CHAPTER XXXII.
As my negotiations with Monsieur le Tellier concerning the resignationof the governorship had been carried on too rapidly to admit of mywriting to Monsieur de Villardin by any of the ordinary couriers, myarrival at the Pr?s Vall?e was unexpected; and when, from the windowsof the library, he beheld his daughter leaning on the arm of a youngcavalier, whose face he could not distinguish in the grey of theevening as we crossed the terrace, his surprise was so great that hecame out to the steps of the ch?teau to meet us. His pleasure appearedhardly less than his astonishment when he recognised me; and Lisehaving entered the house, the tidings soon spread through thehousehold; so that, while Monsieur de Villardin was giving me a gladwelcome, I had my little page Clement de la Marke, old Jerome Laborde,and half a dozen of the ancient domestics, turned out upon the terraceto greet my arrival, not knowing that Monsieur de Villardin himselfhad come forth to do me that honour.
The Duke smiled when he saw them; and, still holding my hand, which hehad taken at our first meeting, he led me in, saying,--"You see whata favourite you are, my dear boy: but I will have my turn now; and,indeed, I am almost jealous of Laura, for having forestalled me ingiving you welcome."
His manner was that of an affectionate father receiving awell-beloved son after a long absence; and as, notwithstanding thepropensity of human nature to presume upon kindness, I never entirelyforgot that I had been a friendless orphan, destitute and lonely, itmay be easily imagined what feelings such tenderness inspired. When wehad entered the library, Monsieur de Villardin seated himself at thetable, with Laura by his side, and with his hand leaning on hershoulder; and they both gazed upon me so intently, as I sat oppositeto them, as almost to make me smile.
"Well, well," said Monsieur de Villardin, at length, "you are not muchchanged since I saw you; though a good deal, I dare say, in the eyesof Laura."
Mademoiselle de Villardin, however, declared that I was not changed inthe least; and, indeed, would fain have persuaded her father that Iwas exactly the same in appearance as when I had saved her fromdrowning at Dumont, some eight or nine years before.
"It has come upon you gradually, Laura," replied her father; "but now,tell me, De Juvigny, how came you here, and in whose hands have youleft your government?"
I explained to him the whole particulars; which, as he well knew thegrasping spirit of Mazarin, did not at all surprise him: nor did thearrangement, I believe, displease him at heart; for, after a commentor two on the injustice of the proceeding, and a promise to use hisinfluence in order to obtain for me something equivalent to that whichI had lost, he added,--"But I will take care that it shall be nothingthat will separate us again; for your absence has been a loss to mewhich I scarcely thought anything could now prove, at least in such adegree. That I should feel it deeply, however, is not at allastonishing; for I think, De Juvigny, it is now between nine and tenyears since first we met; and, during that time, we have never beforebeen separated for many months, except when you were in prison atStenay. I think, too, that during that time, you have accumulated uponmy head more obligations than ever one man before conferred uponanother. You have been my confidant, my adviser, my friend, and myconstant companion; so that I may well feel your absence as a losswhich the society of even my dear child can scarcely compensate."
"There now, my dear brother," cried Laura, using an epithet which sheoften employed towards me; "have I not a right to be jealous of you?and, indeed," she added, "I should almost be jealous of your littlepage, too, who has completely supplanted both my father's other pagesin his affection, were I not as fond of the dear boy myself."
Almost as she spoke, Clement himself entered the library, bounding upto my knee with that sort of bold and undismayed step, which showed meclearly upon what very unceremonious terms he had established himselfin the family of Monsieur de Villardin. He was greatly changed in hisappearance since I had last seen him, though he was still as fine aboy as ever I beheld; and as tall, as strong, and as well proportionedas many boys of eleven or twelve, although he could not be, at thattime, so much as nine years old. There was, too, in his wholeappearance, an air of graceful ease--a sort of natural dignity--whichwas extraordinary in one so young; and I felt very sure, from hiswhole demeanour, that he had been informed by some one, that his rankand station in society was equal to that of those with whom he wascalled to mix. The time he had spent at the Pr?s Vall?e had certainlynot been thrown away; for I soon found that my little page was alreadya more accomplished scholar than myself; and I easily perceived, fromthe manner in which he executed all that he had learned of militaryexercises, that he wanted but habit, discipline, and experience tobecome eventually one of the best soldiers of the day.
