La Dame de Monsoreau (19 page)

" If I am your wife, why refuse to lead me to my father ? why continue to hide me from the eyes of the world ? "

" Have you forgotten the Due d'Anjou, madame ?"

" You assured me that, once I was your wife, I had nothing to fear from him."

" Of, course, but "

" That is what you assured me."

" Undoubtedly, madame, but still it may be necessary to take certain precautions."

" Well, monsieur, take your precautions, and return when you have taken them."

" Diane," said the count, whose heart was visibly swelling with anger, " Diane, do not make sport of the sacred marriage tie. You would do well to take my advice in that regard."

" Prove to me, monsieur, that I have no reason to distrust my husband and I will respect the marriage ! "

" And yet it seems to me the manner in which I have acted toward you might induce you to trust me."

" Monsieur, I think that, throughout this whole affair, my interest has not been your sole motive, or, even if it has, chance has done you good service."

" Ah, this is too much ! " cried the count. " I am in my own house, you are my wife, and, though all hell should come to your aid, to-night you shall be mine."

Bussy laid his hand on his sword and took a step forward ; but Diane did not give him time to appear.

" Hold ! " said she, drawing a poniard from her girdle; " this is my answer."

And bounding into the room where Bussy was standing, she shut the door, double bolted it, and, while Monsoreau was striking it with his clenched fist and shouting empty threats, Diane said to him:

" Break but a particle of this door, monsieur, and — you know me ! — you will find me dead on the threshold ! "

" And have courage, madame," said Bussy, enfolding her in his arms, " you would have an avenger."

Diane was near crying out; but she felt that the only peril threatening her came from her husband. She remained, there-

fore, on the defensive, but dumb ; trembling, but motionless. M. de Monsoreau kicked the door violently; then, evidently convinced that Diane would execute her threat, he left the drawing-room, slamming the door behind him. Next was heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, growing gradually fainter, until it died away on the staircase.

" But you, monsieur," said Diane, when there was silence, and she had freed herself from Bussy's embrace and retreated a step, " who are you and how is it you are here ? "

" Madame," said Bussy, opening the door and kneeling before Diane, " I am the man whose life you saved. Surely you cannot believe I have entered your room with evil intent or have formed any design against your honor ? "

Thanks to the flood of light that now bathed the young man's noble face, Diane recognized him.

" You here, monsieur ! " she cried, clasping her hands ; " then you have heard everything !"

" Alas ! yes, madame."

" But who are you ? Your name, monsieur ? "

" Madame, I am Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy."

" Bussy ? you are the brave Bussy ? " Diane cried, naively, without thought of the delight with which this exclamation filled the young man's heart. " Ah! Gertrude," she continued, addressing her maid, who ran in, quite terrified at hearing her mistress speaking to somebody, — " Gertrude, I have no longer anything to fear; from this moment my honor is under the safeguard of the most noble and loyal gentleman in France."

Then, holding out her hand to Bussy:

" Rise, monsieur," said she, " I know who you are; it is right you should know who I am."

CHAPTER XIII.

WHO DIANE DE MEBIDOR WAS.

BUSSY rose, entirely dazed by his happiness, and he and Diane entered the drawing-room which M. de Monsoreau had just quitted.

He gazed on Diane with mingled amazement and admiration. He had not 'dared to believe that the woman he had

sought could bear any comparison with the woman of his dream, and now the reality surpassed all that he had taken for a delusion of his imagination.

Diane was about eighteen or nineteen years old, and that is the same as saying she was in that splendid dawn of youth and beauty which gives to the flower its purest coloring, to the fruit its softest .tints ; there was no mistaking the expression of Bussy's look ; Diane saw that she was admired, and had not the strength to interrupt the ecstasy of Bussy.

At length she perceived the necessity of breaking a silence which spoke too eloquently.

" Monsieur," said she, " you answered one of my questions, but not the other. I asked you who you were, and you told nie ; but I asked also how you came here, and that question you have not answered."

