When I am so dressed, I shall pa.s.s unknown, I'll warrant, should it be through the midst of this Lord of Ma.s.seran's men."

"I must show you the way, however," replied the innkeeper. "But stay a minute, and I'll get what you want: it is no bad plan."

Thus saying, Gandelot left him; but the aubergiste was not long before he returned, bringing with him a peasant's frock and belt, and a large straw hat, such as we have mentioned in describing the dress of good Father Willand at the beginning of this true history. The very act of putting them on was a relief to the mind of Bernard de Rohan; for, to a man accustomed to action, inactivity adds an almost insupportable burden to grief and anxiety. When the frock, however, was cast over his shoulders, and his head was covered with the hat, Gandelot gazed upon him with a smile, saying, "I must take care, my lord, that I don't mistake you for a peasant, and ask you to sell me eggs. Well, I did not know how much the dress made the man before."

Pa.s.sing over the bad compliment of his host without notice, Bernard de Rohan only expressed his eagerness to set out; and Gandelot, after having gone down to look round the inn on every side, and to ascertain that no one was watching, returned in a few minutes, carrying in his hand a short sword and dagger, such as were worn commonly by what were called the New Bands, warring in Piedmont for the service of France.

"n.o.body can tell what may happen, my lord," he said, "so you had better tuck those up under your gown; but don't draw the belt too tight, or the hilt will appear."

Bernard de Rohan grasped the weapon as he would the hand of an old friend, and, concealing it carefully under the frock, he followed the innkeeper, who led him out through the back court of the auberge upon the side of the mountain, where a steep pathway led up between the rocks, and over the lower part of the hill, into one of the valleys, which, without plunging deep into the alpine scenery around, led through a softer but still uncultivated country, in the direction of Albens. The innkeeper strolled on, and the young n.o.bleman followed, both keeping a profound silence till the inn and all the neighbouring objects were out of sight.

When they had fully plunged into the valley, however, good Gandelot spoke, but still in a low voice, saying, "We are pretty safe here; the danger was up yonder."

Bernard de Rohan made no direct reply, but asked whether the road they were taking did not lead him farther from that which he had afterward to travel. a.s.sured, however, by the good innkeeper that it did not, he went on in silence, finding by the length of way that his companion had lost no time upon the previous journey he had made during the morning. At length Gandelot turned a little towards the north, up a smaller valley, which, winding away with many bends and angles, never exposed more than one or two hundred yards of hillside to the view at once. At the end of about a quarter of an hour after entering this dell, a solitary house presented itself, as desolate in appearance as well might be. It was old, and built of cold gray stone, with a roof of slates; and a low garden wall which surrounded it enclosed a s.p.a.ce of ground amounting to perhaps an acre or an acre and a half, but in no degree impeded the view of the house.

The hills in that spot were quite bare: much lower, indeed, than the scenery from which Bernard de Rohan had just come, but far more naked and arid. Not a shrub, not a tree was to be seen. Nothing but scanty turf, broken by scattered stones, with occasional crags here and there, covered the slopes; and, had it not been for those thin, short blades of gra.s.s, one might have fancied one's self in the world before the vegetable creation had been called into being.

"You will find him there, my good young lord," said Gandelot, pointing forward to the house: "I will stay here. But you had better whistle, as you know how, when you go up, that he may know you are coming. If you find that you are not likely to come back before night--and it is getting somewhat late now--send me out word, and I will hie me home."

"Nay, leave me, leave me, good Gandelot," replied the young cavalier. "I will find my way back: I never forget a path I have once trodden."

Thus saying, he advanced towards the desolate-looking house which stood before him, and, at a short distance from it, imitated, as well as he could, that peculiar whistle which he had heard more than once among the companions of Corse de Leon. The sounds had scarcely issued from his lips ere the brigand himself appeared at the door, and, apparently without the slightest apprehension or hesitation, walked forward to meet him. He was habited in the same large cloak and hat which he had worn on the night when Bernard de Rohan first beheld him, so that the young n.o.bleman could plainly see he bore his left arm supported by a bandage from his neck.

The moment they met he grasped Bernard warmly by the hand, saying, "So you are living! you are living! I never thought we should see each other again in this world, though I did think we might meet in that where the compensations are reserved to confound the workings of the great bad spirit to whom this earth is given up for evil. But I fell into a sad mistake, and have let your sweet lady go away in the belief that you are dead."