I had always been kind to him during the few months we spent togetherevery year; and, looking upon him but as a younger son of the sameadventurous family with myself, I had treated him perhaps as afavourite brother. This had, of course, rendered him fond of me; andhis manner towards me was everything that I could desire. There was nowant of respect, though it was the respect of affection and esteem;and, though he was frank and bold, telling me at once his thoughts,his opinions, and his wishes, yet it was done with that air of naturalconfidence and candour that rendered it infinitely pleasing; while, atthe same time, he yielded to my wishes or my arguments as if he felt apleasure in doing what I bade him, and in giving up his mind to mydirection. Whether the affection of my mind that he gained upon hisside was vanity, self-love, or any more noble feeling, I cannot tell,but certainly he wound himself completely round my heart; though, tosay the truth, during the six weeks that I remained at the Pr?sVall?e, I was very little with him.
Other feelings and other pursuits gradually took possession of mealtogether;--feelings which I did not understand, and would notexamine,--pursuits, the tendency of which I did not perceive, and theresult of which I dared not calculate. From some early prejudice,Monsieur de Villardin had the utmost hatred at the very thought of agouvernante for his daughter; and though, for the form's sake, he hadoften declared that he must procure one,--though many of his femalerelations had reasoned with him upon the subject, and had held upbefore his eyes all the customs and respects of the world whichrequire such a proceeding,--yet no step had been taken to that effect;and Laura de Villardin, now in her sixteenth year, remained in herfather's house with no other female attendants than Lise, herprincipal maid, and two or three ordinary tiring-women. Masters forall sorts of accomplishments visited her from Rennes every morning;but from two o'clock till the hour of repose, her time was all herown; and it was now divided between her father and myself. The vigour,however, of Monsieur de Villardin was beginning to be impaired; and,though he was still a strong and powerful man for his time of life,yet a degree of inactivity, when no great excitement prompted toexertion, showed that years began to lay as a burden upon him. Thusthe walks and rides of Laura de Villardin, before my arrival, hadoften been taken alone, or only followed, when on horseback, by someservants, or, when on foot, by her attendant Lise. Now, indeed, thematter was changed, and I became her constant companion in the rambleswhich before might be considered as solitary. It never seemed tostrike Monsieur de Villardin that any feeling which might be dangerousto his other views, or to our peace, could spring out of such constantassociation. Doubtless he thought that, having grown up together fromvery early years, our feelings would ever remain those of a brotherand sister; or, perhaps, he never thought about it at all. Noimpediment, however, did he ever throw in our way; but, on thecontrary, whenever he felt any indisposition himself, he was the firstto send me with her on any excursion that she proposed to take, andmore than once reminded me that, at a very early age, I had pledgedmyself to be her protector and defender throughout the years of youth.
Thus it was that, during the six weeks that I now stayed at the Pr?sVall?e, I was, for at least one half of each day, in the constantsociety of Laura de Villardin. A considerable portion, indeed, of thattime was spent in company with her fathe
r; but I may say, no daypassed without her being alone with me, either wandering with her armin mine through the fair scenes round us, or reading together sometale of ancient lore, or sitting at the foot of some tree, andenjoying the beautiful spring for at least two or three hours.
