CHAPTER XIX.
Other matters of more general interest occurred soon after the events we have narrated in the last chapter, and imperatively called the attention of the citizens of Ghent from the unhappy druggist and his son. Strange rumours of a battle fought and lost beneath the walls of Nancy, circulated in the good town during the evening of the ninth of January. No one, however, could trace them to their source. No messenger had arrived in the city from the army of the Duke of Burgundy; and the wise and prudent amongst the citizens, after a few inquiries concerning the authority on which these reports rested, rejected them as false and malicious.
They were borne, however, in the evening, by Maillotin du Bac, to the ears of the druggist Ganay; and the chance of such an event was eagerly canvassed between them, as well as the course of action to be pursued in case the tidings should prove true; which, as they calculated all the probabilities, and suffered their wishes in some degree to lead their judgments, they gradually persuaded themselves was even more than likely.
Long and anxious were their deliberations; and it was verging fast towards the hour of three in the morning when the Prevot left the dwelling of the rich merchant. It was a clear, frosty night, with the bright small stars twinkling in thousands through a sky from which every drop of vapour and moisture seemed frozen away by the intense cold. The world was all asleep; and the sound of a footfall in the vacant streets was enough to make even the journeyer himself start at the noise his step produced, so still and silent was the whole scene. The sinking moon, though she still silvered over with her beams the frost-work on the high roofs of the various buildings, and poured a flood of mellow splendour down the long streets that led to the westward, cast the broad shadows of the principal buildings completely over all the other parts of the town, leaving no light but that which was diffused through the whole air by the general brightness of the sky, and its glistening reflection from the thin film of ice upon the canals.
There is always something sublime and touching in the aspect of a large city sleeping calmly in the moonlight of a clear quiet night, with all its congregated thousands reposing beneath the good providence of God. But the mind of Maillotin du Bac had reached that point of obduracy at which the sweetest or the most solemn, the most refreshing or the most awful of the pages in Nature's great monitory book are equally unheeded. Wrapping his cloak round him, to guard against the cold, he walked on, close to the houses, and turned into the first small narrow alley that he found, in order that no watchful eye, if such existed, might trace him from the house of the druggist. Thence, again deviating into one of those lateral streets that lead along by the side of the principal ones, he continued his course over the stones, rendered black and slippery by the intense frost.
All was still. Not a sound fell upon the ear, except every now and then the distant crowing of a cock heard through the clear air from the country beyond the walls. After a little, however, as the Prevot walked on, he caught the tramp of a horse's feet sounding afar off, and, in a few minutes, the challenge of the sentries at the Alost gate, the clang of the portcullis, the fall of the drawbridge, a brief murmured conversation at the gate, and then again the sound of the horse's feet advancing at the slow pace which the state of the pavement rendered necessary, down the principal street. All this he heard clearly and distinctly; for the sound must have been small, indeed, which, in the calm still winter air of the night, did not reach his practised ear.
He was now too far from the house of the druggist for his appearance in the streets, even at that late hour, to lead to any suspicion of their connexion, especially as his official duties were always a fair excuse for conduct that in other men might have led to doubt and question. At the same time the very habits of his life gave him a propensity to investigate every occurrence, however slight, so that the sound of some one entering the city, at such an hour of the night, instantly attracted his attention, and his curiosity at once led him to take a short cut into the street down which the horseman was riding. It was one of those which, running nearly east and west, was still illumined by the pale light of the moon; and the eye of Maillotin du Bac, which never forgot the form that it had once rested upon, instantly perceived and recognised an armed cavalier riding towards him, whom he had known as a boon companion in the army of the Duke of Burgundy.
His resolution was instantly taken to accost him; and, stepping out of the shadow, as the cavalier approached, he exclaimed, "Why, how now? What news, Paul Verdun? How long have you left the camp?"
"Who the devil art thou?" was the first reply of the cavalier, who appeared to have drank more wine than was beneficial to his faculties of perception; "Who the devil art thou? What! Master Prevot? Give you good day; give you good day--night, that is to say--or day it may be, too; for, by my faith, it is after cock-crow. What, going your rounds? Ever watchful, Master Prevot, eh? What news of the good city?"
"Nothing stirring, nothing stirring," replied Maillotin du Bac; "no news at all, except that the eschevins hanged a man yesterday, without my help. But what news of the camp, I say; and how came you from it?"
"Ay, there is the mischief," said the soldier.
"What! no new defeat?" interrupted Maillotin du Bac, his wish, very likely, being father to the thought.
"Defeat! No, no; no defeat, man!" answered the soldier; "never were we better. A glorious army, posted strongly, the town almost reduced by famine, and nothing but a handful of raw Switzers come to relieve it. There will be a battle before many days are over; and Duke Charles will cut up the churls like mincemeat. But the mischief is, that I should be sent away before it is fought."
