Henry of Guise Volume Iii Part 20

And in a rapid manner he told him all that had taken place, as far as he himself yet knew it.

"Fly to the apartments of Mademoiselle de Clairvaut instantly," said the Count. "Ask if I can speak with her, and give her that note. If she is not in her own apartment, she is in that of the d.u.c.h.ess of Nemours, which is by the side of it. Quick, Ignati; tell her there is not a moment to be lost."

The boy sped away. The Count then gave a few rapid orders to Gondrin, bidding him discover if there was any means of issuing forth from the castle; and then turned his steps, as speedily as possible, towards the chamber of Marie de Clairvaut.

In the narrow pa.s.sage, however, which led towards the apartments of the d.u.c.h.ess of Nemours, he was pa.s.sed by Pericard, the Duke's secretary, who slackened not his pace for an instant, but said, "Fly, sir! Fly! The Duke is dead!" and rushed on. The next moment, Charles met the fair girl herself, coming towards him with as swift a pace as his own, and followed by the boy Ignati, who from time to time turned back his head, as if to see that they were not pursued. Marie was as pale as death.

"Oh, Charles," she said, "I fear we cannot obey my uncle's commands.

What has happened to him, I know not; but the guards have just arrested the d.u.c.h.ess de Nemours and my poor cousin Joinville. It is impossible to pa.s.s in that direction, and I fear all the gates are guarded."

"Run to the chapel," said the boy. "Run to the chapel by the back staircase and the little corridor behind the Duke's room. There will be no one in the chapel in this time of confusion, and there is a way from the chapel into the gardens. The postern may be left unguarded."

"Excellently bethought," replied Charles of Montsoreau. "Speed on, Ignati; speed on before us, and see that there is no one on the watch.

If you find Gondrin, send him to the chapel without a moment's delay.

We must fly, sweet Marie; we must fly, as your uncle has ordered. It is clear--though it is terrible to say--it is clear that he is dead.

They would not have dared to arrest his son and mother had he been living. But we must find you some cloak or covering, sweet girl. You cannot go forth in all this bridal array."

Marie bent down her head and wept, for though she had suffered much within the last few months, it had not been with that withering kind of suffering which dries up the fountain of our tears. She hurried on with her lover, however, and in his apartments a mantle was speedily found to cover the bright and happy attire which she had that morning put on with feelings of hope and joy. In few but distinct words Charles of Montsoreau told the two servants, whom he found there, to get out, if possible, by any means into the town, and to bring round the rest of his train and his horses to the farther side of the gardens; and then hurrying on by the way which the boy had suggested, he led Marie de Clairvaut towards the chapel, where they were to have been united.

The little corridor which they followed entered at once into a small room, called the revestry, by the side of the chapel itself, and as Charles of Montsoreau approached, he heard voices and paused to listen. He then plainly distinguished the tones of Gondrin and the page; and though another deep voice was also heard, he hurried on, feeling certain that they would have come to give him warning had there been danger.

The door was partly open, and throwing it back, the Count beheld a scene which made all his blood run cold, while the fair girl whom he was leading forward recoiled in terror and dismay.

Stretched upon the floor, with his sword half drawn from the sheath, and a deep wound in his left breast, lay Gaspar de Montsoreau.

A pool of blood surrounded him, and the expression of his whole countenance showed in a moment that the spirit had departed some time.

Scattered--some upon the ground, some upon the table in the midst of the room, some even in the midst of the blood itself--were a number of pieces of gold; and two leathern bags, one open and half empty of its contents, were seen upon the ground.

At the further side of the room, near the door leading into the chapel, was standing Gondrin, with his sword naked, and his foot upon the chest of the Italian Orbi; while the boy Ignati knelt beside the a.s.sa.s.sin, and with his drawn dagger held over him, seemed putting to him some quick and eager questions.

"I tell you true," answered the man, as Charles of Montsoreau entered; "I tell you true. It was he who set me on and paid me: the Abbe de Boisguerin, and no one else."

The boy sprang up and moved away on the young Count's appearance; and a few words from Gondrin explained to him, that coming from the gardens--where he had found all solitary, the key in the lock of the postern gate, and the way clear--he had heard a low cry from the side of the chapel, and on entering that room had discovered the unhappy Marquis de Montsoreau weltering in his blood, and the Italian Orbi gathering up some of the gold pieces, which seemed to have fallen to the ground in a brief struggle between him and the Marquis.

During this account, Marie de Clairvaut, pale as death and terribly agitated, supported herself by one of the high-backed chairs, and turned her eyes from the horrible sight which that room exhibited; and Charles of Montsoreau gazed for a moment on the dead form of his brother, with those feelings of fraternal love which no unkindness or ill treatment had been able to banish.

Every instant, however, was precious; and recovering himself as speedily as possible, he turned to Gondrin, bidding him disarm the Italian who had still his sword, though the weapon with which he had committed the murder had been dropped beside the dead body.

"Shall I kill him, sir?" said Gondrin, pressing the man down more firmly with his foot, as he found him make a slight effort to escape.

"Oh, in pity, in pity, Charles," cried Marie, clasping her hands towards him, "do not; do not!"

"No, no!" replied Charles of Montsoreau; "cut that rope from the window, Ignati. Bind him hand and foot, Gondrin, and leave him to the justice of those who come after."

