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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN SEP 2 2 1979 T ^fi^ — n.ino/^ CERISE A TALE OF THE LAST CENTUEY. G. J. WHYTE MELYILLE, ArTHOR OF 'TttE GLADIATORS," "DIGBY GRAND,'' "THE BROOKES OF BRTDLEMERE,'" ETC. IN THBEE VOLUMES. YOL. I. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1866. [The right of Ttandation is reserved.^ LONDON ; VRINTED BT WILLIAil CU)V.'K AND SONS, STAMFORD STKEET AND CHARING CROSS. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER I. PAOE THE DAISY CHAIN ...... 1 CHAPTER II. THE MONTMIRAILS ...... 15 CHAPTER III. MONSIEUR l'aBBE 29 CHAPTER IV. TANTARA ........ 44 CHAPTER V. THE USHER OF THE BLACK ROD .... 63 CHAPTER VI. Q A Jesuit's task ...... 76 CHAPTER VII. ST. siark's balsam ...... 90 CHAPTER Vin. THE GREY MUSKETEERS 106 CHAPTER IX. EUGENE BEAUDESIR . . . . . .129 IV CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. PAGE THE BOUDOIK OF MADAME . . . • .137 CHAPTER XI. WHAT THE SERPENT SAID . . . . .152 CHAPTER XII. OUT-MAN(EUVRED 171 CHAPTER XIIL THE MOTHER OP SATAN ..... 184 CHAPTER XIV. THE DEBONNAIRE 199 CHAPTER XY. THE MASKED BALL 217 CHAPTER XVI. RAISING THE DEVIL 238 CHAPTER XVII. A QUIET SUPPER 260 CHAPTER XVIII. BAITING THE TRAP 267 CHAPTER XIX. MATRE PULCHRA, FILIA PULCHRIOR . . 279 CHAPTER XX. A GENERAL RENDEZVOUS 296 CERISE: A TALE OF THE LAST CENTUEY. CHAPTER I. THE DAISY CHAIN. N the gardens of Versailles, as every- where else within the freezing influence of the Grand Monarque, nature herself seemed to accept the situation, and suc- cumbed inevitably under the chain of order and courtly etiquette. The grass grew, indeed, and the Great Waters played, but the former was rigorously limited to certain mathematical patches, and permitted only to attain an established length, while the latter threw their diamond showers against the sky, with the regular and oppressive VOL. I. IJ Z CERISE. monotony of clockwork. The avenues stretched away straight and stiff like rows of lately-built houses ; the shrubs stood hard and defiant as the white statues with which they -alternated, and the very sunshine off the blinding gravel glared and scorched as if its duty were but to mark a march of dazzling hours on square stone dials for the kings of France. Down in Touraine the woods were sleeping, hushed, and peaceful in the glowing summer's day, sighing, as it were, and stirring in their repose, while the breeze crept through their shadows, and quivered in their outskirts, ere it passed on to cool the peasant's brow, toiling con- tented in his clearing, with blue home-spun garb, white teeth, and honest sunburnt face. Far off in Normandy, sleek of skin and rich of colour, cows were ruminating knee-deep in pas- turage ; hedges were loaded with wild flowers, thickets dark with rank luxuriance of growth ; while fresh streams, over which the blue king- fisher flitted like a dragon-fly, rippled merrily down towards the sea, through teeming orchards, between waving corn-fields, past convent-walls grown over with woodbine and lilac and laburnum, under stately churches, rearing Gothic spires, deli- THE DAISY CHAIN. 3 cate as needlework, to heaven, and bringing with them a cool current of air, a sense of freedom and refreshment as they hurried past. Nay, even where the ripening sun beat fiercely on the vine- yards, terraced tier upon tier, to concentrate his rays — where Macon and Cote-d'Or were already tinged with the first faint blush of their coming vintage, even amidst the grape-rows so orderly planted and so carefully trained — buxom peasant- girls could gather posies of wild flowers for their raven hair, to make their black eyes sparkle with merrier glances, and their dusky cheeks mantle in rich carnation, type of southern blood dancing through their veins. But Versailles was not France, and at Ver- sailles nothing seemed free but the birds and the children. ' One of the alleys, commanded from the king's private apartments, was thickly crowded Avith loungers. Courtiers in silk stockings^ laced coats, and embroidered waistcoats reaching to their thighs, wearing diamond-hilts on their rapiers, and diamond-buckles in their shoes, could not move a step without apology for catching in the spreading skirts of magnificent ladies, magnificent, be it understood, in gorgeousness of apparel rather than b2 4 CERISE. in beauty of face or symmetry of figure. The former, indeed, whatever might be its natural advantages, was usually coated with paint and spotted with patches, while the latter was so dis- guised by voluminous robes, looped-up skirts, fall- ing laces, and such outworks and appendages, not to mention a superstructure of hair, ribbon, and other materials, towerinoj so high above the head as to place a short woman's face somewhere about the middle of her whole altitude, that it must have been difficult even for the maid who dressed her to identify, in one of these imposing triumphs of art, the slender and insignificant little frame- work on which the whole fabric had been raised. Devotion in woman is never more sublime than when sustaining the torture of dress. It was all artificial together. Not a word w^as spoken but might have been overheard with entire satisfaction by the unseen sovereign who set the whole pageant in motion. Not a gesture but was restrained by the consciousness of super- vision. Not a sentiment broached but had for its object the greater glorification of a little old man, feeble and worn out, eating iced fruit and sweet- meats in a closet opening from a formal, heavily- furnished, over-gilded saloon, that commanded the TFIE DAISY CHAIN. 5 broad gravel-walk on which the courtiers passed to and fro in a shifting, sparkling throng. If a compliment was paid by grinning gallant to sim- pering dame, it was offered and accepted with a sidelong glance from each towards the palace windows. If a countess whispered scandal to a duchess behind her fan, the grateful dish was sauced and flavoured for the master's palate, to whom it would be offered by the listener on the first opportunity. Marshals of a hundred fights tapped their jewelled snuff-boxes to inhale a pinch of the King's Mixture. Blooming beauties, whose every breath was fragrance, steeped their gossamer handkerchiefs in no other perfume than an extract from orange-flowers, called Boivquet du JRoi For Louis the Fourteenth, if he might believe his household. Time was to stand still, and the Seasons brought no change. " I am the same age as everybody else," said a courtier of seventy to His Majesty at sixty-five. "The rain of Marly does not wet one," urged another as an excuse for not coj/'ering his head in a shower while walking with the king. By such gross flattery was that sovereign to be duped, who believed himself a match for the whole of Europe in perceptive wis- dom and diplomatic finesse. 6 -= CERISE. But thougli powdered heads were bowing, and laced hats waving, and brocades ruffling in the great walk, swallaws skimmed and darted through the shades of a green alley behind the nearest fountain, and a little girl was sitting on the grass making daisy chains as busily as if there were no other interest, no other occupation at Court or in the world. Her flapping hat was thrown aside, and her head bent studiously over her work, so that the brown curls, silken and rich and thick, as a girl's curls should be, hid all of her face but a little soft white brow. Her dimpled arms and hands moved nimbly about her task, and a pair of sturdy, well- turned legs were stuck out straight before her, as if she had established herself in her present position with a resolution not to stir till she had completed the long snowy chain that festooned already for several yards across the turf. She had just glanced in extreme content at its progress, without raising her head, when a spaniel scoured by, followed at speed by a young gentleman in a page's dress, who, skimming the level with his toe in all the impetuous haste of boyhood, caught the great work round his ankles, and tore it into a dozen frag- ments as he passed. THE DAISY CHAIN. 7 The little girl lookeil up in consternation, having duly arranged her face for a howl ; bat she con- trolled her feelings, partly in surprise, partly in. bashfulness, partly perhaps in gratification at the very obvious approval with which the aggressor regarded that face, while, stopping short, he begged "Mademoiselle's pardon " with all the grand manner of the Court grafted on the natural politeness of France. It "was indeed a very pretty, and, more, a very loveable little face, with its large innocent blue eyes, its delicate peach-like cheeks, and a pair of curling ruddy lips, that, combined with her own infantine pronunciation of her baptismal name Therese, had already obtained for the child the familiar appellation of " Cerise." " Pardon, mademoiselle !" repeated the page, colouring boy-like to his temples — " Pardon ! T was running so fast : I was in such a hurry ; I am so awkward. I will pick you a hatful more daisies — and — and — I can get you a large slice of cake this evening when the king goes out of the little supper-room to the music-hall." "Mademoiselle" thus adjured, rose to her full stature of some forty inches, and spreading her short stiff skirt around her Avith great care, replied 8 CERISE. by a stately reverence that would have done credit to an empress. Notwithstanding her dignita, however, she cast a wistful look at the broken daisy chain, while her little red lips quivered as if a burst of tears was not far off. The boy was down on his knees in an instant, gathering handfuls of the simple flowers, and flinging them impetuously into his hat. It was obvious that this young gentleman possessed al- ready considerable energy of character, and judging from the flash of his bold dark eyes, a determined will of his own. His figure, though as yet un- formed, was lithe, erect, and active, while his noble bearing denoted self-reliance beyond his years, and a reckless, confident disposition, such as a true pedagogue would have longed and failed to check with the high hand of coercion. In a few minutes he had collected daisies enough to fill his laced hat to the rims, and flinging himself on the turf, began stringing them together with his strong, well-shaped, sunburnt fingers. The little girl, much consoled, had reseated herself as before. It was delightful to see the chain thus lengthening by fathoms at a time, and this new friend seemed to enter heart and soul into the important work. Active sympathy soon finds its way to THE DAISY CHAIJT. 9 a child's heart ; she nestled up to his side, and shaking her curls back, looked confidingly in his face. '' I like you," said the little woman, honestly, and without reserve. "You are good — you are polite — you make daisy chains as well as mamma. My name's Cerise. What's i/our name ?" . The page smiled, and with the smile his whole countenance grew handsome. In repose, his face was simply that of a well-looking youth enough, with a bold, saucy expression and hardy sunburnt features; but when he smiled, a physiognomist watching the change would have pronounced, " That boy must be like his mother, and his mother must have been beautiful !" "Cerise," repeated the lad. "What a pretty name ! Mine is not a pretty name. Boys don't have pretty names. My name's George — George Hamilton. You mustn't call me Hamilton. I am never called anything but George at Court. I'm not big enough to be a soldier yet, but I am page to Louis le Grand r The child opened her eyes very wide, and stared over her new friend's head at a gentleman who was listening attentively to their conversation with his hat in his hand, and an expression of 10 CERISE. considerable amusement pervading his old, worn, melancholy face. This gentleman had stolen round the corner of the alley, treading softly on the turf, and might have been watching the children for some minutes unperceived. He was a small, shrunken, but well made person, with a symmetrical leg and foot, the arched instep of the latter increased by the high heels of his diamond-buckled shoes. His dress in those days of splendour was plain almost to affectation ; it consisted of a full-skirted, light brown coat, ornamented only with a few gold buttons ; breeches of the same colour, and a red satin waistcoat embroidered at the edges, the whole suit relieved by the cordoyi bleu which was worn outside. The hat he dangled in his pale thin un- ringed hand was trimmed with Spanish point, and had a plume of white feathers. His face was long, and bore a solemn, saddened expression, the more remarkable for the rapidity with which, as at pre- sent, it succeeded a transient gleam of mirth. Notwithstanding all its advantages of dress and manner, notwithstanding jewelled buckles, and point lace, and full flowing periwig, the figure now standing over the two children, in sad contrast to their rich flow of youth and health, was that of a THE DAISY CHAIN. 11 worn out, decrepit old man, fast approaching, though not yet actually touching, the brink of his grave. The smile, however, came over his wrinkled face once more as the child looked shyly up, gathering her daisy chain distrustfully into her lap. Then he stooped to stroke her brown curls with his white wasted hand. "Your name is Therese," said he, gravely. " Mamma calls you Cerise, because you are such a round, ruddy little thing. Mamma is waiting in the painted saloon for the king's dinner. You may look at him eating it, if your honne takes you home past the square table in the middle window oiDposite the Great Fountain. She is to come for you in a quarter of an hour. Y^ou see I know all about it, little one." Cerise stared in utter consternation, but at the first sound of that voice the boy had started to his feet, blushing furiously, and catching up his hat to upset an avalanche of daisies in the action, stood swinging it in his hand, bolt upright like a soldier who springs to " attention " under the eye of his officer. The old gentleman's face had resumed its sad expression, but he drew up his feeble figure with dignity, and motioned the lad, who already nearly equalled him in height, a little further back. 12 George obeyed instinctively, and Cerise, still sitting on the grass, with the daisy chain in her lap, looked from one to the other in a state of utter bewilderment. " Don't be frightened, little one," continued the old gentleman, caressingly. " Come and play in these gardens whenever you like. Tell Le Notre to give you prettier flowers than these to make chains of, and when you get older, try to leave off turning the heads of my pages with your brown curls and cherry lips. As for you, sir," he added, facing round upon George, " I have seldom seen any of you so innocently employed. Take care of this pretty little girl till her honne comes to fetch her, and show them both the place from whence they can see the king at dinner. How does the king dine to-day, sir? and when?" he concluded, in a sharper and sterner tone. George was equal to the occasion. " There is no council to-day, sire," he answered, without hesitation. "His Majesty has ordered * The Little Service '* this morning, and will dine in seventeen minutes exactly, for I hear the Grey Musketeers already relieving guard in the Front Court." * Au petit couvert. THE DAISY CHAIN". 13 " Go, sir," exclaimed the old gentleman in great good humour. " You have learnt your duty better than I expected. I think I may trust you with the care of this pretty child. Few pages know anything of etiquette or the necessary rou- tine of a Com't. I am satisfied w^ith you. Do you understand ?" The boy's cheeks flushed once more, as he bowed low and stood silent, whilst the old gentleman passed on. The latter, however, had not gone half-a-dozen paces ere he turned back, and again addressed the yoimger of the children. " Do not forget, little one, to ask Le Notre for any flowers you want, and — and — if you think of it, tell mamma you met the honest bourgeois who owns these gardens, and that he knew you, and knew your name, and knew how old you were, and, I dare say little one, you are surprised the bourgeois should know so much !" That Cerise was surprised admitted of small doubt. She had scarcely found her voice ere the old gentleman turned out of the alley and dis- appeared. Then she looked at her companion, whose cheeks were still glowing with excitement. 14 CERISE. -^^ ~ '"-'•^'^ and presently burst into a peal of childish laughter. " What a funny old man !" cried Cerise, clap- ping her hands ; " and I am to have as many flowers as I like. What a funny old man !" "Hush, mademoiselle," answered the boy, gravely, as though his own dignity had received a hurt, " You must not speak like that. It is very rude. It is very wrong. If a man were to say such things it should cost him his life." Cerise opened her blue eyes wider than ever. '^ Wrong !" she repeated. " Hude ! What have I done ? who is it, then ?" " It is the King ! " answered the boy, proudly. "It is Louis le Grand T CHAPTER 11. THE MONTMIEAILS. ADIES first. Let us identify tlie pretty- little girl in the gardens of "Versailles, who answered to the name of Cerise, before we account for the presence of George Hamilton the page. It is a thing well understood — it is an arrange- ment universally conceded in France — that marriages should be contracted on principles of practical utility, rather than on the vague assump- tion of a romantic and unsuitable preference. It was therefore with tranquil acquiescence, and feel- ings perfectly under control, that Therese de La Fierte, daughter of a line of dukes, found herself taken out of a convent and wedded to a chivalrous veteran, who could scarcely stand long enough at 16 CERISE. the altar, upon his well-shaped but infirm old legs, to make the necessary responses for the conver- sion of the beautiful brunette over against him into Madame la Marquise de Montmirail. The bridegroom was indeed infinitely more agitated than the bride. He had conducted several campaigns ; he was a Marshal of France ; he had even been married before, to a remarkably plain person, who adored him ; he had undergone the necessary course of gallantry inflicted on men of his station at the Court, and in the society to which he belonged ; nevertheless, as he said him- self, he felt like a recruit in his first " affair," when he encountered the plunging fire of those black eyes, raking him front, and flanks, and centre, from under their bridal wreath and its drooping white lace veil. Therese had indeed, in right of her mother, large black eyes, as well as large West Indian possessions; and her light-haired rivals were good enough to attribute the rich radiance of her beauty to a stain of negro blood somewhere far back in that mother's race. Nevertheless, the old Marquis de Montmirail was really over head and ears in love with his brilliant bride. That he should have indulged her THE MONTMIRAILS. 