Lord Montagu's Page Part 39

"Ha!" said the minister, with a grave, stern face, "Monsieur de Bourbonne thinks he can play with me, does he? and now he fancies he has got his reward. But we must talk more of this when I have some leisure.

At present, that little black line there," he continued, pointing toward Roch.e.l.le, "occupies much of my thoughts. The battery has not yet ceased firing. These men of trumpet and broad-sword, Monsieur Langdale, attribute more virtue to gunpowder and cannon-b.a.l.l.s than I do. There are much more efficient elements in war."

"Indeed, your Eminence!" exclaimed Edward: "may I ask what?"

"The impudent young cur," said one of the old officers near, to another, in a low voice, "talks to the cardinal as if he were his bottle-companion."

Richelieu answered calmly, but with emphasis, "A pickaxe and a shovel, followed up by the movements of those two great officers, Pestilence and Famine. When you announced in Roch.e.l.le, Master Langdale, the coming of Lord Denbigh's fleet, and those wise men of the East refused to receive it in their port, they little thought, I ween, that those two mighty commanders would be so soon amongst them. But how was it," he continued, changing his tone and speaking rapidly, "that they dared, in such perilous circ.u.mstances, to send away King Charles's s.h.i.+ps upon the pretext that they had not been warned, when you yourself had warned them?"

"Your Eminence's pardon," answered Edward; "but Master Jargeau, who of course told you all this, should also have said that I had not been an hour in Roch.e.l.le before I had my head broken, and lay for nearly a week incapable of delivering any of my letters. It was a pretext, as your Eminence calls it; but the Roch.e.l.lois had really not been warned when Lord Denbigh's fleet arrived."

"You are mistaken, young man," said Richelieu, with a slight curl of the lip: "you jump at your conclusions too rapidly. There have been more Jargeaus than one in Roch.e.l.le; and this one, though a very serviceable fellow, I am told, never saw me in his life. Ay, it is a pity that he would not keep his neck out of the noose; but he forced us to hang him,--which was a severe loss to the king's service. He was in the case of those men who, as the Scriptures say, are exceedingly fond of serving both G.o.d and mammon. G.o.d abandoned him, and mammon could not save him; for though he offered Ba.s.sompierre the whole value of a cargo of fish he had contrived to get into Roch.e.l.le,--and every fish was worth an ounce of gold, be it remarked,--Ba.s.sompierre, whose intelligence is very good, seized the gold where he had hidden it, and hanged him according to proclamation."

All this was said with much coolness and deliberation; and from time to time the great minister raised his gla.s.s to his eye and gazed at the battery, which had not yet ceased firing. He waited about ten minutes more, and then beckoned up some of the superior officers round him, asking if they thought his messenger had not had time to reach the lines. They all agreed that there had been plenty of time; but one of them added, in a careless tone, "It is possible, your Eminence, that he may not have carried either his head or his message with him. There has been a puff or two of smoke from the walls, and n.o.body can tell where the shot may have gone. A man may have a tierce major in his favor and yet lose the game after all."

"Possibly," replied Richelieu, and then resumed his watch. During some five minutes after, the line of the battery showed no more smoke or fire; the wreaths of sulphurous vapor curled away; the town also ceased firing, the whole scene lay quiet and peaceful beneath their eyes, and nothing was seen but a few hors.e.m.e.n riding about, with one apart from the rest, galloping quickly up toward the hill on which they were.

The cardinal waited his arrival and put some questions, which Edward Langdale, who had fallen a little back, did not hear.

"In five days, your Eminence," replied the officer, aloud. "He says that at present no boat bigger than a c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l can get in or out, and, unless there be a very high tide or a gale of wind, the place will be sealed up as tight as a bottle of old Burgundy."

"Well," said Richelieu; "it is well. Have they made no attempt to interrupt the works?"

