The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand Monarch

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER V.

  THE MYSTERY AT PLOUERNEL.

  The Castle of Plouernel is located not far from Nantes on one side norfrom Rennes on the other, and is one of the most magnificent residentialpalaces of France. It dates back to the Renaissance period, and presentsa finished specimen of that style of architecture, the fancy of which isinfinite and charming. Here, cupolas, elegant as Oriental minarets,contrast vividly with the pointed angle of high roofs; yonder,wide-arched galleries, resembling aerial bridges thrown over space, joinone set of buildings to another; here, balustraded terraces seemembroidered in the living stone. It is a mass of richness and diversity,a dazzling efflorescence of architectural ornamentation from theexterior of the chimneys, each of which is a masterpiece of execution,down to the chimerical gutter-spouts and the stone setting of the doorsand windows, sculptured in human figures, flowers, birds and the headsof monstrous animals, real and fabulous. And yet, Oh! prodigy of art,the inexhaustible variety of details, the fantastic irregularity of thedifferent parts of the edifice merge into a whole that is instinct withloftiness and grace. Finally, about half a league away from thatdazzling fairy palace--the facade of which runs over with sculptureddesigns gilded by the slanting rays of the sun, and brilliantlyharmonizes with the azure of the sky above and the verdure of the woodsround about--the eye catches on the crest of an arid and rocky ridgethat rises almost perpendicularly, the ruins of the ancient feudal manorof Plouernel, semi-hidden under a vast wrappage of ivy. Theindestructible dungeon only has defied the tooth of time. Its squarebulk, blackened by the ages, rises to a height of over a hundred andtwenty feet, still crowned by its old crenelated battlements andmachicolations, and flanked at either angle with a turret from which themen on watch kept an eye upon the road and the river, the former ofwhich wound its way to the right, the other to the left of the foot ofthe rock, at the summit of which, perched like a vulture's nest, rosethe seigniorial lair.

  An avenue of centennarian elms, planted in four files, led up to thefacade of the Castle of Plouernel, which rose from a wide andsemi-circular "court of honor," surrounded by a colonnade surmounted byterraces. The elegant architectural hemicycle masked the stables, thekennels, the falcon cages and other out-buildings of the castle, andwas, in turn, surmounted by an impost on which, woven into implements ofwar and of the chase artistically sculptured, was seen the coat-of-armsof Plouernel--three eagle's talons sable on a field gules--and, risingfrom among gracefully executed ornamentations, the lettering "Guy dePlouernel," the builder of the palace in the year 1559, according tothe lapidary date graven above the armorial bearings.

  On this day, the bustle among a large number of valets, grooms, cooksand huntsmen who scurried over the court of honor on their way to one orother of the out-buildings, announced that the seigneur of the place wasin the castle. Several soldiers dressed in the red uniform, and twosentinels on guard at the foot of the winding staircase, furtherindicated that the Marquis of Chateauvieux, the colonel of the CrownRegiment, was the guest of the Count of Plouernel, the latter havingoffered to his friend the colonel to quarter two companies of hissoldiers in the numerous dependencies of the castle. Finally, at adistance, stablemen were seen putting some horses through their pacesupon the fine grass of a lawn, beyond which, and as far as the eyereached, extended the tree-covered park, dominated to the east by therocky ridge, at the top of which the imposing ruins and black dungeon ofthe ancient manor of Plouernel contrasted strikingly against the blue ofthe sky.