17 in every whim and every folly was but reasonably to be expected ; but that she should always have shown for him the warm affection of a w^ife, tempered by the deference and respect of a daughter, is only another instance^ added to the long score on record, of woman's sympathy and right feeling when treated with gentleness and consideration. Not even at Court did Madame de Montmirail give a single opportunity to the thousand tongues of scandal during her husband's lifetime; she was indeed notorious for sustaining the elaborate homage and tedious admiration of majesty itself, without betraying, by the flutter of an eyelash, that ambition was roused or vanity gratified during the ordeal. It seemed that she cared but for three people in the world. The chivalrous old wreck who had married her, and who was soon compelled to move about in a wheeled chair ; the lovely little daughter born of their union, who inherited much of her mother's effective beauty with the traditional grace and delicate com- plexion of the handsome Montmirails, a combina- tion that had helped to distinguish her by the appropriate name of Cerise; and the youn- Abbe Malletort, a distant cousin of her own, as VOL. I C XS CERISE. remarkable for shrewd intellect and utter want of sentiment as for symmetry of figure and signal ugliness of face. The Grand Monarque was not famous for consideration towards the nobles of his household. Long after the Marquis de Mont- mirail had commenced taking exercise on his own account in a chair, the king commanded his attendance at a shooting party, kept him standing for three-quarters of an hour on damp grass, under heavy rain, and : dismissed him with a pompous compliment and an attack of gout driven upwards into the region of the stomach. The old courtier knew he had got his death blow. The old soldier faced it like an officer of France. He sent for Madame la Marquise, and complimented her on her coiffure before proceeding to business. He apologized for the pains that took off his attention at intervals, and bowed her out of the room, more than once, when the paroxysms became unbear- able. The Marquise never went further than the door, where she fell on her knees in the passage and wept. He explained clearly enough how he had bequeathed to her all that was left of his dilapidated estates. Then he sent his duty to the king, observing that " He had served his Majesty under fire often, but never under water till now. THE MONTMIRAILS. 19 He feared it was the last occasion of presenting his homage to his sovereign." And so, asking for Cerise, who w\as brought in by her weeping mother, died brave and tranquil, with his arm round his child and a gold snuff-box in his hand. Ladies cannot be expected to sorrow as incon- solably for a mate of seventy as for one of seven- and-twenty ; but the Marquise de Montmirail grieved very honestly, nevertheless, and mourned during the prescribed period, with perhaps even more circumspection than had she lost a lover, as well as, or instead of a husband. Wagers were laid at Court that she would marry again within a year ; yet the year passed by, and Madame had not so much as seen anybody but her child and its bonne. Even Malletort was excluded from her society; and that versatile ecclesiastic, though pluming himself on his knowledge of human nature, including its most inexplicable half, was obliged to confess he was at a loss. "Pester he would observe, taking a pinch of snuff, and flicking the particles delicately off his ruffles. ^'Was not the sphinx a woman? At least down to the waist. So, I perceive, is the Marquise. What would you have ? There is a C2 20 CERISE. clue to every labyrinth, but it is not always wortb while to puzzle it out." After a time, when the established period for seclusion had expired, the widow, more beautiful than ever, made her appearance once more at Court. That she loved admiration there could not now be the slightest doubt, and the self-denial became at length apparent with which she had declined it during her husband's lifetime, that she might not wring his kind old heart. So, in all societies — at balls, at promenades, at concerts — • at solemn attendances on the king, at tedious receptions of princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, sons and daughters of majesty, legiti- mate or otherwise — she accepted homage with avidity, and returned compliment for compliment, and gallantry for gallantry, with a coquetry per-' fectly irresistible. But this was all ; the first step was fatal taken by an admirer across that scarce perceptible boundary which divides the gold and silver grounds, the gaudy flower beds of flattery from the sweet wild violet banks of love. The first tremble of interest in his voice, the first quiver of diffidence in his glance, was the signal for dismissal. ^ Madame de Montmirail knew neither pity nor THE MONTMIRAILS. 21 remorse. She had the softest eyes, the smoothest skin, the sweetest voice in the bounds of France, but her heart was declared by all to be harder than the very diamonds that became her so well. Nor, though she seldom missed a chance of secur- ing smiles and compliments, did she seem inclined to afford opportunity for advances of a more positive kind. Cerise was usually in her arms, or on her lap ; and suitors of ever}^ time must have been constrained to admit that there is no duenna like a daughter. Besides, the child's beauty was of a nature so different from her mother's, that the most accomplished coxcomb found it difficult to word his admiration of mademoiselle so as to infer a yet stronger approval of madame herself. The slightest blunder, too, was as surely made public as it was quickly detected. The Marquise never denied herself or her friends an opportunity for a laugh, and her sarcasm was appropriate as pitiless ; so to become a declared admirer of Madame de Montmirail required a good deal of that courage which is best conveyed by the word sang-froid. And even for those reckless spirits, who neither feared the mother's wit nor respected the daughter's presence, there was yet another dif- ficulty to encounter, in the person of the child's 22 CERISE. hmine, a middle-aged quadroon to whom Cerise was ardently attached, and who never left her mistress's side when not employed in dressing or undressing her charge. This faithful retainer, originally a slave on the La Fierte estates, had passed — with lands, goods, and chattels — into the possession of the Marquise, after the death of her mother the duchess — who was said to have a black drop of blood in her veins — and immediately transferred her fidelity and affections to her present owner. She was a large, strong woman, with the remains of great beauty. Her age might be anything under fifty ; and she was known at Court as "The Mother of Satan," a title she accepted with considerable gratification, and much preferred to the sweeter sounding name of Celandine, by which she was called on the West Indian estate and in the family of her proprietors. Notwithstanding her good looks, there was something about Celandine that made her an object of dread to her fellow servants, whether slaves or free. The woman's manner was scowling and suspicious ; she suffered from long fits of despondency ; she muttered and gesticulated to herself; she walked about during the night, THE mONTMirvAILS. 23 when the rest of the household were in bed. Altogether she gave occasion, by her behaviour, to those detractors who affirmed that, whether his mother or not, there was no doubt she was a faithful worshipper of Satan. In the island whence she came, and among the kindred people who had brought with them from Africa their native barbarism and superstitions, the dark rites of Obi were still sedulously cultivated, as the magic power of its votaries was implicitly believed. The three-fourths of white blood in the veins of Celandine had not prevented her, so they said, from becoming a priestess of that foul order ; and the price paid for her impious exaltation was differently estimated, according to the colour of those who discussed the revolting and mysterious question, even amongst the French domestics of Madame de Montmirail, and in so practical an age as the beginning of the eighteenth century. The Quadroon, finding herself shunned by her equals, was drawn all the closer to her mis- tress and her little charge. Such was the woman who pushed her way un- daunted through the crowd of courtiers now thronging the Grand Alley at Versailles, eliciting no small share of attention by the gorgeousness 24 , CERISE. of her costume, the scarlet shawl she had bound like a turban round her head, the profusion of gold ornaments that serpentined about her neck and arms, together with the glaring pattern of white and orange conspicuous on her dress, till she reached the secluded corner where Cerise was sitting with her broken daisy chain and her attendant page, as she had been left by the king. The Quadroon's whole countenance brightened into beauty when she approached her darling, and the child bounding up to meet her, ran into her arms with a cry of delight that showed their attach- ment was mutual. George, extremely proud of his commission, volunteered to guide them to the spot whence, as directed, they could witness the progress of the king's dinner, and the strangely matched trio proceeded through the now decreas- ing crowd, to all appearance perfectly satisfied with each other. They had already taken up their position opposite the window which his majesty had in- dicated, and were in full enjoyment of the thrilling spectacle he had promised them, namely, a little old man in a wig, served by half-a-dozen servants at once, and eating to repletion, when Cerise, who clung to Celandine's hand, hid her face in the THE MONTMIRAILS. 25 bonnes go^vn to avoid the gaze of two gentlemen, who were staring at her with every mark of ap- proval. " What is it, my cherished one ?" said the Quadroon, in tender accents. "Who dares frighten my darling ?" But the fierce voice changed into coaxing tones when the bonne re- cognised a familiar face in one of her charge's unwelcome admirers. " Why, it's Monsieur I'Abbe ! Surely you know Monsieur I'Abbe ! Come, be a good child, then ; make Monsieur I'Abbe a reverence, and wish him good-day !" But Cerise persistently declined any friendly overtures whatever to Monsieur I'Abbe, hanging her head and turning her toes in most restively ; so the three passed on to witness the process of eating as performed by Louis le Grand ; and Monsieur I'Abb^, crumpling his extremely plain* features into a sneer, observed to his companion_, ''It is droll enough, Florian, children never take to me, though I make my way as well as another with grown-up people. They seem to mistrust me from the first. Can it be because I am so very ugly ?" The other smiled deprecatingly. " Good looks," said he, " have nothing to do with it. Children 26 CERISE. are like their elders. They hate intellect, because they fear it. Oh, Malletort! had I the beauty of Absalom, I would give it all willingly to possess your opportunities and your powers of using them !" " Thank you," replied Malletort, looking gratified in spite of himself at the compliment, but perhaps envying in his secret heart the outward advantages which his friend seemed so little to appreciate. Florian de St. Croix, just on the verge of man- hood, was as handsome a youth as might be met with amongst the thousand candidates for the priesthood, of whom he was one of the most sanguine and enthusiastic. Not even the extreme plainness of his dress, appropriate to the sacred calling he was about to enter — not even his close- cut hair and pallid hue, result of deep thought and severe application — could diminish the^beauty of his flashing eyes, his clear-cut features, and high, intellectual forehead, that denoted ideality and self-sacrifice as surely as the sweet womanly mouth betrayed infirmity of purpose and fatal subser- vience to the affections. His frame, though slender, was extremely wiry and muscular, cast, too, in the mould of an Apollo. No wonder there was a shadow of something like jealousy on his com- THE MONTMIRAILS. 27 panion's shrewd, ugly face, while he regarded one so superior in external advantages to himself. The Abbe Malletort was singular in this respect. He possessed the rare faculty of appreciating events and individuals at their real value. He boasted that he had no prejudices, and especially prided himself on the accuracy with which he predicted the actions of his fellow creatures by the judgment he had formed of their characters. He made no allowance for failure, as he gave no credit to success. Men, with him, were capable or useless only as they conquered or yielded in the great struggle of life. Systems proved good or bad simply according to their results. The Abbe pro- fessed to have no partialities, no feelings, no veneration, and no affections. He had entered the Church as a mere matter of calculation and convenience. Its prizes, like those of the army, were open to intellect and courage. If the priest's outward conduct demanded more of moderation and self-restraint, on the other hand the fasts and vigils of Rome were less easily enforced than the half rations of a march or the night watches of an outpost. Moreover, the tonsure in those days might be clipped (not close enough to draw attention) from 28 CERISE. '•-^-'^-■^. ^v./. a skull that roofed the teeming brain of a politician ; and, indeed, the Church of Rome not only permitted but encouraged the assumption of secular power by her votaries ; so that the most important and lucrative posts of the empire were as open to Abbe and Cardinal, as to a Colonel of the Body-guard or a Marshal of France ; while the soldier's training fitted him far less than the priest's to countermine the subtleties of diplomacy, or unravel the intricacies of finance. There remained, then, but the vow of celibacy to swallow, and, in truth, the vow of celibacy suited Malletort admirably well. Notwithstanding his ugly face, he was an especial favourite with women, on whom his ready wit, his polished manners, and, above all, his imperturbable coolness, made a pleasing impression. They liked him none the less that his reputed hardness of heart and injustice towards themselves were proverbial. While, as for his plain features, why, to quote the words of Ninon de I'Enclos, who ought to have been a good judge in such matters, " A man's want of beauty is of small account, if he be not deficient in other amiable qualities ; for there is no conquest without the affections, and what mole can be so blind as a woman in love ?" CHAPTER III. MONSIEUR l'ABB^. HE crowd had passed on to witness the king's dinner, now in full progress, and the two soberly clad friends found themselves the only occupants of the gardens. Side by side they took their seats on a bench under a row of lime-trees, and continued the conversation which had originated in little Cerise and her childish beauty. " It is a face as God made it," said Florian, his boyish features lighting up with enthusiasm. " Children are surely nearer heaven than ourselves. "What a pity to think that they should grow into the painted, patched, powdered hypocrites of whom so many have passed by us even now." ** Beautifully dressed, however," answered his ♦30 CERISE. worldly senior, placidly indifferent, as usual, to all that did not concern his own immediate comfort. " If there were no women, Florian, there would be no children, I conclude. Both seem necessary evils. You, I observe, prefer the lesser. As for being near heaven, that, I imagine, is a mere question of altitude. The Musketeer over there is at least a couple of inches nearer it than either of us. What matter ? It will make little differ- ence eventually to any one of the three." Florian looked as if he did not understand. Indeed, the Abbe's manner preserved a puzzling uncertainty between jest and earnest. He took a pinch of snuff, too, with the air of a man who had thoroughly exhausted the question. But his com- panion, still harping on the beauty of the child, continued their conversation. " Is she not a cousin of yours, this little angel ? I know you are akin to that beautiful Marquise, her mother. Oh, Malletort ! what advantages you possess, and how unconscious you seem of them r "Advantages !" repeated the Abbe, musing. " Well, perhaps you are right. Handsome women are the Court-cards of the game, if a man knows how to play them. It is a grand game, too, and MONSIEUR l'ABB]6. 