"So, then, there has been no battle after all," exclaimed the Prevot. "Well, God send it a good issue, when it does come. Good night, good friend, I must on upon my way."
"Good night! good night!" replied the soldier; "faith, I must on my way, too; for I have letters from the duke, and from the Count de Chimay, for my good Lord of Imbercourt, and, somehow, I met with three good companions at Alost, who wasted my time over their cursed pottle-pots. Good night, good night," and so saying, he rode on.
"Ha!" said the Prevot to himself, as he walked towards his own dwelling; "so, that scheme is all vain, and we must try the other, though it will be both difficult and dangerous to get any one to give him the dose. I had rather that it had been something public, too, if it had but been to wring his pride."
Thus muttering as he went, the Prevot now trod his way homeward. The soldier and his war-horse were admitted into the court of the Lord of Imbercourt's hotel. The streets of Ghent resumed their solitude and silence; and the night between the ninth and tenth of January ended in peace.
No small activity was observable, however, the next morning in the precincts of the court. By seven o'clock the Lord of Imbercourt was on horseback, and proceeding towards the palace, at which Margaret Duchess of Burgundy, and sister to Edward IV. of England, had arrived the day before. The Princess Mary, too, was expected from the side of Bruges. But, nevertheless, two messengers were sent off, at different times, in that direction; and it was supposed that they bore her the intelligence of an approaching battle, and recommended her immediate return to the city.
The news which had been brought by Paul Verdun, and the certainty that, at the time of his departure from the Burgundian camp, no battle had been fought, spread rapidly amongst the citizens, and was received by every different individual with different feelings, as he was well or ill affected to the reigning family. The certainty, however, that an immediate struggle was about to take place between Charles the Bold and his determined and hitherto successful adversaries, the Swiss, of course kept the minds of the people of the city in a state of agitation and excitement; a state the most detrimental, morally and physically, that it is possible to conceive for any town or any people. Business was neglected, if not suspended; political gossipings supplied the room of activity and industry; anxiety, suspicion, and irritation took the place of calm labour and tranquil enjoyment; the slightest piece of news, whether false or true, was sought and received as a boon; the wildest tale found some to believe it; and a small lie, by the industrious augmentation of many, soon swelled into a mountain of falsehood.
Towards evening the Princess Mary arrived at the palace; and while the good people of Ghent proceeded to distort amongst themselves the news of her return in every different way that suited their fancies--some saying that she had come back with only a single squire, some that she had brought with her a force of a thousand men-at-arms--that fair girl herself, after dismounting in the court-yard, together with exactly the same train which had accompanied her during the whole course of her progress, ran lightly up the wide flight of steps which conducted to the apartments of her amiable step-dame, and in a moment after was in the arms of Margaret of York.
"Bless thee, my sweet child! bless thee!" said the fair Englishwoman, pressing her husband's daughter to her bosom; "thou art come to comfort me; for I am very sad, and my heart is full of forebodings."
"Nay, nay, madam, never fear," replied the princess; "you are sad and anxious because you know my lord and father is likely to risk a battle, and I, of course, am anxious too; but still we must not despond. Remember, madam, how often he has fought and conquered."
"It is not for the battle that I fear," replied Margaret of York; "my early days, and my early recollections, have been, and are, of nothing but stricken fields, and battles lost and won; and the tidings of approaching strife would give me no apprehensions, did not those who are on the spot breathe doubts and suspicions which have sadly shaken my hopes, dear Mary. In a word, with the duke's letters, received last night, came a despatch to the good Lord of Imbercourt from the Count de Chimay. He speaks vaguely and doubtingly; but he evidently apprehends treason, and as evidently points to Campo Basso as the traitor--your father's most trusted and favourite servant."
"I would fain see the letters," replied the princess: "may I beseech you, madam, to let the Lord of Imbercourt be sent for?"
The desire of the princess was immediately obeyed; and in a short time, Imbercourt returned to the palace. His words were few, and tended merely to express his congratulations on the princess's safe return, without touching upon the fears which had been more openly spoken by the Duchess of Burgundy. There was, however, a degree of settled gloom upon his countenance, and a restless anxiety in his eye, which showed that his apprehensions were perhaps greater even than her own. He immediately laid before the Princess Mary the letters which he had received the night before, and which, as far as positive fact went, merely stated that the Burgundian army, in great force, lay in a strong position beneath the walls of Nancy; that a small army of Swiss and Germans were encamped opposite to them, and that a battle was likely soon to take place. The duke's letter was short and general; that of the Count de Chimay was more particular; and Mary read over both with deep and eager attention.
"There is much matter for fear," she said, as she laid them down, "in both these despatches. May God defend us, and avert the dangers that threaten!"