  The interior of this modern castle corresponded with its sumptuousexterior. Numerous servitors in livery crowded the marble-slabbedvestibule, to the left of which ran a gallery containing the portraitsof the Seigneurs Neroweg of Plouernel. The oldest of these paintings,belonging to the Eighth Century, bearing unmistakable mark of Byzantinestiffness of execution, represented a Neroweg lady, Meroflede, theAbbess of Meriadek in Plouernel, of the days of Charles Martel. Butseeing that the origin of this family harked back to the conquest ofGaul by the Franks, the father of the present Count, yielding to hispride of race, had supplied the lack of authentic portraits antedatingthe Eighth Century, by consulting his genealogy, and causing thelineaments of those of his ancestors, who lived during the first fivecenturies of the Frankish monarchy, to be retraced. Though not accurateportraits of their subjects, these paintings at least reproduced theseveral costumes of those past epochs. The first Neroweg, a leude ofClovis and count of the country of Auvergne by right of his sword, wasrepresented in all the barbarism of the savage accoutrement of thatFrankish warrior--hair of a coppery hue tied at the top of his head witha leather thong, and falling down loose over his back like the tail of ahorse; long, red moustaches; clean shaven chin; and savage mien. Thebust was half covered by a sort of dalmatica made of an animal's hide,and the warrior leaned his hand upon his "framee," or battle weapon.Among this long succession of portraits was one empty frame wrapped inblack crepe. The absent picture was that of Colonel Plouernel, anhonorable man, and one of the most valiant captains in the Protestantarmies of the Sixteenth Century. But the colonel's great-grandson hadstruck him out of the family line, meaning thereby to brand in hisperson the Huguenot, a rebel to his King and to the Church of Rome. Theportrait gallery led to a salon, on the other side of which was theapartment of Madam Tremblay, the aunt of the Count of Plouernel.

  The Marchioness was still the woman of the court which she was at thetime of her journey to The Hague. She was conversing confidentiallywith Abbot Boujaron, who seemed to be deeply preoccupied. The two hadnot yet wholly gotten over the experiences of what they called their"accursed journey to Holland," where they came near being torn topieces, but where they had, they said, "at least the satisfaction ofknowing at first hand of the massacre of the two republican heretics,those De Witt brothers."

  It was a narrow escape, but the worthy pair succeeded in eluding thepopular fury that exploded against the French party by leaving TheHague, again reaching the port of Delft--thanks to Serdan, who,nevertheless they held to be a fellow of felonious instincts--and thereembarking on a neutral vessel bound for Havre, where they landed withoutfurther incident. From Havre the two went to Versailles, MademoisellePlouernel's flat refusal to accompany them to England having put an endto their project of a voyage to that country. Besides, the young lady'shealth was so much impaired that they would have been compelled to giveup that journey even had she not opposed it. They took her along toVersailles.

  Upon their arrival there the Marchioness summoned Monsieur Fagon, LouisXIV's leading physician. That illustrious doctor declared that the youngwoman's illness was a mystery to him. Despite all his assiduous care,despite all the resources of his art, Bertha of Plouernel remainedbetween life and death, her strength being undermined by a slow feverthat rendered her almost unconscious, and that reduced her to the pointof being but the shadow of her former self. In fact, she was taken tobe at death's door, when an unexpected but favorable crisis set in, asunexplainable as the disease itself, according to Monsieur Fagon, andrestored her to health. Her convalescence lasted more than six months.In the spring of the year Monsieur Fagon advised Bertha's aunt to sendher to Brittany, assuring her that the girl's native climate wouldcomplete the cure. Accordingly Bertha was sent ahead to Plouernel underthe escort of one of her brother's equerries, two of her aunt's women,and an old nurse, Marion, who had cared for her from childhood. When theMarchioness and her Abbot arrived there themselves, they found Berthagreatly restored. Her cheeks had resumed their rosy hue.

  It was about this very illness and recovery that the pair were anxiouslyconversing. "We now feel reassured on the score of your niece's physicalcondition," said Abbot Boujaron; "but--and this is the importantpoint--what is your opinion concerning her moral condition? To me itseems there is much to be wished for."

  "The turn of her mind and nature has always been more than bizarre, as aconsequence of the detestable bringing up that she received from hermother. But, since her illness, my niece's oddities have grown dailymore marked so that, were i
t not for the reasons you know of, my nephewand myself would long ago have decided, with the consent of the King ourmaster, to lock up in a convent the wayward minx who insists that ourpriests are imposters, that people do not die, and that we are re-bornin flesh and bone to live onward in the stars!"