31 the stakes are well worth winning. Yet I some- times think if I had foreseen in time how entirely you must devote body and soul to play it, I might never have sat down at all. I could almost envy a boy like that merry page who passed us with my baby cousin ; a boy, whose only thought or care is to spend the time gaily now, and wear a sword as soon as his beard is grown here- after." " The boy will carry a sword fairly enough," answered Florian ; *' for he looks like a little adventurer already. Who is he ? I have remarked him amongst the others for a certain bold bearing, that experience and sorrow alone will, I fear, be able to tame." " It will take a good deal of both to tame any of that family," answered Malletort; "and this young game-chick will no doubt prove himself of the same feather as the rest of the brood when his spurs are grown. He's a Hamilton, Florian ; a Hamilton from the other side of the water, with a cross of the wildest blood in France or Europe in his veins. You believe the old monk- ish chronicles — I don't. They will tell you that boy's direct ancestor went up the breach at Acre in front of Coeur de Lion — an Englishman of the 32 CERISE. true pig-headed type, who had sense enough; how- ever, to hate his vassal ever after for being a bigger fool than himself. -On the mother's side he comes of a race that can boast all its sons brave, and its daughters — well, its daughters — very much the same as other people's daughters. The result of so much fighting and gasconading being, simply, that the elder branch of the family is sadly im- poverished, while the younger is irretrievably ruined." " And this lad ?" asked Florian, interested in the boy, perhaps because the page's character was in some respects so completely the reverse of his own. " Is of the younger branch," continued Malletort, "and given over body and. soul to the cause of this miserable family, whose head died, not half-a- dozen years ago, under the shadow of our grand and gracious monarch, a victim to prejudice and indigestion. Well, these younger Hamiltons have always made it their boast that they grudged neither blood nor treasure for the Stuarts ; and the Stuarts, I need hardly tell you Florian, for you read your breviary, requited them as men must expect to" be requited who put their trust in princes, particularly of that dynasty. The elder MONSIEUR l'ABB]^. 33 branch wisely took the oaths of allegiance, for the ingratitude of a reigning house is less hopeless than that of a dethroned family. I believe any one of them would be glad to accept office under the gracious and extremely tmgraceful lady who fills the British throne, established, as I understand she is, on so broad a basis, there is but little room for a consort. They are scarce likely to obtain their wish. The younger branch would scout the idea, enveloped, one and all, in an atmosphere of prejudice truly insular, which ignorant people call loyalty. This boy's great-grandfather died in a battle fought by Charles I., at a place with an unpronounceable name, in the province of York- shires. His grandfather was shot by a platoon of musketeers in his own courtyard, under an order signed by the judicious Cromwell ; and his father was drowned here, in the channel, carrying de- spatches for his king, as he persisted in call- ing him, under the respectable disguise of a smuggler. I believe this boy was with him at the time. I know when first he came to Court, people pretended that, although so young, he was an accomplished sailor; and, I remember, his hands were hard and dirty, and he always seemed to smell of tar. I will VOL. I. D 34 CERISE. own tliat now, for a page, he is clean, polished, and well dressed." Florian's dark eyes kindled. '• You interest me," said he. " I love to hear of loyalty. It is the reflection of religion upon earth." " Precisely," replied the other. " A shadow of the unsubstantial. Well, all his line are loyal enough, and I doubt not the boy has been brought up to believe that in the world there are men, women, and Stuarts. The fact of his being page here, I confess puzzles me. Lord Stair protested against it, I know, but the king would not listen, and used iiis OAvn wise discretion, consenting, however, that the lad should drop his family name and be called simply — George. So George fulfils the destiny of a page, whatever that may be. As gaudy, as troublesome, and to all appearance, as useless an item in creation as the dragon-fly." " And has the child no relations ?" asked Florian, *' no friends, nobody to whom he belongs ? What a position ; what a fate ; what a cruel isolation !" " He is indeed in tiiat enviable situation, which I cannot agree with you in thinking merits one grain of pity. You and I, Floria-n, with our education and in our career, should, of all people, best appreciate the advantages of perfect freedom MONSIEUR LABBE. oO from those trammels which old -women of both sexes call the domestic affections." " So young, so hopeful, so spirited," continued Florian, speaking rather to himself than his informant ; '• and to have no mother !" "But he had a mother, I tell you," replied Malletort, '* only she died of a broken heart, af3 women always do when a little energy is required to repair their broken fortunes. Our mother, my son," he proceeded, still in the same half-mocking, half-impressive tone, " our mother is the Church. She provides for us carefully during life, and when we die in her embrace, at least affords us decent burial and prayers for our welfare hereafter. I tell you, Florian, she is the most thoughtful as she is the most indulgent of mothers. She offers us opportunity for distinction, or allows us shelter and repose, according as our ambition soars to heaven, or limits itself, as I confess mine does, to the affairs of earth. Who shall be found exalted above their kind in the next world ? (I speak as I am taught) — Priests. Who fill the high places in this ? (I speak as I learn) — Priests. The king's Avisest councillors, his ablest financiers, are raen of the sober garment and the shaven crown; nay, judging from the simplicity of his habits and the d2 36 CERISE. austerity of his demeanour, I cannot but think that the bravest marshal in our armies is only a priest in dissfuise/' '' There are but two careers worthy of a life- sacrifice," observed Florian, his countenance glow- ing with enthusiasm, " and glory is the aim of each. But who would compare the soldier of France with the soldier of Rome ? — the banner of the Bourbon with the cross of Calvary? How much less noble is it to serve earth than heaven !^' Malletort looked in his young friend's face as if he thought such exalted sentiments could not possibly be real, and shrewdly suspected him of covert sarcasm or jest; but Florian's open brow admitted of no misconstruction, and the elder man's features gradually relaxed into the quiet expression of amusement, not devoid of pity, v/ith which a professor in the swimmer's art, for in- stance, watches the floundering struggles of a neophyte. " You are right," said he, calmly, and after a pause ; '' ours is incomparably the better profession of the two, and the safer. We risk less, no doubt, and gain more. Persecution, in civilized countries at least, is happily all the other way. It is ex- tremely profitable to be saints, and there is no call MONSIEUR l'ABB]^. 37 for US to become martyrs. I think, Florian, we have every reason to be satisfied with our bargain. Why, the very ties we sever, the earthly affections we resign, are, to my mind, but so many more enforced advantages, for which we cannot be too thankful" " There would be no merit were there no effort," answered the other ; "no self-denial were there nothing to give up ; but with us it is different. I am proud to think we do resign, and cheerfully, all that gives warmth and colouring to the hard outlines of an earthly life. Is it nothing to forego the triumphs of the camp — the bright pageantry, the graceful luxuries of the Court? Is it nothing to place yourself at once above and outside the j3ale of those sympathies which form the very existence of your fellow men ? 3Iore than all, is it nothing, Malletort" — the young man hesitated, blushed and cast his eyes down — "is it nothing to trample out of your heart, passions, affections — call them what you will — that seem the very main-spring of your being ? Is it nothino- to deny yourself at once and for ever the .solace of woman's companionship and the rapture of woman's love ?" " You declaim well," replied Malletort, not 38 CERISE. affecting to conceal that he was amused, " and your arguments would have even more weight were it not that you are so palpably in earnest. This of itself infers error. You will observe, my dear Florian, as a general rule, that the reasoner's convictions are strong in direct proportion to the weakness of his arguments. But let us go a little deeper into this question of celibacy. Let us strip it of its conventional treatment, its supposed injustice, its apparent romance. To what does it amount? That a priest must not marry — good. I repeat, so much the better for the priest. What is marriage in the abstract ? — The union of persons ft)r the continuation of the species in separate and distinct races. What is it in the ideal? — The union of souls by an unphilosophical and impossible fusion of identity, which happily the personality of every human being forbids to exist. What is it in reality? — A fetter of oppressive weight and inconvenient fabric, only rendered supportable from the deadening influence of habit, combined with its general adoption by mankind. Look around you into families and observe for yourself how it Avorks. The woman has discovered all her husband's evil qualities, of which she does not fail to remind him ; and were she a reflective being. ^lOxsiEUR l'abbe. 39 which admits of argument, would wonder hourly how she could ever have endured such a mass of imperfections. The man bows his head and shrugs his shoulders, in callous indifference, scorning to analyze the disagreeable question, but clear only of one thing — that if he Avere free, no consideration would induce him to place his neck again beneath the same yoke. Another — perhaps ! The same — never ! Both have discovered a dissimilarity in tastes, habits, and opinions, so remarkable, that it seems scarcely possible it should be fortuitous. To neither does it occur that each was once the very reflection of the other, in thought, word, and deed, and that a blessing pronounced by a priest — a fevv years, nay a few months of unrestricted com- panionship — have wrought the miraculous change. Sometimes there are quarrels, scenes, teai^, re- proaches, recriminations. More often, coldness, self-restraint, inward scorn, and the forbearance of a repressed disgust. Then is the separation most complete of all. Their bodies preserve to each other the outward forms of an armed and enforced neutrality, but their souls are so far asunder, that perhaps, of all in the universe, this pair alone could, under no circumstances, come together again." 40 CERISE. *^ Sacrilege !" broke in Florian, indignantly. " What you say is sacrilege against our very nature ! You speak of marriage as if it must be the grave of Love. But at least Love has lived. At least the angel has descended and been seen of men, even though he touched the mountain only to spring upward on his flight again towards the skies. He who has really loved, happily or imhappily, married or alone, is for that love ever after a wiser, a nobler, and a better man." "Not if he should happen to love a French- woman," observed the other, taking a pinch of snuff. *' Thus much I wall not scruple to say for my countrywomen — their coquetries are enough to drive an honest man mad. With regard to less civilized nations (mind, I speak not from personal experience so much as observation of my kind), I admit that for a time, at least, the delu- sion may possess a charm, though the loss must in all cases far exceed the gain. S.et your affections on a German, for instance, and observe carefully, for the experiment is curious, if a dinner with the idol does not so disgust you that not a remnant of worship is left to be swept away by supper time. A Pole is simply a beautiful barbarian, with more clothing but less manner than an Indian squaw. ivroxsiEUR l'abbi^. 41 An Italian deafens you with her shrill voice, pokes 3rour eyes out with her fingers, and betrays your inmost secrets to her director, if indeed she does not prefer him to you in every respect. An Englishwoman, handsome, blonde, silent, and retir- ing, keeps you months in uncertainty while you woo, and when won, believes she has a right to possess you body and soul, and becomes, from a sheer sentiment of appropriation, the most exact- incr of wives and the most disoblisfino; of mis- tresses. To make love to a Spaniard is a delicate phrase for paying court to a tigress. Beautiful, fierce, impulsive — with one leap she is in your arms — and then for a word, a look, she will stab you, herself, a rival, perhaps all three, without hesitation or remorse. Caramha I she considers it a compliment no doubt ! Yet I tell you, Florian, were I willing to submit to such weaknesses, I had rather love any one of these, or all of them at once for that matter, than attach myself to a French- woman." Florian opened his dark eyes wide. This was new crround to the voun^ student. These were questions more interesting than the principles of Aristotle or the experiences of the Saints. He was penetrated, too, with that strange admiration 42 CERISE. ivhich the young entertain for familiarity with evil in their elders. The other scanned him with half- pitying interest, broke a branch from the fragrant lime tree under which ,they sat, and proceeded to elucidate his theory. " With all other women," said Malletort, " you have indeed a thousand rivals to outdo ; still you know their numbers, and can calculate their resources ; but with the Frenchwoman, in addition to these, yoa have yet another, who changes and multiplies himself day by day, who assumes a thousand Protean forms, and against whom you cannot employ the most efficient weapons — such as vanity, gaiety, and love of dissipation, by which the others are to be subdued. This enemy is dress — King Chiffon is the absolute monarch of these realms ; your mistress is gay when you are sad ; sarcastic when you are plaintive ; reserved when you are adventurous. All this is a matter of course, but as Monsieur Vauban. told the king the other day in these gardens, * no fortress is stronger than its weakest place,' and every citadel may be carried by a coup de main, or reduced by the slower process of blockade. But here you have a stronghold within a stronghold ; a reserve that can neither be tampered with in secret nor MONSIEUR L'AECE. 43 attacked openly. In brief, a rival who owns tliis incalculable advantage, that in all situations and under all circumstances he occupies the first place in your mistress's thoughts. Bah 1" concluded the Abbe, throwing from him the branch which, he had stripped of leaves and blossoms, with a gesture that seemed thus to dismiss the subject once for all; "put a Frenchwoman into what position you will, her sympathies indeed may be with her lover, but her first consideration is for her dress !" As the Abbe spoke, he observed a group of four persons passing the front of the palace, under the windows of the king's dining-saloon. It con- sisted of little Cerise, her mother. Celandine, and the page. They were laughing and chatting gaily, George apparently taking his leave of the other three. Florian observed a shadow cross the Abbe's face, that disappeared however from those obedient features quickly as it came ; and at the same moment the Marquise passed her hand caressingly over the boy's dark curls, while he bent low before her, and seemed to do homage to her beauty in the act of bidding her a courteous farewell. CHAPTER IV. TANTARA ! EAR by year a certain stag had been growing fatter and fatter in the deep glades and quiet woodlands that sur- rounded Fontainebleau. He was but a pricket when Cerise made her daisy chain in the gardens of Versailles, but each succeeding summer he had rubbed the velvet off another point on his antlers, and in all the king's chase was no finer head than he carried the day he was to .die. Brow, bay, and tray, twelve in all, with three in a cup, at the summits, had been the result of some half-score years passed in the security and shelter >of a royal forest ; nor was the lapse of time which had thus brought head and haunch to perfection Y^'ithout its effect upon those for whose pastime the noble beast must fall. TANTARA ! 45 Imagine, then, a glowing afternoon, the second week in August : not a cloud in the sky, a sun ahnost tropical in its power, but a clear pure air that fanned the brow wherever the forest opened into glades, and filled the broad nostrils of a dozen large, deep-chested, rich-coloured stag -hounds, snuffing and questing busily down a track of arid grass that seemed to have checked their steady well-considered unrelenting chase, and brought their wondrous instinct to a fault. One rider alone watched their efforts with a preoccupied air, yet with the ready glance of an old sportsman. He had apparently reached his point of obser- vation before the hounds themselves, and far in advance of the rest of the chase. His close- fitting blue riding-coat, trimmed with gold -lace and turned back with scarlet facings, called a ^'just au corps,'' denoted that he was a courtier; but the keen ej^e, the erect figure, the stateliness, even stiffness of his bearing, smacked of the old soldier, more, the old soldier of France, perhaps the most professional veteran in the world. He w^as not so engrossed with his own thoughts, however, but that his eye gleamed with pleasure when a tan-coloured sage, intent on business, threw a square sagacious head into the air, pro- 46 CERISE. claiming in full deep notes his discovery of tlie line, and solemn conviction tliat he was right. The horseman swore a good round garrison oath, and cheered the hound lustilj. A cry of tuneful tongues pealed out to swell the harmony. A burst of music from a distant glade announced that the stag had passed yet farther on. A couple of royal foresters, in blue and red, arrived on foot, breathless, with fresh hounds struggling in the leash; and a lady on a Spanish barb, attended by a plainly dressed ecclesiastic, came cantering down the glade, to rein up at the veteran's side with a smile of OTeetins^ on her face. "Well met, Monsieur le Prince, once more," said she, flashing a look from her dark eyes, under which, old as he was, he lowered his own. " Ai- rways the same — always successful. In the court — in the camp — in the ball-room — in the field — if you seek the Prince-Marshal, look in the most for- ward post, and you will find him." She owed him some reparation for having driven him from her side in a fit of ill-humour half an hour before, and this was her way of making amends. " I have won posts in my time, madame," said the old soldier, an expression of displeasure settling TANTAKA ! 