No attempt had been made to take possession of the nunnery, as it was only occupied by women, and as the Count was aware that in case of need, he could obtain entrance in a moment. At the same time he could fully depend not only upon the courage and firmness, but upon the vigilance of Du Bar, and he therefore looked upon his small force as completely in security. Provisions, too, had been found in abundance, and the people of the neighbouring country were somewhat better disposed towards the Huguenot cause, than those of the district which they had just left.
His men, however, had suffered tremendously, even in the brief struggle which had taken place with the overpowering force of the Catholics. Of his own troop, not more than thirty men were found capable of action at the end of that day, and, at least, one third of the whole Huguenot force was unfit for service. This was a lamentable prospect, as the insurgents had no points of strength to fall back upon, and had not the leaders been animated by the consciousness of having performed great actions in that day"s contest and having held at bay the royal army with a force six times inferior in number, the proposal of dispersing and carrying on the warfare by desultory efforts in the woods, which was suggested in one of their little councils, would certainly have been adopted.
In the mean time, however, the spirit of the men was kept up, and their resolution fortified, by the prayers and exhortations of the various ministers who accompanied the camp; and on going round to the different quarters just after nightfall, the Count found some bodies of the Protestants still engaged in their religious exercises, some just concluded, but all less depressed at heart than he was himself.
When he had done his round, he paused before the door of one of the farm-houses--the best and most comfortable--and dismissing the men who had followed, he turned to enter. There was a slight degree of hesitation, however, seemed to come over him as he did so, and he remained for some moments with his hand upon the latch. He at length raised it, and entered the kitchen of the farm-house, where the family of the proprietor were a.s.sembled round the ample hearth, on which was a full supply of blazing wood. At that very moment, speaking to the mistress of the house, was Clemence"s attendant, Maria; but Clemence herself was not present, and on inquiring for her, the Count was told that she was in an upper chamber, to which the woman immediately led him.
Albert of Morseiul followed her step by step, and when the door opened, he saw Clemence sitting at the table, with her head resting on her hand, and her eyes turned towards the fire; but with such a look of deep sadness and painful thought, as made his heart ache to see and to know that he could not change it.
"Here is the Count de Morseiul," said the maid; and instantly Clemence started up, and turned towards the door, while the Count entered, and the maid retired. The face of Clemence de Marly a.s.sumed two or three different expressions in a moment. There was joy to see him, there was doubt, there was apprehension; but she advanced towards him at once, and the look of love was not to be doubted. He took the hands that she held out to him, he kissed them tenderly and often: but still there was deep sadness on his brow, as there was in his heart, and his first words were, "Oh, Clemence, at what a moment have you come to me at last!"
"Albert," she said in reply, "I have much to say to you. Since I have been here, and seen what I have seen, I have found many excuses for your conduct; and I have learned to think that what I wrote briefly I may have written harshly and unkindly, and to blame myself as much, nay more than you: believing, though I had no time to explain why I could not come at the moment as I could have wished, yet, that I should still have added, such words as might show you that I was yours unchanged, however much I might judge that you had acted rashly, unadvisedly, and unlike yourself. I have determined to tell you all this at once, Albert, and, acknowledging that I blame myself, to shelter myself from all reproaches on your part in your kindness and generosity."
"Thanks, thanks, dearest Clemence," replied the Count, pressing her to his heart; "this is, indeed, balm after such a day as this: but I think, my Clemence, when you hear all, you will yourself exculpate me from blame,--though I fear that the charge of ingrat.i.tude which others may bring against me, will never be done away in the less generous minds of the world in general, without a terrible sacrifice. You I know, Clemence, will believe every word I tell you."
"Oh, every word!" she exclaimed; "to doubt you, Albert, were to doubt truth itself."
"Well, then, believe, Clemence," he said, "when I tell you, that till this morning,--till this very morning,--I had not the slightest idea whatsoever that my liberation was attributable to the King. Not only I, but all my domestics, every attendant that I have, my man Riquet himself, all believed that it was through an artifice of his that I had been set at liberty. Had I thought otherwise, upon my word, my first act would have been to fly to Versailles, to express my thanks, whatever my after conduct might have been."
He then explained to her every thing that had taken place, and the mistake under which he had himself laboured throughout.
