]

We were in high spirits, for our own King had marched into Englandwhile Cromwell was beating the covenanting rogues in Scotland, andEustace was walking and riding out every day to persuade himself thathe was in perfect health and fit to join his standard. That dearbrother had promised that if he went to England I should come withhim, and be left with old Mrs. Merrycourt, Harry's mother, tillClement could come for me. Then Eustace, with his own lands again, could marry his Millicent, and throw over the Dutchman's hoards, andthus we were full to the brim of joyous plans, and were walking outin the long avenue discussing them most gladly together, when, to addto our delight, Clement met us in his sober lawyer's suit, whichbecame him so well, coming home from a consultation. 

The Queen-Regent had promised to convoke the States-General, and heexplained to us both how all would come right there. The bourgeoiselement from all the Parliaments of the provinces would be strongenough to make a beginning towards controlling the noblesse, dividedas it was, and at feud with the Crown. Some of the clergy at leastwould be on their side, and if the noblesse would bear part of theburthens of the State, and it could be established that taxes shouldnot be imposed without the consent of the people, and that officesshould not be sold, all would be well for the country. Meg herselftook fire, and began to hope that a new state of things would beginin which she might do some good to those unfortunate peasants of herson's who weighed so heavily on her tender heart. Eustace told himhe would be another Simon de Montfort, only not a rebel. No; he wasdetermined to succeed by moral force, and so was his whole party (atleast he thought so). They, by their steady loyalty, would teach theyoung King and his mother how to choose between them and the twoselfish factions who were ready to fight with the King himself, provided it was also against a Conde or a Mazarin. 

It looked very beautiful indeed. I was roused from my selfish ill-humour, felt what my Clement was worth, and went heart and soul intothe matter, and we all four were just as happy over these hopes as ifwe had not seen how things had turned out at home, and that no one, either Kings or Parliaments, or nobility either, know where to stop;but that if you do not get an absolute tyrant, you run the risk of aLong Parliament, a ruling army, a 30th of January, and a LordProtector. But we were all young and hopeful still, and thatstraight walk in the Cours de la Reine was a paradise to some of us, if a fool's paradise. For look you! in these great States-General, who but Clement Darpent the eloquent would make speeches, and winhonours that would give him a right to rewards for higher than thehand of a poor exiled maiden, if I were still an exile? Though hedeclared that I had been his inspiration, and helped to brace him forthe struggle, and far more truly, that my dear brother had shown himwhat a nobleman, bred under English law, could be, when neitherground down by the Crown, nor forced to do nothing but trample on hisvassals. 

And Meg began to hope for her Gaspard. She told how the young Kingwas fond of him, and really seemed fired by some emulation at findingthat a boy so much younger than himself knew more than he did. Ourboy was reading Virgil and Plutarch's lives. He told the stories tothe young King, who delighted to listen, though the Duke of Anjouthought everything dull except cards, tennis, and gossip. The Kingwas even beginning to read to himself. 'And, ' said Clement, when heheard it, 'let him be fired with the example of Agis or Clomenes, andwhat may he not do for France?' Oh, yes! we were very happy, thoughwe talked of hardly anything but politics. It was the last happy daywe were to have for a good while to come. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE BOEUF GRAS

(Annora's Narrative)

I said it was a fool's paradise, and it did not last long. TheQueen-Regent had a convenient fashion of making nothing of herpromises. She did not think base burghers and lawyers humancreatures towards whom honour was necessary, and she naturallyexpected the States-General to act our Long Parliament over again. 

It seems that Kings of France come of age at fourteen; and on the daythat young Louis was thirteen he was declared to be major, and hismother ceased to be Regent, though she managed everything just asmuch as if she had still written Anne R. At the end of all the Statepapers. The advantage to the Court was that no promises orengagements made in his minority were considered to be binding. Andso the whole matter of the States-General went to the wall. 

There was a magnificent ceremony at the Parliament House, the oldhall of the Augustins. The little King held a bed of justice, upon acouch under a purple velvet canopy, with all his grandees round him. I would not go to see it, I thought it a wicked shame to set up apoor boy to break all the solemn pledges made in his name, and I knewit was the downfall of Clement's hopes; but Meg went in herPrincess's suite, and I had her account of it, the King looking veryhandsome with his long fair hair, and bowing right and left, withsuch a dignity and grace that no one saw what a little bit of afellow he really was. Poor child! the best thing they could havetaught him would have been to worshipping and loving no one buthimself. Of course Meg saw nothing so plainly as how beautiful herlittle Marquis looked among the attendant young nobles, and I mustown that he was a very fine fellow, and wonderfully little spoiledconsidering the sort of folk with whom he lived. On that ceremonialday there came doleful tidings to us. Worcester had been the sceneof a massacre rather than a fight, and my brother was in despair andmisery at not having been there--as if his single arm could haveretrieved the day!--thinking shame of himself for resting at homewhile sword and block were busy with our friends, and no one knewwhere the King was. I know not whether it were the daunting of hishopes or the first beginning of the winter cold; but from that timehe began to decline from the strength he had gained while I had himto myself in Holland, free from all pressing cares. 

However, he still rode out in attendance on the Duke of Gloucester, who always preferred him to any other of the gentlemen who waited onthe Queen. One evening in October he stayed out so late that we hadbegun to be anxious at his being thus exposed to the air aftersunset, when he came up to our salon in high spirits, telling us thathe had been returning with the Duke from a ride on the Amiens Roadwhen they saw some altercation going on at the barriers between theguard and a gentleman on horseback, shabby and travel-stained, whomthey seemed unwilling to admit. For the Parisians, who alwaysworship success and trample on misfortune, had, since the disaster atWorcester, shown themselves weary of receiving so many unluckycavaliers, and were sometimes scantly civil. The stranger, as he sawthe others come up, called out: 'Ha, Walwyn, is it you? You'll giveyour word for me that the Chevalier Stuart is an honest fellow ofyour acquaintance, though somewhat out at elbows, like other poorbeggars. '

And then Eustace saw that it was the King, sun-burnt, thin, and ill-clad, grown from a lad to a man, but with his black eyes glitteringgaily through all, as no one's ever did glitter save King Charles's. He gave his word, and passed him through without divulging who hewas, since it would not have been well to have had all the streetsturn out to gaze on him in his present trim, having ridden on just ashe crossed from Brigthelmstone. The two brothers did not know oneanother, not having met since Prince Henry was a mere infant of fouror five years old; and Eustace said he found the little fellowdrawing himself up, and riding somewhat in advance, in some princelyamazement that so shabby a stranger should join his company sofamiliarly and without any check from his companion. 

The King began to ask for his mother, and then, at a sign and hintfrom Eustace, called out:

'What! Harry, hast not a word for thy poor battered elder brother?'

And the boy's face, as he turned, was a sight to see, as Eustace toldus. 

He had left Queen Henrietta embracing her son in tears of joy for hissafe return, and very thankful we were, though it did but take outfirst reception at the Louvre to see that though the King was asgood-humoured, gracious, and merry as ever, he was not changed forthe better by all he had gone through. He had left the boy behindhim, and now seemed like a much older man, who only laughed and gotwhat amusement he could out of a world where he believed in nothingnoble nor good, and looked forward to nothing. 

The old ladies said he had grown like his grandfather, Henri IV. , andwhen this was repeated Eustace shook his head, and told Meg that hefeared it was in one way true enough, and Meg, who always hoped, badeus remember how many years the Grand Monarque had to dally awaybefore he became the preserver and peace-maker of France. 

However, even Meg, who had always let the King be like an oldplayfellow with her, was obliged to draw back now, and keep him atthe most formal distance. I never had any trouble with him. I donot think he liked me; indeed I once heard of his saying that Ialways looked like a wild cat that had got into the salon by mistake, and was always longing to scratch and fly. He would be quite willingto set me to defend a castle, but for the rest----

It was not he whom I wished to scratch--at least as long as he let mealone--but M. De Poligny, who took to paying me the most assiduouscourt wherever I went, for his little schoolboy of a son, till I wasalmost beside myself with fear that Clement Darpent might believesome false report about me. 

And then spring was coming on, and Eustace as yet made no sign ofgoing to Holland. He only told me to be patient, and patience wasbecoming absolutely intolerable to my temper. Meantime, we heardthat the First President, Mathieu de Mole, who had some time beforebeen nominated Keeper of the Seals, but had never excised thefunctions of the office, had nominated M. Darpent to be his principalsecretary at Paris, remaining there and undertaking hiscorrespondence when he was with the Court. Clement had beenrecommended for this office by his brother-in-law, one of theGneffiers du Roi, who was always trying to mediate between theparties. Mole was thoroughly upright and disinterested, and he hadbegged Clement to undertake the work as the one honest man whom hecould trust, and Clement had such an esteem for him that he feltbound to do anything he could to assist him, in his true loyalty. 

'I shall tell the King the truth, ' said the good old man, 'and takethe consequences. '

And his being in office gave another hope for better counsels and theStates-General. 

So Lady Ommaney told me, but I was anxious and dissatisfied. I hadlike Clement better when he had refused to purchase an office, andstood aloof from all the suite of the Court. She soothed me as bestshe could, and, nodding her head a little, evidently was hatching asscheme. 

Now the children had a great desire to see the procession in the Mid-Lent week. It is after what we call Mothering Sunday--when theprettiest little boy they can find in Paris rides through the streetson the largest white ox. Now the lodgings whither Sir Francis andLady Ommaney had betaken themselves, when my mother had, so to speak, turned them out, had a balcony with an excellent view all along thequais, and thither the dear old lady invited Meg, Madame d'Aubepine, and me, to bring Gaspard, with Maurice and Armantine; and I saw byher face that the bouef gras was not all that there was for me tosee. 

We went early in the day, when the streets were still not overmuchcrowded, and we climbed up, up to the fifth story, where the good oldlady contrived to make the single room her means could afford look asdainty as her bower at home, though she swept it with her owndelicate white hands. There was an engraving of the blessed Martyrover the chimmey-piece, the same that is in the Eikon Basilike, withthe ray of light coming down into his eye, the heavenly crownawaiting him, the world spurned at his feet, and the weighted palm-tree with Crescit sub pondere virtus. And Sir Francis's good oldbattle-sword and pistols hung under it. It made me feel quite athome, and we tried to make the children enter into the meaning of thepoint. At least Meg did, and I think she succeeded with her son, whohad a good deal of the true Ribaumont in him, and whom they could notspoil even by all the misrule that went on at Court whenever theQueen was out of sight. He stood thoughtful by the picture while thelittle d'Aubepines were dancing in and out of the balcony, shriekingabout every figure they saw passing in the road below. 

Sir Francis, after receiving us, had gone out, as he said, to seewhat was going on, but I think he removed himself in order to leaveus more at our ease. By and by there was a knock at the door, andwho should come in but M. Darpent, leading a little boy of five orsix years old, his nephew, he said, whom Lady Ommaney had permittedto bring to see the sight. 

I heard afterwards that it was pretty to see the different ways ofthe children, and how Maurice d'Aubepine drew himself up, put on hishat, laid his hand on his ridiculous little sword, and insisted thatthe little Clement Verdon should stand behind him and his sister, where he could see nothing, while Gaspard de Nidermerle, with anemphatic 'Moi, je suis getilhomme, ' put the stranger before himselfand looked over his head, as he could easily do, being two or threeyears older. 

Well, I lost my chance; I never saw the great ox wreathed withflowers, nor the little boy on his back, nor all the butchers withtheir cleavers round him, nor the procession of the trades, thefishwomen, dames des halles, as they called them, all in their whitecaps and short petticoats, singing a ballad in honour of the Duke ofBeaufort, the faggot-carriers with sticks, the carpenters with tools, all yelling out songs in execration of Cardinal Mazarin, who hadactually entered France with an army, and vituperating with equalvirulence the Big Beard, as they called the President Mole. 

They told me the sight had been wonderful, but what was that to mewhen Clement Darpent stood before me? He looked then and worn, andalmost doubtful how to address me; but Lady Ommaney said, in herhearty way:

'Come, come, young folks, you have enough to say to one another. Sitdown there and leave the ox to the children and us old folks in oursecond childhood. You believe and old woman now, M. Darpent?'

'You never distrusted me?' I demanded. 

He said he had never distrusted my heart, but that he had heard atall hands of the arrangement with M. De Poligny, whose lawyer hadactually stopped proceedings on that account. My brother had indeedassured him that he did not mean to consent; and he ought, heallowed, to have rested satisfied with that assurance, but---Hefaltered a little, which made me angry. The truth was that somecruel person had spoken to him as if my dear Eustace and hisprotection would soon be removed; and while Solivet was at hand, Eustace, in his caution, he refrained from such intercourse withClement as could excite suspicion. Besides, he was a good deal awayat St. Germain with the Duke. All this I did not understand. I wasvexed with Clement for having seemed to doubt us, and I did notrefrain from showing my annoyance that he should have accepted anykind of office in the rotten French State. It seemed to me a fallfrom his dignity. On this he told me that it was not purchased, andit was serving under a true and loyal man, whom he felt bound tosupport. If any one could steer between the Prince and the Cardinal, and bring some guarantee for the people out of the confusion, it wasthe Keeper of the Seals, the head of the only party who cared morefor the good of the country than their private malice and hatred. 

'And, ' he said diffidently, 'if under M. Mole's patronage, the stepscould be gained without loss of honour or principle, you rememberthat there is a noblesse de la robe, which might remove some ofMadame de Ribaumont's objections, though I do not presume to compareit with the blood of the Crusaders. '

I am ashamed to say that I answered, 'I should think not!' and then Iam afraid I reproached him for bartering the glorious independencethat had once rendered him far more than noble, for the mere tinselshow of rank that all alike thought despicable. How I hate myselfwhen I recall that I told him that if he had done so for my sake hehad made a mistake; and as for loyalty rallying round the FrenchCrown, I believed in no such thing; they were all alike, and caredfor nothing but their ambitions and their hatreds. 

Before anything had been said to soften these words--while he wasstill standing grave and stiff, like one struck by a blow--in camethe others from the window. Meg, in fact, could not keep Ceciled'Aubepine back any longer from hindering such shocking improprietyas out tete-a-tete. We overheard her saving her little girl fromcorruption by a frightful French fib that the gentleman in black wasMademoiselle de Ribaumont's English priest. 

I am sure out parting need have excited no suspicions. We were coldand grave and ceremonious as Queen Anne of Austria herself, and poorLady Ommaney looked from one to the other of us in perplexity. 