47 once more on his high worn features, ''and held them, too, without dishonour. It is perhaps no disgrace to be worsted by a woman, but it is humihating and unjoleasant all the same." " Dishonour and disgrace are words that can never be coupled with the name of Chateau- Guerrand," returned the lady, smiling s^Yeetly in his face, a process that appeared to mollify him considerably. Then she completed his subjection by caressing her horse with one hand, while she reined him in so sharply with the other, that he rose on his hind -legs as if to rear straight on end. "You are a hard mistress, madame," said the gentleman, looking at the beautiful barb chafing and curveting to its bit. "It is only to show I am mistress," she an- swered in a low voice, that seemed to finish the business, for turning to her attendant cavalier, who had remained discreetly in tl^ back-ground, she signed to him that he might come up and break the Ute-a-tete, while she added gaily — " I am as fond of hunting as you are, Prince. Hark ! The stag is still forward. Our poor horses are dying with impatience. Let us gallop on together." The Marquise de Montmirail had considerably 48 CERISE. altered in character since she tended the infirmi- ties of her poor old husband, or sat in widow's garments with her pretty child on her knee. A few years at the Court of France had brought to the surface all the evil of her character, and seemed to have stifled in her everything that was good. She had lost the advantage of her daughter's com- panionship, for Cerise (and in this perhaps the Marquise was right) had been removed to a dis- tance from the Court and capital to bloom into womanhood in the healthier atmosphere of a pro- vincial convent. She missed her darling sadly, no doubt, and for the first year or two contented her- self with the gaieties and distractions common to her companions. She encouraged no lover, pro- perly so called, and had seldom fewer than three admirers at a time. Nor had the king of late taken special notice of her ; so she was only hated by the other Court ladies with the due hatred to which she was entitled from her wealth, beauty, and attractions. After a while, however, she put in for universal dominion, and then of course the outcry raised against her was loud and long-sustained. She heeded it little ; nay, she seemed to like it, and bandied sarcasms with her own sex as joyously, to TANTARA ! 49 till appearance, as she exchanged compliments with the other. She never faltered. She never committed her- .self. She stood on the brink, and never turned giddy, nor lost her presence of mind. What she required, it seemed, what she could not live with- out, was influence, more or less, but the stronger the better, over every male creature that crossed her path. When this was gained, she had done with them, unless they were celebrities, or sufficiently friyolous to be as variable as lierself. In either of such cases she took considerable pains to secure the empire she had won. What she liked best was to eUcit an offer of marriage. She was supposed to have refused more men, and of more different ranks, than any woman in France. For bachelor or widower who came within the sphere of her influence there was no escape. Sooner or later he must blunder into the net, and the longer he fought the more complete and humiliating was his eventual defeat. " Nothing,", said the Abbe Malle- tort, " nothing but the certainty of the king's un- acknowledo^ed marriage to Madame de Maintenon prevented his cousin from obtaining and refusing an offer of the crown of France." She was beautiful too, no doubt, which made it VOL. I. E 50 CERISE. SO much worse — beautiful both with the beauty of the intellect and the senses. Not strictly by any rules of art, but from grace of outline, richness of colouring, and glowing radiance of health. She had all the ways, too, of acknowledged beauty ; and even people who did not care for her were obliged to admit she possessed that strange, indefinite, in- explicable charm which every man finds in the woman he loves. The poor Prince-Marshal ! Hector de Chateau- Guerrand had undergone the baptism of fire at sixteen, had fought his duels, drank his Burgundy, and lost an estate at lansquenet in a night before he was twenty. Since then he had commanded the Musketeers of the Guard — Divisions of the great king's troops — more than once a French army in the field. It was hard to be a woman's puppet at sixty — with Avrinkles and rheumatism, and fail- ing health, with every pleasure palling, and every pain enhanced. Well, as he said himself, " le coeur ne vieillii jamais T There is no fool like an old one. The Prince-Marshal, for that was the title by which he was best known, had never been ardently attached to anybody but himself till now. We need not envy him his condition. " Let us gallop on together," said the Marquise ; TANTARA ! 51 but ere they could pat their horses in motion a yeoman- pricker, armed to the teeth, rode rapidly by, and they waited until his Majesty should have passed. Their patience was not tried for long. While a fresh burst of horns announced another view of the quarry farther on, the King's little caVeclie turned the corner of the alley at speed, and was pulled up with considerable dexterit}^ that its occupant might listen for a moment to determine on his future course. Louis sat by himself in a light, narrow carriage, constructed to hold but one person. He was drawn by four cream-coloured horses, small^ ^well-bred, and active. A child of some ten years of age acted postilion to the leaders, but the king's own hand drove the joair at wheel, and guided them with all the skill and address of his early manhood. Nevertheless, he looked very old and feeble when he returned the obeisance of the Prince- Marshal and his fair companion. Always punc- tiliously polite, Louis lifted his hat to salute the Marquise, but his chin soon sank back on his chest, and the momentary gleam died out in his dull and weary eyes. It was obvious his health was failing day by day; he was now nearly seventy-seven years of 52 CERISE. age, and the end could not be far off. As he passed on, an armed escort followed at a few paces distance. It was headed by a young officer of the Gre}^ Musketeers, who saluted the Prince-Marshal with considerable deference, and catching the eye of the Marquise^ half halted his horse, and. then, as if thinking better of it, urged him on again, the colour rising visibly in his brown handsome face. The phenomenon of a musketeer blushing was not likely to be lost on so keen an observer as Madame de Montmirail, particularly when the musketeer was young, handsome, and an excellent horseman. " Who is that on guard ?" said she, carelessly of course, because she really wanted to know. "A captain of the Grey Musketeers evidently. And yet I do not remember to have seen his face at Court before." Now it was not to be expected that a Marshal of France should show interest, at. a moment's notice, in so inferior an official as a mere captain of musketeers, more particularly when riding with a * ladye-love ' nearly thirty years younger than him- self, and of an age far more suitable to the good- looking gentleman about whom she made inquiries. Nevertheless, the Prince had no objection to enter TANTAUA ! 53 ou any subject redounding to his own glorification, particularly in war, and it so happened that the officer in question had served as his aide-de-camp in an affair that won him a Marshal's baton ; so he reduced his horse's pace forthwith, and plunged into the tempting subject. " A fine young man, madame," said the Prince- Marshal, like a generous old soldier as he was, *' and a promising officer as ever I had the training of He was with me while a mere cadet in that business when I effected my junction with Ven- dome at Villa- Yiciosa, and I sent him with de- spatches from Brighuega right through Starem- berg's uhlans, who ought to have cut him into mince- meat. Even Vendome thanked him in person, and told me himself I must ap^Dly for the brave child's promotion." Like other ladies, the ]\Iarquise suffered her attention to wander considerably from these campaigning reminiscences. She roused her- self, however, enough to answer, not very per- tinently — '' What an odious man the Duke is, and how hideous! Generally drunk, besides, and always disagreeable !" The Prince- ^Marshal looked a little put out, but 54 CERISE. lie did not for this allow himself to be diverted from his subject. "A YQxj fortunate soldier, madame," he replied, pompously ; " perhaps more fortunate than really deserving. Nevertheless, in war as in love, merit is of less importance than success. His Majesty thought well to place the Duke over the head of officers whose experience was greater, and their services more distinguished. It is not for me to offer an opinion. I serve France, madame, and ?/0M," he added, with a smile, not too unguarded because some of his teeth were gone : " I am proud to offer my homage to both." The Marquise moved her horse impatiently. The subject did not seem to amuse her, but the Prince-Marshal had got on a favourite theme, and was not going to abandon it without a struggle. " I do not think, madame," he proceeded, lay- ing his hand confidentially on the barb's crest — " I do not think I have ever explained to you in detail the strategical reasons of my forced march on Yilla-Viciosa in order to co-operate v/ith Vendome. I have been blamed in military circles for evacuat- ing Brighuega after taking it, and abandoning the position I held at the bridge the day before the action, which I had caused to be strengthened TAXTAKA during the night. !Now there is much to he urged on both sides regarding this movement, and I will endeavour to make clear to you the arguments for and against the tactics I thought it my duty to adopt. In the first place, you must bear in mind that the enemy's change of front on the previous morning, which was unexpected by us, and for which Staremberg had six cogent reasons, being as follows " The Marquise looked round to her other cavalier in despair ; but no assistance was to be expected from the cynical Abb^ for it was Malletort in attendance, as usual, on his cousin. The Prince-Marshal was, doubtless, about to recount the dispositions and manoeuvres of three armies seriatim, with his own advice and opinions thereon, when relief came to his listener from a quarter in which she least expected it. She was preparing herself to endure for the hundredth time the oft-told tale, when her horse started, snorted, trembled violently, and attempted to wheel round. In another instant an animal half as big as itself leaped leisurely into the glade, and went lurching down the dry sunny vista as if in utter disregard and contempt of its pursuers. 56 CERISE. The stag had been turned back at several points by the horns of the foresters, who thus melodiously greeted every appearance of their quarry. He was beginning to think some distant refuge would be safer and more agreeable, also his instinct told him that the scent would improve while he grew warmer, and that his noisy pursuers would track him more and more unerringly as the sun went down. Already he felt the inconvenience of those fat haunches, and that broad russet back he carried so magnificently ; already he heard the deep-mouthed chorus chiming nearer and nearer, full, musical, and measured like a death- bell. " En avant r exclaimed Madame de Montmirail', as the stag, swerving from a stray hound, stretched into an honest, undisguised gallop down the glade, followed by the straggler at its utmost speed, labouring, over-paced, distressed, but rolling on, mute, resolute, and faithful to the line. The love of rapid motion, inseparable from health, energy, and high spirits, was strong in the Marquise. Her barb, in virtue of his blood, possessed pace and endurance ; his mistress called on him to prove both, while she sped along on the line of chase^ TANTAIIA I 57 accompanied by several of the hounds as tliey straggled up in twos and threes, and followed hy most of the equestrians. Thus they reached the verge of the forest, and here stood the king's caleche drawn up, his Ma- jesty signing to them feebly yet earnestly that t he- stag was away over the plain. Great was now the confusion at so exciting and so unexpected an event. The foresters, with but little breath to spare, managed to raise a final flourish on their horns. The yeoman-prickers, spurred their horses with a vigour more energetic than judicious ; the hounds, collecting as it seemed from every quarter of the forest, were already stringing, one after another, over the dusty plain. The King, too feeble to continue the chase, yet anxious to know its result, whispered a few words to his officer of the guard, and the musketeer,, starting like an arrow from a bow, sped away after the hounds with some half-dozen of the keenest equestrians, amongst whom were the Marquise and the Prince-Marshal. Many of the courtiers, in- cluding the Abbe, seemed to think it disloyal thu& to turn their backs on his ]\Iajesty, and gathered into a cluster to watch with interjections of interest and delight the pageant of the fast -receding chase> 5S CERISE. The far horizon was bounded by another range" of woods, and that shelter the stag seemed resolved to reach. The intervening ground was a vast undulating plain, crossed apparently by no ob- stacles to hounds or horsemen, and varied only by a few lines of poplars, and a 2^ci,ved high road to the nearest market-town. The stag then made direct for this road ; but long ere he could reach it, the chase had become so severe that many of the hounds dropped off one by one, and of the horses, only those ridden by the Marquise, the Prince-Marshal, and the Grey Musketeer, were able to keep up the appearance of a gallop. Presently these successful riders drew near enough to distinguish clearly the object of their pursuit. The Musketeer was in advance of the others, who galloped on abreast, every nerve at its highest strain, and too preoccupied to speak a syllable. Suddenly a dip in the ground hid the stag from sight, then he appeared again on the opposite rise, looking darker, larger, and fresher than before. The Musketeer turned round and pointed to- wards the hollow in front. In a few more strides TANTARA ! 59 his followers perceived a fringe of alders ser- pentining between the two declivities. Madame de Montmirail's dark eyes flashed, and she urged her barb to yet greater exertions. The Musketeer sat back in his saddle, and seemed to collect his horse's energies for an effort. There was an increase of speed, a spring, a stagger, and he was over the rivulet, that stole deep and cool and shining between the alders. The Marquise followed his horse's footmarks to an inch, and though the barb threw his head up wildly, and galloped furiously at it, he too cleared the chasm, and reached the other side in safety. The Prince-Marshal's old blood was warmed up now, and he flew along, feeling as he used in the days of the duels, and the Burgundy, and the lansquenet. He shouted and spurred his steed, urging it with hand and voice and leg, but the highly-broken and well-trained animal felt its powers failing, and persistently declined to attempt the feat it had seen the others accomplish, so tlie Prince-Marshal was forced to discontinue the chase and remain on the safe side of the Rubicon, whence he turned his horse unwillingl}^ home- wards, heated, angry, and swearing many strange oaths in different lanGfuasfes. 60 CEPJSE. Meanwhile the other two galloped on. The Marquise, though she spared no effort, finding herself unable to overtake the captain of Grey Musketeers. All at once he stopped short at a clump of willows, through which the chase had disappeared and jumping off his horse, left the panting beast to its own devices. When she reached the trees, and looked down into the hollow below, she perceived the stag up to his chest in a bright, shallow pool, at bay, and surrounded by the eager though ex- hausted hounds. The Musketeer had drawn his coiiteau de cJiasse and was already knee-deep m the water, but hear- ing her approach, turned back and, taking his hat- off with a low obeisance, offered her the handle of his weapon. It was the customary form when a lady hap- pened to be present on such an occasion, though, as now, the compliment was almost always de- clined. He had scarcely gone in and given the coup-de- grace, which he did like an accomplished sports^- man, before some of the yeomen-prickers and other attendants came up, so that the disembowelling and other obsequies were performed with proper^ TANTARA ! 