"That there is much to raise apprehension in the letter of Monsieur de Chimay, I acknowledge, madam," replied the Lord of Imbercourt; "but I see nothing in that of our noble sovereign the duke which should give us any alarm."
Mary raised her eyes with a timid glance towards the face of Margaret of York, as if fearful of causing her pain, or of increasing her alarm. But the Duchess instantly perceived her hesitation, and exclaimed: "Speak, speak, dear Mary! let us not have a thought concealed from each other."
"Well, then," replied Mary, the tears starting in her eyes--"I must say I see more, far more, cause for apprehension in this letter than in this;" and she laid her hand first upon the letter of her father, and then upon that of the Count de Chimay. "The one," she proceeded, "speaks vaguely of traitors to be feared in my father's camp; the other shows me much cause to fear for my father himself. Oh, my lord!" she added, laying her left hand upon the arm of Imbercourt, while, with her right, she pointed to a number of blots and erasures, sentences begun and not finished, or phrases entirely altered, in the despatch from her father: "Oh, my lord! do you not see a great alteration here? The time was when the brief, clear sentences of Charles of Burgundy, unstudied and rough though they might sometimes be, proceeded at once to the point, without change or hesitation, and expressed with force and precision the exact meaning, which was too distinct in his mind, ever to be doubtful in his words: but look at that letter, my lord. Did you ever see anything like that from the hand of the duke before?"
Imbercourt was silent, and gazed upon the paper with a stern and mournful glance.
"My lord, my lord!" continued Mary, "my father is ill; and, with Heaven's blessing, I will set out to-morrow to see him and console him."
"Nay, lady," replied Imbercourt, "you must not forget that you are left here by our sovereign lord, as his representative in Flanders; and indeed you must not quit your post. Before you could arrive, too, a battle will have been fought. I will yet trust that the noble duke will win it gloriously; and you know him too well to doubt," he added, with a faint smile, "that a battle won will do more to console him than the sweetest voice that ever whispered comfort in the ear of man."
"I do indeed, I do indeed!" replied Mary; but no smile accompanied her words; for that truth had been often felt too bitterly during the course of her past life. "I do indeed; but yet the only thing that can detain me here while my father, ill at ease, and shaken both in body and mind, lies in his weary leaguer before Nancy, is the doubt which is the superior duty: to join him there, or to remain in the situation in which he has placed me."
"Nay, nay, Mary," said Margaret of York; "your duty binds you to stay here, and mine calls me hence. You can trust my lore both for your father and yourself; and, as soon as may be, I will join him, though haply my coming unbidden may call on me some harsh words, as when last I saw him at Dijon."
"Bear with him, dear lady! oh, bear with him!" exclaimed Mary. "It is but the haste of an impatient spirit chafed by unwonted reverses. He knows the worth of your love too well to chide with any bitterness. But hark!" she proceeded, "what noise is that in the court? For God's sake, my Lord of Imbercourt, look out and see! for since I took upon me the sad task of holding the reins, which require a far stronger hand than mine, I have met with so many sorrows and misfortunes, that every sound alarms me. Hark! there are many people speaking." In obedience to her command, Imbercourt approached the casement which opened above the lesser court of the palace, and, throwing back a part of the lattice, he looked out upon what was passing below. The first object that his eyes fell upon was the form of the old Lord of Neufchatel, in the act of dismounting from his horse by the aid of two stout attendants, whose dusty armour and jaded horses evinced that they, like their master, had travelled far and fast. The old nobleman himself, however, displayed strong traces of battle as well as wayfaring. His helmet was off, and its place supplied by a small furred cap, from underneath which, a mingled mass of bandages and long gray hair, dabbled with dust and blood, made its appearance; while his left arm, supported in a torn and soiled scarf, showed that the fight had been severe ere he left it.
Imbercourt at once guessed the event which he had come to communicate, well knowing that an aged and wounded cavalier would not have been chosen as the messenger of victory, and while, with slow and painful efforts, the old lord dismounted, the counsellor withdrew from the window, doubting whether he should meet him on the stairs, and delay the tidings that he bore, till Mary was more prepared to receive them, or whether he should suffer him to see the princess, and let the shock pass over at once. His course, however, was determined by Mary herself, who marked the conflict in his mind by the changing expression of his countenance.
"What is it, my lord?" she exclaimed; "speak boldly! Are they again in revolt?"
"Who, madam?--the men of Ghent?" demanded Imbercourt. "Oh! no, no! nothing of the kind. It is apparently a wounded officer bearing news from the army; and I fear----"
Mary waved her hand: "Bid him hither!--quick!" she cried. "Suspense is worse than any tidings. Quick, my lord! Bid him hither, without pause of idle ceremony."