  "All of which, my dear Marchioness, is heresy, pure and simple; andworse yet--paganism of the first water. Besides that, there can benothing more disorderly than Bertha's conduct. She receives with openarms the first tramp who presents himself at the castle's gate, underthe pretext of giving alms; at the burg she is called _the gooddemoiselle_, a sort of indirect insult to her brother. It often happensthat she mounts her horse in the morning, and does not return untilevening, accompanied, it is true, by an old lackey and old Du Buisson,one of the Count's equerries. Other times she leaves alone on foot uponinterminable promenades. To make a long story short, a few days ago,Bertha took the notion of going to the manor of Mezlean, that has longbeen uninhabited, and of remaining there forty-eight hours at a stretch.Since she returned from that excursion day before yesterday, she has notleft her room nor her bed, claiming indisposition, and refusing to admityou, as well as her brother. All this, Marchioness, is more than odd; itverges on mental derangement. For that reason, your own and the Count'stolerance seem to me regrettable and unpardonable. An end must be put tothis situation."

  "You know very well why we must seem tolerant. We are hoping to secureBertha's consent to marry the Marquis of Chateauvieux, then her brotherRaoul will be able to wed Mademoiselle Chateauvieux, in turn. My nephewattaches extreme importance to these matrimonial projects--the old Dukeof Chateauvieux, the Marquis's father, enjoys an immense influence withthe King. Due to the inheritance left to her by the Viscountess ofMorincourt, Mademoiselle Chateauvieux is one of the richest matches inFrance. Now, then, however considerable Raoul's property may be, he isprodigal and luxurious to a degree. The bailiffs of his domains ofAuvergne, of Beauvoisis and of Brittany make his vassals _sweat_, asthey humorously express it, all that it is humanly possible to sweatthem of. Two hundred and fifty-three thousand livres, good year orbad--more than a third in excess of what the same estates yielded at thetime of his father--and yet my nephew is often reduced to such straitsthat he must resort to the money-lenders. From all this it follows that,if the King, as the Duke of Chateauvieux has formally promised us,confers upon my nephew the embassy to Spain immediately after hismarriage, nothing less than the inheritance of the Viscountess ofMorincourt will be needed to enable the Count worthily to represent hisroyal master at the court of Madrid."

  "No doubt, there is nothing more desirable or more opportune than thatmarriage, my dear Marchioness. But, you know what is the expresscondition for its fulfilment. It is a condition that only raises freshperplexities."

  "Yes, the Duke of Chateauvieux--a duke only by brevet, and, be it saidamong us, of poor material, considering his origin, seeing that hisgreat-grandfather was only a domestic servant--the Duke of Chateauvieux,despite his influence with his Majesty, and his brevet title of duke,feels that he limps on the leg of birth. In order to dip his descendantsin the antique luster of our house, he stipulates as an expresscondition of Raoul's marriage with Mademoiselle Chateauvieux, Bertha'sconsent to marry the Marquis. That, as you know, is the reason why Raouland I, to put it plainly, are dependent upon my niece, and why we winkat her follies."

  "Well, Marchioness, do you know what, in my opinion, appears clear fromall this?"

  "I listen, Abbot; open your mind to me!"

  "It will happen with the marriage of Bertha to the Marquis ofChateauvieux as happened with the contemplated mission to England."

  "How can you say that! My niece receives admirably the advances of theMarquis. She has given Monsieur Chateauvieux good cause to hope. She hassaid to him that she recognized the advantages of that double marriage,only she desired time to reflect more fully before deciding upon soimportant a step."

  "Oh! Marchioness, your niece is but doubling and twisting to the soleend of gaining time! She will not give her consent to the marriage."

  "Gaining time! Gaining time! And to what end? Can she expect a bettermatch than the Marquis? Is he not, barring his obscure origin, anaccomplished nobleman, and wealthy, besides? Is he not at home at court?Is he not, thanks to the favor that his father enjoys with the King, acolonel at the young age of twenty-five, and able to aspire even to aMarshal's baton? Think of it, Abbot--a Marshal's baton!"

  "Your niece snaps her fingers at Marshals' batons, and the wealth of theMarquis, to boot! Don't you yet know her? And, by the way of wealth, acertain occurrence comes to my mind. Did not Bertha, planting herselfupon the custom of Brittany which insures to the daughters a part ofthe paternal and maternal inheritance, demand not only to know theamount of her share, but also to be put in possession, immediately, ofher mother's jewels, which are valued at more than forty thousand ecus?Did she not, furthermore, cause the Count's intendant to deliver to hera thousand louis in advance, and does she not keep the money locked upin her casket together with the precious stones? These severalproceedings have set my mind a-thinking."