I went home between wrath and shame. I knew I had insulted Clement, and I was really mortified and angry that he should have acceptedthis French promotion instead of fleeing with us, and embracing ourreligion. I hated all the French politics together a great deal toomuch to have any comprehension of the patriotism that made him desireto support the only honest and loyal party, hopeless as it was. Icould not tell Meg about our quarrel; I was glad Eustace was away atthe English's ambassador's. I felt as if one Frenchman was as good, or as bad, as another, and I was more gracious to M. De Poligny thanever I had been before that evening. 

My mother had a reception in honour of its being Mid-Lent week. Solivet was there, and, for a wonder, both the d'Aubepines, for theCount had come home suddenly with message from the Prince of Conde tothe Duke of Orleans. 

CHAPTER XXIX

MADAME'S OPPORTUNITY

(Annora's Narrative)

The Prince of Conde and Cardinal Mazarin were in arms against oneanother. The Queen and her son were devoted to Mazarin. The loyalfolk in Paris held to the King, and were fain to swallow the Cardinalbecause Conde was in open rebellion. Monsieur was trying to hold thebalance with the help of the Parliament, but was too great an ass todo any such thing. The mob was against everybody, chiefly againstthe Cardinal, and the brutal ruffians of the Prince's followinglurked about, bullying every one who gave them umbrage, with somehope of terrifying the Parliament magistrates into siding with them. 

It was therefore no great surprise to Eustace and Sir Francis Ommaneythe next evening, when they were coming back on foot from the Louvre, to hear a scuffle in one of the side streets. 

They saw in a moment half of dozen fellows with cudgels falling on afigure in black, who vainly struggled to defend himself with a littlethin walking rapier. Their English blood was up in a moment twomasked figures and hearing them egging on their bravoes with 'Hola, there! At him! Teach him to look at a lady of rank. '

The little rapier had been broken. A heavy blow had made thevictim's arm fall, he had been tripped up, and the rascals were stillbelabouring him, when Eustace and Sir Francis sprang in among them, crying, 'Hold, cowardly rascals!' striking to the right and left, though with the flat of their swords, of which they were perfectmasters, for even in their wrath they remembered that these rogueswere only tools. And no doubt they were not recognized in thetwilight, for one of the masked gentlemen exclaimed:

'Stop, sir! this is not a matter for gentlemen. This is the way wepunish the insolence of fellows whose muddy blood would taint theswords of a noble. '

At the same moment Eustace saw that the victim, who had begun toraise himself, was actually Clement Darpent. He knew, too, the voicefrom the mask, and, in hot wrath, exclaimed:

'Solivet, you make me regret that you are my brother, and that Icannot punish such a cowardly outrage. '

'But I am no brother of yours!' cried d'Aubepine, flying at him. 'Thus I treat all who dare term me coward. '

Eustace, far taller and more expert in fence, as well as withstrength of arm that all his ill-health had not destroyed, parriedthe thrust so as to strike the sword out of d'Aubepine's hand, andthen said:

'Go home, Monsieur. Thank your relationship to my sister that Ipunish you no further, and learn that to use other men's arms tostrike the defenceless is a stain upon nobility. '

And as the wretched little Count slunk away he added

'Solivet, I had though better things of you. '

To which Solivet responded, with the pretension derived from his fewyears of seniority:

'Bah! brother, you do not understand, half a foreigner as you are. This was the only way left to me to protect my sister from theinsults your English folly had brought on her. '

Eustace made no answer. He could not speak, for the exertion andshock had been too much for him. His mouth was filled with blood. They were all about him in an instant then, Solivet and Darpent bothin horror, each feeling that he might in a manner have been the causeof that bleeding, which might in a moment be fatal. Eustace himselfknew best what to do, and sat down on the step leaning against SirFrancis, so as not to add to the danger. 

The fray had been undisturbed. In that delectable city people heldaloof from such things instead of stopping them, but a doctorsuddenly appeared on the scene, 'attracted like a vulture, ' as SirFrancis said; and they had some ado to prevent him from unbuttoningEustace's doublet to search for a wound before they could make himunderstand what had really happened. They obtained a fiacre, andEustace was placed in it. In this condition they brought him homeand put him to bed, telling us poor women only that he had interferedin a street fray and over-exerted himself. It was shock enough forus to find all the improvements of a whole year overthrown, as he laywhite and still, not daring to speak. 

They had agreed on the way home to keep us in ignorance, or at leastto let us think that the attack had been made by strangers, simplybecause of his connection with the Big Beard. Meg's Nicolas wasfirst to tell us that it was M. Darpent whom they had rescued, andthat he had called at the porter's lodge on his way home to inquirefor M. Le Baron, bruised all over, and evidently seriously hurt. Andwhile still trying to disbelieve this, another report arrived throughthe maidservants that M. De Solivet and d'Aubepine had soundlycudgeled M. Darpent, and that M. Le Baron and M. D'Aubepine hadfought a duel on the spot, in which my brother had been wounded. 

Meg was nearly as frantic as I was. We could not speak to Eustace, and Solivet and d'Aubepine, finding themselves known, had bothhurried away at peep of day, for it was a serious thing to havenearly killed a man in office; but Meg desired that if Sir Franciscalled to inquire for my brother we should see him, and she also sentNicolas to inquire for M. Darpent, who, we heard, was confined to hisbed with a broken arm. 

Poor Clement! such was his reward for the interview where I had usedhim so ill, and been so unjust to him. For, as we came tounderstand, it really was all that wretched little Cecile's fault. She would do anything to please that husband of hers, and shecommunicated to him that she understood the secret of my resistanceto the Poligny match, and had been infinitely shocked at my behaviourat Lady Ommaney's. 

The cowardly fellow had hated Clement ever since the baffling of theattempt on Margaret. So he told Solivet, and they united in thisattack, with a half a dozen of their bravoes, got together for theoccasion! We heard the truth of the affair from Sir Francis, and itwas well for Solivet that he was out of my reach!

As for my mother, she thought it only an overflow of zeal for thehonour of the family, and held it to be my fault that her dear sonhad been driven to such measures. Nothing was bad enough for theOmmaneys! Nothing would restore my reputation but marrying thelittle Chevalier at Easter. And in the midst, just as Eustace was alittle better, and there was no excuse for refusing to obey the dragof her chains, Margaret was summoned away to attend on her absurdPrincess, who was going to Orleans, by way of keeping the Cardinal'sforces out of her father's city. 

 Margaret had kept things straight. I do not know how it was, butpeace always went away with her; and my mother did things she neverattempted when the real lady of the house was at home. And yet Imight thank my own hasty folly for much of what befell. 

Eustace was much better, sitting up in his night-gown by the fire, and ready, as I thought, to talk over everything, and redress mywrongs, or at least comfort the wretchedness that had grown upon medaily since that miserable quarrel with Clement. I poured it allout, and even was mad enough to say it was his fault for delaying solong the journey to the Hague. Clement, who had been well-nigh readyto join us and be a good Protestant, was going back to the olddelusions, and taking office under the Government; and even if thebravoes had not killed him, he would be spoilt for any honestEnglishwoman; and I might as well take that miserable littleschoolboy, which I supposed was all my brother wished. Then theestate would be safe enough. 

Eustace could only assure me that the delay was as grievous to him asto me. Indeed, as I could see in a more reasonable mood, he had beenunable to get from Ribaumont the moneys needful for the journey, thesteward not venturing to send them while the roads were so unsafe;but when he begged me to have patience, it seemed to sting myheadstrong temper, and I broke out in some such words as these:'Patience! Patience! I am sick of it. Thanks to your patience, Ihave lost Clement. They have all but murdered him! and foryourself, you had better take care Millicent van Hunker does notthink that such patience is only too easy when she has neither wealthnor beauty left!'

'Hush, Annora, ' he answered, with authority and severity in his tone, but not half what I deserved; 'there is great excuse for you, but Icannot permit such things to be said. '

Here Tryphena came in and scolded me for making him talk; I saw howflushed he was, and became somewhat frightened. They sent me away, and oh! how long it was ere I was allowed to see him again! For inthe morning, after a night of repenting and grieving over my heat, and longing to apologise for having reproached him for the delaywhich was as grievous to him as to me, the first thing I heard wasthat M. Le Baron was much worse; he had had a night of fever; therewas more bleeding, and much difficulty of breathing. My mother waswith him, and I was on no account to be admitted. 

And when I came out of my room, there sat Madame Croquelebois, whohad been sent for from the Hotel d'Aubepine to keep guard over me, day and night; for she was lodged in that cabinet of my sister's intowhich my room opened, and my door on the other side was locked. Itwas an insult, for which the excuse was my interview with Clement. It made me hot and indignant enough, but there was yet a furtherpurpose in it. 

The next thing was to send for a certain Frere Allonville, a man whohad been a doctor before he was converted and became a Dominicanfriar, and who still practiced, and was aid to do cures by miracle. I know this, that it would have been a miracle if his treatment hadcured my brother, for the first thing he did was to bleed him, thevery thing that Dr. Dirkius had always told us was the sure way tokill him, when he was losing so much blood already. Then the friarturned out Tryphena, on the plea that he must have a nurse whounderstood his language. As if poor Tryphena, after living thirteenyears in France, could not understand the tongue quite enough for anypurpose, and as if she did not know better how to take care ofEustace than any one else! But of course the language was not thereal reason that she was shut out, and kept under guard, as it were, just as much as I was, while a Sister of Charity was brought in toact as my brother's nurse, under my mother, who, look you, never hadbeen nurse at all, and always fainted at any critical moment. 

Assuredly I knew why they were thus isolating my brother from all ofus. I heard steps go upstairs, not only of the Dominican quackdoctor, but of the Abbe Montagu, who had been previously sent toconvert us. The good old Bonchamp, who had a conscience, was away atSt. Germain with Gaspard de Nidemerle, and I--I had no one to appealto when I knew they were harassing the very life out of my dearest, dearest brother, by trying to make him false to the Church and thefaith he had fought for. I could do nothing--I was a prisoner; allby my own fault too; for they would have had no such opportunity hadI not been so unguarded towards my brother. When I did meet mymother it chafed me beyond all bearing to see her devout air ofresignation and piety. Her dear son was, alas! in the utmost danger, but his dispositions were good, and she trusted to see him in thebosom of the true Church, and that would be a consolation, even if hewere not raised up by a miracle, which would convince even me. Poorwoman, I believe she really did expect that his conversion would befollowed by a miraculous recovery. I told her she was killing him--and well! I don't know what I said, but I think I frightened her, for she sent Mr. Walter Montague to see what he could do with me. 

I told him I wondered he was not ashamed of such a conversion, supposing he made it, which I was sure he would not, as long as mybrother retained his senses. 

To which he answered that Heaven was merciful, and that so long asone was in communion with the true Church there was power to beredeemed in the next world, if not in this. 

'A sorry way of squeezing into Heaven, ' I said; and then he beganarguing, as he had done a hundred times before, on the blessing andrest he had found in the Church, after renouncing his errors. And nowonder, for it is well known that my Lord Mandeville brought up hisfamily to be mere Puritans. However, I said: 'Look you here, Mr. Montagu; if my brother, Lord Walwyn, gave himself to you ofdeliberate mind, with full health and faculties, you might think hima gain indeed. Or if you like it better, he would have a claim tothe promises of your Church; but if you merely take advantage of theweakness of a man at the point of death to make him seem a traitor tohis whole life, why, then, I should say you trusted, more than I do, to what you call Divine promises. '

He told me--as they always do--that I knew nothing about it, and thathe should pray for me. But I had some trust that his English bloodwould be guilty of no foul play. I was much more afraid of theDominican; only one good thing was that the man was not a priest. Sowent by Good Friday and Easter Eve. They would not let me go tochurch for fear I should speak to any one. Madame Croquelebois andmy mother's old smirking tire-woman, Bellote, took turns to mountguard over me. I heard worse and worse accounts of my dear brother'sbodily state, but I had one comfort. One of the servants secretlyhanded Tryphena this little note addressed to me, in feeblestraggling characters:--

'Do what they may to me my will does not consent. Pray for me. Ifword were taken to the K. E. W. And R. '

It was some comfort that I should have that to prove what my brotherwas to the last. I made me able to weep and pray--pray as I hadnever prayed before--all that night and that strange sad Eastermorning, when all the bells were ringing, and the people flocking tothe churches, and I sat cut off from them all in my chamber, watching, watching in dread of sounds that might tell me that mydearest and only brother, my one hope, was taken from me, body andsoul, and by my fault, in great part. 

Oh! what a day it was, as time went on. Madame Croquelebois went tohigh mass, and Bellote remained in charge. I was, you understand, aprisoner at large. Provided some one was attending me, I went intoany room in the house save the only one where I cared to be. And Iwas sitting in the salon, with my Bible and Prayer-book before me--not reading, I fear me, but at any rate attesting my religion, whenthere came up a message that Son Altesse Royale, the Duke ofGloucester, requested to be admitted to see Mademoiselle deRibaumont. 

Nobody made any question about admitting a Royal Highness, so up hecame, the dear boy, with his bright hazel eyes like his father's, andhis dark shining curls on his neck. He had missed me at theambassador's chapel, and being sure, from my absence, that my brothermust be very ill indeed, he had come himself to inquire. He could asyet speak little French, and not understanding what they told him atthe door, he had begged to see me. 

It did not take long to tell him all, for Bellote did not understandEnglish; I showed him the note, and he stood considering. He was notlike his brothers, he had not lived in vain all those years with hissister Elisabeth in captivity, for there was a grave manliness abouthim though he was only thirteen. He said: 'do you think Lord Walwynwould see me? I am used to be with a sick person. '

Eagerly I sent up word. I knew my mother would never refuse entranceto royal blood; nor did she. She sent word that the Duke would doher son only too much honour by thus troubling himself. I did notmiss the chance of marshalling him upstairs, and gaining one sight ofmy brother--oh! so sadly wasted in these few days, his cheeksflushed, his breath labouring, his eyes worn and sleepless, as helay, raised high on his pillow. He looked up with pleasure into theDuke's face. My mother was making speeches and ceremonies; but afterbowing in reply, the Duke, holding Eustace's hand, leant over him andsaid; 'Can I do anything for you? Shall I send for a chaplain?'

Eustace's eye brightened, and he answered in a voice so faint thatthe Prince only heard by bending over him:

'An order from the King for some one to remain--Then I need not beever watching----'

'I shall wait till he comes, ' said the Prince and Eustace gave SUCH alook of thankfulness, and pressed the hand that had been laid in his. 

The Duke, with politeness, asked permission of my mother to write abillet to his brother, with a report of Lord Walwyn, at the writing-table in the room. He wrote two--one to the King, another to thechaplain, D. Hargood, bidding him obtain orders from King Charles toremain with Lord Walwyn; and he despatched them by the gentleman whohad followed him, asking permission of my mother to remain a littlewhile with my lord. 