"It is on that account," said Bernard de Rohan, "that I am so eager to set out, in order to put her mind at ease; but I know not where she is to be found, or which road she has taken. Neither have I horse nor arms, nor, I fear, enough in my purse both to buy them and carry me on my way also."

"And you come to me for all!" said Corse de Leon, with a smile: "who would ever have thought this, some seven or eight years ago, when the young Lord of Rohan struck down to the earth the intendant of the Countess of Brienne for wronging the sister of a poor soldier far away fighting for his country? Who would have thought that the poor soldier would ever have been able to aid the young lord in marrying her he loved, or to furnish him with horse, and arms, and money, in an hour of need? There is a retribution in this world! Ay, there is a retribution even here! But come, my lord, I am your humble servant; but, perhaps, a truer friend than any whom you meet with in your own rank and cla.s.s. Let us into the house, and rest you for the remainder of the day. You will travel quicker, better, more safely in the night. Ere the sun goes down you shall have all that you want; and between this and tomorrow's nightfall you may well overtake the lady."

Corse de Leon saw that, notwithstanding the reasons he gave, Bernard de Rohan was not well pleased with even the short delay that he proposed.

He was not one who loved long explanations of any kind, but he could feel for an impatient disposition; and he added, as if in reply to his companion's look, "It cannot be otherwise: I have had to send a four hours' journey for the horses, and they cannot be here till night, though the messenger has been absent now near two hours. You would make no greater speed by going back to the inn. Come in, sit down, then, rest you, and bear what is unavoidable as patiently as may be; for, though half the difference between great men and little ones in this world lies in their judgment of what can be done and what cannot be done, and though half the things men despair of are as easy as to drink from a stream, yet, nevertheless, there are things that are impossible, and in those cases it is useless to struggle."

Thus saying, he led the young n.o.bleman into the house, the door of which had remained unclosed. Though Bernard de Rohan could hear several voices speaking in one of the rooms as he walked along the pa.s.sage, it was into a small vacant chamber, on the left-hand side, that Corse de Leon conducted him. The windows commanded a view down a considerable part of the valley, but still the aspect of the whole place was so undefended and unguarded, that the young cavalier, knowing the state of hostility with the great and powerful in which Corse de Leon lived, could not help feeling some surprise at his choosing such an abode.

"Are you not," he said, gazing from the window, "are you not in a sadly-exposed situation here? Why, the Lord of Ma.s.seran, or any other of those small tyrants, could attack you at any time without the possibility of your escape."

"You are mistaken," replied Corse de Leon, shortly: "before he came within two leagues of me, I should know his whole proceedings, and either scatter over the hill, and reach coverts which it were wiser to search for the deer or the chamois than for Corse de Leon, or else offer the good lord some hospitality on his coming which he might neither be willing to receive nor able to return. We have resources that you are not aware of, and neither he nor any one else knows more of them than to make him fear."

"That you yourself have infinite resources in your activity and experience," replied Bernard de Rohan, "I can easily believe; but, depend upon it, if you were to trust the guidance of such hazardous matters to other men, they would soon be overthrown."

"Not so, not so," replied his companion; "I know the contrary. Twice, for ends and objects of my own, I have traversed all France, leaving my men behind me; and, though perhaps not quite so busy as when I am here--ay, and somewhat cruel and disorderly when left to their own course--no evil has happened to themselves. I am now about to do the same, and I do it in all confidence."

"Do you propose to go soon?" demanded Bernard de Rohan, in some surprise.

"Ay," replied the brigand, "soon enough to meet you in Paris some day, perchance, or even to overtake you on the road; and, as we now talk about those things, let me caution you never to speak to me unless I speak to you: then take the tone that I take, whether it be one of strangeness or of former acquaintance. Recollect, too, that there is no such person as Corse de Leon beyond the frontiers of Savoy; but that, in many a part of France, the Chevalier Lenoir is known, and not badly esteemed."

"I will be careful," replied the young lord. "But now, my good friend, tell me whither has my poor Isabel directed her steps."

"First to Gren.o.ble," replied Corse de Leon, "in the hope of finding her brother there; but, should she not meet with him, she goes thence at once to throw herself at the feet of the king."

"But are you perfectly certain," demanded Bernard de Rohan, "that she has escaped from the pursuit of this base man who has married her mother?"