  "Mere whims, to which we felt constrained to yield out of fear lest thebrainless body decline the marriage!"

  "Well, Marchioness, what you consider the whims of a brainless body--inother words, this determination of having a considerable sum of money inher possession--is, in my opinion, on the part of your niece, an actionthat denotes thorough reflection, and the consequences of which may,perhaps, prove most disastrous, if, as I much fear, a thought thatflashed through my mind last night has actually put me on the righttrack. That thought obsesses and pursues me."

  "What thought is that? Come, Abbot, be more explicit. Do not speak inriddles."

  "It is my opinion that Bertha is in love--crazily smitten!"

  "Bertha in love! Crazily smitten! Come, your mind is wandering!"

  "Oh, Marchioness! In that, I hold, lies the mystery. You may ask who theobject is of her love--"

  The conversation between Madam Tremblay and the Abbot was interrupted bythe blustering arrival of the Count of Plouernel.

  Raoul Neroweg, Count of Plouernel, then about thirty years of age, in nomanner resembled his sister. In consequence of one of the mostmysterious of the laws of nature, the Germanic type of the Frankish racereappeared in him as, repeatedly across the ages, it had reappeared inall its pristine purity in several of his ancestors. This son of theNerowegs had hair and beard of a fiery red, white skin, sea-green eyes,and an aquiline nose, hooked like an eagle's beak. His rude and haughtynature was tempered by the gracefulness of the accomplished courtier. Hewas a sample of so many seigneurs of our times--greedy and prodigal,vainglorious and luxurious, without shame or heart, consumed by ambitionand more still by the desire of drawing upon himself publicly the eyesof his master, and capable, in order to attain that purpose, ofcommitting the vilest crimes. Accordingly, the Count had seen nothingbut a natural expedient, and profitable to his own career, in theproject of prostituting his sister to the King of England. Thisnotwithstanding, the Count of Plouernel carried high his head with thepride of his name. Yet such is the moral aberration of the folks of thecourt that, in their eyes, the adulterous love of Kings, so far fromsoiling their sisters, their wives, or their daughters, honors, exalts,crowns, consecrates them. From that instant prostitution becomes august,infamy a sacred thing! The royal leman becomes a Madonna!

  Monsieur Plouernel was horrified at Bertha's ill will, and at hercarrying her indifference to the fortune of her brother and to theservice of her King to the point of refusing to give herself up to hisMajesty Charles II of England. The young girl, already a conundrum byreason of the manner in which she looked upon the things of her times,was, after that latest performance, nothing but an insane woman in herbrother's eyes, and fit to be locked up for the good of his house--astep that he would at one time undoubtedly have taken, were it not forthe involuntary compassion he experienced at the sight of Bertha almostdying of a languishing malady. Later,
when the Duke of Chateauvieux madeovertures of a double alliance between the two families to Raoul, he didnot hesitate an instant to pledge his sister to the young Marquis.Accident willed it that the Marquis was a young and handsome nobleman,although a debauchee, a drunkard and a gambler, neither worse nor betterthan so many others of his caste; but had he been old, ugly, a cripple,rotten of body and soul, the Count's action would not have beenotherwise, nor would he have recoiled before any measures to compel hissister to submit to the marriage.

  When the Count of Plouernel entered Madam Tremblay's salon he waslaboring under a violent irritation, caused by the informationtransmitted to him by his Mezlean bailiff in a letter that he had justreceived, advising him of Bertha's intervention in behalf of the vassalsof his seigniory. He was pressed to meet the enormous financialobligations required by his ostentatious living at Versailles--hisequipages, his jewelry, his banquets, his splendid balls, without takinginto account his reckless gambling. Seeing the courtier's fortuneconsisted almost exclusively in his seigniorial domains, there was noway of increasing his revenues except by overwhelming his vassals withexorbitant imposts. The Count of Plouernel, as almost all the othermembers of his caste, neither felt, nor was able to feel, any pity forhis vassals, whom he had the right to tax at pleasure. Were they not aconquered and disinherited race? an inferior species, standing midwaybetween man and the brute? bent, broken and deformed by a ceaselessround of sorrows and toil? condemned by fate to labor and produce wealthfor the benefit of their seigneur? The Count of Plouernel approvedhimself consistent with his race, his traditions and his times byexhibiting inexorable severity towards this _species_, which hesincerely and naively looked upon as an inferior race, and at all pointsunlike his own. Accordingly, in an angry voice, with flashing eyes, andholding out to the Marchioness the letter which he had just received,and that he crumpled with rage, he said:

  "Do you know, madam, what my sister was up to during her short sojournat Mezlean? My Mezlean bailiff informs me that he was about to execute aseizure upon several teams belonging to certain recalcitrant vassals whowere evading payment of the taxes that it pleased me to impose uponthem, when my sister, happening to ride by along the road, took it uponherself to forbid my bailiff to carry out his orders, or even to arresta scamp of a poacher who deserves to hang!"

  "That is unheard of! That is downright impudence!" cried theMarchioness.

  "Wait, madam, that is not yet all--my bailiff and an usher of the fisc,who also had a process against those clowns, being aware of theirmalignant disposition, secured the escort of a squad of soldiers fromthe regiment of the Marquis, who has set up his headquarters at Vannes,since the Duke of Chaulnes apprehends some trouble in the province.Well, madam! Would you believe such an excess of audacity possible? Theclowns dared to rebel against the escort of the bailiff, and tried todisarm them!"

  "Why nephew! that is a very alarming piece of news. It is grave!"

  "The sergeant of the escort, a resolute man, soon had the upper hand ofthe canaille. He seized three of the ringleaders in the mutiny, and hadthem pinioned tightly by his soldiers. And what do you imagine my sisterdid? No, you will not believe such audacity possible!"

  "I suppose she begged mercy for them. Oh! I doubt not that sheinterceded in their behalf also--"

  "Worse than that, Abbot! She demanded their immediate liberation, andthreatened the sergeant with the anger of the Marquis of Chateauvieux!"

  "Steps have to be taken in the matter of this poor insane girl."

  "I am all the readier for that, madam, seeing that, according to what mybailiff writes, my sister's intervention in these matters has produceddetestable effects. My vassals, finding themselves encouraged inresisting the payment of the taxes, are now loudly clamoring that theimposts are exorbitant, and will not pay them! Finally, the most lawlessof them, feeling encouraged by immunity, are no longer afraid to declarethat the hay-fork of a Breton does not fear the bayonet of a soldier ofthe King; that if the latter are well armed, the peasants are morenumerous; and that the fury of their despair will render them a matchfor the soldiers when the hour of revolt shall have sounded! It is acall to insurrection! To a popular revolt!"

  "An insurrection! A revolt!" cried the Marchioness, alarmed. "How darethe wretches talk of insurrection and revolt!"

  "We are relapsing into the Jacquerie!" put in the Abbot, raising hishands heavenward. "Jacques under Louis XIV! Under the Grand Monarch! Inthe Seventeenth Century! It must be the end of the world! Woe is us!"

  "Prompt and terrible punishment will, I still hope, my dear Abbot, bringthese clowns back to their duty," answered the Count. "But my sister hasencouraged the scoundrels. Her insane generosity has chosen for itsobject the very worst elements of all my vassals. The poacher and therecalcitrant vassal belong to a certain Lebrenn family, that numbersamong its members two mariners of the port of Vannes--a brace of activeand intriguing adventurers, who are strongly suspected of aiming atsedition, and of even having secret understandings with the republicansof Holland! They are both men of thought and action--most dangerousfellows!"

  "Marchioness," observed the Abbot, casting a meaning look at MadamTremblay, "what did I tell you about that family, which our venerableSociety of Jesus over a century and a half ago entered in its secretregister as one of the most dangerous? My information evidently was mostcorrect and accurate. An eye will have to be kept upon those people."

  "What do you refer to?" asked the Count of Plouernel. "What informationcan you have had concerning these people?"

  "We shall go over that more at our leisure, my dear Raoul. The detailsof the matter would now lead us too far away. Only be certain that youcan not have a more pernicious family among your vassals than thisidentical Lebrenn family. We shall talk over the matter later. Sufficeit now to say that they are the sort of people that must be suppressed.I may be able to render you some assistance in that direction; but Iconsider that the most urgent thing just now is to place your sisterwhere it would be absolutely impossible for her to pursue the course ofher eccentricities and follies."