Poor mother! she could not refuse, and she did, after all, love herson enough to be relieved, as an air of rest and confidence stoleover his features, as the princely boy sat down by him, begging thathe might spare some one fatigue while he was there. She sent meaway, but would not go herself; and I heard afterwards that the Dukesat very still, seldom speaking. Once Eustace asked him if he hadhis Book of Common Prayer, for his own had been put out of his reach. 

'This is my sister's, ' said the Duke, taking out a little worn velvetbook. 'Shall I read you her favourite Psalm?'

He read in a low gentle voice, trained by his ministry to his sweetsister. He read the Easter Epistle and Gospel too; and at lastEustace, relaxing the weary watch and guard of those dreadful days, dropped into a calm sleep. 

If a miracle of recovery could be said to have been wrought, surelyit was by Duke Henry of Gloucester. 

Long and patiently the boy say there; for, as it turned out, the Kingwas in the Cours de la Reine playing at bowls, and it was long beforehe could be found, and when Dr. Hargood brought it at last the Princehad actually watched his friend for four hours. He might well say hehad been trained in waiting! And he himself gave the bouillon, whenEustace awoke without the red flush, and with softer breathing!

The King had actually done more than the Duke had asked; for he hadnot only given orders that the chaplain should come, and, if desired, remain with Lord Walwyn, but he had also sent the Queen's physician, the most skilful man at hand, to oust the Dominican. We heard thathe had sworn that it was as bad as being in a Scotch conventicler tohave cowls and hoods creeping about your bed before you were dead, and that Harry had routed them like a very St. George. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE NEW MAID OF ORLEANS

(Margaret's Narrative)

I was summoned to the Luxembourg Palace on the Tuesday in Holy Week, the 25th of March. My dear brother was then apparently much better, and gaining ground after the attack of hemorrhage caused by hisexertions to save M. Darpent from the violence of his assailants. 

He did not appear to need me, since he could not venture to talk morethan a few words at a time; and, besides, my year's absence had leftme in such arrears of waiting that I could not ask for leave ofabsence without weighty grounds. My mother was greatly displeasedwith me for not having cut short the interview between Darpent andAnnora, although it seemed to have served her purpose by embroilingthem effectually; but she could not overlook so great an impropriety;and I confess that I was not sorry to avoid her continual entreatiesto me to give up all intercourse alike with the Darpents and Ommneys, and all our English friends. I had satisfied myself that M. Darpentwas in no danger, and I was willing to let the matter blow over, since Lady Ommaney, though imprudent, had only done a good-naturedthing from the English point of view. 

I found my Princess in great excitement. Cardinal Mazarin hadrejoined the King and Queen, and they were at the head of one army, the Prince of Conde was at the head of another. The Parliament viewboth Cardinal and Prince as rebels, and had set a price upon theCardinal's head. On the whole, the Prince was the less hated of thetwo, yet there were scruples on being in direct opposition to theKing. The Cardinal de Retz was trying to stir the Duke of Orleans totake what was really his proper place as the young King's uncle, andat the head of the Parliament, to mediate between the parties, stopthe civil war, convoke the States-General, and redress grievances. But to move Monsieur was a mere impossibility; he liked to hear ofhis own power, but whenever anything was to be done that alarmed him, he always was bled, or took physic, so as to have an excuse for notinterfering. 

And now the royal army was approaching Orleans, and Monsieur couldnot brook that the city, his own appanage, should be taken from him. Yet not only was he unwilling to risk himself, but the Coadjutor andhe were alike of opinion that he ought not to leave Paris and theParliament. So he had made up his mind to send is daughter, who wasonly too much charmed to be going anywhere or doing anythingexciting, especially if it could be made to turn to the advantage ofthe Prince of Conde, whom she still dreamt of marrying. 

I found her in a state of great importance and delight, exclaiming:'My dear Gildippe, I could not do without you! We shall be in yourelement. His Royal Highness and M. Le Cardinal de Retz have bothbeen breaking my head with instructions, but I remember none of them!I trust to my native wit on the occasion. '

We all got into our carriages, a long train of them, at theLuxembourg, with Monsieur looking from the window and waving hisfarewell to his daughter, and the people called down benedictions onher, though I hardly know what benefit they expected from herenterprise. We had only two officers, six guards, and six Swiss toescort us; but Mademoiselle was always popular, and we were quitesafe. 

We slept at Chartres, and there met the Duke of Beaufort, who rode bythe carriage-window; and by and by, at Etampes, we found 500 lighthorse of Monsieur's regiment, who all saluted. Mademoiselle was inecstasies; she insisted on leaving her carriage, and riding at theirhead, with all the ladies who could sit on horseback; and thus wecame to Toury, where were the Duke de Nemours and others of thePrince's party. 

My heart was heavy, I hardly knew why, with fore-bodings about whatmight be passing at home, or I should have enjoyed the comedy ofMademoiselle's extreme delight in her own importance, and thecouncils of war held before her, while the Dukes flattered her to thetop of her bent, laughed in their sleeve, and went their own way. She made us all get up at break of day to throw ourselves intoOrleans, and we actually set out, but we had to move at a foot'space, because M. De Beaufort had, by accident or design, forgotten tocommand the escort to be in attendance. 

By and by a message was brought by some gentlemen, who toldMademoiselle that the citizens of Orleans had closed their gates andwere resolved to admit nobody; that the Keeper of the Seals was onthe farther side, demanding entrance for the royal troops; and theywere afraid of the disorderly behaviour of any soldiers. They werein a strait between the King and their Duke's daughter, and theyproposed to her to go to some neighbouring house and pretend illnessuntil the royal forces should have passed by, when they would gladlyadmit her. 

Mademoiselle was not at all charmed by this proposal, and sheanswered with spirit: 'I shall go straight to Orleans. If they shutthe gates I shall not be discouraged. Perseverance will gain theday. If I enter the town my presence will restore the courage of allwho are well affected to His Royal Highness. When persons of my rankexpose themselves, the people are terribly animated, and they willnot yield to people of small resolution. '

So into the carriage she got, taking me with her, and laughing at allwho showed any alarm. Message upon message met us, supplicating hernot to come on, as she would not be admitted; but her head only wenthigher and higher, all the more when she heard that the Keeper of theSeals was actually at the gates, demanding entrance in the name ofthe King. 

About eleven o'clock we reached the Porte Banniere, and found itclosed and barricaded. The guards were called on to open toMademoiselle d'Orleans Montpensier, the daughter of their lord; butall in vain, though she had not a soldier with her, and promised notto bring in either of the Dukes of Nemours or Beaufort. 

We waited three hours. Mademoiselle became tired of sitting in thecarriage, and we went to a little inn, where we had something to eat, and, to our great amusement, the poor, perplexed Governor of the townsent her some sweetmeats, by way, I suppose, of showing his helplessgood-will. We then began to walk about the suburbs, and I though ofthe Battle of the Herrings and the Maid of Orleans, and wonderedwhich was the gate by which she entered. One of the gentlemenimmediately complimented Mademoiselle on being a second Maid ofOrleans, and pointed out the gate, called Le Port de Salut, asconnected with the rescue of the place. We saw the Marquis d'Allinslooking out at the window of the guardroom, and Mademoiselle madesigns to him to bring her the keys, and let her in, but he replied byhis gestures that he could not. The situation was a very strangeone. Mademoiselle, with her little suite of ladies, parading alongthe edge of the moat, vainly trying to obtain admission, while thewomen, children, and idlers of Orleans were peeping over the rampartsat us, shouting:

'Vive le Roi! Vivent les Princes! Point de Mazarin!' andMademoiselle was calling back: 'Go to the town hall, call themagistrates, and fetch the keys!' Nobody stirred, and at last wecame to another gate, when the guard presented arms, and againMademoiselle called to the captain to open. With a low bow and ashrug, he replied: 'I have no keys. '

'Break it down, then, ' she cried. 'You owe more obedience to yourmaster's daughter than to the magistrates. '

He bowed. 

The scene became more and more absurd; Mademoiselle began to threatenthe poor man with arrest. 

He bowed. 

He should be degraded. 

He bowed. 

He should be drummed out of the service. 

He bowed. 

He should be shot. 

He bowed. 

We were choking with laughter, and trying to persuade her thatthreats were unworthy; but she said that kindness had no effect, andthat she must now use threats, and that she knew she should succeed, for an astrologer had told her that everything she did between thisWednesday and Friday should prosper--she had the prediction in herpocket. By this time we had coasted along the moat till we came tothe Loire, where a whole swarm of boatmen, honest fellows in red capsand striped shirts, came up, shouting, 'Vive Monsieur!' 'ViveMademoiselle!' and declaring that it was a shame to lock her out ofher fathers own town. 

She asked them to row her to the water-gate of La Faux, but theyanswered that there was an old wooden door close by which they couldmore easily break down. She gave them money and bade them do so, andto encourage them climbed up a steep mound of earth close by all overbushes and briars, while poor Madame de Breaute stood shriekingbelow, and I scrambled after. 

The door was nearly burst in, but it was on the other side of themoat. The water was very low, so two boats were dragged up to serveas a bridge, but they were so much below the top of the ditch that aladder was put down into one, up which Mademoiselle dauntlesslymounted, unheeding that one step was broken, and I came after her. This was our escalade of Orleans. 

She ordered her guards to return to the place where the carriages hadbeen left, that she might show how fearless she was. The boatmenmanaged at last to cut out two boards from the lower part of thedoor. There were two great iron bars above them, but the hole wasjust big enough to squeeze through, and Mademoiselle was draggedbetween the splinters by M. De Grammont and a footman. As soon asher head appeared inside the gate the drums beat, there were loudvivats, a wooden arm-chair was brought, and Mademoiselle was hoistedon the men's shoulders in it and carried along the street; but shesoon had enough of this, caused herself to be set down, and we alljoined her, very dirty, rather frightened, and very merry. Drumsbeat before us, and we arrived at the Hotel de Ville, where thepolice bows and the embarrassed faces of the Governor and themagistrates were a sight worth seeing. 

However, Mademoiselle took the command, and they all made theirexcuses and applied themselves to entertaining her and her suit, ascarriages were not admitted, for we were in a manner besieged by theKeeper of the Seals; and in the early morning, at seven o'clock, Mademoiselle had to rise and go through the streets encouraging themagistrates to keep him out. 

She was a sort of queen at Orleans, and we formed a little Court. Ireally think this was the happiest time in her life, while she had acorrespondence with the Prince of Conde on the one hand, and herfather on the other; and assisted at councils of war outside thegates, as she kept her promise, and admitted none of the leaders ofthe belligerent parties into the city. 

They were stormy councils. At one of these the Duke of Beaufort andNemours had a dispute, drew their swords, and were going to attackone another, when Mademoiselle, by entreaties and commands, forcedthem to lay down their arms. 

All this time I had no news from my family. We were in a strangecondition. Here was I following Mademoiselle, who represented herfather and the neutral party, but was really devoted to the Prince;my son was in attendance on the King, whom we were keeping out of hisown city; my mother, brother, and sister were in Paris, which heldfor the Parliament. My half-brother, Solivet, had repaired to M. DeTurenne's army, which was fighting for the King, and my brother-in-law, d'Aubepine, was on the staff of the Prince. 

There was scarcely any family that was not divided and broken up inthe same way, and it was hard to say why there was all this war andmisery, except that there was irreconcilable hatred between thePrince and the Cardinal, and the Queen was determined to cling to thelatter. 

I knew nothing of what was passing at home till a day or two afterEaster Sunday, when one of the gentlemen of the household of the Dukeof Orleans, who had come with letters for Mademoiselle, seemedsurprised to see me, and on my pressing him for intelligence, he toldme that my dear brother was at the point of death. He was quite sureof it, for he had spoken with M. De Poligny, who told him that M. DeRibaumont was daily visited by the Abbe Montagu, was in the bestpossible dispositions, and would receive the last sacraments of ourChurch. 

I knew not what to believe. All I was sure of was that I must bewanted, and that it would break my heart not to see my dearestbrother again. Mademoiselle was a kind mistress, and she consentedto my leaving her, and there was no danger in ladies traveling, though a good deal of difficulty in getting horses. 

At last, however, I found myself at my own door, and in one momentsatisfied myself that my brother was living, and better. My motherwas in the salon, in conversation with M. De Poligny, who had thegood judgment to withdraw. 

'Ah! my dear, ' she said, 'we have had frightful scenes! I had almostgained my dear son's soul, but alas! it might have been at the costof his life, and I could not but be weak enough to rejoice when yoursister's obstinacy snatched him from me. After all one is a mother!and the good Abbe says a pure life and invincible ignorance willmerit acceptance! Besides, the Duke of Gloucester did him the honourto sit an hour by him every day. '

I asked for my sister, and heard that she was with him. For, thoughmy mother said poor Annora's ungovernable impetuosity had done him somuch harm, nay, nearly killed him, he was now never so tranquil aswhen she was in his sight, and the English physician, who had beensent by the King himself, declared that his life still depended onhis being kept free from all agitation. 

'Otherwise, ' said my mother, 'I could bring about the marriage withthe little Chevalier. Annora has renounced her disobedient folly, and would make no more resistance; but M. De Poligny, of course, cannot proceed further till your brother is in condition to settlethe property on her. '

I asked in wonder whether my sister had consented, but my motherseemed to think that the break with Darpent had settled that matterfor ever. 

And when I saw my poor Annora, she was altered indeed. The brightcolour had left her cheeks, her eyes looked dim and colourless, hervoice had lost its fresh defiant ring; she was gentle, submissive, listless, as if all she cared for in life had gone from her exceptthe power of watching Eustace. 

He looked less ill than I had dreaded to see him. I think he felt atrest after the struggle he had undergone to preserve the faith hereally loved. He had never relaxed his guard for a single momenttill the Duke of Gloucester had come, fearing that if he ceased hisvigilance, that might be done which we felt to be mercy, but which hecould not submit to. He always had a calmly resolute will, and heknew now that he must avoid all agitation until he was able to bearit; so he would not ask any questions. He only showed me that he wasglad of my return, pointed to Nan, saying: 'She has been sorelytried, take care of her, ' and asked me if I could find out how itfared with Darpent. 

It was too late to do anything that evening, and I went to mass asearly as I could in the morning, that the streets might be quiet; andwhen I rose from my knees I was accosted by a Sister of Charity whotold me that there was terrible need at the Hotel Dieu. Men werecontinually brought in, shockingly injured in the street frays thatwere constantly taking place, and by the violences of the band ofrobbers and bravoes with whom the Duke of Orleans surrounded hiscarriage, and there was exceedingly little help and nursing for them, owing to the absence of the Queen, and of so many of the great ladieswho sometimes lavished provisions, comforts, and attendance on thepatients. 