It must not be thought that knowingly and wilfully I took advantage ofthese opportunities to steal the heart of the young heiress of suchbroad lands and splendid possessions. I have before said that I didnot and would not examine what I was doing, or what was likely to bethe result either with herself or me. There was no calculation in thebusiness, no consideration, no forethought. The fascination was toostrong for reflection. Her society was delightful to me, as it alwayshad been; and I enjoyed it as I had ever done, without knowing that itcould become dangerous. The only thing, I am confident, that even fora moment could have caused a suspicion in either her bosom or mine ofwhat was really passing in our hearts, were the feelings whichaccompanied our first meetings in the mornings. It had always been hercustom--a custom sanctioned by the universal habits of France--afterturning from her father's salutation and embrace, to welcome me in thesame manner: and whenever we had been in the same dwelling, from ourchildhood up to that hour, not a day had passed without my lips beingpressed upon her cheek, while her fair hand rested in mine, and hersweet voice gave me the good-morrow.
Now, however, I perhaps experienced feelings, at the moment of ourmorning meeting, which should have told me more. A thrill passedthrough me as her hand touched mine; my heart beat as our eyes met,and I ought to have felt that the kiss was no longer that of abrother. But it is wonderful how blind people become under suchcircumstances, and, I say the truth, upon my honour, when I say that Idid not know that deep and passionate love was growing up in my hearttowards Laura de Villardin. If Monsieur de Villardin calculated at allupon the same feelings which had animated us in infancy remainingstill unchanged, he calculated not only most wrongly, but upon falsegrounds altogether. Such might have been the case had we never beenseparated; but now,--at the same time that our youthful affection hadprepared our hearts to receive gladly every new feeling that bound usto each other--we had been of late years absent from each other for somany months, that each renewal of our intercourse came with thefreshness of a new acquaintance, and at length, when I returned aftera more prolonged separation still, I found the sweet girl, who wasalready so dear to me, sprung up into womanhood: I found her the mostlovely and engaging creature I had ever beheld, while admiration washeightened and softened by a thousand tender memories, and long habitsof endearing intimacy.
Still, we neither of us knew how rapidly love was gaining on ourhearts--still, neither of us made the slightest effort to resist hispower, or to avoid his influence. Our lonely walks were the sweetestof our lives; and, though we were very frequently accompanied by Lise,who probably divined more of our own feelings than we did ourselves;yet, I must confess that she was the most discreet and friendly ofsuivantes, and contrived to throw no restraint upon our conversations.What those conversations were heaven knows. They were a whirl ofbright things; a mixture of dreams, and thoughts, and feelings, theblendings of passion and imagination, which might altogether form manya page of wild but brilliant nonsense, if I could write down an exacttranscript of all that passed.
We were in love with the world, and all that it contained; and, fromthe bright feelings that had sprung up within us, e very thing aroundus seemed bright. Our whole sensations were a panegyric upon all thatwe beheld: the sunshine was gayer than ever sunshine had been before;the trees were greener--the fields more sweet and fresh; for us thebreeze was loaded with perfume; for us each flower had some newbeauty--some brighter grace. We found it inexhaustible to praise andto admire; for everything around offered us the reflex of thathappiness, which had so lately arisen in our own bosoms.
Be it remarked, however, that, amongst all the subjects ofconversation which we now enjoyed--and they were as varied as theshapes of summer-clouds--that we never talked of love. We spoke ofancient tales, and bright, unexampled friendship--the arts and gracesof Greece--the virtues and the might of Rome. We spoke of moderndays--of gallant deeds in the field--of sad and tragic events--ofstories of interest and of anecdotes of wit. We spoke of the beautiesof nature, and of all the fair varieties of the world's face. We spokeof ourselves, and our interests, and our feelings, and our tastes. Wespoke of our many associated memories in the past, and we lookedforward to many a hope and pleasure together in the future; but stillwe never spoke of love. It might be a deep, hidden, eternal, unavowedconsciousness, concealed from our own eyes as well as from the rest ofthe world, that made us avoid--I must call it scrupulously--the mostdistant approach to that one subject, amongst all the rest of which wespoke. It might be that, by some sort of instinctive perception, wetrod lightly, because we found that our feet were upon a volcano.
The fire, however, went on within our hearts, though silently. Wedrank the intoxicating cup to the dregs, without knowing that it waswine. There was none to open our eyes--there was none to warn us; and,like all other persons in the same situation, we woke not from ourdream till it was too late.