"Perfectly," replied Corse de Leon: "I saw her across the frontier yesterday. Besides, as I told you before, the Lord of Ma.s.seran himself is absent, carried by fears regarding the discovery of his own treachery into the very jaws of the lion, power. Power is the only true basilisk.

Its eyes are those alone in this world which can fascinate the small things hovering round it to drop into its mouth. But the lady is safe.

Be satisfied, and you can well overtake her ere she reaches Gren.o.ble. I bade them send back a man to tell me if she found not her brother there; for, as I am going to Paris also, I thought perchance it might be better to keep near her on the road, and bring her help in case she needed it.

But your own men are enough, I do not doubt, and I can but take few with me, if any."

"But is it not dangerous," said the young n.o.bleman, "for you to travel immediately after receiving so severe an injury?"

"Dangerous!" said Corse de Leon; "oh, there is no danger in such things.

I do believe these mountains that I love will crush me at last; for twice have I escaped almost by a miracle. But it is this injury, as you call it, that has determined me to go now. I can be of but little active use here till I can climb a rock again, and use this left arm as well as the right. No man has a t.i.tle to remain an hour in idleness, whatever be his calling. Sleep itself I do not rightly understand: it is a lapse in the active exertion of our being which is very strange, a sort of calm pool in the midst of a torrent: I suppose it is solely for the body's sake. There could have been no sleep before death came into the world; for, not being subject to decay, the earthly frame could require no refreshment any more than the spirit. However, as I was saying, idle and inactive drones pretend that they must have rest and pause: if the head aches or the hand is hurt, they declare that they can neither think nor labour; but the wise man and the energetic man makes his spirit like that monstrous serpent which I have heard of, and which, when one head was smitten off, produced at once another. If a man cannot walk, he can ride; if a man's right arm be broken, let him use his left; if his eyes be put out, his ears will hear but the better--let him use them. Our manifold senses are but manifold capabilities; and if the mind is debarred from using one of its tools, it must use another. No man need want employment for the senses, the limbs, and the means that he has left, if he chooses to seek for it. For a while I shall be of no good upon the mountain, and therefore I am going to the city. Some time or another I must go, and therefore I may as well go now. But here comes the old woman with my mess of food. You must take some with me. No one knows better than she does how to cook the chamois, or the venison, or to roast the shining trout in the ashes, or the snow-fowl over the fire; and as for wine, the cellar of an archbishop or of a prior of a monastery could not give you better than this lonely house can produce.

Nay, nay, shake not your head; you must eat and drink, let your impatience be what it may: every man needs strength; and that we should take food is a condition of our flesh and blood."

In conversation of this kind pa.s.sed away the hours, Bernard de Rohan and his strange companion remaining almost altogether alone, though once two young men, dressed like herdsmen, came to the door of the room, and, leaning against the doorposts, addressed to Corse de Leon a few words, apparently of no great import, and upon ordinary subjects, but to which Bernard de Rohan imagined some occult meaning was attached.

At length, much to the satisfaction of the young cavalier, a perceptible shade of twilight came over the valley, along which the shadows of the hills had been creeping for some time. The twilight grew grayer and more gray, and Bernard de Rohan rose and walked to the window, with his impatience for the arrival of the horses increasing every moment. Corse de Leon was looking at him with a slight smile when he turned round; but, in a few minutes after, the brigand rose, left the room, and returned with the two young men whom Bernard de Rohan had seen before.

They were now loaded, however, with various kinds of arms and habiliments of different sorts, which seemed to have been gathered from many a quarter of the earth. These were spread out, some upon the table and some on the floor; and this being performed without a word, those who bore them retired, only appearing again to furnish the chamber with a light.

Corse de Leon glanced his eye to the young cavalier, and then gazed upon the pile with a somewhat cynical smile.

"This seems to be an abundant harvest," said Bernard de Rohan, whose doubts as to the means employed to procure such rich habiliments were many.

"You say true," replied the brigand; "but you must remember, we are many reapers. This has been going on, too, for very many years, so that you will find here garments of various ages and of different nations. Look here," he continued, taking up a black velvet surtout richly embroidered with gold; "this is a coat cut in the fashion of forty or fifty years ago, and belonged to some fat Englishman, who doubtless came over to France with that arch heretic and blood monger Henry, who has not been many years dead. Then, depend upon it, he would see foreign countries, and go to Italy, and has left part of his fine wardrobe here behind him in the mountains."

