CHAPTER XIV.
Whatever the Duke himself might feel, I returned home gloomy from myshare in the affair. I sincerely believed, indeed, that I had donenothing but my duty in informing him of the injury that the Count deMesnil had striven to do him, and of the insult that had been offeredto his wife. He, on his part, too, I firmly believe, imagined that hehad done nothing but that which he was bound to do as a soldier and aman of honour; but still there was something in the whole affair--thesolitary encounter--the grave prepared--the burial in unhallowedground, which added to the event all those dark and awful associationsthat deprived us of the power of classing it with those commonencounters, with which he and I were both too familiar to rememberthem with any great pain when they were over.
A little less than an hour had been consumed in the whole affair, atleast on the part of the Duke, for I had been absent for a much longerspace of time in leading away the horse of the deceased cavalier.However, as our household was not the most matutinal in the world, fewof the servants were up, even when I returned; and I doubt not that noone in the whole family but myself had the slightest suspicion thatthe Duke had for a moment quitted his own dwelling. Thinking it rightto make a report of what I had done after I had left him, I now wentat once to the library, where I found him, in his robe de chambre,seated at a table, on which neither books nor papers were openedbefore him, but there lay the fatal locket which he had taken from theperson of the Count de Mesnil, and his eyes were fixed steadfastlyupon the lock of dark hair that it contained. He instantly took it upwhen I entered, and of course I ventured to make no observation,though I saw from his haggard look and frowning brow that he was oncemore adding the torments of suspicion to the pangs which the fatalbusiness of that morning had left behind. He listened attentively toall I had to say, and though he gave a slight shudder when I mentionedthe wild way in which the horse had dashed off towards Mesnel Moray,he made no farther comment, but waived me to leave him, saying hewould speak with me more another time.
No injunction to secrecy had been laid upon me, but the Duke seemed toconsider it perfectly unnecessary to enjoin me not to reveal thetransactions of which I had been a witness, and in some of which I hadborne a part. As may be well conceived, I never dreamt of such a thingas babbling, and the matter lay buried as deep and as securely in myheart as it did in his own. Nobody noticed that I had been out earlierthan usual, and consequently I was subjected to no questions; and theonly single observation referring to the business which I ever heardin the family, was when the head groom asked the Duke's permission totake his favourite horse to the farrier at Rennes, arguing that theanimal was ill, from having found him that morning as heated as if hehad come from a gallop.
The household of the Pr?s Vall?e were, indeed, amongst the last tohear the rumours and inquiries which soon began to spread concerningthe Count de Mesnil. That some accident had happened to him becameevident to his servants and retainers within a short time after hisdeath had taken place; for although no one had remarked, with anyparticular attention, the fact of his having gone out at such an earlyhour unaccompanied, supposing him to be engaged in some love intriguewhich did not court witnesses, yet when, in about two hours after, hishorse, masterless and foaming, darted into the court-yard of thecastle, it could no longer be doubted that the adventure of themorning had terminated ill for the Count. On examining the trappingsand accoutrements of the horse, it was discovered that not only thegirths but the saddle itself was drenched with water, and of courseconjecture was led upon a new and a false train concerning the eventthat had occurred. Some, indeed, contended, that the Count had beenkilled by robbers or assassins; but the greater part of his followersbelieved that, in attempting to swim the river, he had been washed outof the saddle and drowned. Information, however, was sent immediatelyto Rennes; all his relations had notice of what had taken place, andimmediate search and investigation were instituted to discover hisbody, and to ascertain the circumstances of his fate. A new light,however, was thrown upon the business when the papers of theunfortunate young nobleman were opened by the proper person. It wasthen found, by two documents which he had written on the nightprevious to the morning of his death, that he had anticipated such anevent, and had made every disposition of his property accordingly. Hereferred not, however, in the slightest degree, to the sort of dangerwhich he apprehended; the cartel of Monsieur de Villardin, which hadprobably been couched in terms of bitter reproach, had been destroyedlikewise; and, consequently, imagination had as wide a range as ever.Still some declared that he had purposely drowned himself, andcertainly the state in which his horse had returned justified thesearches which were made for his body in the river; but others morewildly contended--as he had taken a road which might, perhaps, haveled him to the forest--that he had been murdered by the robbers whohad so lately attacked and slain one of the royal couriers, with thethree soldiers by whom he had been attended. New perquisitions weremade in the forest. The whole country round about was searched withouteffect. Rumours, astonishment, exaggeration, and a thousand falsehoodsand absurdities filled up the next six weeks, and then the wholegradually faded away, till the nine days' wonder was at an end, andthe death of the young Count de Mesnil became a story to frightenchildren.
