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Agnes Sorel

<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4> The curiosity of Martin Grille was greatly excited. The curiosity of Martin Grille could not rest. He had no idea of a master having a secret from a valet. What were valets made for? he asked himself. What could they do in the world if there was any such thing as a secret from them? He determined he would find out that of his master, and he used every effort, trusting to Jean Charost's inexperience to lead him into any admission--into any slip of the tongue--which would give one simple fact regarding the stranger whom they had met at Pithiviers, relying on his own ingenuity to combine it with what he had already observed, so as to make some progress on the way to knowledge. But Jean Charost foiled all his efforts, and afforded him not the slightest hint of any kind, greatly raising his intellect in the opinion of his worthy valet, but irritating Martin's curiosity still further. "If there be not some important secret," thought the man, "why should he be so anxious to conceal it?" and he set to work to bring Armand Chauvin into a league and confederacy for the purpose of discovering the hidden treasure. Armand, however, not only rejected all his overtures, but reproved him for his curiosity. "I know not what is the business of valets, Master Martin," he said; "but I know my own business. The chevaucheur should be himself as secret as the grave. Should know nothing, see nothing, hear nothing, except what he is told in the way of his business. If a secret message is given him to convey, he should forget it altogether till he sees the person to whom it is to be delivered, and then forget it again as soon as it is given. Take my advice, Master Martin, and do not meddle with your master's secrets. Many a man finds his own too heavy to bear, and many a man has been hanged for having those of other people." Martin Grille did not at all like the idea of being hanged, and the warning quieted him from Orleans, where it was given, to the good town, of Blois; but still he resolved to watch narrowly in after days, and to see whether, by putting piece and piece together, he could not pluck out the heart of Jean Charost's mystery. The three horsemen rode into the town of Blois at eventide, just as the sun was setting; and, according to the directions he had received, Jean Charost proceeded straight to the ancient château, which, when somewhat altered from its then existing form, was destined to be the scene of many tragic events in French history. Though the face of the world has remained the same, though mountain and valley stand where valley and mountain stood, though towns and fortresses are still to be found where towns and fortresses then existed, the changes of society have been so great, the relations between man and man, and between man and all external things, have been so much altered, that it is with difficulty we bring our mind to comprehend how certain things, all positive facts, existed in other days, and to perceive the various relations--to us all strange and anomalous--which thus arose. It is probable that the Duke of Orleans did not possess a foot of land in the town of Blois besides the old château, and that he did not hold that in pure possession. But, either as appanage or fief, he held great territories in the central and southwestern parts of France, which yielded him considerable revenue in the shape of dues, tolls, and taxes, gave him the command of many important towns, and placed in his hands, during life, a number of magnificent residences, kept up almost entirely by services of vassals or other feudal inferiors. Shortly before this time, the Duchy of Aquitaine had been thus conceded to him, and Orleans, Blois, and a number of small cities had been long in his possession. Thus the château of Blois was at this time held by him, if not in pure property, yet in full possession, and afforded a quiet retreat, if not exactly a happy residence, to a wife whom he sincerely loved, without passion, and esteemed, even while he neglected. Removed from the scenes of contention which were daily taking place near the capital--contention often dignified by the name of war, but more deserving that of anarchy--the town of Blois had enjoyed for many years a peaceful and even sluggish calm, for the disorders of many other parts of France, of course, put a stop to peaceful enterprise in any direction, either mental or physical. There seemed no energy in the place; and the little court there held by the Duchess of Orleans, as well as the number of persons who usually resided in the town as a place of security, afforded the only inducements to active industry. As Jean Charost rode along through the streets, there were shops which might be considered gay, as the world then went; there were persons of good means and bright clothing, and a number of the inferior class taking an hour's exercise before the close of day. But there was none of the eager bustle of a busy, thrifty city, and the amusement-loving people of France seemed solely occupied with amusement in the town of Blois. At the gates of the old castle, the draw-bridge was found down, the portcullis raised, two lazy guards were pitching pieces of stone into a hole dug in the middle of the way, and wrangling with each other about their game. Both started up, however, as the three horsemen came slowly over the bridge, and one thrust himself in the way with an air of military fierceness as he saw the face of a stranger in the leader of the party. The next moment, however, he exclaimed, "Ah! pardie: Chauvin is that you? Who is this young gentleman?" "I am secretary to his highness the Duke of Orleans," replied Jean Charost; "and I bear a letter to the duchess to deliver into her own hands." Admission was not difficult to obtain; and Jean Charost was passed from hand to hand till he found himself in the interior of that gloomy building, which always seems to the visitor of modern times redolent of bloody