  "Oh! Abbot, do you not know there is an obstacle, a serious one in theway?"

  "I know full well that your projects of a double marriage compel you tohumor the brainless creature--but, one thing or the other: Bertha iseither willing, or she is not willing, to lead the plan to a successfulissue. Now, then, it is my opinion that she is not willing. Herdetermination is made."

  "You are in error, Abbot," said the Count of Plouernel. "Bertha does notobject to the marriage."

  "But she demands time--to reflect! Not so, my dear Raoul? Well, then,all her delays have but one object in view: Bertha seeks to gain time inorder to deliver herself without restraint to her follies, perhapsto--it is this that, above all, frightens me for the honor of yourhouse--the bare thought frightens and terrifies me--"

  "What is the cause of your fear? Come, explain yourself!"

  "My dear Raoul, our poor Abbot thinks Bertha is in love."

  "Good God!" broke in the Count, stupefied. "Do you think so, madam?Bertha in love! Impossible!"

  "Everything leads to the belief that her love is an unworthy love, sinceBertha surrounds it with profound mystery," the Abbot proceeded toexplain. "Neither the Marchioness, nor yourself, nor I--I admit it--haveuntil now been able to suspect, or even remotely guess who the objectcan be of this evidently monstrous passion. That such a passion doesexist I make no doubt. All signs point in that direction."

  "Thinking the matter over, and recalling certain circumstances that nowrise vividly to my mind, I share the Abbot's opinion," added theMarchioness. "Bertha must have availed herself of the freedom that weallowed her to abandon herself to some disgraceful choice. One of thesedays she will flee with her lover, and the honor of our house will betarnished forever! A scandal, dishonor, shame to our family!"

  "The devil take it!" cried the Count of Plouernel. "If my sister shouldever carry her disregard of all duty to the point of refusing a marriagethat secures such great advantages
to me, I swear to God! if the causeof her refusal be some disgraceful love, I shall immediately go andthrow myself at the feet of the King, and request him to have the wretchlocked up in the Prison of the Repentant Women where she will be treatedwith the utmost rigor."

  "Mademoiselle Plouernel consigned to the Prison of the Repentant Women!Oh, my dear boy, you can not mean that!" said Abbot Boujaron with devoutunction. "No; no; that is out of the question! But what is sensible andproper is that your sister take the veil, and that the share of theinheritance due her according to the custom of Brittany, be assigned tothe community that may receive the great sinner, to aid it in exercisingits charitable works. Besides, believe me, my dear boy," added theAbbot, smiling, "it is not necessary that our sinner be confined in thePrison of the Repentant Women in order to be treated with the uttermostrigor, and be severely chastised in the flesh and in her pride--for thesalvation of her soul."

  The Count of Plouernel lent but an inattentive ear to the prelate'swords, and resumed in a towering rage:

  "My sister in love with some vulgar fellow! My marriage, upon which Iraised so many hopes, thwarted by the ill-will of the wretchedcreature! Malediction! Let her tremble before my anger!"

  "My dear boy," said the Abbot to the exasperated Count, "there is a wayof putting an end to these perplexities. Demand to-day, instantly, fromBertha a categoric answer--yes, or no--on her marriage with theMarquis."

  "Zounds! Abbot--I know beforehand she will say neither yes nor no."

  "That may be. But after you shall have urged her a last time, entreated,implored her in the name of your most cherished interests to decide thisvery day, would not her persistence in further delays prove to you thatshe is determined not to marry the Marquis, and that it is certain sheis sacrificing him to some unworthy love?"

  "In that event--malediction! a curse upon her! A dungeon cell willovercome her resistance."

  "My dear boy, we must not curse anybody," remarked the Abbot piously;"but it is necessary that, without flinching, you perform the dutiesthat devolve upon you, the head of your illustrious house. It is urgentthat to-morrow, yes, not later than to-morrow, you prevent your sisterby prompt and rigorous measures from dishonoring your name and herself.You have plenty of cells and dungeons."

