CHAPTER XX.
The marriage-ceremony of Edward Langdale and Lucette de Mirepoix duValais was over. Act was taken, as it was then sometimes called, of thefact, signed by the bride and bridegroom and by all present; andRichelieu's own name stood first in the list of witnesses.
Every one well knows that in those days clandestine marriages took placefrequently between persons very young, and also that the omnipotentpower of the Romish Church was not uncommonly called in to dissolve arite which the Church itself pronounced a sacrament. But the presence ofRichelieu as prelate, cardinal, and prime minister was enough to securethe union of Edward and Lucette against any machinations of unconsentingfriends in the courts, either civil or ecclesiastical. But the greatminister left nothing undone to prevent the possibility of such aresult: not a word was omitted which could render the ceremony binding;and Spada, the pope's nuncio, himself, was easily induced to give hisformal sanction to an act which recognised to a certain degree theauthority of the Romish Church and struck a heavy blow at one of thegreatest Protestant leaders.
But a few words were spoken by the cardinal to the young bridegroomafter the marriage; but they seemed to be important; for, though theywere for the most part uttered in a whisper, all those who were stillaround heard the question, "Do you promise me, upon your honor as agentleman?" and Edward's reply, "I do, most solemnly."
"Now, De Tronson," said the cardinal, "give our young friends an hour ortwo to compose their minds after so much agitation, and then forwardthem, as I directed, to wherever they may find the Prince de Soubise orhis brother."
In five minutes after Lucette was left alone with her young husband, hisarms were thrown around her, and her blushing face and tearful eyes werehidden on his bosom.
"Have we done right, Edward?" she said, after some pause.
"It was the only thing left for us to do, my love," he answered, kissingher tenderly. "And yet, Lucette, I fear it may not be so much for ourhappiness as it would seem. I foresee that your great relations willmake every effort to annul our marriage or to keep us forever separate."
"That they shall never do, my love,--my husband," said Lucette, warmly:"they may separate us now; doubtless they will: but the time must comewhen I shall be my own mistress; and whenever that time does come, andyou desire it, I will go to join you anywhere,--as, indeed, I am in dutybound to do."
"Then, my own dear girl," said the youth, "this marriage is not a forcedunion on your part, but as full of love and willingness as on mine? Oh,speak, Lucette!"
"Can you doubt it, Edward?" she answered. "I only feared for a momentthat our own feelings might have led us to seize upon the cardinal'sproposal too eagerly for our duty and respect toward others; but, onreflection, I think we could not avoid it. It was our only chance ofsafety."
"I think so too," answered her young husband. "But yet it is almostcruel of the cardinal not to have carried his kindness one step further,and suffered me to take you with me, as my wife, wherever fate may leadme. But yet, dear girl, perhaps he was wise. We are both too young."
"But, if we are too young, is this marriage binding? Can they not breakit?" asked Lucette, with a look of apprehension which was of very sweetassurance to Edward Langdale.
"Oh, no," he replied: "the cardinal made sure of that. I could see hetook especial pains at every point of the ceremony, that there might notbe a flaw now nor a quibble hereafter. Did you not remark how hecorrected two words in the act with his own hand? They cannot break it,Lucette,--except, perhaps, with your consent."
"That they shall never have," replied Lucette. "Oh, Edward, let us bothswear to each other never to consent that this contract shall be brokenbetween us. Let us do it solemnly; let us go down upon our knees beforethe God who sees all hearts, and be married again by our own holypromises."
As she spoke, she knelt, holding the youth's hand in hers, and, carriedaway by her simple love, he knelt beside her; and, with the confidenceof early youth, they repeated the vows of everlasting faith to eachother, and solemnly promised never to consent to a dissolution of theirunion, but each to seek the other at the first call.
Had Lucette known more of the world and worldly things, had her heart orher thoughts been less pure and spotless, Edward might have had adifficult task that day; for the cardinal had bound him by a promisesimilar to the injunction which the King of the Genii imposed uponPrince Zeyn Alasnum in the book which has enchanted all young andimaginative brains. But her innocence saved him from all suspicion ofcoldness; and the very undisguised love with which she rested on hisbosom or received his kisses--warmer though not more affectionate thanher own--spared all explanation, and gave to hope all the coloring ofjoy.
But they had much else to discuss,--how to communicate with each otherwhen they were separated, how they were to act toward the Prince deSoubise when they found him, what they were to tell and what they wereto conceal. Just let the reader sit down and fancy all that could andmight be said by two people who had passed through so much during thelast few hours, who had so much to pass through still, who were sostrangely situated, who knew so little of each other and yet who lovedeach other so well, and his imagination will supply much more of theirconversation than I am skilled to tell. That conversation lasted long.One hour went away after another: they were left totally alone; (and forthat, too, Richelieu had his reasons;) and two o'clock had passed ereany one disturbed them. Then a servant came to announce to them thattheir mid-day meal was served in an adjoining chamber, and theyproceeded thither, with feelings very strange:--happy, and yet notfully; composed, in comparison with their feelings not many hoursbefore, yet agitated; with warm hope for the future, but many abewildering doubt and some apprehension.