and mysterious deeds. A grave and respectable-looking man at length showed Jean Charost into a handsomely-furnished room in one of the towers which looked out in the direction of Tours; and, seating himself upon a large window-seat, forming a coffer for firewood, he gazed out upon the scene below and saw the sun set over the world of trees beneath him. Darkness came on rapidly, but still he was suffered to remain alone, and silence brooded over the whole place, unbroken even by a passing footfall. All was so still that he could have fancied that some one was dead in the place, and the rest were silent mourners. At length a slow, quiet footfall in the distance met his ear, coming along with easy, almost drowsy pace, till the same old man appeared, and conducted him through a length of passages and vacant rooms to the presence of the Duchess of Orleans. She was seated in a large arm-chair, with a table by her side, and was dressed almost altogether in black; but to the eyes of Jean Charost she seemed exceedingly beautiful, with finely-shaped features, bright eyes, and an expression of melancholy which suited well the peculiar cast of her countenance. She gazed earnestly at Jean Charost as he advanced toward her, and said, as soon as she thought him near enough, "You come from his highness, I am told. How is my dear husband?" "Not so well as I could wish, madam," replied Jean Charost; "but this letter which I have the honor to present will tell you more." The duchess held out her fair hand for the epistle, but it trembled greatly as she took it; and the young secretary would not venture to look in her face as she was reading, for he knew that she would be greatly agitated. She was so, indeed; but she recovered herself speedily, and, speaking still with a slight foreign accent, demanded further details. "He says only that he is ill," she exclaimed. "Tell me, sir--tell me how he really is. Did you see him? Yes, you must have seen him, for he says you are his secretary. Has he concealed any thing in this letter? Is it necessary that I should set out this night? I am quite ready. He must be very ill," she added, in a low and melancholy tone, "or he would not have sent for me." "His highness is ill, madam," replied Jean Charost, "seriously ill, I fear; but I trust not dangerously so. The contentions in which he has lately been engaged with the Duke of Burgundy, but which are now happily over--" "Oh, that house of Burgundy! that house of Burgundy!" said the duchess, in a low, sad tone. "These, and many other anxieties," continued Jean Charost, "together with much fatigue, have produced, what I should suppose, some sort of fever, and a great depression of mind--a melancholy--which probably makes his highness imagine his illness even greater than it is. I should think, however, madam, that by setting out this night you would not greatly accelerate your journey. The roads are difficult and somewhat dangerous--" "Nevertheless, I will go," replied the duchess; and putting her hand before her eyes, she seemed to fall into thought for a few moments. Jean Charost saw some tear-drops trickle through her fingers, and the young man, inexperienced as he was, felt how many emotions might mingle with those tears. He withdrew his eyes, and fixed them on the ground, and at length the duchess said, "Will you call my attendants, sir, from the ante-room? I must make preparation." She pointed, as she spoke, to a different door to that by which the young gentleman had been introduced, and Jean Charost walked toward it, bowing to the princess, as if taking leave. She stopped him, however, to bid him return in a few minutes, saying, with a sad smile, "My thoughts are too busy, Monsieur De Brecy, to attend to courtesy; but I beseech you, take care of yourself as if you were an inmate of the house. My husband seems to have much confidence in you, and desires that you should accompany me. If you are too much fatigued to do so to-night, you can follow me to-morrow, and will doubtless overtake me in time." "Not too much fatigued myself, madam," replied Jean Charost; "but I fear my horses could not go far. If there be time, I will provide others." "Oh, that will be easily managed," she answered. "There are always horses enough here. I will see that you are mounted." The young gentleman then proceeded to the ante-room, where he found a bevy of young girls, each seated demurely at her embroidery frame, under the eye of an elder lady. Gay glances were shot at him from every side, but he contented himself with simply announcing the duchess's commands, and then proceeded in search of his companions of the road. He found that Armand Chauvin was completely at home in the château of Blois, and had made Martin Grille quite familiar with the place already; nor did the young gentleman himself feel any of that shy timidity which he had experienced when, as a stranger, unknown to all around him, he had first taken up his abode in the Hôtel d'Orleans. There was a subdued and quiet tone, too, about the court of the duchess, very different from the gay and somewhat insolent demeanor of her husband's younger attendants; and the young secretary, now known as such, was treated with all courtesy, and obtained every thing he could desire for the refreshment of himself and his horses. Gradually, however, the bustle of preparation spread from the apartments of the duchess through the rest of the house, accompanied by the report of her being about to set out that very night to join her husband at Beauté. All were eager to know the cause and the particulars, and an old major-domo ventured to come into the hall where Jean Charost was seated with some wine and meat before him, to extract every information that he could upon the subject. He received very cautious answers, however, and ere he had carried his questions far, he was interrupted by the entrance of the chevaucheur, in some haste and apparent alarm. "They tell me, Monsieur De Brecy," he said in his abrupt manner, "that the duchess sets forth to-night." Jean Charost