"None whatever, your Eminence," replied the other: "they are trusting to G.o.d's good providence and a high tide,--doubtless praying in all their temples for storm and tempest with profound devotion; but the devil and the wind do not seem inclined to help them, and the poor creatures whom they drove out have been received into the town again to eat them up, so that they cannot hold out many weeks longer."

The cardinal smiled, and, turning his horse, rode slowly back toward the Chateau of Mauze, without saying a word to any one, and seemingly buried in profound thought.

Edward Langdale followed, not knowing well what to do; and not one word did Richelieu speak to him or any one till they reached the gates leading into the court-yard. The cardinal dismounted and entered the building, followed by some of his immediate attendants. The military men scattered in different directions, each to his own quarters, without taking any notice whatever of the young stranger; and Edward remained upon his horse in the court-yard, while a curious smile upon the lip and a raising of the eyebrow of Jacques Beaupre read an unpleasant commentary upon his disappointed expectations.

"You must seek lodgings in the little town, Pierrot," said Lord Montagu's page. "Get the best you can,--though bad, I fancy, will be the best,--and make some arrangement for obtaining food. We must have something to eat,--though the poor folks in Roch.e.l.le are worse off than we, it would seem."

"It is a small place, Mauze, sir, and quite full of soldiery," said Pierrot. "But I will do my best, and get something at all events; for I know some of the people here, who, I think, would kill a hog for me, if we can do no better. But I am afraid quarters will be worse to find than rations."

"We must seek for both," answered Edward, "and something for the horses too."

He was turning toward the gates again, to ride down the slope into the little town, or rather village,--for it was no better then,--when a man dressed in a dark suit and bearing somewhat the appearance of a servant came down the steps and approached the young gentleman's horse. "His Eminence the Cardinal de Richelieu," he said, in a low, sweet voice, "has commanded me to tell Monsieur de Langdale that he will see him as soon as the business of the day is over,--about nine o'clock to-night.

In the mean time, I will show Monsieur de Langdale a chamber,--somewhat high up, it is true; but the castle is very full. Monsieur de Langdale will take his meals with the officers of the cardinal's guard. His servants must provide for themselves in the village, as we have no room.

The cardinal allows them a crown a day as livery."

Edward dismounted and followed him to a chamber convenient enough, though very near the top of the main tower; and, knowing the policy of saying as little as possible in such places, he only asked if at nine o'clock he should present himself before the cardinal, or if his Eminence would summon him.

"He did not say," replied the man. "But monsieur had better go to the ante-chamber at that hour and speak with the almoner, whom he will find there." Thus saying, he left him, seemingly as much indisposed to say a word more than was necessary as Edward could be himself.

The reader may probably have no great opinion, from the facts already related in this true history, of Edward Langdale's prudence; but, as I have shown, he had been undergoing for the last nine months a course of discipline under which he had greatly improved. Much was at stake at that moment, and he resolved to act as cautiously as possible; and during the whole morning he never quitted the chamber which had been a.s.signed to him,--pa.s.sing the time partly in sleep, partly in deep meditation over the character of the great minister, which had now appeared to him in a new point of view. The coldness, the somewhat sarcastic indifference with which Richelieu had spoken of the hanging of the unfortunate Jargeau and of the miseries of the people of Roch.e.l.le, would have given the impression that he was merely a hard, selfish politician, had it not been for the deep emotions which had stirred him in the case of Chalais and the lighter and more graceful feelings which Edward had seen him display in their first interview.

It was matter of study for the young man; but, as he thought over his own conduct, he determined to make no change. He had hitherto followed the promptings of the moment; and he had acquired a conviction that with the cardinal unpremeditated frankness was the best policy.

He was still indulging in this strain of thought, when a servant came to inform him that the officers of the cardinal's guard were at dinner, and led him to the great hall, where he found a seat reserved for him at the table. There was no sympathy, however, between him and those with whom he had to a.s.sociate for a few minutes: they were civil,--which was all he could expect; and hardly ten words pa.s.sed his lips before he retired once more to his chamber.