  "I swear to God!" cried the Count of Plouernel, "if Bertha refuses todecide to accept the marriage--I shall be pitiless. Yes, and to-morrowwe shall take the steps that may be necessary to safeguard our honor."

  The Count was interrupted in the flow of his threats by the entrance ofa lackey who said to Madam Tremblay:

  "Monsieur the Marquis of Chateauvieux has presented himself at the door,and requests to be admitted before madam. May I introduce him, madam?"

  "Beg Monsieur the Marquis to enter," answered the Marchioness ofTremblay. "The dear colonel! How happy we are that he comes to pay us avisit!"

  And immediately after the lackey withdrew she added hurriedly:

  "Raoul, not a word to the Marquis about what we have been saying, beforewe have heard from Bertha."

  As the Marchioness addressed these words to the Count of Plouernel, whoanswered her with an affirmative nod, the Marquis of Chateauvieuxappeared at the door of the salon, and saluted the company with thegraceful ease of a courtier. Nevertheless, the colonel seemed troubledin mind; he held a letter in his hand.

  "Madam," he said, addressing the Marchioness, "I have news for you thatgrieves me doubly."

  "What about, my dear Marquis?"

  "This despatch that I have just received by a courier from Monsieur theDuke of Chaulnes, Governor of Brittany, orders me to join himimmediately with the two battalions of my regiment which I am to collecton the way thither. A sedition, believed to have been fomented by theparliament, has broken out in Rennes. The King's authority is assailed;the citizens are up in arms; the whole populace is in rebellion. TheDuke of Chaulnes does not feel safe."

  "Great God!" cried Madam Tremblay, no less alarmed than the Abbot."What you are telling us, Marquis, is a most grave event."

  "All the graver," interjected the Count of Plouernel thoughtfully,"seeing this sedition seems to coincide with the recent rebellion of myown vassals of Mezlean. Would you believe it, Marquis, that canaille hadthe audacity of resisting your soldiers; the woolen caps tried to disarmyour men!"

  "I have been informed of that occurrence by a letter from one of mysubaltern officers, who was compelled on that occasion to release hisprisoners upon orders from Mademoiselle Plouernel. As a consequence, Ihave had to recall that detachment, it being impolitic to leave mysoldiers in a region where they had to submit to an outrage leftunpunished. They will arrive here this evening. The honor of theregiment is compromised until the guilty parties are punished."

  "Believe me, my dear Marquis, I feel grieved at my sister's rashinterference on the occasion."

  "Without stopping to consider the consequences of her act, MademoisellePlouernel yielded to a generous impulse for which I would not dare toblame her. But since I did myself the honor of pronouncing her name,"added the Marquis of Chateauvieux, "allow me, my dear Count, and youMadam the Marchioness, to address a request to you. I must leave theCastle of Plouernel within two hours; however insignificant may be therevolt of the ill-intentioned people of Rennes, whom I expect tochastise severely, civil war has its risks. The bullet from an oldmusket fired by a bourgeois not infrequently hits its mark asunerringly as that of our own soldiers. I do not know what fate awaitsme in the conflict that is about to take place. Before taking leave ofyou, my dear Count, I entertain the liveliest desire not to be left indoubt concerning the favorable or unfavorable success of a doublemarriage that is the highest aspiration of myself and my father."

  "Dear Marquis," answered the Count of Plouernel with emphasis, "my aunt,the Abbot and myself were just considering the urgency of obtaining thisvery day a final answer from my sister, which I doubt not will be inaccord with the desires of our two families. The untoward events thathasten your departure render the necessity for her answer all the moreurgent. If she is what she should be, and what I doubt not she is, ourchaplain will betroth you to-day to my sister in the chapel of thecastle. It will be your induction into the family. I had so decided."

  "And after you shall have chastised the insolent bourgeois of Rennes, athing that will be easy to do and will be done promptly, thanks to youand your soldiers, my dear Marquis," put in Madam Tremblay, feeling moreat ease, "you will return to us. Monsieur the Duke your father andMademoiselle Chateauvieux as agreed before our departure fromVersailles, will come to Plouernel, where the festivities of the doublemarriage will be held with so much splendor and magnificence that theywill be the admiration of all Brittany."