I had three hours to spare before any one would be up, so I wenthome, got together all the old linen and provisions I could muster, told my sister where I was going, and caused my chairmen to carry meto the hospital. The streets were perfectly quiet then, only thebakers' boys running about with their ells of bread, the water-carriers and the faggot-men astir, and round the churches a few womenhurrying to their prayers, looking about as if half dreading atumult. 

Poor people! I had never seen the hospital so full, or in so sad acondition. The Sisters and the priests of St. Lazare were doingtheir utmost, and with them a very few ladies. I had staid longenough to fear that I must be needed at home when I saw another ladycoming to take my place, and recognized Madame Darpent. We met withmore eagerness than the good old devout dame usually allowed herselfto show, for each accepted the appearance of the other as a token ofthe improvement of out patients at home. She said her son was nearlywell in health, but that his arm was still unserviceable, having beencruelly twisted by the miscreants who had attacked him; and when Itold her that my brother was likewise recovering, she exclaimed:

'Ah! Madame, I dare not ask it; but if Madame la Vicomtesse couldkindly leave word of the good news as she passes our house, it wouldbe a true charity to my poor son. We have heard sad accounts of theillness of M. De Ribaumont. The servants at the Hotel de Nidemerleconfirmed them, and my son, knowing that M. Le Baron was hurt in hisbehalf, has been devoured with misery. If Madame could let him knowat once it would spare him four or five hours of distress, ere I canleave these poor creatures. '

'Perhaps he would like to see me, ' I said; and the old lady was readyto embrace me. She would not have dared to ask it; but I knew howglad Eustace would be to have a personal account of him. 

It was still early, and I met with no obstruction. My message wastaken in to ask whether M. Darpent would see me, and he came downhimself to lead me upstairs, looking very pale and worn, and givingme his left hand, as in a broken voice he made polite speeches on thehonour I had done him. 

'At least, Madame, ' he said, trembling, so that he was obliged tolean on the chair he was setting for me, 'let me hear that you arecome to tell me no bad news. '

I assured him of the contrary, and made him sit down, while I toldhim of my brother's improvement, and anxiety respecting himself. 

'I may tell him that you are a convalescent, and able to employyourself in deep studies, ' I said, glancing at a big black book openon the table beside the arm-chair where he had been sitting. 

'It is St. Augustine, ' he said. 'I have been profiting by myleisure. I have almost come to the conclusion that there is nothingto be done for this unhappy France of ours but to pray for her. Ihad some hopes of the young King; but did Madame hear what he didwhen our deputies presented their petition to the States-General? Hesimply tore the paper, and said: 'Retire, Messieur. ' He deemsdespotism his right and duty, and will crush all resistance. Men, like the Garde des Sceaux, have done their best, but we have nostrength without the nobility, who simply use us as tools to gratifytheir animosity against one another. '

'Only too true!' I said. 'There is not even permission given to usnobles to do good among our own peasants. '

'There is permission for nothing but to be vicious sycophants, ' criedhe bitterly. 'At least save for the soldier, who thinks only of theenemies of France. Ah! my mother is right! All we can do to keepour hands unstained is to retire from the world, and pray, study, andtoil like the recluses of Port Royal. '

'Are you thinking of becoming one of them?' I exclaimed. 

'I know not. Not while aught remains to be done for my country. Even that seems closed to me, ' he answered sadly. 'I am unfortunateman, Madame, ' he added; 'I have convictions, and I cannot crush themas I see others, better than I, can do--by appealing to simpleauthority and custom. '

'They kept you from your Counsellor's seat, I know, ' said I. 

'And made every one, except M. Le Premier President, mistrust me fora conceited fellow. Well, and now they must keep me from casting inmy lot with the recluses who labour and pray at Port Royal auxChamps, unless I can satisfy myself on scruples that perhaps myHuguenot breeding, perhaps my conversations with M. Votre frere, haveawakened in me. And--and--though I have the leisure, I know my headand heart are far from being cool enough to decide on points oftheology, ' he added, covering his face for a moment with his hand. 

'You a recluse of Port Royal! I cannot believe in it, ' I said. 'Tell me, Monsieur, is your motive despair? For I know what yourhopes have been. '

'Ah, Madame, then you also know what their overthrown has been, though you can never know what it has cost me. Those eyes, as clear-sighted as they are beautiful, saw only too plainly the folly ofexpecting anything in the service I was ready to adopt, and scornedmy hopes of thus satisfying her family. I deserved it. May she findhappiness in the connection she has accepted. '

'Stay, sir, ' I said. 'What has she accepted? What have you heard?'

He answered with a paler look and strange smile that his clerk hadbeen desired by M. De Poligny's notary to let him see the parchmentsof the Ribaumont estate, preparatory to drawing up the contract ofmarriage, to be ready to be signed in a week's time. '

'Ah, sir, ' I said, 'you are a lawyer, and should know how to trust tosuch evidence. The contract is impossible without my brother, who istoo ill to hear of it, and my sister has uttered no word of consent, nor will she, even though she should remain unmarried for life. '

'Will she forgive me?' he exclaimed, as though ready to throw himselfat my feet. 

I told him that he must find out for himself, and he returned that Iwas an angel from heaven. On the whole I felt more like a weak andtalkative woman, a traitress to my mother; but then, as I looked athim, there was such depth of wounded affection, such worth andsuperiority to all the men I was in the habit of seeing, that it wasimpossible not to feel that if Annora had any right to choose at allshe had chosen worthily. 

But I thought of my mother, and would not commit myself further, andI rose to leave him; I had, however, waited too long. The mob weresurging along the streets, as they always did when the magistratescame home from the Parliament, howling, bellowing, and yelling roundthe unpopular ones. 

'Death to the Big Beard!' was the cry, by which they meant good oldMathieu Mole, who had incurred their hatred for his loyalty, and thenthey halted opposite to the Maison Darpent to shout: 'Death to theBig Beard and his jackal!'

'Do not fear, Madame, it will soon be over, ' said Darpent. 'It is alittle amusement in which they daily indulge. The torrent will soonpass by, and then I will do myself the honour of escorting you home. '

I thought I was much safer than he, and would have forbidden him, buthe smiled, and said I must not deny him the pleasure of walking asfar as the door of the Hotel de Nidemerle. 

'But why do they thus assail you and the Garde des Sceaux?' I asked. 

'Because so few in this unfortunate country can distinguish betweenpersons and causes, ' he said. 'Hatred to Mazarin and to the Queen ashis supporter is the only motive that sways them. If he can only bekept out they are willing to throw themselves under the feet of thePrince that he may trample them to dust. Once, as you know, we hopedthat there was public spirit enough in the noblesse and clergy, ledby the Coadjutor, to join with us in procuring the assembling of theStates-General, and thus constitutionally have taken the oldsafeguards of the people. They deceived us, and only made use of usfor their own ends. The Duke of Orleans, who might have stood by us, is a broken reed, and now, in the furious clash of parties, we standby, waiting till the conqueror shall complete our destruction andoppression, and in the meantime holding to the only duty that isclear to us--of loyalty to the King, let that involve what it may. '

'And because it involves the Cardinal you are vituperated, ' I said. 'The Court ought to reward your faithfulness. '

'So I thought once, but it is more likely to reward our resistance inits own fashion if its triumph be once secured, ' he answered. 'Ah, Madame, are visions of hope for one's country mere madness?'

And certainly I felt that even when peace was made between him and mysister, as it certainly soon would be, the future looked very blackbefore them, unless he were too obscure for the royal thunderbolts toreach. 

However, the mob had passed by, to shriek round the Hotel de Ville. 

Food and wine were dealt out to them by those who used them as theirtools, and they were in a frightful state of demoralization, but theway was clear for the present, and Clement Darpent would not bedenied walking by my chair, though he could hardly have guarded me, but he took me through some by-streets, which avoided the haunts ofthe mob; and though he came no further than our door, the few words Iventured to bring home reassured Eustace, and made Annora look likeanother being. 

CHAPTER XXXI

PORTE ST. ANTOINE

(Margaret's Narrative)

When I try to look back on the time that followed, all is confusion. I cannot unravel the threat of events clearly in my own mind, and canonly describe a few scenes that detach themselves, as it were, from aback-ground of reports, true and false, of alarms, of messages to andfro, and a horrible mob surging backwards and forwards, so that whenMademoiselle returned to Paris and recalled me, I could only passbackwards and forwards between the Louvre and the Hotel de Nidemerleafter the servants had carefully reconnoitred to see that the streetswere safe, and this although I belonged to the Orleans'establishment, which was in favour with the mob. Their white scarveswere as much respected as the tawny colours of Conde, which every oneelse wore who wished to be secured from insult. 

I longed the more to be at home because my very dear brother, nowconvalescent, was preparing everything for his journey to the Hague. He had an interview with M. De Poligny, and convinced him that it washopeless to endeavour to gain Annora's consent to the match with hisson, and perhaps the good gentleman was not sorry to withdraw withhonour; and thus the suit waited till the Parliament should be atleisure to attend to private affairs. 

My mother was greatly disappointed, above all when my brother, in hisgentle but authoritative manner, requested her to withdraw heropposition to my sister's marriage with Darpent, explaining that thehad consented, as knowing what his father's feeling would have beentowards so good a man. She wept, and said that it certainly wouldnot have been so bad in England, but under the nose of all herfriends--bah! and she was sure that Solivet would kill the fellowrather than see canaille admitted into the family. However, if thewedding took place at the Hague, where no one would hear of it, andAnnora chose to come back and live en bourgeoise, and not injure theestablishment of the Marquis de Nidemerle, she would not withhold herblessing. So Annora was to go with Eustace, who indeed had notintended to leave her behind him, never being sure what coercionmight be put on her. 

In the meantime it was not possible for any peaceful person, especially one in my brother's state of health, to leave Paris. Thecity was between two armies, if not three. On the one side was thatof the Princes, on the other that of M. Le Marechal de Turenne, withthe Court in its rear, and at one time the Duke of Lorraine advanced, and though he took no one's part, he felled the roads with horriblemarauders trained in the Thirty Year's War. The two armies of Condeand Turenne skirmished in the suburbs, and it may be imagined whatcontradictory reports were always tearing us to pieces. MeantimeParis was strong enough to keep out either army, and that was the onething that the municipality and the Paliarment were resolved to do. They let single officers of the Prince's army, himself, the Duke ofBeaufort, Nemours, the Court d'Aubepine, and the rest, come in andout, but they were absolutely determined not to be garrisoned byforces in direct rebellion to the King. They would not stand a siegeon their behalf, endure their military license, and then the horrorsof an assault. The Duke of Orleans professed to be of the same mind, but he was a mere nonentity, and merely acted as a drag on hisdaughter, who was altogether devoted to the Prince of Conde. Cardinal de Retz vainly tried to persuade him to take the manly partof mediation, that would have been possible to him, at the head ofthe magistracy and municipality of Paris. 

The Prince--Heaven forgive him--and the Duke of Beaufort hoped toterrify the magistracy into subservience by raising the populaceagainst them. Foolish people! as if their magistrates were notguarding them from horrible miseries. In fact, however, the mobs whoraved up and down the streets, yelling round the Hotel de Ville, hunting the magistrates like a pack of wolves, shouting and dancinground Monsieur's carriage, or Beaufort's horse--these wretches werenot the peaceable work-people, but bandits, ruffians, disbandedsoldiers, criminals, excited by distributions of wine and money inthe cabarets that they might terrify all who upheld law and order. If the hotels of the nobles and magistrates had not been constructedlike little fortresses, no doubt these wretches would have carriedtheir violence further. It seems to me, when I look back at thattime, that even in the Louvre or the Luxembourg, one's ears werenever free from the sound of howls and yells, more or less distant. 

Clement Darpent, who had been separated from his work by his injury, and had not resumed it, so far as I could learn, was doing his bestas a deputy at the Hotel de Ville to work on those whom he couldinfluence to stand firm to their purpose of not admitting the King'senemies, but, on the other hand, of not opening their gates to theroyal arm itself till the summons to the States-General should beactually issued, and the right of Parliament to refuse registrationacknowledged. His friends among the younger advocates and the bettereducated of the bourgeois had rallier round him, and in the generalanarchy made it their business to protect the persons whom the mobplaced in danger. My mother, in these days of terror, had recurred toher former reliance on him, and admitted him once more. I heardthere had been no formal reconciliation with Annora, but they had metas if nothing had happened; and it was an understood thing that heshould follow her to the Hague so soon as there should be an intervalof peace; but he had a deep affection for his country and his city, and could not hear of quitting them, even for Annora's sake, in thiscrisis of fate, while he had still some vision of being of use, andat any rate could often save lives. Whenever any part of the mob wascomposed of real poor, who had experienced his mother's charities, hecould deal with them; and when they were the mere savage bandits ofthe partisans, he and his friends scrupled not to use force. Forinstance, this I saw myself. The Duke of Orleans had summoned thePrevot des Marchands and two of the echevins to the Luxembourg, toconsult about supplies. The mob followed them all the way down thestreet, reviling them as men sold to Mazarin, and insisting that theyshould open the gates to the Prince. When they were admitted thewretches stood outside yelling at them like wolves waiting for theirprey. I could not help appealing to Mademoiselle's kindness ofheart, and asking if they could not be sheltered in the palace, tillthe canaille grew tired of waiting. She shrugged her shoulders, andcalled them miserable Mazarinites, but I think she would havepermitted them to remain within if her father had not actuallyconducted them out, saying, 'I will not have them fallen upon INHERE, ' which was like throwing them to the beasts. We ladies werefull of anxiety, and all hurried up to the roof to see their fate. 

Like hungry hounds the mob hunted and pelted these respectablemagistrates down the Rue de Conde, their robes getting torn as theyfled and stumbled along, and the officers, standing on the steps ofthe hotel of M. Le Prince, among whom, alas! was d'Aubepine. Wavedtheir yellow scarves, laughed at the terror and flight of the unhappymagistrates, and hounded on the mob with 'Ha! There! At him! Wellthrown!'

Suddenly a darker line appeared, advancing in order; there was amoment's flash of rapiers, a loud trumpet call of 'Back, ye cowards!'The row of men, mostly in black hats, with white collars, opened, took in among them the bleeding, staggering, cruelly-handledfugitives, and with a firm front turned back the vile pursuers. Icould distinguish Clement Darpent's figure as he stood in front, andI could catch a tone of his voice, though I could not made out hiswords, as he reproached the populace for endeavouring to murder theirbest friends. I felt that my sister's choice had been a grand one, but my heart sank as I heard the sneer behind me: 'Hein! Theconceited lawyers are ruffling it finely. They shall pay for it!'