"What confirmed me in the belief that the whole of Riquet"s story was perfectly correct," he said, "was the fact that Besmaux, when he set me at liberty, observed that the order under which he did it, was not quite in the usual form, together with some remarks that he made upon there being no carriage sent for me with the order."
"Alas! alas!" cried Clemence, wringing her hands, "it was my weakness; it was my foolish fears and anxiety, that produced all this mischief.
Listen to my tale now, Albert, and forgive me, forgive me for what I have done."
She then related to her lover almost all that had taken place between the King, herself, and Madame de Maintenon. We say almost, because she did not relate the whole; but though Albert of Morseiul saw it, he divined from what she did tell, that there were matters which she was bound not to divulge. Perhaps he divined the important truth itself, and at all events he did not love her a bit the less for a concealment which had no want of confidence in it.
"On the following morning," she said, "at the hour that the King had appointed, I did not fail to be in attendance. I found him writing; but it was soon over, and he handed me the paper, saying, "There, lady, we have judged the cause that you have at heart as favourably as you judged ours last night. Tell him," he added, "when you see him, that--though we cannot alter the strict laws, which we have found it necessary to make, for his sake--we will grant him all that may reasonably make him happy, either in our own land, or in another!""
"And I have borne arms against him," cried the Count, clasping his arms together.
"Yet hear me out, Albert," continued Clemence, "for the fault is mine.
The order was for your immediate liberation. I took it eagerly, thanked the King, and retired, well knowing that it ought to be countersigned by Louvois, and sent through his office. But during the evening before, on the occasion of something that was said, he gave me such a fiend-like look of revenge, that I knew he would seek your destruction, if not mine. I was well aware, too, that in many an instance he has interrupted the King"s clemency, or his bounty; and weakly, most weakly, I sent the order without his signature--ay, and without a moment"s delay, by a servant belonging to the Duc de Rouvre.
Thus, thus it was, that I, in my eagerness for your safety, have plunged you into new dangers,--dangers from which, alas! I fear that there is scarcely a possible means of escape."
The Count looked down upon the ground for a moment, and he then replied, "I will write to the King myself, Clemence. It is very possible that he will not even read the letter of a rebel with arms in his hand. But still it will be a satisfaction to me to do so. I must first get to the sea side, however, in order that I may place poor Riquet in security, for were the tale told and he afterwards discovered, I fear that no tortures would be considered too horrible to punish the daring act that he committed."
"I, too, will write," replied Clemence. "I will write and tell the whole to one, who, though she will refuse at first, I know, to do any thing in our behalf, yet will not fail, calmly and quietly, to labour in our favour, thinking that she owes something to me. I will tell her the whole; I will tell her distinctly, Albert; and if you will procure it for me I will send her even the forged order that you mention, with the attestation of the man who brought it back from Paris."
Albert of Morseiul pressed her to his heart, and she added, "At all events, Albert, we shall be able to fly. We are now not far from the sea; ships can easily be procured, and we may be happy in another land."
Albert of Morseiul kissed her cheek for his only reply: but his heart was sad, and he could scarcely command even a smile to countenance the false hope she had expressed. His own determinations were taken, his own resolutions formed; but he thought it better and more kind not to make them known to Clemence de Marly till the moment arrived for putting them in execution.
While they were yet speaking, the attendant again came into the room to inform the Count that three persons waited below to see him, and on going down he found Riquet, with one of the Protestants attached to the Marquis du Bar, and a gentleman, who appeared to be an inferior officer in the royal service. The two latter instantly stepped forward when he appeared.
"Monsieur du Bar," said the Protestant soldier, "has sent you this gentleman, bearing a flag of truce, from the Chevalier d"Evran. He carries a letter to yourself, and a letter to the lady from Thouars."