61 ceremony. Long, however, ere these had been concluded, the Marquise was riding her tired horse slowly homeward through the still sweet autumn evening, not the least disturbed that she had lost the Abbe and the rest of her escort, but rumi- nating, pleasantly and languidly as her blood cooled down, on the excitement of the chase and the events of the day. She watched the sunset reddenins^ and fadino^ on the distant woods ; the haze of twilight gradually softening and blurring and veiling the surrounding landscape; the curved edge of the young moon peering over the trees, and the evening star hang- ing, like a golden lamp, against the purple curtain of the sky. AYith head bent down, loose reins, and tired hands resting on her lap, Madame de Montmiraii pondered on many matters as the night began to fall. She wondered at the Abbe's want of enterprise, at the Prince-Marshal's activity — if the first could have yet reached home, and whether the second, with his rheumatism, was not likely to spend a night in the woods. She wondered at the provoking cynicism of the one, and the extraordinary depressive powers pos- 62 CERISE. sessed by tlie other ; more than all, how she could for so long have supported the attentions of both. She wondered what would have happened if the barb had fallen short at his leap ; whether the Mus- keteer would have stopped in his headlong course to pity and tend her, and rest her head upon his knee, inclining to the belief that he would have been very glad to have the opportunity. Then she wondered wha,t it was about, this man's face that haunted her memory, and where she could have seen those bold keen eyes before. CHAPTER Y THE USHER OF THE BLACK ROD. ^^OE ulie courtiers of Louis le Grand there was no such thing as hunger or thirst, want of appetite, heat, cold, lassitude, depression, or fatigue. If he chose they should accompany him on long journeys, in crowded carriages, over bad roads, they were ex- pected, nevertheless, to appear fresh, well-dressed, exuberant in spirits, inclined to eat, or content to starve, unconscious of sun and wind ; above all, ready to agree with his 3Iajesty upon every subject at a moment's notice. Ladies enjoyed in this respect no advantage over gentlemen. Though a fair Amazon had been hunting the stag all day, she would be required to appear just the same in grand court toilet at night ; to take her place at •64 CERISE. lansquenet ; to be present at the royal concerts, twenty fiddles playing a heavy opera of Cavalli right through ; or, perhaps, only to assist in lining the great gallery, which the king traversed on his way to supper. Everything must yield to the lightest whim of royalty ; and no more characteristic reply was ever made to this arbitrary descendant of St. Louis than that of the eccentric Cardinal Bonzi, to whom the king complained one day at denoting some sad catastrophe. When the door opened, the musicians crowded hurriedly out, carrying with them their instruments, and tumultu- ously impeding the progress of a spare, grave man, in a priest's dress, who 2:)ushed his way through, with every appearance of anxiety and dismay. It was Pere TelUer, the king's confessor, sum- moned in mortal haste to the bedside of his dying master. The Marquise and the Abbe had that day looked their last upon the face of Louis le Grand. Ah-eady, through pale attendants and anxious courtiers — through valets and chamberlains and musketeers of the guard — might be seen approach- ing the real Usher of the Black Rod. CHAPTER YI. A JESUIT S TASK. F all armies on earth, there is none with a discipline so perfect as exists in the ranks of the Jesuits. No similar brotherhood embraces so extensive a scheme ; no society spreads its ramifications so wide and deep. The soldier who enlists under that black banner abandons at once and for ever his own affections, his own opinions, his own responsibilities; nay, his very identity becomes fused in the general organization of his order. Florian de St. Croix, with his warm impulsive disposition, his tendency to self-sacrifice, and his romantic temperament, had better have hanged round his neck any other millstone than this. As he walked rapidly down a loug perspective A JESUITS TASK. 77 of paved road, between two lofty rows of po^Dlars, his head bent low, his hands clenched, his lips muttering, and his swift unequal strides denoting both impetuosity and agitation, he seemed strangely and sadly altered from the bright enthusiastic youth who sat with Abbe Malletort under the lipes at Versailles. His very name had been put off, with every other association that could connect the past life of the layman with the future labours of the priest. He was known as Brother Ambrose now in the muster-rolls of the order ; though out of it, he was still addressed as Florian by his former friends. It was supposed, perhaps, in the wisdom of his superiors, that the devoted knight could fight best under a plain shield on which no achievements might ever be emblazoned ; but which, in theory at least, was to be preserved pure and stainless, until he was carried home on it from his last field. For Florian, indeed, the battle had already commenced. He was fighting it now, fiercely, under that sniihng summer sky; between those fragi'ant meadows, fringed with flowering hedges ; amongst the clustering orchards and smiling farms ; the green nooks, the gleaming waters, and the 78 CERISE. free, fresh range of wooded liill and dale in pleasant Normandy. Little thought the buxom peasant-woman — with her clean white cap, long earrings, and handsome weather-beaten, face, as she crossed herself in passing, and humbly received the muttered benediction — how much of war was in his breast who proffered peace to her and hers ; or the prosperous farmer riding by on his stamping grey stallion — with tail tied up, broad, well-fed back, huge brass-bound saddle, and red-fronted bridle — how enviable was his own contented ignorance compaa:ed with the learning and imagi- nation, and aspirations running riot in the brain of that wan hurrying priest. The fat cure thinking of his dinner, his duties, and the stone- fruit ripening on his wall, greeted him with professional friendliness, tempered by profound respect ; for in his person he beheld the principle of self-devotion, which constitutes the advance, the vanguard, the very forlorn hope of an army in which he felt himself a mere suttler or camp- follower at the best ; but his sleep that afternoon over a bottle of light wine in his leafy arbour v/ould have been none the sounder could he have known the horror of doubt and darkness that weighed like lead on his brother's spirit; the A JESUIT'S TASK. 79 fears, the self-reproaches, the anxieties that tore at his brother's heart. Yet the same sun was shining on them all ; the same glorious landscape of avoocI and water, waving corn, and laughing upland — gold and silver, and blue, and green, and purple — spread out for their enjoyment; the same wild-flowers blooming, the same wild-birds carolling, to delight their senses; the same heaven looking down in tender pity on the wilful blindness and reckless self-torture of mankind. Florian had entered the order, believing that in so doing he adopted the noblest career of chivalry below, to end in the proudest triumph of victory above. Like the Crusaders of the middle ages, he turned to his profession, and beheld in it a means of ambition, excitement, influence over his fellow-men purchased — not at the sacrifice — but in the salvation of his soul. Like them, he was to have the best of it both for earth and heaven : like them, he was to submit to labour, privation, all the harassing exigencies of warfare ; but, like them, he was upheld by the consciousness of power which springs from discipline and cohesion, by an unselfish sentiment of professional pride, not more peculiar to the soldier than the priest. 80 CERISE. He took the vows of obedience, the bhnd, un- reasoning, unhesitating obedience exacted by the order, with a thrill of exultation. As a Jesuit, he must henceforth know neither friendship nor affection ; neither sentiment, passion, nor selfrregard. His brain must be always clear, his eye keen, his hand ready ; but brain must think, eye see, and hand strike only in conformity with the will of a superior. He was to preserve every faculty of nature except volition. He was to become a gal- vanized corpse rather than a living man. And now these hideous vows, this impossible obedience, must be put to the test. Like the demoniacs of old, he writhed in torture as he walked. It seemed that the evil spirit rent and tore the man because it could not come out of him. He was harrying on foot to the convent of our Lady of Succour. He knew every stone in that paved road as he knew the fingers on his own hand. His superior had lately installed him confessor to the establishment ; 7^^m, young, handsome, impres- sionable, with his dark eyes and his loving smile. There was another confessor, too, a stout old man, with a rosy face and a kind heart ; altogether, as it would seem, a far more judicious appointment ; but A JESUIT'S TASK. 81 riorian's duties brought him little in contact with the nuns, and lay amongst the young ladies, several of whom were daughters of noble families, receiving their education in a pension attached to the convent. Of these, Brother Ambrose had been specially enjoined to turn his attention to Mademoiselle de Montmirail, to obtain all the influence in his power over the frank, innocent mind of that encrasjinor crirl, to win her affections as much as possible from earthly vanities, to which, as she was on the verge of womanhood, it is probable she was not disinclined, and to lead her gradually into a train of thought that might at last bring her home to the bosom of the Church as a nun. That Ohurch would at the same time protect her from temptation, by relieving her of the earthly dross with which she would be encumbered, and which would pass into its holy keeping the day the heiress should assume the Black Veil. Besides the reversion of her mother's wealth, she would inherit considerable property of her own when she came of age. Had it been otherwise, it is possible the same interest miglit not have been shovm for the insurance of her salvation, and Brother Ambrose might have been making fires of VOL. I. G 82 CERISE. camel's dung in Tartary, or bearing witness by martyrdom in Morocco, instead of hunying through the shade of those quivering poplars in homely, happy Normandy. But as he approached the convent of our Lady of Succour, Brother Ambrose — or Florian, as we shall call him for the present — reduced his walk to a much slower step, and became conscious of a hot feeling about his eyes, a cold moisture in the palms of his hands, that had no connection with theology, polemics, or the usual duties of a priest. There are proverbs used in the world, such as " Tit-for-tat ;" "The biter bit;" ''Go for wool, and come back shorn," which are applicable to ecclesiastics as to laymen. It is no safer to play with edged tools in a convent than in a ball-room ; and it is a matter of the merest hazard who shall get the best of an encounter in which the talents and education of a clever but susceptible man are pitted against the bright looks and fresh roses of girlhood at eighteen. Florian had been enjoined to use every effort for the subjugation of Mademoiselle de Mont- mirail. He was to be restricted by no considera- tions such as hamper the proceedings of ordinary minds, for was not this one of the fundamental A JESUIT'S TASK. 83 principles of his order — " It is lawful to do evil that good may come ?" He had not indeed swallowed this maximwithout considerable repulsion, so utterly at variance, as it seemed, not only with reason, but with that instinctive sentiment of right which is often a surer guide than even reason itself; but he had been convinced against his will by those under whose feet he had chosen to place his neck, and had at last brought his opinions, if not his feelings, to the necessary state of control. A few interviews with Mademoiselle de Montmirail in the cool dark convent parlour — a few calm still evenings in the quiet convent garden, under the shade of the trellised beeches, amidst the fra- grance of the flower-beds and the heavy perfume of the svrincra, w^aitins^ for the rustle of that white dress along the gravel-walk — a few cjuestions — and misgivings from the penitent — a few phrases of advice or encouragement from the priest — and Florian found himself wildly, hopelessly, wickedly in love with the girl whom it was his duty, his sacred duty on which his soul's salvation depended, to persuade^ or lure, or force into a cloister. These things come by degrees. No man can com- plain that timely warning is not given him, yet the steps are so gradual, so easy, so imperceptible g2 84 CERISE. by which he descends into the pleasant flood, that it is only when his footing is lost he becomes really aware of danger, or knows he is sentenced and must swim about in it till he drowns. Florian's task was to obtain ^influence over the crirl. Thus he salved his conscience till it was too late, and thus excused himself for the eagerness with which he caught every glance of her eye, and drank in every tone of her voice. It was only when his own looks fell before hers, when he trem- bled and turned pale at the sound of her step — when her image — serene and fair and gracious — rose between him and the Cross at which he knelt, that he knew his peril, his weakness, and his sin. But it was too late then ; though he wrestled with the phantom, it overcame him time by time. Prostrate, bleeding, vanquished, he would confess with something of the bitterness of spirit and plaintive proud self-sacrifice of a lost angel, that he had given his soul to Cerise, and did not grudge her the gift. Not even though she refused to love him in return. Perhaps, after all, this was the poisoned edge of the weapon — the bitter drop in the cup — and yet had it been otherwise, it may be, the A JESUIT'S TASK. . 85 youDg Jesuit could liave found strength to conquer his infatuation, self-sacrifice to give up freely that which was freely his own. It was not so, however. The very innocence that guarded the girl, while it lured him irresisti- bly to destruction, was the most insurmountable barrier in his path ; and so he hovered on, hoping that which he dared not realise — wishing for all he felt, he would yet be unwilling to accept ; striving for a prize unspeakably precious, though, perhaps I should say, hecaicse impossible of attainment, and which even if he could win it, he might not wear so much as an hour. No wonder his heart beat and his breath came quick, while he passed with stealthy gait into the convent-garden, a pitfall for the feet that walked in innocence — a black sheep in a stainless flock — a leper vrhere all the rest were clean. But Cerise, radiant in her white dress, crossed the sunny lawn and came down the accustomed path with more than their usual light shining in her blue eyes, with a fresher colour than common on her soft young cheeks. To him she had never looked so beautiful — so womanly, so littractive. The struggle had been very fierce during his solitary walk ; the defeat was flagrant in 8Q t CERISE. proportion. He ought to have known a bitter disappointment must be in store to balance the moment of rapture in which he became conscious of her approach. Some emanation seemed to glorify the air all around her, and to warn him of her presence long before she came. To the lady- superior of the convent, to her elders and in- structors, Mademoiselle de Montmirail was no- thing more than a well-grown damsel, with good eyes and hair, neither more nor less frivolous and troublesome than her fellows, with much room for improvement in the matters of education, music, manners, and deportment ; but to the young Jesuit, siie was simply — an angel. Cerise held both hands out to her director, with a greeting so frank and cordial that it should have undeceived him on the spot. The lady- superior, from her shaded windows, might or might not be a witness to their interview, and there is no retreat perhaps of so much seclusion, yet so little privacy, as a convent-garden ; but Cerise did not care though nuns and lay-sisters and all overlooked her every gesture, and over- heard every word she spoke. " I am so pleased," she burst out, clapping her .-hands, as soon as he released them. " Wish me A JESUIT'S TASK. 87 joy, good father ! I have such happy news ! My dear kmd mamma! And she writes to me her- self! I knew the silk that fastened it even before I saw her hand on the cover. Such good news. Oh ! I am so pleased ! so pleased !" She would have danced for pure joy had she not remembered she was nearly eighteen. Also perhaps, for a girl's heart is very pitiful, she may have had some faint shadowy conception that the news so delightful to*herself would be less welcome to her companion. He was looking at her with the admiration in his heart shining out of his deep dark eyes. *' You have not told me what your good news is, my daughter," he observed in a tone that made her glance quickly into and away from his face, but that sobered the effervescence of her gaiety like a charm. " It is a long letter from mamma 1" she said, "and a whole month before I expected one. Judge if that is not charming. But, better still, I am to go back to her very soon. I am to live Avith her at the Hotel Montmirail. She is fitting up my apartment already. I am to quit the convent- when my quarter is out ?" He knev.