There was a really terrible fight on the steps of the ParliamentHouse, when the mob forced the door of the great chamber, and twenty-five people were killed; but Darpent and his little party helped outa great many more of the counsellors, and the town-guard coming up, the mob was driven off. That evening I saw the Cardinal de Retz. Hewas in bad odour with Monsieur and Mademoiselle, because he wasstrongly against the Prince, and would fain have stirred the Duke ofOrleans to interfere effectively at the head of the Parliament andcity of Paris; but a man of his rank could not but appear at times atthe Duke's palace, and on this fine May evening, when all had goneout after supper into the alleys of the garden of the Luxembourg, hefound me out. How young, keen, and lively he still looked in spiteof his scarlet! How far from one's notions of an Eminence!

'That was a grand exploit of our legal friend, Madame, ' he said; 'butI am afraid he will burn his fingers. One is not honest withimpunity unless one can blindly hang on to a party. Some friendshould warn him to get out of the way when the crash comes, and avictim has to be sacrificed as a peace-offering. Too obscure, didMadame say? Ah! that is the very reason! He has secured noprotector. He has opposed the Court and the Prince alike, and themagistrates themselves regard him as a dangerous man, with thosenotions a lui about venality, and his power and individuality, andtherefore is factious, and when the Court demands a Frondeur therewill be no one except perhaps old Mole to cry out in his defence, andMole is himself too much overpowered. Some friend should give him ahint to take care of himself. '

I told my brother as soon as I could, and he ardently wished to takeDarpent away with him when it should be possible to quit Paris; butat that moment Clement and his young lawyers still nourished somewild hope that the Parliament, holding the balance between theparties, might yet undeceive the young King and save the country. 

The climax came at last on the second of July. M. Le Prince wasoutside the walls, with the Portes St. Antoine, St. Honore, and St. Denis behind him. M. De Turenne was pressing him very hard, endeavouring to cut him off from taking up a position on the otherside of the army, at the confluence of the Seine and the Marne. ThePrince had entreated permission to pass his baggage through the city, but the magistrates were resolved not to permit this, not knowingwhat would come after. Some entrenchments had been thrown up roundthe Porte St. Antoine when the Lorrainers had threatened us, and herethe Prince took up his position outside the walls. There, as youremember, the three streets of Charenton, St. Antoine, and Charonneall meet in one great open space, which the Prince occupied, heapingup his baggage behind him, and barricading the three streets--M. DeNemours guarded one, Vallon and Tavannes the other two. The Prince, with the Duke of la Rochefoucauld and fifty more brave gentlemen, waited ready to carry succour wherever it should be needed. Within, the Bastille frowned over all. 

We were waiting in the utmost anxiety. A message came toMademoiselle, at the Louvre, from the Prince, entreating her not toabandon him, or he would be crushed between the royal forces and thewalls of Paris. Monsieur had, for a week, professed to be ill, but, on driving through the streets, lined with anxious people, and comingto the Luxembourg, we found him on the steps. 

'I thought you were in bed, ' said his daughter. 

'I am not ill enough to be there, ' he answered; 'but I am not wellenough to go out. '

Mademoiselle entreated him, in her vehement way, either to mount hishorse and go to help M. Le Prince, or at least to go to bed and actthe invalid for very shame; but he stood irresolute, whistling, andtapping on the window, too anxious to undress, and too timid to goout. Annora would have been ready to beat him. I think his daughterlonged to do so. She tried frightening him. 

'Unless you have a treaty from the Court in your pocket I cannotthink how you can be so quiet. Pray, have you undertaken tosacrifice M. Le Prince to Cardinal Mazarin?'

He whistled on without answering, but she persevered, with alternatetaunts and threats, till at last she extracted from him a letter tothe magistrates at the Hotel de Ville, telling them that she wouldinform them of his intentions. Off, then, we went again, having withus Madame de Nemours, who was in an agony about her husband, andpresently we were at the Hotel de Ville, where we were received bythe Prevot des Marchands, the echevins, and Marshal de l'Hopital, Governor of Paris--all in the most intense anxiety. She was broughtinto to great hall, but she would not sit down--giving them herfather's letter, and then desiring that the town-guard should take uparms in all the quarters. This was already done. Then they were tosend the Prince 2000 men, and to put 400 men under her orders in thePlace Royale. To all this they agreed; but when she asked them togive the Prince's troops a passage through the city, they demurred, lest they should bring on themselves the horrors of war. 

Again she commanded, she insisted, she raved, telling them that ifthey let the Prince's army be destroyed those of M. De Turenne wouldassuredly come in and sack the city for its rebellion. 

Marshal l'Hopital said that but for Mademoiselle's friends, the royalarmy would never have come thither at all, and Madame de Nemoursbegan to dispute with him, but Mademoiselle interfered, saying:'Recollect, while you are discussing useless questions the Prince isin the utmost danger;' and, as we heard the cries of the people andbeyond them the sharp rattle of musketry, she threatened them withappealing to the people. 

She was really dignified in her strong determination, and sheprevailed. Evil as the whole conduct of the Prince had been, nodoubt the magistrates felt that it would be a frightful reproach tolet the flower of the gentlemen of France be massacred at theirgates. So again we went off towards the Port St. Antoine, hearingthe firing and the shouts louder every minute, at the entrance of RueSt. Antoine we met M. Guitaut on horse-back, supported by anotherman, bare-headed, all unbuttoned, and pale as death. 'Shalt thoudie?' screamed out Mademoiselle, as we passed the poor man, and heshook his head, though he had a great musket ball in his body. Nextcame M. De Vallon, carried in a chair, but not too much hurt to callout: 'Alas, my good mistress, we are all lost. '

'No, no, ' she answered; 'I have orders to open a retreat. '

'You give me life, ' he said. 

More and more wounded, some riding, some on foot, some carried onladders, boards, doors, mattresses. I saw an open door. It was thatof Gneffier Verdon, Clement's brother-in-law, and Darpent wasassisting to carry in a wounded man whose blood flowed so fast thatit made a stream along the pavement before the door. Mademoiselleinsisted on knowing who it was, and there was only too much time, for, in spite of our impatience and the deadly need, we could onlymove at a foot's pace through the ghastly procession we were meeting. The answer came back--'It is the Count d'Aubepine. He would bleed todeath before he could be carried home, so M. Darpent has had himcarried into his sister's house. '

My heart was sick for poor Cecile. 'My brother-in-law!' I said. 'Oh, Mademoiselle, I entreat of you to let me go to his aid. '

'Your amiable brother-in-law, who wanted to have you enlevee! No, no, my dear, you cannot be uneasy about him. The Generalissime ofParis cannot spare her Gildippe. '

So I was carried on, consoling myself with the thought that MadameVerdon, who was as kind as her mother, would take care of him. Whenwe came near the gate Mademoiselle sent orders by M. De Rohan to thecaptain of the gate to let her people in and out, and, at the sametime, sent a message to the Prince, while she went into the nearesthouse, that of M. De Croix, close to the Bastille. 

Scarcely were we in its salon when in came the Prince. He was in aterrible state, and dropped into a chair out of breath before hecould speak. His face was all over dust, his hair tangled, hiscollar and shirt bloody, his cuirass dinted all over with blows, andhe held his bloody sword in his hand, having lost the scabbard. 

'You see a man in despair, ' he gasped out. 'I have lost all myfriends. Nemours, de la Rochefoucauld, Clinchamp, d'Aubepine, aremortally wounded;' and, throwing down his sword, he began tearing hishair with his hands, and moving his feet up and down in an agony ofgrief. 

It was impossible not to feel for him at such a moment, andMademoiselle came kindly up to him, took his hand, and was able toassure him that things were better than he thought, and that M. DeClinchamp was only two doors off, and in no danger. 

He composed himself a little, thanked her passionately, swalloweddown some wine, begged her to remain at hand, then rushed off againto endeavour to save his friends, now that the retreat was opened tothem. Indeed, we heard that M. De Turenne said it seemed to him thathe did not meet one but twelve Princes of Conde in that battle, forit seemed as if he were everywhere at once. 

We could only see into the street from the house where we were, andhaving received some civil messages from the Governor of theBastille, Mademoiselle decided on going thither. The Governor turnedout the guard to salute Mademoiselle, and at her request conducted usup stone stair after stone stair in the massive walls and towers. Now and then we walked along a gallery, with narrow doors openinginto it here and there; and then we squeezed up a spiral stone stair, never made for ladies, and lighted by narrow loopholes. In spite ofall the present anxiety I could not help shuddering at that place ofterror, and wondering who might be pining within those heavy doors. At last we came out on the battlements, a broad walk on the top ofthe great square tower, with cannon looking through the embrasures, and piles of balls behind them, gunners waiting beside each. It wasextremely hot, but we could not think of that. And what a sight itwas in the full glare of the summer sun! Mademoiselle had a spy-glass, but even without one we could see a great deal, when we werenot too much dazzled. There was the open space beneath us, with themoat and ditch between, crowded with baggage, and artillery near thewalls, with gentlemen on foot and horseback, their shorn plumes andsoiled looks telling of the deadly strife--messengers rushing upevery moment with tidings, and carrying orders from the group whichcontained the Prince, and wounded men being carried or helped out atthe openings of the three chief suburban streets, whose irregularhigh-roofed houses and trees, the gray walls and cloisters of theabbey, hid the actual fight, only the curls of smoke were risingcontinually; and now and then we saw the flash of the firearms, whilethe noise was indescribable--of shots, shrieks, cries to come on, andyells of pain. My brother told me afterwards that in all the battlesput together he had seen in England he did not think he had heardhalf the noise that came to him in that one afternoon on the top ofthe Hotel de Nidemerle. The Cavaliers gave a view halloo, and cried, 'God save the King!' the Ironsides sang a Psalm, and then they settheir teeth and fought in silence, and hardly any one cried out whenhe was hurt--while here the shots were lost in the cries, and oh! howterrible with rage and piteous with pain they were!

Beyond the houses and gardens, where lie the heights of Charonne, were to be seen, moving about like ants, a number of troops on footand on horseback, and with colours among them. Mademoiselledistinguished carriages among them. 'The King is there, no doubt, 'she said; and as I exclaimed, 'Ah! yes, and my son, ' she handed methe glass, by which I could make out what looked very like the royalcarriages; but the King was on horseback, and so was my dear boy, almost wild with the fancy that his mother was besieged, and scarcelywithheld from galloping down by assurances that no lady was in theslightest danger. 

Below, in the hollow, towards where Bagnolet rose white among thefields and vineyards, the main body of Turenne's troops were drawn upin their regiments, looking firm and steady, in dark lines, flashingnow and then in that scorching July sunshine, their colours flying, and their plumes waving. A very large proportion of them werecavalry, and the generals were plainly to be made out by the staffwhich surrounded each, and their gestures of command. 

We presently saw that the generals were dividing their horse, sendingone portion towards Pincourt, the other towards Neuilly. Mademoiselle, who really had the eye of a general, instantly dividedthat they were going to advance along the water-side, so as to cutoff the retreat of the Prince's forces by interposing betweenthefaubourg and the moat, and thus preventing them from availingthemselves of the retreat through Paris. M. Le Prince was, as wecould perceive, on the belfry of the Abbey of St. Antoine, but therehe could not see as we could, and Mademoiselle instantly dispatched apage to warm him, and at the same time she gave orders to theartillerymen to fire on the advancing troops as soon as they camewithin range. This was the most terrible part to me of all. We wereno longer looking on to save life, but firing on the loyal and on thearmy where my son was. Suppose the brave boy had broken away andridden on! I was foolish enough to feel as if they were aiming athis heart when the fire and smoke burst from the mouths of those oldbrass guns, and the massive tower seemed to rock under our feet, andthe roar was in our ears, and Madame de Fiesque and the other ladiesscreamed in chorus, and when the smoke rolled away from before oureyes we could see that the foremost ranks were broken, that all hadhalted, and that dead and wounded were being picked up. 

In very truth that prompt decision of Mademoiselle's saved thePrince's army. Turenne could not send on his troops in the face ofthe fire of the Bastille, and, for aught he knew, of the resistanceof all his army through the Porte St. Antoine without the loss of onewounded man or a single gun. Mademoiselle, having seen the effect ofher cannon, came down again to provide for wine and food being sentto the exhausted soldiers, who had been fighting all day in suchscorching heat that we heard that at the first moment of respite, M. Le Prince hurried into an orchard, took off every fragment ofclothing, and rolled about on the grass under the trees to coolhimself after the intolerable heat. 

Just as I emerged from the court of the Bastille, some one touchedme, and said, 'Pardon me, Madame, ' and, looking round, I saw M. Darpent, with his hat in his hand. 'Madame, ' he entreated, 'is itpossible to you to come to poor M. D'Aubepine? I have fetched her toher husband, but there will be piteous work when his wound isvisited, and she will need all the support that can be given to her. My mother and sister are doing all in their power, but they have manyother patients on their hands. '

I hurried to my Princess, and with some difficulty obtained ahearing. She called up M. Darpent, and made him tell her the namesof all the five sufferers that he and his sister had taken into theVerdon house, and how they were wounded, for Conde's followers beingalmost all noble, she knew who every one was. Two were only slightlywounded, but two were evidently dying, and as none of their friendswere within reach, Madame Darpent and her daughter were forced todevote themselves to these, though fortunately they had not beenbrought in till her son had piloted M. D'Aubepine through the crowdedstreets--poor little Cecile! who had hardly ever set foot on thepavement before. Her Count was in a terrible state, his right leghaving been torn off by a cannon-ball below the knee, and he wouldhave bled to death long before reaching home had not Clement Darpentobserved his condition and taken him into the house, where Madame hadenough of the hereditary surgical skill acquired in the civil wars tocheck the bleeding, and put a temporary dressing on the wounds untila doctor could be obtained; for, alas! they were only too busy onthat dreadful day. 

Mademoiselle consented to part with me when she had heard all, suddenly observing, however, as she looked at Darpent: 'But, Monsieur, are you not the great Frondeur with ideas of your own? Didnot this same d'Aubepine beat you soundly? Hein! How is it that youare taking him in---? Your enemy, is he not?'

'So please your Royal Highness, we know no enemies in wounded men, 'replied Darpent, bowing. 

Her attention was called off, and she said no more, as Clement and Ihastened away as fast as we could through a by-street to avoid themarch of the troops of Conde, who were choking the Rue St. Antoine, going, however, in good order. He told me on the way that M. D'Aubepine had shown great courage and calmness after the firstshock, and after a few questions had hung on his arm through thestreets, not uttering a word, though he felt her trembling all over, and she had instantly assumed the whole care of her husband with allthe instinct of affection. But as he and his mother felt certainthat amputation would be necessary, he had come to fetch me to takecare of her. 