But the first sight that presented itself on entering the little hallwhere their dinner was served gave matter for fresh thought to Edward.As to Lucette, her thoughts had employment enough: she was married; shewas a wife, and one act of the life-drama of a woman was over: thecurtain was down for the time.
But there, on two sides of the table, each behind a chair, appearedPierrot la Grange and Jacques Beaupre; and Edward's dinner was renderedtedious by his anxiety to learn from the latter the particulars of hisescape near Mauze and all that followed. While the court laquais was inthe room, of course nothing could be said; but the man soon deliveredthe party from his presence, retiring as soon as the dinner--which wassomewhat meagre--was over and the dessert placed upon the table. Pierrothad, indeed, before the man left the room, boldly apologized to hisyoung master for not returning to him that morning, saying plainly thathe had been stopped by the servants of the chateau. "I hear, however,"he added, with a smile and a reverence, "that all has ended happily; andI beg humbly to offer my congratulations to monsieur and madame."Jacques, in his grave way, and the laquais, with courtly fluency, addedtheir compliments upon the occasion; and Edward felt his scanty purseunder tax.
"And now, Jacques," he said, as soon as they were free from the presenceof the stranger, "tell me, as quickly and succinctly as possible, whathas occurred since we last met."
"Why, sir, what happened to me can be little to you," answered the man:"suffice it I got through a small hole in the lines when my young ladystuck in a large one. I reached the Chateau of Mauze easily, bags andall, and, as you had ordered, went straight to the Prince de Soubise. Ifound the whole party there ready to break up, for the Papists weregetting too many for them in the neighborhood,--the prince and dukehaving but three hundred men with them, while the enemy had threethousand round about. Monsieur de Soubise roared like a cow that haslost her calf when he heard that you and Pierrot were in all likelihoodcaptured, and still worse when he learned that mademoiselle wascertainly in the hands of the enemy; but the bags seemed a greatconsolation to him, and he plunged into them for refreshment as a tiredman does into a cool river. He took out all the letters and papers, andfingered the gold and counted it; and then he read a letter which hadhis own name on it, and looked at all the rest one by one. Some he putaside, and the oth
ers he returned to the bag again with the money, andhe and Monsieur de Rohan, with two or three others, went into the windowand talked together for full half an hour. At the end of that time theycame back and opened the other bag; but they seemed to have no greatlove for a frippery; for, finding there was nothing in it but purfledshirts and laced collars and some suits of clothes, they soon shut it upagain, and then told me I must come with them, for Mauze was likely tobe turned into a rat-trap. As I had found by this time there was verylittle cheese in the trap, I was as glad as any one to get out, and wetravelled for two days, having a brush now and then with the king'ssoldiers. Sometimes we had a little the better and sometimes a littlethe worse; but we contrived to get through all in the end, and we alsomade three prisoners. From them Monsieur le Prince learned that you hadbeen sent to Nantes and that mademoiselle had been sent after you; andthereupon he proposed to me to follow you, taking with me your money andsuch letters as he said could do no harm. I was to inquire for youdiligently but quietly; and his Highness told me of several places inthe town where I certainly should find friends, and perhaps information.Well, sir, I made my conditions, as all wise men do. I stipulated for agood horse, and for leave to go round by Meile and St. Maixens, (for wewere by this time at a good farm hard by St. Jean,) and for money enoughto carry me there and bring me back, and a little to spare. All this wasgranted, and I set out. But in one of the places where I was certain tofind friends in Nantes, the good folks were so very friendly that theythought I should be better lodged and fed in the chateau, and thereforelet his blessed Majesty or some of his people know that I was in thecity inquiring for one Sir Peter Apsley, who was soon to arrive.Thereupon I was brought up here with my bag by two archers and anexempt; and here have I been entertained at the royal expense eversince."
"But you have not been a prisoner?" asked Edward. "Pierrot told me youwere at liberty."