- it -was coming. There is always 8S CERISE. consciousness of a blow for a moment before it falls. '* Then you have but a few more days to remain in Normandy," replied the young priest, and again the change in his voice arrested her attention. " My daughter, will you not regret the happy hours you have spent here, the quiet, the repose of the convent, and — and — the loving friends yoa leave behind ?" He glanced round while he spoke, and thought how different the white walls, the drooping branches, the lawn, the flower-beds, and the walk beneath the beeches would look when she was. gone. " Of course I shall never cease to love all those I have know here," she answered ; and her eye met his own fearlessly, while there was no tinge of sorrow, such as he w^ould have liked to detect in her voice. " But I am going home, do you see ! Home to my dear mamma ; and I shall be in Paris, and assist at operas, and balls, and fetes. My father, I fear, I shall like it, — oh, so much !" There remained little time for further explana- tions. The refectory bell was ringing, and Cerise, must hurry in and present herself for her ration of fruit and chocolate ; to which refreshment indeed Jesuit's task. 8D she seemed more than usually inclined. Neither her surprise nor her feelings had taken away her appetite, and she received her director's benedic- tion Avith a humility respectful, edifying and filial, as if he had been her grandfather. " I shall perhaps not visit you at the convent again, my daughter," he had said, revolving in his own mind a thousand schemes, a thousand impos- sibilities, tinged alike with fierce bitter disappoint- ment, and to this she had made answer meekly — '' But you will think of me very often, my father ; and, oh, remember me, I entreat of you, in your prayers !" Then Florian knew that the edifice he had taken- such pains to rear was crumbhng away before his eyes, because, in his anxiety to build it for his own habitation, he had laid its foundations in the sand. CHAPTER YII. HE cleatli of the great king, and the first transactions of the Regency, left little lei- sure to Abbe Malletort for the thousand occupations of his every-day life. With the busy churchman, to stagnate was a cessation of existence. As some men study bodily health and vigour, carefully attending to the development of their frames by constant and unremitting exercise, so did the Abbe preserve his intellect in the highest pjossible training by its varied use; and seemed to grudge the loss of every hour in which he either omitted to learn something new or lay a fresh stepping-stone for the employment of know- ledge previously acquired. Like Juvenal's Greek, he studied all the sciences in turn, but his labour ST. mark's balsam. 91 was never -without an ol)ject, nor had he the slightest scruples in applying its results to his own advantage. Malletort was qualified to deal with the most consummate knave ; but he might have been unconsciously out-manoeuvred by a really honest man, simply from his own habitual dis- regard of the maxim, as true in ethics as in mathematics, wdiich teaches that the shortest way from any one given point to another is a straight line. The Abbe had therefore many irons in his fire, careful how^ever so to hold them that he should preserve his own fingers from being burnt ; and amongst others, he often applied his spare hours to the study of chemistry. Now, in the time of which I am speaking, the tree of knowdedge had not been entirely denuded of its parasite, credulity. Science and superstition were not yet finally divorced ; and the Philosopher's stone was still eagerly sought by many an enthu- siast, who liked to regenerate the world in a jDrocess of which the making a colossal fortune for himself should be the first step. Not that the Abb^ quite believed in the possibility of creating gold, but that, true to his character, he was pre- pared to be satisfied with any glittering substitute 92 CERISE. which the world could be induced to accept in its stead. So he too had his little laboratory, his little forge, his little crucibles, and vials, and acids, and essences, all the rudiments of science, and some faint foreshadowings of her noblest dis- coveries. If a man goes into his garden, and seeks eagerly on hands and knees, we will suppose, for a four- leaved shamrock, I am not prepared to say that he will succeed in finding that rare and abnormal plant; but in his search after it, and the close attention thereby entailed, he will doubtless- observe many beauties of vegetation, many curious arrangements of nature, that have hitherto escaped his notice; and though he fails to discover the four- leaved shamrock, he makes acquaintance with a hundred no less interesting specimens, and returns home a wiser naturalist than he went out. So was it with the adepts, as they called themselves, who* sought diligently after the Philosopher's stone. They read, they thought, they fused, they dissolved^ they mingled; they analysed fluids, they separated gases ; they ascertained the combinations of which one substance was formed, and the ingredients, into which another could be resolved. They missed the object of their search, no doubt, but ST. MARKS BALSAM. 93 tliey lost neither for themselves nor their succes- sors all the result of their labours ; for while the precious elixir itself escaped them, they captured almost everything else that was worth learning, for the application of chemistry to the humbler pur- poses of every-day life. Unfortunately, too, in tampering with so many volatile essences, they became familiar with the subtler kinds of poison. A skilful adept of that school knew how to rid a patron of his enemies in twenty-four hours without fail, and to use the while no more overt weapon than the grasp of a gloved hand, a pinch of scented snuff, or the poisoned fragrance of a posy of flowers. Such men drove a thrivinsc trade in Paris durinof the Regency ; and our Abbe, himself no mean ipro- ficient in the craft, was in the habit of spendiug many an hour in the laboratory of one who could boast he was a match for the most skilful of the brotherhood. It Avas for this purpose that Malletort crossed the Seine, and penetrated into one of the loftiest, gloomiest, and narrowest streets of Old Paris — how different from Imperial Paris of to-day ! — to thread its windings with his accustomed placid face and jaunty step ere he stopped at the door of the 9-i- CERISE. tallest, most dilapidated, and dirtiest building in the row. The Abbe's face was, if possible, more self- satisfied, his step even lighter than usual. He was in high favour with the Regent ; and the Eegent, at least among the lower classes, was still tlie most popular man in France. They were av/are of his vices, indeed, but passed them over in a spirit of liberality, bordering on want of principle, with which the French, in this respect so unlike ourselves, permit their leading men a latitude of private con- duct proportioned to their public utility. Had the Abbe doubted his patron's popularity, he need only have listened to an impudent little urchin, who ran almost between his legs, shouting at the top of his voice a favourite street song of the day called " The Debonnaire." " 'Tis a very fine place to be monarch of France, Most Cliristian king, and St. Louis's son, When ho takes up his fiddle, the others must dance. And they durstn't sit down till the music's done ; But I'd rather be Eegent — eh ! wouldn't you, Pierre ? Such a Eegent as ours, so debonnaire. Tra-la-la — tra-la-la — such a mien, such an air ! Oil, yes ! our Eegent is debonnaire. *' A monarch of France, when they bring him to dine, They must hand him a cloth, and a golden bowl ; But the Eegent can call for a flagon of wine, And need noTer sit down till he's emptied the whole. ST. mark's lalsa:\i. 05 He woultlu't give mucli for your tlry-lippcd fare. This Regent of ours, so Je'boiinaire. Tra-la-la — tra-la-la — how he'll stagger and swear ! Oh, yes ! our Eegcnt is debonnaire. " A monarch of France has a mate on the throne, And his likings and loves must be under the rose ; But the Eegcnt takes all the sweet flowers for his own, Ajid he pulls them by handfuls wherever he goes. Of the bright and the fair, the rich and the rare, Oiu: Regent you see, is so debonnaire. Tra-la-la — ti-a-la-la — he puts in for his share. Oh, yes ! our Regent is debonnaire. " A monarch of France has his peers in a row. And they bring him his boots with the morning light ; But our Regent is never caught barefooted so. For his roues and he, they sit booted all night ! And they drink and they swear, and they blink and they stare — And never a monarch of France can compare. Neither Louis the Fat, nor yet Philip the Fair, With this Regent of ours, so de^bonnaire, Tra-la-la— tra-la-la— let us diink to him, Pierre ! Oh, yes ! our Regent is de'bonnaire." " Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, he is debonnaire ?" hummed the Abbe, as he mounted the wooden staircase, and stopped at the first door on the landing; *' Monsieur le Due is welcome to make all the music for our puppet-dance so long as he leaves it to Monsieur FAbbe to pull the strings." Two gaudily-dressed footmen answered Malle- tort's summons, and admitted him obsequioysly as OG CERISE being a well-known friend of tlieir master's, before be had time to ask if Signer Bartoletti was within. The Abbe had visited here too often to be sur- prised at the luxuries of the apartment into which he was ushered, so little in character with the dirt and dilapidation that prevailed outside ; but Signor Bartoletti, alleging in excuse the require- ments of his southern blood, indulged in every extravagance to which his means would stretch, was consequently always in difficulties, and there- fore ready to assist in any scheme, however ne- farious, provided he was well paid. The Signer's tastes were obviously florid. Wit- ness the theatrical appearance of his lackeys, the bright colour of his furniture, the gaudy ornaments on his chimney-piece, the glaring pictures on his walls, nay, the very style and chasing of a massive flagon of red wine standing on the table by a filio^ree basket of fruit for his refection. The man himself, too, was palpably over-dressed, wearing a sword here in the retirement of his chamber, yet wearing it as one whose hand was little familiar with its guard. Every resource of lace, velvet, satin, and embroidery had been em- ployed in vain to give him an outward semblance of distinction ; but there was an expression of ST. mark's balsam. 97 intellect and energy in his dark beetle-browed face, with its restless black eyes, that, in spite of low- stature and ungainly make, redeemed him from the imputation of utter vulgarity. His hands, too (and there is a good deal of character in the hand), were strong, nervous, and exceedingly well-shaped, though sadly stained and scorched by the acids he made use of in the prose- cution of his art. A less keen observer than the Abb^ might not have remarked beneath the Signer's cordial greet- ing symptoms of anxiety, and even apprehension, blended with something of the passive defiance which seems to say, " I am in a corner. I have no escape. I don't like it ; but I must make the best of it." A less keen observer, too, might not have detected a ring of bravado in the tone with which he accosted his visitor as a disciple and fellow- labourer in the cause of science. "Welcome, monsieur," said he — "welcome to the teacher who needs the assistance of his pupil every step he travels on the radiant path. Have you made discoveries. Monsieur I'Abbd ? — Fill your glass, and impart them. Have you en- countered difficulties ? — Fill your glass, and con- VOL. I. H 08 CERISE. quer them. Have you seen the true light glimmer- ing far, far off across the black waters ? — Fill your glass, I say, and let us drink success to our voyage ere we embark once more in search of the Great Secret." " Faith, I believe we're nearer it than you think for, Bartoletti," answered Malletort, smiling coldly, " though I doubt if you could look to the right point of the compass for it with all your geography. What do you think of the Scotchman's banking scheme, my gold-seeking friend ? Is not Monsieur Las* a. better alchymist than either of us ? Has he not discovered the Great Arcanum ? And without fire or bellows, crucible, alembics, or retort ? Why, the best of us have used up every metal that the earth produces without arriving, though I grant you we have come very near it, yet without arriving at perfection, and here's an Englishman only asks for a ton or so of paper, a government stamp, and — presto ! — with a stroke of the pen he turns it all to gold." "Have you, too, bought Mississippi Stock?" asked the Signer, eagerly. " Then the scheme is * A national banking scheme was about this period proposed to the Eegent of France by a financial speculator of Scottish extraction named Law. ST. ^iark's balsam. 99 prospering, the shares will rise once more. It is good to hold ou !" "Not quite such a fool !" answered the Abb^, and Bartoletti's swarthy face fell several inches, for he had a high opinion of his visitor's financial perceptions. " And yet the Rue Quincampoix was so thronged yesterday, I was compelled to leave my coach, and bid my lackeys force a passage for me through the crowd," urged the Signer. " Madame was there, and the Due du Maine, and more peers of France than you would see at the council. There must be life in it ! All the world cannot be dupes. And: yet the shares have fallen even since this morning." ''All the world are not likely to be on the winning side," replied the Abbe, quietly, "or who would be left to pay the stakes? From whom do you suppose Monsieur Las makes his profits? You know he has bought the Hotel Mazarin. You know he has bought Count de Tesses' house, furniture, pictures, plate and all, even to the English carriage -horses that his coachman does not know how to drive ; where do you suppose the money comes from ? AVhen a society of people are engaged in eating one h2 100 CERISE. another, it seems to me tliat the emptiest stomach has the best chance." His listener looked thoughtfully on his scorched, scarred fingers. It might be that he reflected in how many ways he had burnt them. " What would you advise me to do ?" he asked, after a pause, during which he had filled and emptied a goblet of the red wine that stood at his elbow. " Kealize," was the answer. *' Realize, and without delay. The game is like tennis, and must be played with the same precision. If your ball be not taken at the first rebound, its force is so deadened that your utmost skill falls short of cutting it over the net. The Abbe's metaphor, drawn from that fashion- able pastime which had been a favourite amuse- ment of the late king, was not without its effect on his listener. Like a skilful practitioner, he suffered his advice to sink into the adept's mind before he took advantage of its efiects. In other sciences besides chemistry and cookery, it is well to let your ingredients simmer undisturbed in the crucible till they are thoroughly fused and amal- gamated. He wanted the Signor malleable, and nothing, 101 he knew by experience, rendered Bartoletti sa obliging as a conviction that he lacked means to provide for his self-indulgence. Like the general public, he had been tempted by the great ]\Iissis- sippi scheme, and had invested in its shares the small amount of ready money at his command. It was gradually dawning on him that his speculations would entail considerable loss — that loss he felt, and showed he felt, must be made good ; this was the Abbe's opportunity. He could offer his own price now for the co-operation of his friend. ^' We are wasting time sadly," said the visitor, after a pause. " Let us go to our studies at once," and he led the way to an inner apartment, as though he had been host and teacher rather than visitor and disciple. The Signer followed, obedient though un- willing, like a well-trained dog bi;l to heel by its master. Malletort turned his cuffs back, seized a small pair of bellows and blew a heap of powdered coal, mingled with other substances, into a deep violet glow. '•' By-the-by," he asked, as if suddenly recollect- in'-'- something of no importance, " have you ever 102 CERISE. had any dealings with negroes ? Do you know anything of the superstitions of Obi ?" " I know something of every superstition in the world," answered the other, " Christian as well as Pagan, or how could I afford to drink such wine as you tasted in the next room ?" He laughed while he spoke, heartily enough, and so did Malletort, only the mirth of the latter was assumed. He believed in very little, this Abbe, very little indeed, either for good or evil, but he would have liked, if he could, to believe in the Philosopher's stone. ^' I have made acquaintance with an Obi-woman lately," pursued he ; " she may be useful to us both. I will bring her to see you in a day or two, if you will refresh your mind in the mean time with what you can remember of their mysteries, so as to meet her on equal terms." Bartoletti looked much relieved, and indeed gratified, when informed that this Obi -woman, instead of being a hideous old negress, was a fine- looking Quadroon. " Is that all you wanted ?" said he, quite briskly ; but his countenance fell once more on perceiv- ing that the Abbe made no preparations for departure. ST. mark's balsam^. 103 *' Not quite," replied the latter. " I am hardly perfect yet in the nature of those essences we studied at my last lesson. Let us go over their powers and properties again." The Signer turned a shade paler, but taking down some phials, and two or three papers of powders from a shelf, he did as he was bid, and proceeded systematically enough to explain their contents, gaining confidence, and even growing t^nthusiastic in his subject as he went on. At the third packet, the Abbe stoj^ped him. '^ It is harmless, you say, as a perfume when sprinkled in the form of a powder ?" The Signer nodded. '•' But a deadly poison, mixed with three drops of St. Mark's balsam ?" '•' Right !" assented the Italian. '^ And combined with any vegetable substance, its very odour would be dangerous and even fatal to animal life ?" "You are an apt pupil," said the other,' not without approval, though he turned paler still. '^It took me seven weeks' close study, and a hundred experiments, to find that out." *' You worked with the glass mask on, of course," 104 CERISE. continued the Abbe ; " wbat would have been the effect had you inhaled the odour ?" "I should have come out in red spots at the first inspiration, turned black at the second, and at the third, Monsieur I'Abbe, should have been lost to the world, to science, and to you," was the conclusive reply. *^ I am not quite satisfied yet," said Malletort ; " I will take a packet home with me for further examination, if you please, and ten drops of St. Mark's balsam as well." "It is worth a thousand francs a drop," ob- served the adept, producing at the same time a tiny sealed phial from a drawer under his hand. " Of course you name your own price," replied Halletort, snatching up his purchase with im- patience, and leaving in its place a purse through which the gold shone temptingly, and which clanked down on the table as if the weight of its lining was satisfactory enough. The two men seemed to Understand each other, for almost before the Signer's grasp was on the purse, his visitor had left the house ; but Bartoletti, locking up the drawer, returned to his gaudy sitting-room, with a twitching lip and a cold sweat bursting from his brow. ST. mark's balsam. 