Fortunately for us, we had not to cross the Rue St. Antoine to enterthe Maison Verdon, but Clement opened a small door into the courtwith a private key, presently knocking at a door and leading me in. Armand d'Aubepine had been the first patient admitted, so his was thechief guest-chamber--a vast room, at the other end of which was agreat bed, beside which stood my poor Cecile, seeing nothing but herhusband, looking up for a moment between hope and terror in case itshould be the surgeon, but scarcely taking in that it was I till Iput my arms round her and kissed her; and then she put her finger toher lips, cherishing a hope that because the poor sufferer had closedhis eyes and lay still in exhaustion, he might sleep. There he lay, all tinge of colour gone from his countenance, and his damp, darkhair lying about his face, and with my arm round her waist stoodwatching till he opened his eyes with a start and moan of pain, andcried, as his eye fell on me: 'Madame! Ah! Is Bellaise safe?'Then, recollecting himself: 'Ah no! I forgot! But is he safe--thePrince?'

I told him that the Prince and his army were saved, feelinginfinitely touched that his first word should have been of myPhilippe, whom he seemed to have forgotten; but indeed it was not so. His next cry was: 'Oh! Madame, Madame, would that this were Freiburg!Would that I could die as Philippe die! Oh! help me!'

Cecile threw herself forward, exclaiming, in broken words, that hemust not say so; he would not die. 

'You, too, ' he said, 'you, too--the best wife in the world--whom Ihave misused--- Ah! that I could begin all over again!'

'You will--you will, my most dear!' she cried. 'Oh! the wound willcure. '

And, strange mixture that he was, he moaned that he should only be apoor maimed wretch. 

Darpent now brought in a priest, fresh from giving the lastSacrements to the two mortally-wounded men. The wife looked at himin terror, but both he and Clement gently assured her that he was notcome for that purpose to M. La Comte, but to set his mind at rest bygiving him absolution before the dressing of the wound. Of course itwas a precaution lest he should sink under the operation; and as weled her from the bedside, Clement bade me not let her return as yet. 

But that little fragile creature was more entirely the soul of Lovethan any other being I have known. She did, indeed, when we had herin Madame Verdon's little oratory hard by, kneel before the crucifixand pray with me, but her ear caught, before mine, the departingsteps of the priest, and the entering ones of the surgeon. She roseup, simply did not listen to my persuasions, but walked in with quietdignity. Madame Darpent was there, and would have entreated her toretire, but she said: 'This is a wife's place. ' And as she took hishands she met a look in his eyes which I verily believe more thancompensated to her for all the years of weary pining in neglect. The doctor would have ordered her off, but she only said: 'I shallnot cry, I shall no faint. ' And they let her keep his hand, thoughClement had to hold him. I waited, setting our hostess free toattend to one of her dying charges, from whom she could ill bespared. 

And Cecile kept her word, though it was a terrible time, for therewas no endurance in poor Armand's shallow nature, and his cries andstruggles were piteous. He could dare, but not suffer, and had notboth she and Clement been resolute and tranquil, the doctor ownedthat he could not have succeeded. 

'But Madame la Comtesse is a true heroin, ' he said, when our patientwas laid down finally, tranquil and exhausted, to be watched overthrough the night. 

The time that followed was altogether the happiest of all my poorsister-in-law's married life. Her husband could hardly bear to losesight of her for a moment, or to take anything from any hand savehers. If Madame Darpent had not absolutely taken the command of bothshe would never have had any rest, for she never seemed sensible offatigue; indeed, to sit with his hand in hers really refreshed hermore than sleep. When she looked forward to his recovery, her onlyregret was at her own wickedness in the joy that WOULD spring up whenshe thought of her poor cripple being wholly dependent on her, andnever wanting to leave her again. I had been obliged to leave herafter the first night, but I spent much of every day in trying tohelp her, and she was always in a tearful state of blissful hope, asshe would whisper to me his promises for the future and hisaffectionate words--the fretful ones, of which she had her fullshare, were all forgotten, except by Clement Darpent, who shruggedhis shoulders at them, and thought when he had a wife---

Poor Armand, would he have been able, even as a maimed man, to keephis word? We never knew, for, after seeming for a fortnight to be onthe way to recovery, he took a turn for the worse, and after a fewdays of suffering, which he bore much better than the first, therecame that cessation of pain which the doctors declared to mean thatdeath was beginning its work. He was much changed by these weeks ofillness. He seemed to have passed out of that foolish worldly dreamthat had enchanted him all his poor young life; he was scarcelytwenty-seven, and to have ceased from that idol-worship of the Princewhich had led him to sacrifice on that shrine the wife whom he hadonly just learned to love and prize. 'Ah! sister, ' he said to me, 'Isee now what Philippe would have made me. '

He asked my pardon most touchingly for his share in trying to abductme, and Clement Darpent's also for the attack on him, though, as hesaid, Darpent had long before shown his forgiveness. His littlechildren were brought to him, making large eyes with fright at hisdeathlike looks, and clinging to their mother, too much terrified tocry when he kissed them, blessed them, and bade Maurice consider hismother, and obey her above all things, and to regard me as next toher. 

'Ah! if I had had such a loving mother I should never have become sobrutally selfish, ' he said; and, indeed, the sight of her sweet, tender, patient face seemed to make him grieve for all the sins ofhis dissipated life. His confessor declared that he was in the mostpious disposition of penitence. And thus, one summer evening, withhis wife, Madame Darpent, and myself watching and praying round him, Armand d'Aubepine passed away from the temptations that beset aFrench noble. 

I took my poor Cecile home sinking into a severe illness, which Ithought for many days would be her death. All her old terror ofMadame Croquelebois returned, and for many nights and days MadameDarpent or I had to be constantly with her, though we had outsidetroubles enough of our own. Those two sick-rooms seem to swallow upmy recollection. 

CHAPTER XXXII

ESCAPE

(Annora's Narrative)

There was indeed a good deal passing beyond those rooms whereMargaret was so absorbed in her d'Aubepines that I sometimes thoughtshe forgot her own kindred in them. Poor things! they were in sadcase, though how Cecile could break her heart over a fellow who hadused her so vilely, I could never understand. He repented, theysaid. So much the better for him; but a pretty life he would haveled her if he had recovered. Why, what is there for a French nobleto do but to fight, dance attendance on the King, and be dissipated?There is no House of Lords, no Quarter-Sessions, no way of beinguseful; and if he tried to improve his peasantry he is a dangerousman, and they send him a lettre de cachet. He has leave to donothing but oppress the poor wretches, and that he is fairly obligedto do, so heavy are his expenses at Court. The King may pension him, but the pension is all wrung out of the poor in another shape!Heaven knows our English nobles are far from what they might be, butthey have not the stumbling-blocks in their way that the French haveunder their old King, who was a little lad then, and might have beenled to better things if his mother had had less pride and more goodsense. 

Gaspard de Nidemerle does the best he can. He is a really good man, I do believe, but he has been chiefly with the army, or on his ownestate. And he can effect little good, hampered as he is on allsides. 

In those days, Clement Darpent was sad enough at heart, but he didnot quite despair of his country, though things were getting worseand worse. Mademoiselle had saved the Prince and his crew, besottedas she was upon them; and finely they requited Paris, which hadsheltered them. All the more decent folk among them were lyingwounded in different houses, and scarcely any of their chiefs wereleft afoot but the Duke of Beaufort, with his handsome face and hisfine curls of flaxen hair, looking like a king, but good for nothingbut to be a king of ruffians. 

What does the Prince do but go to the Hotel de Ville with the Duke ofOrleans and Beaufort, at six o'clock in the evening of the 4th ofJuly, under pretence of thanking the magistrates and deputies ofletting him in. Then he demanded of them to proclaim that the Kingwas a prisoner in Mazarin's hands, and to throw themselves into thewar. They would do no such thing, nor let themselves be intimidated, whereupon the Prince went out on the steps, and shouted to his rabblerout, where there were plenty of soldiers in disguise, who had beendrinking ever since noon: 'These gentlemen will do nothing for us, 'he cried. 'Do what you like with them. '

And then, like a coward, he got into a carriage with Monsieur anddrove off, while M. De Beaufort, in a mercer's shop, acted general tothe mob, who filled the whole place. It was a regular storm. Flagswith 'Arret d'Union' were displayed, shots fired, the soldiers gotinto the houses and aimed in at the windows, logs of wood smearedwith fat were set fire to before the doors so as to burn them down. 

Clement, who was a depute for his arrondissement, had, while this wasgoing on, been getting together the younger and stronger men with theguard, to make a barricade of benches, tables, and chairs; and theydefended this for a long time, but ammunition failed them, and thebarricade began to give way amid the shouts of the mob. The poor oldmen crouching in the halls were confessing to the cures, expectingdeath every moment; but, happily, even that long July evening had anend; darkness came down on them, and there were no lights. The mobwent tumbling about, at a greater loss than the deputies andmagistrates, who did at least know the way. Clement, with a poor oldgouty echevin on his arm, struggled out, he knew not how, into one ofthe passages, where a fellow rushed at them, crying, 'Down with theMazarins!' but Clement knew by his voice that he was no soldier orbandit, but a foolish artisan, and at haphazard said: 'Come, come, mygood lad, none of this nonsense. This gentleman will give you acrown if you will help him out. '

The man obeyed directly, muttering that he only did as others did;and when they had got out into the street, Clement, finding himselfnot far from the place where the lights and voices showed him thatsome one was in command, managed to get to the mercer's shop with thepoor old echevin, where he found M. De Beaufort, with his hairshining in the lamplight, his yellow scarf, and his long whitefeather, hanging over the features that were meant to be like anangel's. When Clement, in aftertimes, read the Puritan poet Milton'sPARADISE LOST, he said he was sure that some of the faces of thefallen spirits in Pandemonium had that look of ruined beauty that hesaw in the King of the Markets on that night. 

Some of the town councilors who had got out sooner had gone toentreat the Duke of Orleans to stop the massacre, but he wouldDo nothing but whistle, and refer them to his nephew De Beaufort. They were standing there, poor men, and he tapping his lip with hiscane, stroking down his moustache, and listening to them with a sneeras they entreated him not to let their fellows perish. And thenamong them stood up Clement, with his old echevin by his side. Hewas resolved, he said, and began 'Son of Henri IV. , will you see thepeople perish whom he loved from the bottom of his heart? Yes, Monsieur, you inherit the charm by which he drew hearts after him, and was a true king of men! Will you misuse that attraction to makethem fly at one another's throats? In the name of the great Henriand his love for his people, I appeal to you to call off yonderassassins. '

He had so far prevailed that Beaufort muttered something about notknowing things had gone so far, and assured the magistrates round himof his protection. He even went to the door and told some of hisprime tools of agitation that it was enough, and that they might givethe signal of recall; but whether things had gone too far, or whetherhe was not sincere, the tumult did not quiet down till midnight. After all, the rogues had the worst of it, for two hundred bodies oftheirs were picked up, and only three magistrates and twenty-fivedeputies, though a good many more were hurt. 

Clement saw his old echevin safe home, left word at our house that hewas unhurt, but did not come in; and at Maison Verdon, no one hadeven guessed what danger he was in, for all the attention of thehousehold was spent on the wounded men, one of whom died that night. 

Things got worse and worse. Eustace was very anxious to leave Parisbefore the summer was over, lest bad weather should make him unableto travel. The year he had put between himself and Millicent hadmore than run out; and besides, as he said to me, he would not exposehimself again to undergo what he had endured in his former illness, since he could have no confidence that my mother, and even Margaret, might not be driven to a persecution, which, if his senses shouldfail him, might apparently succeed. 'Nor, ' said he, 'can I leave youunprotected here, my sister. '

We lingered, partly from the difficulty of getting horses, and theterrible insecurity of the roads, partly from the desire to getClement to attend to Cardinal de Retz's warning and escape with us. There was no difficulty on his mother's account. She was longing toenter Port Royal, and only delayed to keep house for him, with manydoubts whether she were not worldly in so doing; but he still felthis voice and presence here in the Hotel de Ville a protest, and hecould not give up the hope of being of use to his country. 

Meantime, M. De Nemours recovered from his wound only to be killed ina duel by M. De Beaufort, his brother-in-law; the Prince of Conde'srage at his defeat threw him into a malignant fever; the Duke ofOrleans was in despair at the death of his only son, a babe of fiveyears old; the Fronde was falling to pieces, and in the breathingtime, Eustace obtained a pass from our own King, and wrote toSolivet, who was with the royal army outside, to get him another forhimself and me--explaining that he was bound by his promise to Madamevan Hunker, and that his health was in such a state that my care wasneedful to him. 

Solivet answered the letter, sending the passport, but urging on himto remain at Paris, which would soon be at peace, since Mazarin wasleaving the Court, and a general amnesty was to be proclaimed if thegates of Paris were opened to the King without the Cardinal. 

But there were to be exceptions to this amnesty, and Solivet wrote atthe same time to my mother. I have not the letter, and cannot copyit, but what he said was to urge her not to permit my brother to dragme away to Holland, for when he was gone all might still be arrangedas she wished. As to 'ce coquina de Darpent, ' as Solivet kindlycalled him, he had made himself a marked man, whom it was dangerousto leave at large, and his name was down for Vincennes or theBastille, if nothing worse, so that there need be no more troubleabout him. So said my half-brother, and he had no doubt made himselfcertain of the fact, in which he somewhat prematurely exulted. 

My poor dear mother! I may seem to have spoken unkindly andundutifully about her in the course of these recollections. She wastoo French, and I too English, ever to understand one another, but inthese last days that we were together she compensated for all thatwas past. She could not see a good and brave young life consigned toperpetual imprisonment only for being more upright than hisneighbours; she did remember the gratitude she owed even to acreature comme ca, and I even believe she could not coolly see herdaughter's heart broken. She had not even Margaret to prompt orpersuade her, but she showed the letter at once to Eustace, and badehim warn his friend. Oh, mother, I am thankful that you made me loveyou at last!

Eustace drove first to the office, and got his passes countersignedby the magistracy for himself and me and our servant, showing alaquais whose height and complexion fairly agreed with those ofClement Darpent. There was no time to be lost. In the dusk of anAugust evening my brother was carried to the corner of the Rue St. Antoine in my mother's sedan. He could not walk so far, and he didnot wish to attract observation, and he reached the house on foot, cloaked, and with his hat slouched. He found that Clement hadreceived a note, as he believed from the Coadjutor, who always kneweverything, giving the like warning that he would be excluded fromthe amnesty. His hopes of serving his country were over, and he feltit so bitterly, and so grieved for it, that he scarcely thought atfirst of his personal safety. It was well we had thought for him. 