CHAPTER XL.

It was night, and the scene was a somewhat curious one. A large chamber, with a vaulted roof, long square windows, and decorations neither new nor in a modern taste, a tall four-post bedstead with green velvet hangings a good deal tarnished, a brick floor well waxed and polished, an immense armory or wardrobe quaintly carved, three or four tall straight-backed chairs, and one large arm-chair well stuffed, together with a table of black oak, the legs of which were cut into the forms of some nondescript species of devil,--not the conventional gentleman with hoofs and tail and pitchfork, but somebody not a whit less hideous,--presented the aspect of a chamber quite of the olden time, it might be of the reign of Francis I. or Louis XII.

All days have their olden times; and I believe the olden times have always been praised,--such is the tendency of the human mind to regret.

When we are school-boys we wish we were children again, and think of the caresses without the pangs and inconveniences of infancy; when we are men we wish we were school-boys again, and forget the heavy task, the ferule, and the rod; old age looks back to youth and sorrows over its lost powers; and only one man I know of has written in praise of life's declining stage. But even Cicero upon such a theme could only indite an eloquent lie.

Possession is always paid for by regret; and we take out the small change in hope.

Nevertheless, it would appear, notwithstanding the excellencies of those old times, that some improvements have been made in the march of society,--at least, in the manufacture of chairs. Although they were not famous for that fabric in Louis the Thirteenth's time, Edward Langdale felt that seats were certainly much more inconvenient at a former period. "Men must once have had back-bones of quite a different construction," he thought. "They must have either been so supple as to bend into all kinds of corners, or so hard as not to care for any corners at all."

Such thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind as he sat in a straight-backed sort of rack in the Castle of Mauze, just opposite to the Cardinal de Richelieu, who, having cast off cuira.s.s and scarlet robe, was seated, in an easy gown of deep purple, in that comfortable arm-chair. The light fell upon his magnificent head and easy graceful figure from a sconce upon the wall; and the fine flowing lines of the drapery and half-concealed limbs, with the broad high forehead and slightly gray hair, gave him the look of some antique picture, and made the whole person harmonize well with the room in which he sat.

The figure of Edward Langdale would have spoiled all, for it was full of youth,--I might almost call it youngness; but, as I have said before, his garments, though cut in what was then the modern fas.h.i.+on, were all of a sober color; and about the square brow, the delicately-chiselled nose, and the firm, determined mouth, there was an antique, if not a cla.s.sical, character.

With the cuira.s.s and the scarlet robe Richelieu seemed to have cast off the heavy cares and hard sternness of the day, and with the satin pantoufles to have put on the ease and relaxation of spirit which no man enjoyed more intensely than himself, if we may believe the stray admissions even of his enemies and calumniators. It is greatly to be regretted that Bois Robert did not write his history; for, although we might not have had a true picture of his many-sided character, we should have had another,--a more amiable and perhaps even a grander view of the man than any historian has given us, except by accident.

He had sent for Edward Langdale about half an hour before the time he had appointed. His orders for the night and the following morning had been given; his letters and despatches had been written or dictated; audiences had been afforded to several gentlemen on business; even the minute details of his household had been attended to; and he had sat down for that repose of the mind which can only be obtained by complete change of subject. The young Englishman had pleased him from the first, and, without knowing it, had flattered his vanity on its most sensitive point,--for Richelieu had his weaknesses as well as other men. Where, indeed, is there any one who can boast that he is without either the hair of the Hebrew giant or the heel of the Greek demiG.o.d? The cardinal knew, too,--had, indeed, very soon perceived,--that Edward's mind had been early imbued, in an irregular manner, perhaps, but to a deep degree, with that sort of graceful literature of which he was himself most fond, and that he was full of that refined and delicate taste on which he prided himself. He was the very person Richelieu sought for the social converse of hours which were unfilled by any weighty employment,--hours which he would not give to his military officers, because his plans were all formed, his resolutions were all taken, and he neither sought advice nor remonstrance; hours which he would not bestow upon his almoner nor upon his chaplain, for he did not wish to sleep just then; hours that he wished to pa.s.s very lightly indeed, as a wise man takes nothing very heavy for his supper before he goes to bed.