105 Till the adept had summoned his theatrical footman, and ordered another flagon of the red wine, he gasped and panted like a man awaking from a nightmare ; nor did he recover his equani- mity till the flagon was three parts emptied. By that time, however, he was scarce in a condition to pursue his researches after the Philosopher's stone. CHAPTER YIII. THE GREY MUSKETEERS. g] BUGLER, tliirteen years of age, and about three feet high, a veritable "Child of the Regiment," was blowing "The Assembly" for the Grey Mus- keteers with a vigour that made itself heard through the adjoining faubourg. The miniature soldier, who had already smelt powder, strutted and swelled like a bantam-cock. His plumage, too, was nearly as gorgeous, and he ; seemed more than satisfied with himself and his advantages. In no other country, perhaps, could a combination so ridiculous, yet so admirable, have been found as in this union of innocence and precocity ; this simpHcity of the child, underlying the bearing of a giant, the courage of a hero, and the coquetry of a girl. THE GKEY MUSKETEEKS. 107 Ten minutes precisely were allowed by the regulations of the late king between the mustering call and the " fall-in," or final summons for the men to take their places in the ranks. The ]Musketeers lounored and strasrerled over their parade-ground, laughing, chatting, bantering each other ; fastening here a buckle, there a shoulder-strap, humming snatches of bivouac songs, fixing flints, adjusting belts, and pulling their long moustaches, as they conversed, disrespectfully enough it must be admitted, in hoarse, short murmurs, of Vendome, Yilleroy, Staremberg, Prince Eugene, Malbrook, the great military authorities of the day, and how old Turenne would have ■arranged them one and all. The Grey Musketeers were so called from their uniform, which, except for its sober hue^ shone as splendid as was compatible with the possibility of manoeuvring. The men were all veterans ; that is to sav, had fous^ht through one or more cam- paigns, so that many a young, delicate face in the Tanks was seamed and starred by the shot and shell of the enemy. The majority, however, were grim, and grey, and bronzed ; men who could eat ammunition-bread and suttlers' beef without fear of colic ; who could sleep round a bivouac fire, and 108 CERISE. rise refreshed and ready to be killed; ^vlio had looked death in the face and laughed at him in a score of fields. A large proportion were of noble birth, and all were at home in the drawing-room, the refine- ments and delicate airs of which it was their affectation to carr}^ with them under fire. They could be rough and outspoken enough, jesting with each other over the wine-cup, or arguing as now while waiting for parade ; but put them before an enemy, the nearer the better, and they became lambs — ladies — perfect dancing-masters in the postures and graces they assumed. If the baggage was not too far in the rear, they dressed and scented themselves for a battle as for a ball. They flourished lace handkerchiefs, wore white gloves, and took snuff from gold boxes in the act of advancing to charge a column or to storm a battery. Marlborough's grenadiers had many a tussle with them, and loved them dearly. *' Close in, Jack,^' these honest fellows would say to each other, when they saw the laced hats, with their jaunty grey cockades, advancing through the smoke. ^' There'll be wigs on the green now — here's the Dandies a-coming !" And in good truth, ere tJie Dandies and they THE GREY MUSKETEERS. 109 parted many a comely head was down to rise no more. There were several companies of these picked troops, distinguished by the different colours of their uniforms. It was their pride to vie with each other in daring, as in extravagance and dissipation. If a post were unusually formidable, a battery in a peculiarly strong position, one or other of these companies, black, red, or grey, would entreat per- mission to storm it. The Grey Musketeers had of late esteemed themselves very fortunate in opportunities for leaving half their number dead on the field. They were commanded by the young officer whose acquaintance Madame de Montmirail made during the stag-hunt at Fontainebleau. Captain George, as he was called, had obtained this enviable post, no less by skill and conspicuous bravery, than by great good luck, and perhaps, though last not least, by an affectation of coolness in danger, so exaggerated as to be sublime while it was ridi- culous. The little bugler was waiting for him now. When the ten minutes shoidd have elapsed, and the silver lace on the Captain's uniform come gleam- ing round the comer, he was prepared to blow 110 CERISE. ':^ im ' liis heroic soul into the mouthpiece of his in- strument. Meanwhile he stood aloof from his comrades. He looked so much taller thus than when oppressed by comparison with those full-grown warriors. The men were grouped about in knots, talking idly enough on indifferent subjects. Presently the majority gathered round a fresh arrival — a tall^ forbidding-looking soldier, with iron-grey mous- taches that nearly reached his elbows — who seemed to have some important news to communicate. As the circle of his listeners increased, there was. obviously a growing interest and excitement in his. intelligence. "Who is it?" panted one, hurrying up. *' Killed ?" asked another, tightening his sword- belt, and twisting his moustaches fiercely to his eyes. " It's a credit to the bourgeois !" " It's a dis- grace to the corps!" exclaimed a couple in a breath ; while, " Tell us all about it, Bras-de-Fer !" from half-a-dozen eager voices at once, served to hush the noisy assemblage into comparative silence. Bras-de-Fer was nothing loth. A pompous old soldier, more of a martinet and less of a dandy perhaps than most of his audience, he loved, above ; THE GREY MUSKETEERS. Ill all things, to hear himself speak. He was a^ notorious duellist, moreover, and a formidable swordsman, whence the nickname by which he was. known amongst his comrades. He entered on his recital with all the zest of a professor. *' I was sitting," said he, with an air of grave superiority, "immediately in front of the coffee- house Louis Quatorze, a little after watch -setting. I was improving my knowledge of my profession by studying the combinations in a game of dominoes. By myself, Adolphe ? Yes — right hand against left. Yet not altogether by myself, for I had a bottle of great Bordeaux wine — there is nothino- to laugh at. gentlemen — on the table in my front. Flanconnade had just entered, and called for a measure of lemonade, when a street-boy began singing a foolish song about the Regent, with a jingle of "Tra-la-la," ^' Debonnaire," and some mbbish of that kind. Now this poor Flanconnade, you remember, comrades, never was a great ad- mirer of the Eegent. He used to say, we Mus- keteers of the Guard owed allegiance, first, to the young King, then to the Due du Maine, lastly, to the ^larshal de Villeroy, and that we should take our orders only from those three." *' So we do ! So we should !" interrupted a dozen 112 CEPJSE. voices; but Bras-de-Fer, raising a brown, sinewy- hand, imposed silence by the gesture, and con- tinued. *' Flanconnade, therefore, was displeased at the air of gasconade with which the urchin sang his song. * What ! thou, too, art a little breechless roue of the Regent !' said he, turning round from his drink, and applying a kick that sent the boy howling across the street. There was an outcry directly amongst the cuckold citizens in the coffee- house, half of them, I have no doubt, were grocers and haberdashers in the Regent's employ. ^ Shame ! shame !' they exclaimed. *Down with the bully !' * Long live the Grey Musketeers T I was up, and had put on my hat, you may well believe, gentlemen, at the first alarm ; but with their expression of good-will to the corps, I sat down again and uncovered. It was simply a personal matter for Flanconnade, and I knew no man better able to extricate himself from such an affair. So, leaving the dominoes, I filled my glass and waited for the result. Our friend looked about him from one to the other, like a man who seeks an antagonist, but the bourgeoisie avoided his glance, all but one young man, wrapped in a cloak, who had seemed at first to take little part in the THE GREY MUSKETEERS. 118 disturbance. Flanconnade, seeing this, stared him full in the face, and observed, ' Monsieur made a remark ? Did I understand clearh^ what it was ?' *' ' I said shame V replied the other, boldly. ' And I repeat. Monsieur is in the vrrong.' '•' By this time the bystanders had gathered round, and I heard whispers of — ' Mind what you do ; it's a Grey IMusketeer ; fighting is his trade ;' and such friendly w^arnings; while old Bouchon rushed in with his face as white as his apron, and taking the youth by the arm, exclaimed in trembling accents, ' Do you know what you're about, in Heaven's name? It's Flanconnade, I tell you. It's the fencing-master to the com- pany !' " Our poor friend appeared so pleased with this homage that I almost thought he would be paci- fied, but you remember his maxim — * Put yourself in the right first, and then keep your arm bent and your point low.' He acted on it now. *' * Monsieur is prepared for results ?' he asked, quietly, and raising the tumbler in his hand, dashed its contents into his antagonist's face. There was a murmur of applause amongst the Musketeers, for whom such an argument combined VOL. I. I 114 CERISE. all the elements of reasoning, and Bras-de-Fer proceeded. " I rose now, for I saw the affair would march rapidly. ' It is good lemonade ;' said the young man, licking his lips, while he wiped the liquor from his face. * Monsieur has given me a lesson in politeness. He will permit me in return to demand five minutes'' attention while I teach him to dance.' *• The youth's coolness, I could not but admit, was that of a well-bred man, and surprised me the more because, when he opened his cloak to get at his handkerchief, I perceived he wore no weapon, and was dressed in plain dark garments like a scholar or a priest. " Flanconnade winked at me. There was plenty of moonlight in the garden behind the coffee- house, but there were two difficulties — the youth had no second and no sword. " By great good fortune at this moment, in stepped young Chateau-Guerrand of the Due du Maine's dragoons, with his arm still in a sling, from the wound he received at Brighuega, when serving on his uncle's staff. He had been supping with the Prince-Marshal, and of course was in full-dress, with a rapier at his belt. He accepted THE GREY ^MUSKETEERS. 115 the duty willingly, and lent our youth the weapon he could not use. We measured their swords. They were right to a hair's-breadth, but that the guard of Chateau-Guerrand's hilt was open ; and as he and I could not possibly exchange a pass or two for love, we set ourselves to watch the affair with interest, fearing only that Fhinconnade's skill would finish with it, almost ere it had w^ell commenced. " The moon was high and there was a beautiful fighting-light in the garden. At twenty paces I could see the faces of the guests and servants quite distinctly, as they crowded the back-door and windows of the house. " We placed the adversaries at open distance on the level. They saluted and put themselves on gTiard. " The moment I saw the young man's hand up, I knew there would be a fight for it. I observed that his slight frame was exceedingly muscular, and though he looked very 'pale, almost white in the moonlight, bis eyes glittered and his face lost all its gi-avity when the blades touched. I was sure the rogue loved the steel-clink in his heart. " ^loreover, he must have been there before. He I2 1.16 CERISE. neglected no precaution. He seemed to know the whole game. He bound his handkerchief round his fingers, to make up for Chateau-Guerrand's open sword-hilt, and feeling some inequality of ground beneath his feet, he drew his adversary inch by inch, till he got him exactly level with his point. " Flanconnade's face showed me that he was aware of his antagonist's force. After two passes, he tried his own peculiar plunging thrust in tierce (I never was quick enough for it myself, and always broke ground when I saw it coming), but this youth parried it in carte. In carte ! by heavens ! and Flanconnade was too good a fencer to dare try it again." *'In carte!" repeated the listeners with varied accents of interest and admiration. " It's incredi- ble !" " It's beautiful !" " That is real fe;icing, and no sabre-play !" " Go on ! Flanconnade had met with his match !" *'More than his match," resumed Bras-de-Fer. " In a dozen passes he was out of breath, and this youth had never moved a foot after his first traverse. I tell you his defence was beautiful: so close you could hardly see his wrist move, and he never straightened his arm but twice. The first time Flanconnade leaped out of distance, for THE GREY MUSKETEERS. 117 it was impossible to parry the thrust ; although, as far as I could see, he made a simple disengagement and came in outside. But the next time he drew our comrade yix inches nearer, and I knew by his face he was as certain as I was that he had got him at last, " Bah ! One— Two ! That simple disengagement — a lunge home ; and I saw six inches of Chateau- Guerrand's sword through our poor comrade's back ere he went down. The youth wiped it carefully before he returned it, with a profusion of thanks, and found time, while Bouchon and his people gathered round the fallen man, to express his regrets with a perfect politeness to myself. '"Monsieur,' said he, ' I am distressed to think your friend will not profit by .the lesson he has had the kindness to accept. I am much afraid he will never dance again.' " " And where was the thrust ?" asked Adolphe, a promising young fencer, who had been listening to the recital of the duel, open-mouthed. " Through the upper lungs," answered Bras-de- Fer. " In five minutes Flanconnade was as dead as Louis Quatorze ! Here comes the captain, crentlemen. It is time to fall in." 118 CERISE. " When lie finished speaking, the little bugler blew a,n astonishing volume of sound through his. instrument. The musketeers fell into their places. The line was dressed with military accuracy. The standard of France was displayed ; the ranks were opened and Captain George walked through them scanning each individual of that formidable band with a keen rapid glance that would have detected a speck on steel, a button awry, a weapon im^ properly handled, as surely as such breach of discipline could have been summarily visited witli a sharp and galliug reprimand. Nevertheless, these men were his own associates and equals ;. many of them his chosen friends. Hardly one but. had interchanged with him acts of courtesy and kindness at the bivouac or on the march. Some had risked life for him ; others he had rescued from death in the field. In half an hour all would be on a footing of perfect equality once more ; but now, Captain George was here to command, and the rest to obey. Such was the discipline of the Grey Musketeers. A discipline they were never tired of extolling,, and believed to be unequalled in the whole of the armies of Europe. There was little room for fault-finding in the THE GREY MUSKETEERS. 119 order or accoutrements of such troops ; and in a short space of time, easily calculated by the by- standers outside, from the arrival of sundry riding- horses and carriages of these gentlemen-privates, to throng the street, their inspection -^vas over — their ranks were closed. The duties for the day, comprising an especial guard for the young king's person, were told off. Bras-de-Fer reported the death of the fencing-master: the commandant observed they must appoint another immediately. The parade was dismissed, and Captain George was at liberty to return to his quarters. CHAPTER IX. EUGENE BEAUD^SIR. T was no wonder the Marquise da Mont- mirail, amid the hurry and excitement of a stag-hunt, failed to recognise the merry page who used to play with her child in that stalwart musketeer whom she pressed her eager barb so hard to overtake. The George Hamilton of royal ante-chambers, and palace-stairs, with eyes full of mirth, and pockets full of hon-hons, laughing, skipping, agile and mischievous as a monkey, had grown into a strong, fine-looking man, a distinguished soldier, well-known^ in the army and at Court, as Captain George of the Grey Musketeers. He had dropped the surname of Hamilton altogether now, and nothing remained to him of his nationality and EUGENE BEAUD^SIR. 121 family characteristics but a certain depth of chest and squareness of shoulder, accompanied by the bold keen glance that had shone even in the boy's eyes, and was not quenched in the man's, denoting a defiant and reckless disposition which, for a woman like the Marquise, possessed some unde- scribable charm. As he flung his sword on a couch, and sat down to breakfast in his luxurious quarters — booted, belted, and with his hat on — the man seemed thoroughly in character with the accessories b}^ which he was surrounded. He was the soldier all over — but the soldier adventurer — the soldier of fortune, rather than the ^soldier of routine. The room in which he sat was luxurious indeed and highly ornamented, but the luxuries were those of the senses rather than the intellect ; the ornaments consisted chiefly of arms and such implements of warfare. Blades of the finest temper — pistols of exquisite workmanship — saddles with velvet housings and bridle-bits embossed with gold — decked the walls which in more peaceful apart- ments would have been adorned by* pictures, vases, or other Avorks of arts. One or two military maps, and a model of some fortified place in Flanders, denoted a tendency to the theoretical as well as 1 22 CERISE. practical branches of his profession; and a second regimental suit of grey velvet, ahnost covered with silver lace, hanging on a chair, showed that its gaudier exigencies, so important in the Musketeers, were not forgotten. There were also two or three somewhat incongruous articles littered about amongst the paraphernalia of the soldier — such as a chart of the Caribbean Sea, another of the Channel, with its various soundings pricked off in red ink, a long nautical telescope, and a model of a brigantine more than half rigged. Captain George was possessed of certain seafaring tastes and habits picked up in early life, and to which he still clung with as much of sentiment as was compatible with his character. He was not an impressionable person, this musketeer, but if a foreign shoot could once be grafted on his affections, it took root and became gradually a part of the actual tree itself : then it could neither be torn out nor pruned away. Youthful associations, with such a disposi- tion, attained a power hardly credible to those who only knew the external strength and hard- ness of the man. Captain George's predilections, however, seemed to be at present completely engrossed by his breakfast. Venison stakes and a liberal flagon of EUGENE BEAUDESIK. 