" Madame," answered Bussy, " I understood from the few words I heard during your conversation with M. de Monsoreau that my presence here had a natural connection with the events in your life you have graciously promised to relate to me. Have you not just told me you would let me know who you were ? "

u Yes, count, I will tell you all," replied Diane. " I have often heard you spoken of as a man in whose courage, honor, and loyalty the most implicit confidence could be placed."

Bussy bowed.

"From the little you heard," continued Diane, "you must have learned that I was the daughter of Baron de Meridor, which means that I am the sole heiress of one of the oldest and noblest names in Anjou."

" There was a Baron de Meridor at Pavia," said Bussy, " who, though he might have escaped, surrendered his sword to the Spaniards when he knew his king was a prisoner ; then he begged as a favor to be allowed to follow Francois I. into captivity at Madrid, and only left him after being commissioned to negotiate his ransom."

" He was my father, monsieur, and, if you ever enter the grand hall in the Castle of Meridor, you will see the portrait of Francois I., painted by Leonardo da Vinci and presented by the king in recognition of this devotion."

"Ah!" said Bussy, " in those times princes knew how to reward their servants."

" After his return from Spain my father married. His first

two children, sons, died. This was a great grief to the Baron de Meridor, who lost all hope of seeing his house continue in the male line. Soon after, the king died also, and the baron's sorrow turned to despair ; he remained only a couple of years at court, and then shut himself up with his wife in the Castle of Meridor. It was there I was born, almost by a miracle, ten years after the death of my brothers.

" All the baron's love was now concentrated on the child of his old age; his affection for me was more than tenderness, it was idolatry. Three years after my birth, I lost my mother ; it was a new affliction for my father ; but I, too young to understand my loss, continued to smile, and my smiles consoled him.

" I grew up and developed under his eyes. Just as I was all to him, so he was all to me. Poor father ! I reached my sixteenth year without suspecting the existence of any other world except that of my sheep, my peacocks, my swans, and doves, without dreaming that this life would ever end or wishing that it should.

" The Castle of Meridor was surrounded by vast forests belonging to the Due d'Anjou; these forests were full of all kinds of deer, which were allowed to range undisturbed and had become quite tame in consequence; all were more or less friendly with me, some being so accustomed to my voice that they ran up whenever I called them; but my favorite among them was a doe — my poor, poor Daphne ! — that would come and eat out of my hands.

" One spring, I did not see her for a month, and I believed her lost; I wept for her as 1 would have wept for a friend, when she suddenly made her appearance, followed by two little fawns ; the poor things were at first afraid of me, but when the mother caressed my hand they felt they need not fear, and caressed in their turn.

" About this time the report spread that the Due d'Anjou had appointed a deputy-governor over his province. Some days later it was learned that this deputy had arrived and was called the Comte de Monsoreau.

" Why did that name strike me to the heart the moment 1 heard it uttered ? My only explanation of that painful sensation is that it was a presentiment.

" A week slipped by. The opinions expressed in the country about M. de Monsoreau were very emphatic and very different.

One morning the woods reechoed to the sounds of horns and the baying of dogs. I ran to the park grating, and arrived just in time to see Daphne pass like a flash of lightning, pursued by a pack of hounds ; her two fawns followed. An instant after, a man flew by mounted on a black steed that seemed to have wings ; it was M. de Monsoreau.

" 1 cried aloud ; I entreated mercy for my poor favorite ; but he either did not hear my voice or paid no attention to it, so much was he engrossed by the ardor of the chase.

" Then, not thinking of the anxiety I was sure to cause my father if he noticed my absence, I ran in the direction the hunt had taken. I hoped to meet either the count or some of his people, and beseech them to stop this pursuit, which was breaking my heart.

" I ran about half a league without knowing where I was going; I had long lost sight of everything: doe, hounds, and hunters; soon I did not even hear the baying. I sank down at the foot of a tree and burst into tears. I remained there about a quarter of an hour, when I thought I could again distinguish in the distance the shouts of the hunters. I was not mistaken; the noise drew nearer and nearer, and was soon so loud that I became sure the hunt would pass by me in a moment. I rose at once and started in the direction from which I heard the cries.