Eustace had brought a suit of our livery under his cloak, and he andpoor Madame cut Clement's hair as short as if he had been aRoundhead. She had kept plenty of money in the house ever since shehad feared for her son, and this they put in a belt round his waist. Altogether, he came out not at all unlike the laquais JacquesPierrot, whom he was to personate. Eustace said the old lady tookleave of her son with her stern Jansenist composure, which my tender-hearted Clement could not imitate. Eustace rejoined the chairmen andcame back through the dark streets, while Clement walked at somedistance, and contrived to slip in after him. My mother had in themeantime gone to the Hotel d'Aubepine and fetched poor Meg. 

Cecile had just taken the turn, as they say, and it was thought shewould live, but Meg could scarcely be spared from her, and seemed atfirst hardly to understand that our long-talked-of departure wassuddenly coming to pass. It was well that she had so much to occupyher, for there was no one save her son, whom she loved like thatbrother of ours, and she would not, or could not, realise that shewas seeing him for the last time. 

It was a hot August night, and we worked and packed all through it, making Eustace lie down and rest, though sleep was impossible, and hesaid he wanted to see Meg and his mother as long as he could. As toClement, we were afraid of the servants noticing him, so Eustace hadlocked him up in his own room, but he slept as little as any of us, and when his breakfast was brought him, he had never touched hissupper. Certainly mine was the saddest bridegroom who ever stoleaway to be married; but I could forgive him. Did I not know what itwas to be an exile, with one's heart torn for one's country'sdisgrace?

The difficulty was to get rid of the real Jacques Pierrot, but hegave us a little assistance in that way by coming crying to M. LeBaron, to ask permission to take leave of his mother in the FaubourgSt. Denis. This was readily granted to him, with strong insistencethat he should be back by eleven o'clock, whereas we intended tostart as soon as the gates were opened, namely, at six. Eustace hadsome time before purchased four mules and a carriage. He was not fitto ride in bad weather, and for me to have made a journey onhorseback would have attracted too much attention, but the times weretoo uncertain for us to trust to posting, and mules, though slowerthan horses, would go on longer without resting, and were less likelyto be seized by any army. I would take no maid-servant, as she wouldonly have added to our dangers. 

We ate our hearts till seven, when we succeeded in getting the mulesto the door, and haste softened the parting for the moment. Indeed, Eustace and Meg had said much to each other in the course of thenight. We had both knelt to ask my mother's forgiveness for havingso often crossed her, and she finally wept and fainted, so that Megwas wholly occupied in attending to her. 

Clement stood by the carriage, looking his part so well that my firstimpression was 'that stupid Jacques has come back after all. ' Ouranxiety now was to be entirely out of reach before the fellow cameback, and hard was it to brook the long delay at the Porte St. Denisere the officials deigned to look at us and our passes. However, mybrother had gone through too many gates no to know that silver and anair of indifference will smooth the way, so we came through at lastwithout our valet having been especially scanned. 

Beyond the gates the sight was sad enough, the houses in the suburbswith broken windows and doors as though pillaged, the gardensdevastated, the trees cut down, and the fields, which ought to havebeen ripening to harvest, trampled or mown for forage, all looking asif a hostile invader had been there, and yet it was the sons of thecountry that had done this, while swarms of starving people pursuedus begging. Alas! had we not seen such a sight at home? We knewwhat it must be to Clement, but as he sat by the driver we durst notsay a word of comfort to him. 

At our intended resting-place for the night--I forget the name of it--we found every house full of soldiers of the royal army, and but forour passes I do not know what we should have done. Before every doorthere were dragoons drinking and singing round the tables, and somewere dancing with the girls of the village. Some of them shouted atus when they saw we were coming from Paris, and called us runawayrebels; but Eustace showed his pass, told them what it was, for theycould not read, and desired their officer to be fetched. He came outof the priest's house, and was very civil. He said Colonel deSolivet had desired that all assistance should be given to us, butthat we had not been expected so soon. He really did not know whereto quarter the lady or the mules, and he advised us to go on anotherleague, while he dispatched an orderly with the intelligence to thecolonel. There was nothing else to be done, though my brother, afterhis sleepless night, was becoming much exhausted, in spite of thewine we gave him, while as to the mules, they had an opinion of theirown, poor things, as to going on again, and after all sorts offiendish noises from the coachman, and furious lashings with hiswhip, the dragoons pricked them with their swords, and at last theyrushed on at a gallop that I thought would have shaken Eustace todeath. 

However, before we had gone very far Solivet rode out to meet us. Itwas another cause of anxiety, although it was dusk, and he hadexpected us to have slept at St. Denis and to have arrived the nextday, and he asked, what could have made us start so early, just as ifwe had been criminals fleeing from justice; but he took us to thechateau where he was quartered, and, though they were much crowdedthere, the family tried to make us comfortable. The master of thehouse gave up his own bed to my brother, and I shared that of hismother. 'Jacques' in his character of valet, was to attend on hismaster, and sleep on the floor; and this gave the only opportunity ofexchanging any conversation freely, but even this had to be done withthe utmost caution, for the suite of rooms opened into each other, and Solivet, who was very anxious about Eustace, came in and out tosee after him, little guessing how much this added to the inwardfever of anxiety which banished all sleep from his eyes. 

The kind people thought him looking so ill the next morning that theywanted to bleed him, and keep us there for a few days, but this wasnot to be thought of, as indeed Eustace declared, when I felt somealarm, that he could not be better till he was out of Frenchterritory. 

So we pushed on, and Solivet rode beside the window all day, makingour course far safer and easier in one way, but greatly adding inothers to the distressful vigilance that coloured Eustace's thincheeks and gleamed in his eyes, and made his fingers twitch at hissword whenever there was an unexpected halt, or any one overtook us. He conveyed us quite beyond the army, and brought us as far asBeuvais, where he made himself our host at the Lion Rouge, and gaveus an excellent supper, which I could hardly swallow when I thoughtof his barbarous intentions towards Clement, who had to wait on usall the time, standing behind my chair and handing dishes. 

I believe Solivet really meant to be a good brother; but his wordswere hard to endure, when he lectured us each apart, with all theauthority of a senior--told me that Eustace was dying, and that everymile he traveled was hastening his end, laughing to scorn that onehope which buoyed me up, the Dirkius could do more for him than anyone else, and almost commanding me to take him home again to Pariswhile it was possible. 

And he equally harassed Eustace the next morning with representationsof the folly of taking me away to Holland, and breaking off theadvantageous Poligny match, to gratify my headstrong opposition anddesire for a mesalliance, which would now happily be impossible, thefellow having ruined himself. 

The fellow entered at that moment with M. Le Baron's coat and boots, and Eustace could hardly repress a smile. We could not but rejoicewhen Solivet took leave of us at the carriage door, veryaffectionate, but shrugging his shoulders at our madness, and leavinga corporal and his party to guard us to the frontier. They prolongedthe sense of constraint, and forced us to be very guarded with poorClement, but otherwise they were very useful. The inhabitantsfancied us by turns great princes or great criminals, or both, beingescorted out of the country. Once we were taken for the Queenescaping with the Cardinal, another time for the Prince of Condeeloping with Mademoiselle; but any way of soldiers secured for usplenty of civility, and the best food and lodgings to be had. Theypricked on our mules with a good-will, and when one of them fell lamethey scoured the neighbourhood to find another, for which Eustaceendeavoured to pay the just price, but I am afraid it went into thecorporal's pocket, and Clement never so nearly betrayed himself aswhen he refused to share with the escort the reckoning of which theystripped the landlord. Integrity in a Parisian valet was all toosuspicious! However, to us they behaved very well; and, if all weheard were true, their presence may have saved us from being robbed, if not murdered, long before we reached the frontier. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

BRIDAL PEARLS

When once over the border, and our passports duly examined, webreathed freely, and at our first resting-place Clement took out asuit of my brother's clothes and appeared once more as a gentleman, except for his short hair. He was able, whenever French would serve, to take the management of our journey. 

We finished it as before in a canal boat, and the rest of mind andbody, and the sense of approaching Millicent, certainly did Eustacegood; the hectic fever lessened, and though he slept little at night, he had much good slumber by day, lying on cloaks on deck as wequietly glided along the water, between the fields full of corn, withharvest beginning, and the tall cocks of hay in the large fields, allplenty and high cultivation, and peaceful industry, in contrast withthe places we had left devastated by civil war, and the famishedpopulation. 

The comparison made Clement groan; and yet that canal journey had apensive joy about it, as we sat beside our sleeping brother andconversed freely and fearlessly, as we had never been able to do forten minutes together in all the long years that we had loved oneanother. There was something very sweet in the knowing that, exileas he was, he and I must be all the world to one another. And soindeed it has been. After our stormy beginning, our life has beenwell-nigh like our voyage on that smooth Dutch stream. 

However, the sorrows were not yet over, although at that time wetrusted that there would be healing for my dear brother in the veryair of the Hague. We landed on a fine August evening, and were atonce recognized by some of the English gentlemen who had little to dobut to loiter about the quays and see the barges come in. Itrejoiced my heart to hear my brother called Lord Walwyn again, instead of by his French title. Yet therewith, it was a shock to seehow changed they thought him since he had left them a year before;but they vied with one another in helping us, and we were soon housedin good lodgings. I knew what Eustace most wished to learn, andasked, with as good an air of indifference as I could assume, whetherVrow van Hunker were in the town. 'Vrow van Hunker, the Providenceof the Cavaliers?' asked one. 'No; she is at her country-house, where she hath taken in there or four poor starving ladies andparsons with their families. '

When I heard how she was using old Van Hunker's wealth--in providingfor our poor loyal folk, and especially for the clergy, pensioningsome, hospitably receiving others in her own house, and seekingemployment for others--I had to repent of all the scorn with which Ihad looked on Millicent Wardour as a poor fickle creature, and now Ihad to own that my brother's love had been as nearly worthy of him asany creature could be. 

Eustace would not, however, go to visit her until he had seen Dr. Dirkius, to whom he repaired early the next day, having caused ahackney coach to be ordered against his return, and bestowed Clementon an English friend who could speak French well. For Eustace heldthat it would be more fitting, in the sight of the world, for me togo with him to visit Madame van Hunker. 

The carriage was at the door when he came back from the physician's. There never was anything to find fault with in his looks, and on thisday, with his light brown hair and beard freshly-trimmed andshinning, his clear skin with the red colour in his cheek, and hisbright eyes, in their hollow caves, there was something sotransparent and sublimated in his aspect, that I thought that helooked more like a spirit than a bridegroom. He was gave and silentby the way, and there was something about him that withheld me fromasking what Dirkius had said to him. 

Thus we reached the entrance of the great double avenue, along which, as we presently saw, two English clergymen were walking together inconversation, and we saw a little farther on some children at play. 

'This is well, ' said Eustace, as he looked out. 'I thank God forthis! It will be all the better for her that such a good work isbegun. '

'Nay, ' said I, 'but what will the poor things do when she loses oldHunkers's gold?'

'Sister, ' said Eustace, 'I have left this too long, but I thought youunderstood that I am never like to wed my poor Millicent. '

'Dirkius?' I said. 

'Dirkius does but confirm what I have known ever since the spring, and so have you too, Nan, that it would be a miracle should I be hereafter this winter. '

I had known it by my inner conviction, and heard him say the likeoften before; it was only a fancied outward hope that had beensustaining me, and I could obey when he bade me look cheerfully onMillicent, and remember the joy it was to him to see her at all, and, above all, employed in such tasks as would bring comfort to her. 

The great Dutch house seemed full of English. Gentlewomen weresitting in the tapestried hall, spinning or working with theirneedle. We had been known to one or two of them in former times, andwhile they greeted us word was taken to Madame van Hunker that wewere there, and a servant brought us word to ask us to come to her inher own parlour. There, up a few shallow steps, in a quiet, cool, wainscoted room, adorned with Eastern porcelain on shelves, we foundher with her little daughter at her knee. 

She met us at the door with a few faltering words, excusing herselffor having given us the trouble to come to her. 

'Best so, Millicent, ' said Eustace, and as he spoke she lifted hereyes to his face and I saw a look of consternation pass over herfeatures at sight of his wasted looks; but I only saw it for amoment, for he put an arm round her, and kissed her brow, as she hidher face against him. 

The child, not contented with my embrace, ran and pulled his coat, crying, 'My lord, my lord, I can speak English now;' and he stoopedto kiss her, while her mother turned to me with swimming eyes of muteinquiry, as of one who saw her long-cherished hope fulfilled only forher sorrow. She was less altered than had been feared. That smoothdelicacy of her skin was indeed lost which had made her adistinguished beauty; but she still had a pair of eyes that made herfar from insignificant, and there was an innocence, candour, andpleading sweetness in her countenance that--together, perhaps, withmy pity--made even me, who had hitherto never liked her, lover herheartily. 

I heard little or nothing of what they said to one another, beingemployed in keeping the child from them. She prattled freely inEnglish, and was pleased to show me her baby-house, a marvel of Dutchneatness of handiwork, like that one which Madame van Hunker broughtyou, my daughter Peggy, when you were a little one. The doll we hadgiven her had, however, the place of honour. Her sister, littleEmilia told me, was married a month ago, and she was proceeding tomake the little Dutch puppets in her baby-house enact the wedding, one being dressed in a black gown and stiff ruff, like a Genevanminister, when she caught a tone that made her cry out that motherwas weeping, and stump across the floor in her stout little shoes tocomfort her, before I could hinder her. 

My brother and her mother set her down between them, and I had noughtto do but to put in order the baby-house, till a great bell clangedthrough the house, which was the signal for dinner. Madame vanHunker was calmer by that time, and let Eustace hand her down, andplace her at the head of the table, where she had around her no lessthan four families and two widows of our poor exiled Cavaliers andclergy. We had not found ourselves in so English a world for yearspast. 

The hostess sat as one in a dream, doing her part like one moved bywires, and eating scarce anything, while Eustace showed all his usualcourtliness of manner and grace. After dinner, he rested on a couch, as was his wont, before going back, and Millicent drew me into herchamber and wept on my neck, as she made me tell her all she had notbeen able to learn from him. 

He had been very tender with her, and tried to persuade her that itwas all for the best, and that there was happiness for them in thehaving no one between them now. She, poor woman, would fain, as Isaw, have thrown aside all her houses and wealth to be his, and totend him, were it merely for a few weeks, and she felt as if her lovewas strong enough to be his cure; but he had spoken of the cruelselfishness of giving away her power of aiding all these our fellow-countrymen in order that they two might come together for what heknew would be so brief a time. Yet he had not taken all hope fromher, for he had talked of their reconsidering the matter if he werein better health after the winter, and, meantime, they could see eachother often. 