123 j\[edoc stood ])efore him : lie applied himself to each with a vigorous industry that denoted good teeth, good-will, and good digestion. He was so intent on business that a knock at his door was twice repeated ere he ans^vered it, and then tho *' Come in !" sounded hardly intelligible, hampered as were the syllables by the process of mastication. At the summons, however, Bras-de-Fer entered^ and stood opposite his captain. The latter nodded, pointed to a seat, pushed a plate and wine-cup across the table, and continued his repast. Bras-de-Fer had already breakfasted once, nevertheless he sat down and made almost as good play as his entertainer for about ten minutes,, when they stopped simultaneously. Then Captain George threw himself back in his chair, loosened his belt, undid the two lower buttons of his heavily- laced grey just-au-corps, and passing the Medoc,, LOW at low ebb, to his comrade, asked abruptly, — ^' Have you found him V " And brought him with me, my Captain,"' answered Bras-de-Fer. *'He is at this moment waiting outside. 'Tis a c^ueer lad, certainly. He- was reading a Latin book when I came upon him. He v.'ould have no breakfast, nor even taste a pot, 124 CERISE. of wine with me as we walked along. Bali ! The young ones are not what they used to be in my time." ^•' I shouldn't mind a few recruits of your sort still," answered his Captain, good-humouredly ; " that thick head of yours is pretty strong, both inside and out : nevertheless, we must take them as we find them, and I should not like to miss a blade that could outmanoeuvre poor Flanconnade. If he joins, I would give him the appointment. What think you, Bras-de-Fer ? Would he like to be one of us ? What did he say ?" " Say 1" repeated the veteran. *^ I couldn't understand half he said — I can't make him out, my CajDtain. I tell you that I, Bras-de-Fer of the Grey Musketeers, am unable to fathom this smooth-faced stripling. Eyes like a girl's, yet quick and true as a hawk's ; white delicate hands, but a wrist of steel, that seems to move by machinery. Such science, too 1 and such style ! Who taught him ? Then he rambles so in his talk, and wept when I told him our fencing- master never spoke after that disengagement. Only a simple disengagement, my Captain, he makes no secret of it. I asked him myself. And he wouldn't taste wine — not a mouthful — not a EUGi:XE EEAUDESTR. 125 drop — though I offered to treat him !" and Bras- de-Fer shook his head solemnly, with something of a monkey's expression who has got a nut too hard to crack. Captain George cut short his friend's reflections by calling for a servant. *' There is a gentleman outside," said he, when the lackey appeared. *' Ask his pardon for keep- ing him waiting, and beg him to step in." The well-drilled lack^, all politeness, threw the door open for the visitor, who entered with a diffident bow, and a timid hesitating step. Bras- de-Fer could not help remarking how much less assured was his manner now than when he crossed swords last night with the best fencer in the company. The Musketeers both rose at his entrance, and all three continued standing during the inter- view. Captain George scanned the new-comer from head to foot, and from foot to head, as a sergeant inspects a recruit. Its subject blushed painfully during the examination. Then the officer en- quired, abruptly — ^' You wish to join the Musketeers ? As a cadet, of course ?" 126 CERISE. Something stern in the tone recalled the youth's firmness, and he answered boldly enough — ** Under certain circumstances — yes." *' Your name ?" *' Eugene Beaudesir." "Your age?" ** More than twenty-five." The Musketeers exchanged looks. He did not , appear nearly so much. Captain George con- tinued, — *' Your certificates of baptism, and gentle birth ?" Again the young man changed colour. He hesi- tated — he looked down — he seemed ill at ease. ^'You need not produce these if other par- ticulars are satisfactory," observed the Captain, with a certain rough sympathy which won him a gratitude he little suspected — far more, indeed, than it deserved. " Reach me that muster-roll, Bras-de-Fer," con- tinued the officer. " We can put his name down, at least for the present, as a cadet. The rest will come in time. But look you, young sir," he added, turning sharply round on the recruit. ^' Before going through any more formalities, I have still a few questions to ask. Answer ihem frankly, or decline to answer at all. EUGi:XE BEAUD^SIR. 127 The visitor bowed and stole another look in his questioner's face. Frank, romantic, impression- able, he had become strangely prepossessed with this manly, soldier-like captain of musketeers — younger in years than himself, yet so many more steps up the social ladder, he thought, than he could now ever hope to reach. '* I will answer," he said, with a hesitation and simplicity almost boyish, yet engaging in its help- lessness, — " if you will promise not to use my answers to my injury, and to take me all the same." Captain George smiled good-hnmouredly. '' Once on the roll of the King's Musketeers," he replied, " you are amenable to none but his 3[ajesty and your own officers. As we say ourselves, you need fear neither duke noi devil." The other looked somewhat relieved, and glanc- ing at Bras-de-Fer, observed timidly, — *' I had a misfortune last night. It was a broil I could not avoid without great dishonour. 1 killed my adversary, I fear — and — and — he be- longs to your company." " So it is reported to me," answered the Captain, coolly ; " and if you are capable, it may perhaps 128 CERISE. be your good fortune to find yourself promoted at last into his place." Beaudesir looked as if he scarcely understood, and Bras-de-Fer gladly seized the opportunity to explain. " You do not know us yet, young man. In a short time you will be better acquainted with the constitution and discipline of the Grey Musketeers. It is our study, you will find, to become the best fencers in the French army. To this end we appoint our fencing-master by competition, and he is always liable to be superseded in favour of a successful adversary. It cost Flanconnade twenty-three duels to obtain his grade, and, in his last affair (pardon — I should say his last hut one), he killed his man. You, monsieur, have disposed of Flan- connade scientifically, I must admit, and our captain here is likely enough to promote you to the vacant post." " Horror !" exclaimed Beaudesir, shuddering. *' Like the priests of Aricia !" It was now Bras-de-Fer's turn to be puzzled, but he rose to the occasion. Quaffing the remains of the Medoc, he nodded approvingly and repeated, " Like the priests of Aricia. The same system precisely, as established by his Holiness the EUGfeNE BEAUD^SIR. 129 Pope. It works remarkably well in the Grey 3Iiisketeers." Beaudesir looked at the Captain, and said in a low, agitated voice, — " I am most anxious to serve under you. I can be faithful, attentive — above all, obedient. I have no friends, no resources, nothing to care for. I only wish for an honest livelihood and an honour- able death." " We can find you both, I doubt not," answered George, carelessly opening once more the muster- roll of the company. *' I have your name down and your age; no further particulars. Where were you educated ?" '• In a school of silence, vigilance, self-re- straint, and implicit obedience," answered the recruit. " Good," observed his captain ; " but we must put down a name." '.^ At Avranches, in Normandy," said the other, after a moment's hesitation. George closed the roll. "Enough for the present," said he ; '' and now tell me, monsieur, as betvreen friends, where did you learn to fence with so much address ?" '•' Wherever I could find a foil with a button VOL. I. K 130 CERISE. on," was the reply. ^' I never had a naked sword in my hand till last night." Something in the ready simplicity of such an answer pleased the captain of musketeers, while it interested him still more in his recruit. " You must be careful of your parries, amongst your new comrades," said he, ''at least till you have measured the force of each. I warn you fairly, one -half the company will want to try your mettle, and the other half to learn your secret, even at the cost of an awkward thrust or two. In the meantime, let us see what you can do. There are a brace of foils in the cupboard there. Bras- de-Fer, will you give him a benefit ?" But Bras-de-Fer shook his head. What he had seen the night before had inspired him with an extraordinary respect for the youth's prowess ; and being justly vain of his own skill, he was averse to expose his inferiority in the science of defence before his captain. He excused himself, therefore, on the ground of rheumatism, which had settled in an old wound. Captain George did not press the veteran, but opening the cupboard, pulled out the foils ; pre- sented one to his visitor, and put himself in position with the other. EUGi:XE BEAUDiiSIK. 131 Beaudesir performed an elaborate salute ^^itll such grace and precision, as showed him a perfect master of his weapon. He then threw his foil in the air, caught it by the blade, and returned it courteously to the captain. But George was not yet satisfied. '' One assault at least," said he, stamping his right foot. *' I want to see if I cannot find a parry for this famous thiiist of yours." The other smiled quietly and took his ground. Though within a few inches of the chamber-door, he seemed to require no more room for his close and quiet evolutions. Ere they had exchanged two passes, the Captain came over his adversary's point with a rapid flanking movement, like the stroke of a riding- whip, and lending all the strength of his iron wrist to the jerk, broke the opposing foil short off within six inches of the guard. It was the only resource by which he could escape a palpable hit. " Enough I" he exclaimed, laughing. " There are no more foils in the cupboard, and I honestly confess I should not wish to renew the contest with the real bloodsuckers. You may be j^erfectly tranquil as regards your comrades, my friend. I do not know a musketeer in the whole guard that k2 132 would care to take a lesson from you with the- buttons off. What say you, Bras-de-Fer ? Come,, gentlemen, there is no time to be lost. The Marshal de Villeroy will not yet have left his quarters. Do you, old comrade, take him the fresh appointment for his signature. He never requires to see our recruits till they can wait on him in uniform ; and you, young man, come with me to the Rue des Quatre Fripons, where I will myself order your accoutrements, and see you measured for a just-au-corps. Recollect, sir, next to their discipline on parade, I am most particular about the clothes of those I have the honour to command. Slovenliness in a Musketeer is a contradiction as impossible as poltroonery ; and it is a tradition in our corps that we never insulted Malbrook's Gren^iers by appearing before them in anything but full-dress, or by opening fire until we were close enough for them to mark the embroidery on our waistcoats. I congratulate you, my young friend : you are now a soldier in the pick of that army which is itself the pick of all the armies in th^ world !" With such encouraging conversation. Captain George led his lately-enlisted recruit through a variety of winding streets, thronged at that busy EUGfeNE BEAUDlfiSIR. " 133 hour with streams of passeng'crs. These, however, for the most part, made way, with many marks of respect, for the officer of Musketeers. The women especially, looking back with unfeigned admiration and interest at the pair, according as they inclined to the stately symmetry of the one or the graceful and almost feminine beauty of the other : perhaps, could they have known that the pale, dark-eyed youth following timidly half a pace behind his leader had only last night killed the deadliest fencer in Paris, they would have wasted no glances €ven on such a fair specimen of manhood as Captain George, but devoured his comrade with their bold, black eyes, in a thrill of mingled horror, interest, and admiration, peculiar to their sex. To reach the Rue des Quatres Fripons, it was necessary to pass a barrier lately placed by Marshal de Yilleroy's directions, to check the tide of traffic on occasion of the young King's transit through his future capital. This barrier Avas guarded by a post of Grey ]\Iusketeers, and at the moment CajDtain George approached it, one of Tiis handsomest young officers was performing a series of bows \)y the door of a ponderous, heavily-gilt family coach, ■and explaining with considerable volubility his own desolation at the orders which compelled him 134 CERISE. to forbid the advance of this unwieldy vehicle. Six heavy coach-horses, two postilions, a coach- man, four footmen, and two outriders, armed to the teeth — all jammed together in a narrow street, with a crowd of bystanders, increasing every minute — served to create a sufficient complication, and a very pretty young lady inside, accompanied by one attendant, was already in tears. The attendant, a dark woman with a scarlet turban, scolded and cursed in excellent French, whilst one of the leaders took immediate advantage of the halt, to rear on end and seize his comrade by the crest 'with a savage and discordant scream. In such a turmoil, it took George a few moments to recognise Madame de Montmirail's liveries, which he knew^ perfectly well. To his companion, of course, fresh from Avranches, in Normandy, all liveries in Paris must have been equally strange. Nevertheless, he followed close behind his leader, who pushed authoritatively through the crowd, and demanded what was the matter. The officer of Musketeers, seeing his own captain, fell back from the carria.ge-door ; and Cerise, with her eyes full of tears, found a face she had never forgotten staring in at the window scarcely six inches from her own. EUGENE BEAUDESIK. 135 They recognized each other in an instant. For the first sentence it was even " George !" and " Cerise !" Though, of course, it cooled down to " Monsieur " and •' Mademoiselle " as they talked on. She was very little altered, he thought, only taller and much more beautiful ; while for her, it was the same brave, brown face and kind eyes that she had known by heart since she was a child, only braver, browner, kinder, nobler, just as she had expected. It was wonderful she could see it so distinctly, with her looks cast down on the pretty gloved hands in her lap. The ajBfair did not take long. " You can pass them by my orders, Adolphe," said his captain; and ere the savage stallion had time for a second attack, the huge vehicle rolled through and lum- bered on, leaving handsome Adolphe ejaculating protestations and excuses, believing implicitly that he had won the beautiful mademoiselle's affections at first sight during the process. Except by this voluble young gentleman, very little had been said. People do say very little when they mean a great deal. It seemed to George, mademoiselle had offered no more pertinent remark than that "She had made a long journey, and was going to the Hotel 3Iontmirail to stay'' ;J,36 " " ~ CERISE. Mi] ilst Cerise — well, I have no doubt Cerise could ' have repeated every word of their conversation, yet she did nothing of the kind, neither to Celan- dine then, nor to mamma afterwards, though by the time she reached home her eyes were quite dry; and no wonder, considering the fire in her cheeks. Altogether, the interview was certainly pro- vocative of silence. Neither Captain George nor Beaudesir uttered a syllable during the remainder of their walk, only on the threshold of the tailor's shop in the Rue des Quatre Fripons, the latter awoke from a deep fit of musing, and asked very respectfully — " My Captain, do jou think I should have got the best of it this morning if we had taken the buttons off the foils r CHAPTEE X. THE BOUDOIR OF MADAME. HERE was plenty of room in the Hotel Montmirail when it was opened at night for Madame's distinguished re- ceptions. Its screen of lights in front, its long rows of windows, shedding lustrous radi- ance on the ground and second floors, caused it to resemble, from outside, the enchanted palace of the White Cat, in that well-known fairy tale which has delighted childhood for so many gene- rations. Within, room after room stretched away in long perspective ; one after another, more polished, more decorated, more shining, each than its predecessor. The Avaiting-room, the gallery, the reception-room, the dining-hall, the two with-