  "Above all, Monsieur the Marquis, induce the Duke of Chaulnes to hanghigh and dry as many bourgeois as he can," added Abbot Boujaron, whoseemed less sure than the Marchioness of the speedy quelling of thesedition. "The minds of the scamps must be struck with terror. Therepression must be merciless."

  "The customary severity of the Duke of Chaulnes should be an ampleguarantee to you, Monsieur Abbot, that he will not flinch before thepopulace," was the Marquis of Chateauvieux's answer. "He will beinexorable."

  And, proceeding to address the Marchioness and the Count:

  "I can not express to you how touched I feel at your words! I can nowhope for the best--unless the health of Mademoiselle Plouernel shouldprevent our betrothal. She has not left her room for two days, acircumstance that has desolated me; it prevented me from presenting toher my homage upon her return from Mezlean. I hope you can give me afavorable report of her health."

  "Reassure yourself, my dear Marquis; my niece's indisposition was causedonly by the fatigue of the journey. It will in no wise prevent her fromproceeding to the chapel to solemnize her betrothal, if, as I do notdoubt, any more than my nephew, she consents to hasten the conclusion ofthe marriage. I shall immediately visit Bertha. I shall tell her thather brother and myself wish to converse with her; and I doubt not, dearMarquis, that the issue will
fully meet your wishes and ours."

  Saying this the Marchioness of Tremblay proceeded immediately toBertha's apartment. Mademoiselle Plouernel occupied the chamber that hermother formerly inhabited, contiguous to the library of the castle. Asthe Marchioness crossed this vast room she met Dame Marion, Bertha'snurse, who was devotedly attached to her. Madam Tremblay ordered her tonotify her mistress that she wished to speak to her shortly.

  "She is probably still in bed," added the Marchioness. "She must risewithout delay and dress herself to receive her brother, myself andMonsieur the Abbot. We have to speak to her upon matters of the highestimportance."

  "Oh! Mademoiselle has risen and dressed herself more than two hours ago,madam."

  "That being the case, go and request Monsieur the Count and Monsieur theAbbot to come and join me in my niece's chamber."

  "Madam the Marchioness will not find mademoiselle in her chamber."

  "Where is she?"

  "Mademoiselle went out for a walk in the park, as she often does."

  "What! Gone out! And yesterday and this morning she pretended to feel soill that she could not receive me?"

  "The weather is so beautiful that mademoiselle believed a walk would doher good. She went down and walked towards the park."

  "You lie! My niece did not go out!"

  "Madam the Marchioness can ascertain the truth for herself by walkinginto the room."

  "This sudden going out looks highly suspicious. Toward what part of thepark did my niece go?"

  "I could not say as to that, madam; mademoiselle took her gloves, hermask[6] and her taffeta hood to protect herself from the heat of thesun--and she left. That is all I know."

  "There is some mystery in this--you are hiding something from me."

  "I am telling madam all I know."

  "You are an accomplice in all the follies of Mademoiselle Plouernel, andit may happen that you will have reason to feel sorry for it!"

  "I obey the orders of mademoiselle the same as I obeyed the orders ofMadam the Countess, her mother. That is my duty."

  "It is impossible that my niece, who only this morning claimed to beill, can have gone out without some particular reason. You know thereason. Answer! What caused my niece to leave her chamber?"

  "I have already told madam. The weather is so beautiful thatmademoiselle believed a walk would help her."

  "Enough!" ordered Madam Tremblay angrily, and casting a threatening lookupon old Marion. "I shall remember your obstinacy. I shall find out thetruth."

  The Marchioness hastened to rejoin the Count of Plouernel and the Abbot,who were no less surprised, alarmed and angry than herself atMademoiselle Plouernel's unexpected outing. The Marquis of Chateauvieuxcould prolong his stay at the castle only a couple of hours, so that,if Bertha did not return before his departure the marriage would have toundergo a further postponement. Accordingly, not satisfied with sendingseveral of his men in quest of his sister in all directions through thepark, the Count himself took horse together with the Marquis ofChateauvieux in the hope of meeting Mademoiselle Plouernel; while,anxious not to be themselves idle in the search, Abbot Boujaron and theMarchioness of Tremblay went out in a carriage.