Poor thing! I believe she expected the miracle that might make himyet recover, and so she bore up, while Eustace was verily happy--having lived, as it were, nearly into spiritual love, and left behindthat which had been earthly and corporeal, and thus he was content torest. He had strained himself very hard to accomplish the journey, bring Clement and me into safety, and see Millicent again, and whenthe effort ceased, we fully saw, for the first time, how great it hadbeen, and how far he was gone on that other journey. I do not thinkhe crossed the threshold of our lodging half a dozen times after ourarrival; but Millicent came into her town-house, and was with himevery day. She had fitted the great dining chamber of that town-house as a chapel for our English service, and my brother wentthither on two Sundays, on the second of which he saw M. Darpentreceived into our English Protestant Church. Clement had longinclined that way, having never forgotten the Huguenot training ofhis childhood, and the studies he had made, when his mother impelledhim towards Port Royal, having resulted in farther doubts andyearning towards what Eustace had told him of our doctrine. Conversation with the learned Dr. Elson, one of our exiled divines, had completed the work, though he made his profession with pain andgrief, feeling it a full severance from his country and his mother. 

And the last time my dear brother left the house was to give me tohis friend. He was anxious that I should be Clement's wife before heleft me, and there was no fear that we should starve, for, throughtrustworthy merchants, a small amount of the Darpent money had beentransmitted to him before the State laid hands on his property asthat of a fugitive. He might have bought himself a share in one ofthe great trading houses, or have--which tempted him most--gone outto the plantations in the new countries of Java or America; butEustace prayed him to pledge himself to nothing until he should hearfrom Harry Merrycourt, to whom my brother had sent a letter beforequitting Paris. 

We would have had a quiet wedding, but Eustace was resolved, as hesaid, that all the world should know that it was not done in acorner, and Madame van Hunker WOULD give the wedding feast, and cameto dress me for my bridal. You know the dress: the white brocadewith hyacinth flowers interwoven in the tissue--and when she hadcurled my hair after her fancy, she kissed me and clasped round myneck the pearls of Ribaumont. I told her I would wear them then toplease her and Eustace, and, in truth, I knew in my heart that I wasthe last true Ribaumont bride that ever would wear them. We werewedded in the chapel in Madame van Hunker's house; and the Princess-Royal was there, and the Duke of York, and my Lord and Lady ofNewcastle, and I know not who besides--only remembering that they allknew how to treat Clement as a man of distinction, who had, likethem, given up all for conscience sake, and he, in his plain lawyer'ssuit, with his fine, clear-cut face and grave eyes, looked, even inspite of his close-cropped head, as veritable a gentleman as any ofthem. The festivities ended the dinner, that being as much as mybrother was able for. We went quietly back to our lodgings inMillicent's coach, and Eustace went to rest on his bed, till sheshould have bidden farewell to her guests and could come and sup withus; but he and Clement forbade me to take off my finery, for ittickled their eyes. 

And thus, when tidings came to the door that a gentlemen from Englanddesired to see my Lord Walwyn, Harry Merrycourt, after all theseyears of seeing nothing but sad-coloured Puritan dames, came in uponthis magnificent being in silvered brocade. 

He said he thought he had stumbled on the Princess-Royal at least, and it was a descent to hear it was only plain Mistress Darpent!Harry had a good wife of his own by that time, who suited him farbetter than I should have done. Indeed, I believe he had onlythought of wedding me to relieve my family from me. And when he sawhow unlike M. Darpent was to all he had ever thought or believed ofFrenchmen, and heard how well he spoke English, and how he had bornehimself at Paris, he quite forgave me, and only thought how he couldserve Eustace, the man whom he had always loved beyond all others. 

He was practicing law in London still, but he had had time to repentof having been on the wrong side when he saw what it had come to, andhad the Protector at the head of affairs. He said, however, thatnegotiations for peace with France were like to begin, and that Mr. Secretary Milton was casting about for one learned in French law toassist in drawing the papers, so that he had little doubt that Mr. Darpent would be readily taken into one of the public officers inLondon. 

Moreover, he said that the Walwyn property had been sequestered, butno one had yet purchased it, and he thought that for a fair sum, itmight be redeemed for the family. 

When Eustace and Millicent found that I would not hear of keeping thepearls, declaring that such things were not fit for a poor exiledlawyer's wife, Millicent said they had always felt like hot lead onher neck. To compound the matter, Eustace persuaded her to have thechaplet valued by a Dutch jeweller, and to ask Margaret and Solivet, the guardians of the young Marquis de Nidemerle, to purchase them forhim. 

To Margaret was left whatever of the property M. Poligny would spare, and if Gaspard should have sons, one would bear the title ofRibaumont, though the name would be extinct. So it was fitting thatthe pearls should return to that family, and the fair value, as wehoped, sufficed, in Harry Merrycourt's hands, to redeem, in myhusband's name, the inheritance my brother had always destined forme. 

This was the last worldly care that occupied our believed brother. He said his work was done, and he was very peaceful and at rest. Hisstrength failed very fast after Harry Merrycourt came. Indeed, Ithink he had for months lived almost more by force of strong willthan anything else, and now he said he had come to his rest. Hepassed away one month after my wedding, on the 16th of October 1652, very peacefully, and the last look he gave any one here was forMillicent. There was a last eager, brighter look, but that was fornothing here. 

The physicians said he died of the old wound in the lungs received atNaseby, so that he gave his life as much for the cause as my fatherand Berenger had done, though he had had far, far more to suffer inhis nine years of banishment. 

We left him in a green churchyard by the waterside, and Millicentsaying through her tears that he had taught her to find comfort inher married life, and that he had calmed her and left her peace andblessing now in the work before her. And then we sailed with sorehearts for England, which was England still to me, though sadlychanged from what I had once known it. We had come to think thatthere was no hope of the right cause ever prevailing, and that allthat could be done was to save our own conscience, and do our best toserve God and man. 'The foundations are cast down, and what hath therighteous done?'

We were met by Harry Merrycourt, who had obtained the employment forClement that he had hoped for. It was well, for, when Walwyn wasrepurchased, all our money had been sunk in it, and enough borrowedto consume the rents for some years to come, and thus we had to livevery frugally in a little house in Westminster; but as for that, Iwas far happier marketing in the morning with my basket on my arm, cooking my husband's supper, making his shirts, and by and by nursingmy babe, than ever I had been in all the stiff state and splendour ofpoor Margaret's fine salons. Camlet suits me better than brocade, and a basket of fresh eggs better than a gold-enamelled snuff-box. While, though I did long to see the old home again, I knew it wouldbe bare of those who had made it dear, and, besides, it would be aswell that M. Darpent should rub off as much as might be of his Frenchbreeding before showing him among the Thistlewoods and Merrycourts, and all the rest of our country-folk. Moreover, after the stir ofParis he might have found himself dull, and he had the opportunity ofstudying English law; ay, and I saw him yearly winning more and moretrust and confidence among those who had to do with him, and formingfriendships with Mr. John Evelyn and other good men. 

So, when better times came round, and we had our King and Court back, on the very day of my Harry's birth, M. Darpent was recommended to myLord Clarendon as too useful a secretary to be parted with, andtherewith the great folk remembered that I came of an old Cavalierfamily. Indeed Queen Henrietta had promised my mother and sister toseek me out, though may be she would never have recollected it. After all it was the Duke of Gloucester who actually came and foundme, riding up to our door with only one gentleman, and he no otherthan good old Sir Francis Ommaney. 

Prince Henry was a fine youth, far handsomer and more like hisblessed father than his brothers, and with as bright a wit and aswinning and gracious as the King. He reproached me for not havingcome to see his mother, and asked merrily if I had turned Roundheadas well Frondeuse. I told him I had a good excuse, and showed him mythree children, the youngest not yet a month old, and the other twostaring open-mouthed to see a Prince so like other gentlemen. 

Whereupon he asked if the little one was yet christened, and did himthe honour to offer to be his godfather; and he noted that littleEustace promised to be like his uncle, and spake, with tears in hiseyes, of the blessing my brother had been to him in his earlier stayat Paris, and how the remembrance of that example had helped himthrough the days when he had to undergo the same persuasions toforsake his father's Church. 

So whereas the two first christenings had been done privately, asamong those under persecution, Master Harry was baptized in state andsplendour in St. Margaret's Church in full and open day, with all theneighbours gaping to see the Duke come forth, leading MistressDarpent by the hand. 

Thus I had to turn out my fine gowns (grown all too tight for me) andbetake me to the Queen, who had become a little old woman, but was asgay and kind as ever, and told me much about my mother and sister. The King himself came and spoke to me, and said he supposed I wishedto have the old title revived; but I told him, with all thanks, thatI liked my husband better by his own name than by that which I hadrather leave sacred to my brother; whereat he laughed, and said hemust make a low bow to me, as being the first person he had met whohad nothing to ask from him. 

That was all I saw of the Court. Before many weeks had passed thecruel smallpox had carried off the young Duke of Gloucester in histwentieth year, taking him, mayhap, from the evil to come, in hisbright youth and innocence, for had he lived, and kept himselfunsoiled even to these days, he might have been sorely tempted tobreak that last promise made when he sat on his father's knee. 

Soon after Madame van Hunker came to England. There was Wardourproperty, which had descended to her, and she was glad to have a goodcause for bringing her daughter Emilia to England. My children allknew and loved the fair and saint-like lady full of alms-deeds, andwith the calm face that always was ready with comfort and soothing. The very sight of it would rest the fretful, hasty spirit; and I wasthankful indeed that when Emilia married, her mother still abode nearto us--I felt her like my guardian spirit. 

My husband kept his post till my Lord Clarendon went out and theCabal came in, and then, not liking those he had to work with, hegave up his office, and we retired into the country, while ourchildren were still young enough to grow up in the love to Walwynthat I had always felt. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

ANNORA'S HOME

It seemed as if I had scarcely time to understand what was themeaning of my party with my beloved brother and sister. My poorCecile was still so ill that I could hardly attend to anything else, and when I returned in the morning I found that, missing me, she hadfallen into another crisis, and that all the danger was renewed. 

However, the poor frail creature lived, little as she cared to do so, except to pray for the soul of the husband to whom her whole beinghad been given, ever since they had wedded her to him as a merechild. It was well that I had her to attend to, or my home would haveseemed very desolate to me, empty as it now was of my brother andsister, and with my mother spending her time between her Queen andher favourite convent. Happily for me there was no longer requiredto be in waiting, but was free to finish his education. Indeed, Ibelieve the Queen had found out that Gaspard had put into KingLouis's head certain strange ideas about sovereigns and subjects, sothat she was glad to keep him at a distance. Queen Henrietta bade metake care what I was doing. Thus Cardinal Mazarin being absent, andthe events of former years not brought to mind, it was possible toobtain permission to retire for a time to our estates. Indeed Ifancy it was meant to disgrace two such Frondeuses as we weresupposed to have been. 

Cecile recovered something like health in the country, but she wouldnot hear of doing anything save entering a convent. She longed to beconstantly praying for her husband, and she felt herself utterlyincapable of coping with the world, or educating her son. She tookher little girl with her to be a pensionnaire at the Visitation, andentrusted her boy to me, to be brought up with mine. They haveindeed always been like brothers, and to me the tenderest and mostdutiful of sons. Maurice d'Aubepine never ceased to love his ownmother, but as a sort of saint in a shrine, and he used to say thatwhen he went to see her he always felt more as if he had beenworshipping than making a visit. 

I had learned a little prudence by my former disasters among thepeasantry at Nid de Merle, and we did contrive to make them somewhathappier and more prosperous without giving umbrage to our neighbours. They learned to love M. Le Marquis with passionate devotion, and hehas loved them in his turn with equal affection. I delight to hearthe shouts of ecstasy with which they receive him when he is seenriding through the narrow lanes of the Bocage on a visit to hismother and his home. 

The King has always treated him with distinguished politeness, butwithout seeming desirous to retain him about Court, so that, as youknow, he has always had employment either in the army or ingovernments, gaining ample honour, but without enjoying personalfavour or intercourse with the King, who, it may be, trusts hisloyalty, without brooking his plain speaking. 

I saw my sister once again. When she had at last settled in the oldchateau, and after my son and nephew had made their first campaign atthe siege of Lille, we had to join in the progress of the Court toDunkirk and Lille to see the King's new fortifications. A strangeprogress it was to me, for Mademoiselle was by this time infatuatedby her unfortunate passion for the Duke of Lauzun, and never ceasedconfiding to me her admiration and her despair whenever there was ashower of rain on his perruque. However, when the Duchess of Orleanscrossed to England I obtained permission to go with my son to visitour relations, since it was then the object to draw together as closeas possible the links between the countries. 

It was a joyous visit, though it was a shock to me to see the grandold castle of the Walwyn replaced by a square Dutch-looking brickhouse of many windows, only recently built, and where I rememberednoble woods and grand trees to see only copse-wood and fields. Butwho could regret anything when I saw my dear sister, a glad, proud, happy wife and mother, a still young, active, and merry matron, dazzlingly fair as ever, among her growing sons and pretty daughters, and indeed far more handsome than when she sat in the salons ofParis, weary and almost fierce, in her half-tamed, wild-cat days, whereas now her step was about the house and garden everywhere, asthe notable housewife and good mother. 

And her husband--Mr. Darpent, as every one called him, with trueEnglish pronunciation--it amused us to see how much of an Englishmanhe had become, though Harry Merrycourt told us the squires had beganby calling him Frenchy, and sneering at his lack of taste and skillin their sports; but they came to him whenever they had a knottypoint to disentangle in law or justice, they turned to him atQuarter-Sessions for help; and though they laughed at the plans offarming, gardening, and planting he had brought from Holland, or hadlearned from Mr. Evelyn of Says Court, still, when they saw that histrees grew, his crops prospered, and his sheep fetched a good priceat market, some of them began to declare he was only too clever, andone or two of the more enlightened actually came privately to ask hisadvice. 

It was pleasant to see him in his library, among books he had pickedup, one by one, at stalls in London, where he read and wrote andtaught his sons, never long without the door being opened by Nan tosee whether his fire needed a fresh log, or whether his ink-standwere full, or to announce that the pigs were in the garden, and turnout all his pupils in pursuit! Interrupt as she would, she neverseemed to come amiss to him. 

He was glad to talk over all the affairs of our country with us. Inhis office in London he had of course been abreast with facts, but hewas keenly interested in all the details of the Prince's return tofavour, of the Cardinal's death, of the King's assumption of theentire management of State affairs, and of the manner in which thelast hopes of the Parliament of Paris had been extinguished. Francewas--as he allowed to my eager son--beginning to advance rapidly onthe road of glory, it might be of universal empire. He agreed to it, but, said he, with a curious perverse smile: 'For all that, M. LeMarquis, I remain thankful that my wife's inheritance is on this sideof the Channel, and though I myself may be but an exile and afugitive, I rejoice that my sons and their children after them willnot grow up where there is brilliancy and grandeur without, butbeneath them corruption and a people's misery!'

THE END.