The Count bowed to the stranger, and begged to see the letter to himself. It was simply addressed to the Count de Morseiul, and he opened it with some emotion, for it was strange to see the hand of Louis d"Evran, writing to him as from one adversary to another. The style and tone of the letter, however, though it was very short, were precisely as if nothing had occurred to interrupt their intimacy, or array them hostilely against each other. It ran--
"Dear Albert,
"I write to you simply to know whether I am to regard the communication made to me, on your part, by an English gentleman, called Sir Thomas Cecil, as formal and definitive, as I must be made aware of that fact before I can transmit it to the court. I trust and hope that good results may proceed from it: but you must not forget that it is an awful risk. For my part I will do my best to quiet the province with as little harshness as possible, and with that object I accepted, or rather may say, solicited this command. In every respect, however, my duty must be done to the King, and shall be so done to the utmost. You never in your life fought better than you did this morning. Your defence of the heights was quite a Turenne affair; but you made a mistake in your morning movement to the left, which showed me your flank. Perhaps, however, you had some reason for it, for I think there was a fresh corps came up towards the close of the affair.
Look to yourself, dear Albert, for be you sure that I shall give you no breathing time; and so G.o.d speed you!
"Louis d"Evran.
"Post Scriptum. I find myself called upon by my duty, to require you formally to send back la belle Clemence to her good friend de Rouvre, and to address a letter to her upon the subject of her return."
The Count had read this epistle with a thoughtful and a somewhat frowning brow. It was quite characteristic of the Chevalier d"Evran, but yet there was something in it that did not please him. He turned, however, to the officer courteously, saying,--
"The Chevalier d"Evran notifies to me, that he has sent a letter to Mademoiselle de Marly, and seems to leave it to me to deliver it. I would rather, however, that you did so yourself, if that lady will permit me to introduce you to her, when you can bear her answer from her own mouth. Riquet," he said, "go up and inquire, whether Mademoiselle de Marly will grant this gentleman a few minutes"
audience."
A short pause ensued: for Clemence hesitated for some time. At length, however, Riquet returned with an answer in the affirmative, and the Count led the officer to her presence.
"I am commanded, Madame," said the stranger, "by Monsieur le Chevalier d"Evran, lieutenant-general of the province, to deliver you this letter, and to say, that, at any time to-morrow which you will name, he will send a proper carriage and attendants, to convey you back to the town of Thouars, from which he understands that you were forcibly carried away, some night ago."
Clemence merely bowed her head, and held out her hand for the letter, which she opened and read. A faint smile came over her countenance as she proceeded, and when she had done, she handed the epistle to her lover, asking, "What shall I do or say?"
"Nay, I can give you no advice," replied the Count. "In this matter, Clemence, you must act by your own judgment: advice from me, situated as you are now, would bear somewhat the character of dictation. Do you wish me to read the letter?"
"Certainly," she replied. "My mind will be easily made up as to the answer."
The Count then proceeded to read the letter, which was merely one of form; and began--
"Mademoiselle,
"I am urged by Monsieur le Duc de Rouvre, and feel it a part of my duty, to apply to you immediately to return to the care and protection of that gentleman and the d.u.c.h.ess, under whose charge and guardianship you have been placed by the King. Although we are fully informed that you were carried away from the town of Thouars without your own consent and approbation, we feel sure, from the high character and reputation of the Count de Morseiul, though now unfortunately in open rebellion, that he will be most anxious you should return, and will do all that he can to facilitate the arrangements for that purpose. Such being the case, let me exhort you, Mademoiselle, to make all haste to quit the camp of a body of men in open insurrection, and to place yourself under the protection of legitimate authority.
"I have the honour to be,
"Mademoiselle,
"Your devoted servant,
"Louis d"Evran."
The Count returned the letter with no other comment than, "It is strange;" and Clemence paused for a moment, gazing upon the back of the letter, but evidently occupied by deep thoughts.
She then turned to the officer, who had remained standing, and said, "I will not detain you, Sir, to write, as my answer must be merely what the Chevalier d"Evran expects. You will inform him--notwithstanding that it may seem bold of me to say so--that although I was certainly not brought here with my consent, I, nevertheless, am here by my consent; and as I have long been disposed to return to that faith in which I was originally instructed, and have for some time embraced it upon sincere conviction, I cannot consent to place myself in a situation where the exercise of the reformed religion will be denied to me; but must, on the contrary, remain with those who will protect and support me in my adherence to what I consider the only pure and true faith."
"In short, Madam," replied the officer, "I am to tell the Chevalier that you are a Huguenot?"
"Exactly, Sir," replied Clemence; "and that I have been so for some time."