"Welcome, Monsieur Langdale," said the great minister, as Edward followed a servant into the room. "I have not had time to welcome you yet; for, in the first place, I did not recognise you, your beard having grown into somewhat leonine proportions. Since then I have not had time; for I have been engaged with what the people of this world call weighty business,--weighty enough, G.o.d wot, for those who have to handle it, and which somewhat tries the arm that has to wield it. But let us leave that and talk of other things. How have you fared? Poor Lord Montagu, your friend, could not keep his nose out of a rat-trap; and yet it was badly baited."

"He would not have gone near the wires if he had taken my advice," said Edward. "I ventured to guess, not at the designs of your Eminence, but at your probable conduct; and I warned Lord Montagu not to come too close to you."

"Perhaps I have let you see me too close, young gentleman," said Richelieu, with a good-humored smile. "And yet it is probable you served me when you did not intend it. There be some men, my young friend, and they very sensible men too, who will take no advice which comes from younger and less experienced persons; but yet things, as the Scripture says,--I speak with all reverence,--are often revealed to the poor and simple and are hidden from the wise and great. Now, I have a strong idea that you know more of Cardinal Richelieu, poor Bishop of Lucon, than that great diplomatist, Lord Montagu."

Edward shook his head. "I cannot pretend to do that," he said; "but my lord thought he might venture to pa.s.s over a quarter of a league of French territory, when some time before you had suffered him to roam for weeks over the whole of France."

"He had not got the papers then," said Richelieu, with a short laugh. "I did not want Montagu's skin: it was his letters and his papers that I arrested; and for that matter one quarter of a league is as good as a thousand miles. As for yourself, you have told me something new to-day.

I heard of you at Aix, where your hot spirit had brought some damage on your skin. You had been wounded, I mean to say,--by your own brother I believe they told me. Very foolish, Master Edward Langdale, to fight with one's own brother!"

"I did not fight with him, may it please your Eminence. My sword was never drawn."

"Ha!" said the cardinal. "That is well. But then I heard of your making a hole in another man's skin. How was that?"

"Why, I told the two men you sent after me, sir," replied Edward, frankly, "that I would shoot them if they kept d.o.g.g.i.ng me; and I always hold to my word. They not only kept d.o.g.g.i.ng me, but betrayed my lord into the hands of Monsieur de Bourbonne; and so I shot one of them. I am sorry to say I had not time to shoot the other, or probably your Eminence would not have heard so much of me as you have done."

"Oh, yes," replied Richelieu, calmly: "the man got well, and was here some two months ago. Besides, I never depend upon one informant. But every one may be deceived; and no one told me that the good count had got you in limbo all this time. You say he denied you the means of communicating with me. Did you show him your safe-conduct?"

"I did, sir," answered Edward; "and it had a very good effect, for it made him give me beef and wine instead of bread and water, with which he began my diet. I demanded also to be sent to your Eminence; but Monsieur de Bourbonne did not see fit to do so."

"Enough," said Richelieu; "enough." And, taking a sc.r.a.p of paper from the table, he wrote a few words thereon and laid it down again. "And now tell me all about your escape," he continued. "How did you get away from this giant of the castle?"

Edward narrated, with perfect gravity of manner, but with some quiet pleasantry of language, every particular of his escape from Coiffy; and Richelieu listened, evidently amused, but without any comment.

"Then you did not pa.s.s through Paris?" said the cardinal. "That is a pity: you would have seen some interesting things there. We are improving the drama greatly; and the Marais has a good troupe, they tell me. I am building a house, too, there, and I should like to have your opinion of it."