"You have seen a mouse just after a cat has caught it, sir?" said theman. "I was just in that state. I underwent a good mumbling in the shapeof an examination when first I came, and then I was told I was set freebecause Sir Peter Apsley was under the cardinal's particular protection;but, whenever I tried to go a hundred yards, pat came a paw upon me; andI fully made up my mind that, like poor madame mouse, I was only to beplayed with till I was eaten up. But at length I heard you were here;and last night I was chewed up in another examination; but I always tookrefuge in utter ignorance. I only knew that you had arrived at Rochellein a merchant-ship,--not in Lord Denbigh's fleet, for that they asked meparticularly; that, you and I being both anxious to get out of thatGod-forgotten place, I had taken service with you, as you wanted anotherman, having but one attendant and a page; that you were neither verytall nor very short, neither very brown nor very fair; that you spokesome French, but more English, looked for a beard with good hope, andwere altogether a personable young gentleman about nineteen."
"You did me more than justice, Jacques," replied Edward. "However, youhave acted well and discreetly; and I trust all present danger haspassed away."
"Ah, sir," replied the man, "danger is always present. Neither you nor Ican tell that twelve hours ago you were in greater peril than you are atthis moment."
"Good Heaven! what does he mean, Edward?" exclaimed Lucette, turningpale. "What new peril does he speak of?"
"None, madame, in particular," replied Jacques Beaupre. "My father waskilled by the fall of a beam on the celebration of his wedding-day. Myuncle served under King Henry the Fourth, and fought in ten battles, butdied from running a nail into his foot. My eldest brother was a sailor,and saw many a storm, but was drowned while bathing in the SevreNiortaise; and by the time that I was twenty I had learned that in thisworld there is no such thing as danger, no such thing as security, andthat the only way to be happy is to be ready at all times and fearful atnone."
"A good philosophy, upon my word," said Edward. "But now our thoughtmust be, where we can find Monsieur de Soubise."
"You might as well try to ride in a carriage after a hawk," answeredJacques: "he is here and there and everywhere in a day. But Monsieur deRohan you will find more easily. He is probably at St. Martin desRivieres, the little castle which, just in the fork of the two rivers,can be defended by a handful against an army."
"There, then, we must go," said Edward. "But it is strange, dearLucette, that we have seen no one for the last three hours. I thoughtMonsieur de Tronson said he would rejoin us."
Edward little knew the multitude of events which were passing within thesombre walls of that chateau,--some great, some small, but all tendingmore or less to the promotion of those mighty results which were nowmarching on in France, all full of deep personal concern to the variouspersonages around him, and amongst which the fate of himself and hisLucette was but as a petty interlude, which could excite nothing but atransient feeling of interest or amusement.
Half an hour more went by; and then was heard the sound of many feetpassing along through some chamber near. At the end of above fiveminutes the door opened, and Monsieur de Tronson led in an elderly ladyhabited as if for a journey.
"Madame de Langdale," said the secretary of the cabinet, addressingLucette, "Madame de Lagny, with whom you passed last night, will havethe pleasure of accompanying you and Monsieur de Langdale on yourjourney. The carriage has been ready for an hour; but, the councilhaving sat later than usual, I could not leave my post. Monsieur will dome the honor of accompanying me to his chamber below, where I will puthim in possession of his money and his safe-conduct, together with hisbaggage, while you prepare for travelling, which, as it is, must, Ifear, be protracted into the night."
Edward followed him down several flights of steps, conversing with him,as he went, upon the arrangements for their journey, telling him that hefeared from his servant's information they would be obliged to proceedbeyond Niort to St. Martin des Rivieres, and that, consequently, atleast two days more than he had calculated upon must pass ere he couldfulfil the promise he had given to return.
But De Tronson seemed thoughtful and absent; for, in truth, he had justcome from a painful scene;[3] and, although he heard, and answered allhis young companion said, it was by an effort, and evidently withoutinterest.
All the arrangements were soon made, however. Edward's property wasrestored to him; the tradesmen he and Lucette had employed were paid;and then the secretary led him to the little court, where stood one ofthe large clumsy carriages of the day with four tall horses. A stout manon horseback was also there, holding by the rein the horse which JacquesBeaupre had ridden to Nantes, and, as no beast had been provided forPierrot, he mounted beside the coachman. Lucette and her companion werealready in the vehicle, and, with a kind adieu from M. de Tronson,Edward took his place beside them, and the vehicle rolled on.
[Footnote 3: The second examination of the unhappy Chalais,perhaps,--perhaps the lamentable scene of Anne of Austria's appearancebefore the council. It does not seem that De Tronson was particularlyintimate with the Count de Chalais during his prosperity; but hecertainly spoke in his favor to the king after his arrest, and paintedin strong colors the danger of marrying Gaston to the rich heiress ofMontpensier, whose revenues would in time make the heir-presumptive morewealthy than the monarch. Indeed, to many it has seemed that in thismarriage Richelieu made the most dangerous error of his life. De Tronsonseems to have been an amiable man and a man of talent, who somewhatfeared Richelieu and courted him as much as honor and honesty wouldpermit. But he soon disappears from the political stage; and hisultimate fate I do not know.]
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