During the six weeks, however, that the fruitless investigationscontinued, gloom and darkness reigned over our dwelling. Deep andpainful were evidently the feelings of the Duke de Villardin in regardto this event; and a thousand times, I am sure, did he regret that hehad not pursued the usual mode of arranging such encounters, whichwould, at least, have spared him every accessary circumstance that nowtormented him from day to day. As a friend of the dead nobleman, hewas frequently consulted upon his affairs, and even in regard to thesearch for his body; and every one thought that they were speakingupon a subject which must interest him, when they detailed to his earsany of the numerous absurdities that were current in the countryconcerning the death of the Count. All this was very terrible; but,besides all this, there were feelings in the heart of Monsieur deVillardin which aggravated the regrets consequent upon the deed whichhe had committed. He had known the young Count de Mesnil as a boy. Hehad known and loved his parents. He had seen him grow up their hopeand joy. He had himself anticipated great things from his earlypromise, and yet his had been the hand thus early to lay him low in abloody and an unknown grave.
Though sometimes he spoke to me upon the subject when we wereperfectly alone, it was more from various little points in his conductthan from his own words that I discovered these feelings. So far fromever going near the spot where the death of the Count de Mesnil hadtaken place, he never even, when he could avoid it, rode in thatdirection, as if the very wind which blew from the grave wafted freshreproaches to his heart. Even in riding to Rennes, the road to whichcity passed within half a mile of the spot, if he could possiblydevise any excuse for so doing, he would take the most circuitouspath, to avoid even coming in its neighbourhood.
Nevertheless, whenever he spoke with me upon the subject, he justifiedall that he had done, and declared, that were it to do over again, hewould act exactly in the same manner. I saw, too, that unhappily,there was another feeling in his bosom, which, while it rendered himmore miserable than it is possible to describe, confirmed him in thisimpression--I mean the suspicions which had been freshly excited inregard to his wife, which, as the effect produced upon his mind by myreport of her conversation with Monsieur de Mesnil died away, seemedto become stronger and stronger every hour. It was long, indeed,before he again spoke to me on the subject; but twice I saw him withthe locket in his hand, and at other times his eye would rest on thedark tresses of Madame de Villardin, while I could see plainly that hewas torturing his own heart by comparing them in shade and colour withthe ringlet which that locket contained. A doubt also more dreadfulstill, seemed to have taken possession of his mind; at least I arguedso from the following circumstance.
From the various painful feelings connected with the Pr?s Vall?e, h
ehad determined to change his residence for a time to the ch?teau ofDumont; and he told me that he should despatch me thither before therest of the family. The day previous to my departure he sent for me tospeak with him in the saloon, in regard to various matters which wereto be done before his arrival at Dumont. The Duchess and his littlegirl were both present; and, after he had concluded his directions,Madame de Villardin told me that if I would wait a few minutes shewould bring me a billet for her old nurse, who inhabited the castle towhich I was going. I was standing near a window behind the Duke, andwhen his wife rose, and proceeded towards her own room to write thenote she had promised,--displaying, as she did so, that alteration inher figure which denoted her situation,--I saw the eye of her husbandfix upon her with an intensity that seemed scarcely sane. Happily shedid not perceive it, but walked slowly out of the room; and, as soonas she was gone, Monsieur de Villardin, who seemed to have forgot thatthere was any one else present, caught his little girl in his arms,and kissed her repeatedly, murmuring,--"Thou at least art mine own."
He started when he remembered that I was there, and a quick flush cameover his cheek; but the expression of deep grief, which, I feel sure,must have been upon my countenance, appeared instantly to calm him,and, laying his hand affectionately upon my shoulder, he said,--"Thouart a good youth. When thou hast got this note, go into the park andwait me there; I wish to speak with thee for some time."
As there is never any telling to what acts of madness or weakness,folly or meanness, a suspicious nature will not reduce a man, I wasalmost afraid that Monsieur de Villardin was desirous of examining thecontents of his wife's note; and I felt not a little uneasy under theapprehension of his proposing to me to give it up to him. But in thisI did him injustice; and when, after receiving the billet, I had goneout into the park, and he had joined me, he at once turned theconversation to matters entirely in the past. "From everything," hesaid, "that I have seen and heard, I am inclined, my boy, to put thefullest faith in all you say; and of this fact you cannot doubt, sinceupon your word alone I have risked my own life and taken that ofanother. There are, nevertheless, some circumstances of anextraordinary nature, which make me desirous that you should repeat,once more, the conversation which you overheard between Madame deVillardin and the unhappy young man who lies out yonder;" and hepointed with his hand in the direction of the spot where the Count deMesnil was buried. "Tell me, then, exactly the whole truth," he added,"and fear not that anything you may say will agitate or affect me."
I willingly obeyed, for I well knew that impressions of good beingnever so lasting as impressions of evil, require reiteration; and,without varying a word, as far as my memory would serve me, Irecapitulated exactly all that had passed between the Duchess and theCount de Mesnil, adding, at the same time, that the tone of scorn andcontempt in which she spoke to him was more forcible than even herwords.
"In riding past the house that day," demanded the Duke, "which sidedid you take?"
"The opposite side to the small saloon, my lord," I replied, very wellunderstanding to what his question tended; "and as I came over theturf, and from among the trees--which, if you remember the way I took,you will see I must have done--it is perfectly impossible that any onein that side of the house could either have heard or have observed myreturn."
"But, could they not hear you enter the library?" demanded the Duke.