Such might not have been the case, had not the only member of thefamily who was likely to have given us warning and counsel--to havefelt for all our feelings, and foreseen all our danger--had he notbeen absent during the whole of my stay at the Pr?s Vall?e. I alludeto Father Ferdinand, who, only two days before my arrival, had set outfor Dumont. He did not return as soon as had been expected, and I morethan once proposed to ride over to Dumont, and see him; but there wasa fascination at the Pr?s Vall?e which detained me with a power not tobe resisted, and I put off my expedition from day to day, till atlength an order arrived for Monsieur de Villardin and myself to resumeour military duties, and we were obliged to prepare for our departure.
The summons came nearly a month sooner than we had expected, and ofcourse caused no small bustle and confusion, especially as Monsieur deVillardin, yielding to the degree of corporeal inactivity, which, as Ihave before said, was creeping over him, determined to travel to Parisin his carriage, instead of on horseback; and consequently the timeconsumed on the journey was likely to be much greater than usual.
I had on a former occasion promised little Clement de la Marke to takehim with me in the next campaign, and although I now felt some scrupleat exposing a boy of his tender age to all the dangers and fatigues ofa camp, yet he pressed me so vehemently to keep my word with him, thatI at length consented; remembering how much more severe had been thehardships that surrounded my own early youth, and believing that thehard school in which my education had commenced had been ultimately ofinfinite benefit to me through life.
The day appointed for our departure speedily approached, and as itcame nearer, the hours spent with Laura became doubly dear; nor indeeddid she look less lovely, or less interesting, from a shade ofmelancholy that spread more and more over her fair face, as everyminute that fled took something from the small space of time that wehad yet to dream away in each other's society. She never loved partingfrom her friends, she said; and she knew not why, but she felt moreapprehensive for her father than she had ever before done on hisdeparture for the army. She besought me to be watchful of him, and topersuade him, as much as possible, to keep out of all unnecessarydanger; but she said not a word of caution on my part. A thousandlittle traits, however, let me feel that she was not indifferent to mysafety either, and she took great pains to show me how ungenerous andunkind it was towards friends and relations for any soldier to exposehimself rashly and carelessly.
At length the day arrived; the horses were put to the carnage, andMonsieur de Villardin, myself, and little Clement, one by one took ourleave of Laura, and departed. The tears streamed over her cheeks asshe bade us adieu, but there was certainly nothing to point out thatthose tears flowed more painfully than her separation from her fatherunder such circumstances might well justify. Monsieur de Villardintook his seat in one corner of the coach, and I in the other, andlittle Clement pl
aced himself in the portiere, where he could moreeasily see what was passing around. Two other pages accompanied us,and a few attendants on horseback followed, while a number of servantshad been sent forward with our chargers, in order to reach the capitalby easy journeys. The Duke, silent and grave as usual, soon fell intoa fit of thought, which lasted uninterrupted during the greater partof the day. The two pages, on the opposite side of the carriage, wereas mute as mice, and little Clement, in his portiere, was too busilyoccupied with all the new objects that passed before his eyes, tobreak in upon our silence by anything more than a casual exclamationof wonder or pleasure, or by some question, which he generallyanswered himself, fully to his own satisfaction, before any one elsecould reply.
My thoughts were busy enough upon subjects which were destined to growmore and more painful under reflection. The first feelings to which Igave way were those of pure sorrow at parting with Laura de Villardin;and I felt, for the first time in my life, that faint sickness ofheart, which I suppose every one feels in separating from a being sodear--that sensation of a deprivation and a void--that oppressivesense of the uncertainty of fate, which may ever throw so manyobstacles in our way, ere we can again behold those that we so deeplylove. Such feelings are painful enough in themselves; but I soon beganto inquire their cause. I had been longer negligent in examining myown heart, and in tracing the latent causes of all that was working init, than I had been for many years; but the magic which had withheldmy thoughts from every other subject, and which had cast a veil overevery other sensation, was now lost; and my mind naturally turned toinquire what was the real cause of all those new and mingled feelings,which, for six weeks, had been a source of such joy, and which now hadleft me full of sad thoughts and melancholy forebodings. The truth wasno longer to be concealed: the very pain I felt at quitting Laura deVillardin told me that I loved her--the very depression of spirits,and distaste for the career before me--a career which had formerlyoccupied all my thoughts and wishes--now showed me where my hopes andpleasures all centred; and repeated, in language that I could notdoubt, that I loved, and loved too deeply ever to forget.