" Nor was it long before I saw my poor Daphne speeding through a clearing; she was panting and had but a single fawn with her; the other, being tired out, had doubtless been torn to pieces by the hounds.

" The poor doe was visibly growing exhausted; the distance between her and her pursuers was less than at first; her running had changed to abrupt springs, and, when going by me, she belled dolefully.

"As before, I made vain efforts to make myself heard. M. de Monsoreau saw nothing but the animal he was pursuing. He flashed by even more quickly than the first time, sounding furiously the horn he held to his lips.

" Behind him, three or four whippers-in cheered on the hounds with horns and shouts. This whirlwind of barks and flourishes and cries passed like a tempest, vanished into the depths of the forest, and died away in the distance.

" I felt desperate ; I said to myself that had I been only fifty yards farther, just at the edge of the clearing he had

crossed, he would have seen me, and would undoubtedly have saved the life of the poor animal on my intercession.

" This thought revived my courage ; the hunt might pass a third time within view of me. I followed a path, with a line of beautiful trees on each side of it, which I knew led to the Castle of Beauge. This castle belonged to the Due d'Anjou, and was nearly nine miles from that of my father. The moment I saw it, it struck me I must have walked and run about nine miles, that I was alone and very far from home.

" I confess I felt a vague terror, and then only did I think of the imprudence and even impropriety of my conduct. I followed the edge of the pond, intending to ask the gardener, an excellent man, who used to present me a magnificent bouquet whenever I went there with my father, to act as my guide, when suddenly the shouts of hunters and baying of hounds struck on my ear again. I stood still and listened. The noise grew louder. I forgot eve^thing. Almost at this very moment the doe bounded out of the wood on the other side of the pond, with the hounds nearly at her heels. She was alone — her second fawn had now been killed ; the sight of the water seemed to renew her strength; she sucked in the cool air through her nostrils, and leaped into the pond, as if she wanted to come to me.

" At first she swam rapidly, as if she had recovered all her energy. I gazed on her, my eyes full of tears, my arms outstretched, and almost gasping like herself. But gradually she became exhausted, while the dogs, on the contrary, incited by the quarry that was now so near them, seemed more vigorous than ever. Soon the nearest hounds were within reach of her, and, stopped by their bites, she ceased swimming. At that moment M. de Monsoreau appeared on the outskirts of the wood, galloped up to the pond and jumped from his horse. Then collecting all my strength, I clasped my hands and cried out: ' Mercy !' Apparently, he saw me. I snouted again and louder than before. He heard me, for he raised his head. Then he ran down to a boat, unmoored it, and rowed quickly toward the animal, which was now struggling in the middle of the entire pack. I had not the least doubt that, touched by the sound of my voice, my entreaties and my gestures, he was hurrying to save her, when, as soon as he was within reach of Daphne, he quickly drew his hunting-knife; a sunbeam flashed upon the blade, then disappeared; I uttered a cry, the steel was

plunged into the poor beast's throat up to the handle. A stream of blood spurted out and dyed the waters of the pond crimson. The doe belled piteously, beat the water with her feet, rose for a moment, and fell back, dead.

" With a cry that was almost as agonizing as her own, I sank in a swoon on the slope of the pond.

" When I regained consciousness, I was lying in a chamber of the Castle of Beauge, and my father, who had been sent for, was weeping by my pillow.

" As- all that ailed me was a nervous attack produced by over-excitement, I was able to return to Meridor the next day. However, I had to keep my room for three or four days.

" On the fourth, my father told me that, while I was indisposed, M. de Monsoreau, who had seen me at the moment I was carried to the castle in a faint, had come to inquire after me ; he was in despair when he learned he was the involuntary cause of my accident, and had asked to be permitted to offer his apologies, saying he could never be happy until he heard his pardon from my own lips.