"Impossible, my lord," I answered; "for the first door was open, andthe second, as you know, makes no noise; besides, I saw the wholeimmediately, and Madame la Duchesse was speaking before I entered. Itwas only the end of what she said that I heard."
Monsieur de Villardin made no reply for some time, but pondered deeplyover my words, gnawing his lip, and knitting his brow. At length hespoke, but it seemed more to himself than to me that he addressed hiswords. "And yet, that he should possess a lock of her hair!" he said;"it is impossible!--there must be some deceit."
"Oh, my lord, it is not her hair," I cried; "depend upon it, there issome mistake."
"False boy!" he cried, turning angrily upon me, "it is her hair! Thereis no mistake! Have I not proved it by every test? Either you havebeen deceived or are deceiving. But, no! you are deceived, I believe.Leave me--leave me, sir!"
It may easily be conceived that I obeyed willingly, for there is butlittle use in reasoning with a madman, and such I looked upon Monsieurde Villardin to be, in the matter of jealousy, at least. Returning tothe castle, I occupied myself as usual; but the Duke did not come backfor several hours, wandering about, as had been his custom lately,busied with solitary reveries which but served to foster the gloom andanxiety to which he was a prey.
The next morning, as I was to set out for Dumont before the breakfasthour of the household, I descended about eight o'clock to theapartments of good old Jerome Laborde, whose affection for me had notdecreased since I had rendered so many services to his nephew. Icalculated, therefore, on finding a substantial meal prepared for mein his room; nor was I mistaken, for there it stood upon the table,consisting of everything qualified to fortify the eager and cravingstomach of youth against the effects of a long journey.
"Thank you, thank you, good Jerome," I cried, at the sight; "thank youboth for my breakfast, and for rising be-times in the morning to giveit me, as I know you love not to be the first in the house to see thesun."
"Alack! young gentleman," he answered, with a mournful shake of thehead, "although I have been up an hour, yet I am not by several thefirst that saw the sun this morning. My lord has been up since six. Sohas Gaspard de Belleville, and closeted with his master for an hour.So, too, has been that pert slut Suzette, my mistress's maid, and she,too, has been called to the conference. I fear all this bodes our poorlady no good, though God knows what my lord can find to be jealous ofhere, where she sees not a living soul but himself."
This intelligence did not serve as a very pleasant accompaniment to mybreakfast. I saw at once how affairs were going, and easily divinedthat my lord, finding me so little disposed to pamper the jealousy,which, though it tore his very heart, was still his favourite passion,was inclined to take Gaspard into his confidence, very sure of findingall sort of compliance on his part. To him I had been, as it were, ablunt razor in the hands of a man who wished to cut his own throat;but Gaspard de Belleville was very well inclined, I believed, to provethe instrument of the wrong which his lord inflicted upon himself.From this new arrangement, there was, of course, much to fear, as faras my personal favour with the Duke went; but, even under thatmortification, it was no small consolation to me to think that Gaspardcould do little to injure the poor Duchess. However malevolent mightbe his natural disposition, as far as I knew he had seen nothing whichhe could distort to evil purposes, and I also believed him to be toostupid to frame a story for himself, or to invent circumstances withsuch a regard to probability as would deceive even Monsieur deVillardin's willing credulity. What might proceed from the agency ofthe maid, Suzette, I could not tell. She was, herself, a bold,intriguing, saucy woman; suspected strongly by every one of not beingquite a Diana; but I believed that she really was attached to hermistress, and trusted to that attachment to vindicate the Duchess fromall suspicion.
My fears, therefore, if I can call them fears, were chiefly confinedto myself; and, although I may safely say--now that it is all past andover--that interested feelings had nothing to do with myapprehensions, yet it was most painful to me to think I might besupplanted in the affection and confidence of a nobleman, for whom,with all his faults and his weakness, I entertained a sincereaffection.
"Well, Jerome," I said, after a moment's thought, "you are an old andfaithful follower of Monsieur de Villardin. You see, as we all see,how miserable he is making himself about empty fancies and phantoms inthe air. Depend upon it, Gaspard is not likely to do him any good inthese respects. Now it is your duty, surely, to strain every effort tocounteract any evil that may be done."
"But how can I?--how can I, my dear young gentleman?" cried the oldman; "I dare not speak to my lord
on such subjects, unless he speaksto me."
"A few words well applied often do a great deal," replied I. "If theDuke hears his lady cried up by all his oldest and best servants andfriends as what she really is--all that is good and virtuous--he willsoon learn to think so too; and you may find many an opportunity ofsaying such words as, 'so good a lady as Madame!'--'so virtuous a ladyas the Duchess!'"
"Well, well; I will try, Seigneur Jean," replied the old man; "anddepend upon one thing--no one shall injure your interests with my lordwhile old Jerome Laborde is in the house. No, no; I will take care ofthem."
"Oh, I know I leave them in good hands," I replied; and ere we couldsay more, the groom appeared to tell me that the horses were waiting.After receiving an affectionate embrace from the good old major-domo,I ran down into the court, and sprang upon my horse, without anyfurther leave-taking, as I was not supposed to know that Monsieur deVillardin had yet risen.
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall Page 14