"An unwilling legacy, I should think," replied Bernard de Rohan.

"Yes," answered the brigand; "but that is not a shot-hole you are looking at so curiously. Our traditions say, I believe--for we have our traditions--that the good gentleman got safe home, though somewhat thinner of purse and scantier in apparel than when he came away.

However, choose yourself out some quiet suit that will not attract attention, for you must not go riding through France like a Savoyard peasant. There, that black hat and feather, which would become some sober student of Padua, making his first effort to look the cavalier.

Then there is that stout buff coat I would recommend, with black loops and borders. Ay, it is somewhat heavy, but there is a secret in that: dagger or sword point will not well make its way through the jacked doublings of those hides, and a pistol-ball would strike but faintly, even if it did pa.s.s. Then there are those horseman's boots: they will be no bad addition to the rest. That long sharp sword, too, in the black sheath, will suit the hat, and none the less fit the hand. It is true Toledo. Now seek for two daggers somewhat like it, and a pair of pistols for the saddlebow. By the Lord that lives, if the horse they bring be but a gray Spanish charger, with a tail longer than ordinary, they will take you for some one who has been studying the black art at Salamanca, or perhaps for some lay officer of the Inquisition in disguise. Is the coat large enough? Oh, ay! it fits well. Now for a cloak to match."

With the a.s.sistance of his companion, Bernard de Rohan fitted himself with new garments, which somewhat disguised, but did not ill become his powerful form. After he had done, the brigand opened the mouth of a little sack which had been brought with the rest, saying, "Take what you will: you can repay me hereafter."

The young cavalier, however, took no more of the gold pieces which appeared shining within than was absolutely necessary, replying to the remonstrance of Corse de Leon that, as he approached nearer to Paris, there were many who would be willing to a.s.sist him.

"Well, well," replied the brigand, "it matters not. I shall not be far from you. But now let us away. I hear the horses, and you are impatient to be gone. We can meet them, therefore, as they come."

Though Bernard de Rohan heard nothing of the sounds which his companion's fine ear had discovered, he gladly followed him out to the mountain-road, and walked on with him for some way before the horses appeared. Their feet were soon heard, however; and at length a man, mounted on a charger and leading another, was seen coming rapidly towards them. The animal he led was powerful, and yet apparently swift: some short time was spent in adjusting the arms and the stirrups; and then, after offering many thanks to his strange companion for all that he had done, Bernard de Rohan grasped his hand, sprang into the saddle, and rode away in the direction of Chambery.

CHAPTER XX.

It was in a small cabinet in the princely chateau of Fontainebleau, some eight days after the grand entertainment at the Louvre which we have before mentioned, that Henry the Second of France was seated, conversing with one of his most trusted servants and most faithful friends, the well-known Marechal de Vieilleville. The cabinet, the ceiling of which was of dark black oak, carved and ornamented with small stars of gold, was hung with rich but very ancient tapestry, still beautiful, though the colours had faded in the pa.s.sing of years. The dark green which formed the princ.i.p.al hue was no longer enlivened by the gorgeous red and yellow draperies which had once ornamented the princ.i.p.al figures, and a dim and melancholy hue pervaded the room, to which the fact of the light pa.s.sing through some leafy trees without did not a little contribute.

It was not, however, the peculiar colouring of the hangings, nor the light pa.s.sing through the green trees, that gave an unusual paleness to the countenance of the king, as, laying down the pen with which he had been writing, he gazed up in the face of Vieilleville, "What is it you tell me, marechal?" he said. "Dead? Crushed under one of the towers of the castle? The very best and most promising soldier France could produce! The dear friend of Brissac--lauded even by Montmorency! Heaven and earth! Did you say he was returned, this Lord of Ma.s.seran? Send for him instantly. Let a messenger be despatched to the capital at once. By my crown, if I thought that he had any hand in this, I would have his head off in the court before tomorrow's sun set. Send off a messenger for him, I say!"

"Sire, he is even now in the palace," replied the marechal. "It was seeing him pa.s.s along the court, in order to crave an audience, that made me intrude upon your majesty just now. I heard this sad business last night by a letter from Brissac; but I would not tell your majesty, lest it should spoil your rest after so bustling a day."