Such a certainty, under some circumstances, might have so mingled hopeand expectation with all the anxieties and apprehensions which followevery strong passion, that the whole would still have remained apleasant dream to cheer me on upon the path of exertion andenterprise; but, situated as I was, the tardy discovery alone exposedto my sight a prospect of disappointment and despair. What could Ihope?--what could I expect? I, a poor adventurer, with but the tworecommendations of personal courage and noble birth; I, whose wholepossessions on earth were owing to the generosity of others--whoseway to fame and distinction had been opened by their kindendeavours--could I hope to win the heiress of one of the noblesthouses and of the most splendid fortunes in all France; I, who hadbeen her father's page; who owed him everything--fortune, station, andthe means of gaining renown. Oh! what I would have given at thatmoment to have had the power of changing her I loved into thedaughter of some poor gentleman, who would have gladly bestowed herwithout a portion.
Perhaps for a single instant one of the idle visions of hope broke inwith a ray of light, as I remembered to what stations many young men,situated precisely as myself, had arisen by energy and good fortune;and especially when I thought of Mondejeu, afterwards Mar?chal deShulemberg, whom I myself recollected an unnoticed page in the houseof the Duc de Bouillon, and who, by that time, had become governor ofthe important city of Arras, and was in the road to the highesthonours of France. But such dreams were speedily at an end; for everyway I turned my eyes, some new circumstance presented itself, to provemy situation more and more hopeless. The final stroke of all, however,was when I considered what would be the feelings of Monsieur deVillardin, if ever he discovered that I had dared to raise my hopes tothe hand of his daughter; and still more, if he were to find that Ihad attempted, by any means, to win her affection. Would he not have aright, I asked myself, to accuse me of the basest ingratitude?--wouldhe not be entitled to charge me with deceit and hypocrisy? Had I notalready in some degree betrayed his trust, unconsciously, indeed, butstill most foolishly? Ought I not to have looked into my own heartlong before; and, judging by what I felt myself, have taken every careto guard against the slightest attempt to inspire the same feelings inthe daughter of my benefactor?
I could not but acknowledge that if I had acted wisely or prudently,if I had been as watchful for his interests and for his peace asgratitude and affection ought to have made me, I should have played adifferent part, and avoided the society of her that I loved. Itrusted, however, that it was not too late to remedy my folly.Whatever I had inflicted on myself, however irremediable was the stateof disappointment and despair to which I had condemned my own heart, Ihoped and believed that Laura's feelings had been less interested. If,indeed, there had been anything farther in her sentiments towards methan mere sisterly affection, I trusted that it would soon pass away;and I determined never to see her again till I could command my owndemeanour, and behave to her in a very different manner from that inwhich I had conducted myself of late.
I would try to conquer my passion, I thought, or die. I am afraid theidea of death was uppermost from the beginning, for before we hadreached the end of our first day's journey, a dream, of a bright butpainful nature, flitted frequently before my imagination. The path ofglory and honour I thought was before me, and in the same path laydeath, who, with his icy hand, would soon cool all the feverishburning of my heart. How bright, then, would it not be, I askedmyself, to out-do in the field all that man had ever done, and to haveit told to Laura de Villardin, that I had won immortal honour, anddied upon the bed of glory? She would weep for me, I fancied, and herfather would weep; and if the love I bore her were ever discovered, itwould then but serve to shed a brighter light upon my memory, ratherthan throw a shadow on my name.
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall Page 32