nodded his head. "Have you told her," asked Chauvin, "that the Duke of Burgundy is on the road between this and the Seine?" "No," answered Jean Charost, starting up, his mind seizing at once the vague idea of danger. "Surely he would not--" "Humph!" said Armand Chauvin. "There is no knowing what he would not." "Indeed, there is not," said the old major-domo; "and methinks the duchess should send out a party of piqueurs; to bring him in, or clear the way of him." "I had better tell her," said Jean Charost thoughtfully. "If there be danger, she will judge of it better than I can." "I will show you the way, sir--I will show you the way," said the old major-domo, with officious civility. "This way, if you please--this way." When again admitted to the presence of the duchess, the young secretary informed her that he had met with the Duke of Burgundy at Pithiviers, but excused his not having mentioned the fact before on the ground of not apprehending any danger in consequence of the recent reconciliation of the houses of Burgundy and Orleans. It soon became evident to him, however, that all the friends and attendants of the Duke of Orleans, although he himself had seemed perfectly confident of his cousin's good faith, looked upon the late reconciliation as but a hollow deceit, which would be set at naught by the Duke of Burgundy as soon as it suited his convenience. The duchess evidently shared in this general feeling; but still she determined to pursue her first intention, and merely took the precaution of ordering her escort to be doubled. "I believe," she said, "that there is not a man goes with me who will not shed the last drop of his blood in my defense and you, too, Monsieur De Brecy, will do the same out of love for my dear husband." "Right willingly, madam," replied Jean Charost: "but I trust you may escape all peril." The duchess soon dismissed him again, telling him that there would be ample time for him to take some repose; that their preparations would not be complete till nearly midnight; but Jean Charost contented himself with a short sleep in a large arm-chair in the hall, and then started up from the blessed, dreamless slumber of youth, refreshed and ready for new exertion. About an hour after, the midnight march began. The litter of the princess, containing herself and her youngest son, was drawn by four white mules; but in advance were eight or ten men-at-arms, cased in plate armor, and lance in hand. A large body followed the litter; and on either side of it rode several of the noble retainers of the house of Orleans more lightly armed, among whom was Jean Charost. The moon shone out brightly; and as her pale rays fell upon the duchess's litter with its white curtains, and upon another, containing some of her female attendants, which followed, and glistened upon the steel casques and corselets of the men-at-arms as they wound in and out along the banks of the river, the whole formed a scene strangely exciting to the imagination of Jean Charost, who had seen little, for many years, of any thing like military display. The march passed quietly enough, and for the first three or four days no incident of any kind occurred which is worthy of detail. On many occasions the young secretary had the opportunity of conversing with the duchess; and her quiet gentleness, the strong, unshaken, uncomplaining affection which she showed toward her husband with all his faults, together with native graces unhardened, and personal beauty hardly touched by time, made Jean Charost marvel greatly at the wayward heart of man, and ask himself, with doubt and almost fear, if ever he himself could be brought to sport with or neglect the affections of a being such as that. In the neighborhood of Pithiviers, it was ascertained that the Duke of Burgundy had retired from that part of the country two days before, turning his steps toward Paris; and the Duchess of Orleans, freed from all apprehensions, sent back the military part of her escort to Blois, remarking, with a smile, to Jean Charost, "I must not, except in case of need, go to my husband with such a body of armed men, as if I came to take his castle by storm." "I can assure you, madam," replied the young secretary, laying some emphasis on the words, "you will find that it is surrendered to you at discretion." At the next halting-place the litter stopped, about an hour before sunset. There were few attendants around; the old major domo was somewhat slow in dismounting, and Jean Charost, who was sooner on foot, drew back the curtains to permit the duchess to alight. She had hardly set her foot to the ground, however, when a hard, powerful hand was laid upon the young secretary's shoulder, and a hollow voice said, aloud, "Young man, God will bless you. I find you are faithful and true amid the false and the deceitful." Both the duchess and Jean Charost turned suddenly to look at the speaker. The latter recognized him at once as the stranger whom he had seen at Pithiviers, and on one occasion before; but the duchess drew a little back, murmuring, with a look of alarm, "Who is that person?" "Strange to say, madam," replied the young secretary, "I can not tell your highness. I have seen him once or twice in somewhat singular circumstances; but his name I do not know." As soon as the stranger had uttered the words above mentioned, he had crossed his arms upon his breast and moved away, hardly noticed by the attendants in the bustle of arrival; but the duchess followed him still with her eyes; and then, as she walked on, she repeated twice the stranger's words, "You are faithful and true amid the false and the deceitful;" and then, looking earnestly in Jean Charost's face, she added, "Will you be faithful and true to me also, young gentleman?" "I am sure he will, mother," said her young son, who was holding her hand; and Jean Charost replied, "To all who trust me, I will be so, madam. When I am not, I pray God that I may die." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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