It was done in a moment; and Charles of Montsoreau only pausing once more for a moment to gaze on his brother's corpse, exclaimed with sincere sorrow, "Alas, poor Gaspar!" and then with a quick step led Marie de Clairvaut from that terrible chamber into the gardens and towards the postern gate.

All was clear, and Charles of Montsoreau turned the key and threw the gate back. The moment that it was opened, two men darted forward from the other side, as if to seize the person coming out, and in one of them, though entirely changed in dress and appearance, Charles instantly recognised the Abbe de Boisguerin, who, before he saw that any one had accompanied Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, had caught her violently by the arm.

The memory of a thousand wrongs flashed upon the young Count's mind in a moment; his sword sprung from the sheath, glittered for a single instant in the air, and then pa.s.sed through the body of the base man before him, piercing him from side to side.

The Abbe uttered a shrill and piercing cry, and, when the Count withdrew his weapon, fell instantly back upon the ground, quivering in the agonies of death. The other man who had stood beside the Abbe fled amain; but on the road, about fifty yards from the garden wall, stood a carriage with six horses and their drivers, with a group of some nine or ten men on horseback.

On the Abbe's first cry the hors.e.m.e.n began to ride towards the spot, but the appearance of Gondrin coming through the low door behind the Count, and then the page, made them pause, hesitate, and seem to consult. In another moment or two the sound of horses coming from the side of the town caused them to withdraw still farther from the spot; and with joy that is scarcely to be expressed, Charles of Montsoreau saw his own colours in the scarfs of the hors.e.m.e.n that approached. In a moment after, he was surrounded by at least twenty of his own armed attendants: led horses, too, were there in plenty; and he now whispered words of hope that he really felt to Marie de Clairvaut, who clung almost fainting to his arm.

"Stop the carriage, Gondrin!" he exclaimed, seeing the drivers in the act of mounting, as if to hasten away after the hors.e.m.e.n, who, on their part, had taken flight at the first sight of the young Count's followers. "We must make use of it, whether they will or not; but promise them large rewards. There is a mystery here I do not understand; but it is evidently some new villany. Come, dear Marie, come; we must not pause." And leading her forward to the carriage, he spoke to the drivers himself.

One of them was the master of the horses which the Abbe had hired, and he was found not at all unwilling to enter into any arrangement that the Count chose to propose. Marie de Clairvaut was placed in the carriage, the hors.e.m.e.n surrounded it, and Charles himself was about to mount his horse, when he perceived that the boy Ignati had not followed him, but remained kneeling by the side of the Abbe de Boisguerin. Turning quickly back, to his utter surprise he found the youth weeping bitterly; and when he urged him to rise and come with the carriage, Ignati shook his head saying, "No, no! I cannot leave him like dead carrion for the hawks and ravens.--He was my father! Go on, my Lord Count, and G.o.d speed you!--I must see him buried, and ma.s.ses said for his soul!"

The Count was moved, but he could not remain; and giving the boy some money, he said, "Spend that upon his funeral, Ignati; and then follow me with all speed to Lyons. I grieve for you, my boy, though I understand not how this can be."

Only one more difficulty existed, which was, to pa.s.s through that part of the town leading to the bridge over the Loire. But the servants who had made their escape from the castle, and brought round their fellows to his a.s.sistance, a.s.sured the Count that the news of the Duke of Guise's murder had already spread through the city, and that every thing was in such a state of confusion and dismay, he might pa.s.s with the greatest security.

Such he found to be the case; all the guard of the King was within the walls of the chateau; the gates of the bridges, and of the town itself, were in the hands of the faction of the League; and no questions were asked of one who was known to have been the dear and intimate friend of the murdered Duke.

Taking his way through a part of the country devoted to the League, Charles of Montsoreau and his fair companion found no difficulty in reaching Lyons, where the history of all that had taken place was soon told to the Duke of Mayenne, and the last lines which the hand of Henry of Guise ever traced were shown to him, who was destined thenceforth to be the great head of the League.

Had the words and the wishes of his brother not been sufficient for Mayenne, the necessity of binding to his cause for ever one whose aid was so important as that of Charles of Montsoreau, would have been enough to decide the Duke's conduct towards him: and as soon as possible, after all the anguish, difficulty, and danger, which they had undergone together, the fate of the young Count of Logeres and Marie de Clairvaut was united for ever.

In regard to them it need only be said that they loved each other to the last hours of life.

The boy Ignati followed the young Count to Lyons, but he would not remain with the man who had taken his father's life. He subsequently devoted himself to the church, and in the end rose high, by the great interest that was exercised on his behalf.

The wars of the League succeeded: but the feelings of Charles of Montsoreau were greatly changed by the death of the Duke of Guise; and though he waged war, as zealously as any body could possibly do, against the murderer of his lost friend, yet, when Henry III. himself fell under the blow of an a.s.sa.s.sin, the young Count of Logeres would no longer contend against a monarch so generous, so n.o.ble, and so chivalrous, as the King who next ascended the throne.

He sheathed the sword then, after the accession of Henri Quatre, and the rest of his days pa.s.sed in peace and calm retirement, in the society of her whom he loved ever, and loved alone.

THE END.