Imbercourt withdrew to obey; and while Mary gazed with eager eyes upon the door, Margaret of York fixed her glance with melancholy interest on her fair step-daughter, more anxious for Mary of Burgundy--in whom she had found as much affection as she could have expected from a child of her own bosom--than even for a husband, who had never greatly sought her love, and who had neglected her as soon as he found that she was destined to be childless. But a short time elapsed between the Lord of Imbercourt's departure and his return; but moments of apprehension would weigh down many long days of joy; and to Mary of Burgundy his absence seemed interminable. At length, however, he came, followed slowly by the old Lord of Neufchatel, unable, from wounds, and weariness, and exhaustion, to walk without the support of several attendants.
Even anxiety conquered not the gentleness of Mary's heart; and though she began by exclaiming, as he entered, "Well, my lord, speak!" she instantly paused, and continued, "Good Heaven! you are sadly wounded, sir. Bring forward that chair; send for the chirurgeon of the household. Sit you down, my Lord of Neufchatel. How fare you now?"
"Better than many a better man, madam," replied the old knight, more full of the disastrous tidings he bore, than even of his corporeal sufferings; "many a one lies cold that could fill the saddle now-a-days fax better than old Thibalt of Neufchatel."
"Good God! then, what are your tidings?" cried Mary, clasping her hands. "My father?--speak, sir!--my father?"
"Is well, I hope, lady," answered the old soldier; "but as for his army----"
"Stop, stop!" exclaimed the princess; "first, thank God for that! But are you sure, my lord, that he is safe?"
"Nay, nay, I cannot vouch it, lady," he replied; "his army, however, is no more. Fatal, most fatal, has been the duke's determination. All is lost in the field. The army of Burgundy is, as I have said, no more; and where the duke is, I cannot say, though I saw him galloping towards the left when I quitted the field, which was not amongst the first. Ah! had he but taken my advice," he added, with a rueful shake of the head; a slight touch of natural vanity obtruding itself, even then, in the midst of sincere grief of mind, and pain, and exhaustion of body: "Ah! had he but taken my advice, and not that of either the black traitor, Campo Basso, or of Chimay, and such boys as that! But, lady, I am faint and weary, for I have ridden harder to bear you these news, though they be sad ones, and to bid you prepare all sorts of reinforcements to check the enemy, than ever I thought to ride from a field of battle."
"But tell me, my lord," said Margaret of York, stepping forward, as Mary, overwhelmed with the tidings, sat gazing mournfully in the face of the old soldier, while her mind was afar; "but tell me, my lord, how all this has happened. Speak, for I have a right to hear; and my ear, alas! has been, from the cradle, too much accustomed to the details of battle and bloodshed, for my cheek to blanch or my heart to fail. Say, how went this luckless day?"
"Faith, good madam, I must be short with my tale," replied the Lord of Neufchatel, "for I know not how, but my breath fails me.--My lord the duke--God send him safe to Ghent! had sworn by all the saints, that no house of stone should ever cover his head till he had slept in Nancy, which, as you know, we had besieged some days. The enemy, in the meanwhile, lay over the water a league or two beyond St. Nicholas, and day by day increased in number, while day by day the forces of the duke fell off; for we had famine and disease, and--worse than all--traitors in the camp. But his Grace would not be warned, though many a one strove to warn him; and at length, on the Sunday morning, just five days since, the Swiss and Lorrainers, with their German and French allies and Italian traitors, marched boldly up towards our camp. Faith! it was a fair sight to see them come in two great bodies; one by the river, and the other by the high road from Neufville. Churls though they were, they made a gallant array. So then they came on. But, madam," he added, rising and supporting himself by the back of the chair, "I love not to think of it! Good sooth, it makes my heart swell too much to tell the whole just now. We were soon hand to hand: the artillery roaring, bolts and arrows and balls flying, the trumpets braying, and the men-at-arms charging gallantly. But still, as I looked round, I saw the ranks of Burgundy wax thin; and still the Swiss churls pushed on; and I beheld many a stout soldier fall, and many that had fought well turn his back. Well, as I was thinking what might best be done, my lord the duke rode up; and, speaking softly as a woman, he said--'My good old friend, I pray you join De Lalaing, and, with your men-at-arms, make one good charge upon the flank of yonder boors.' It was soon done and over. We went down like the shot of a mangonel, but we were driven back like the same shot when it bounds off from a wall of stone. One churl shivered my helmet, and nearly split my skull with his two-handed sword. Another shot me in the arm with his hand-gun. All my poor fellows but two or three died around me bravely; and they who were left took my horse by the bridle, and were carrying me off, when, by our Lady! I saw one of the base Italians who had betrayed us all, despatching my poor Squire Walter as he lay tumbled from his horse upon a little mound. He had served with me in nine stricken fields, and many a chance affray; he had never quitted me for well nigh twenty years, so I could not quit him then. No, lady, no! but shaking the bridle from their hands that would have stayed me, I turned me round, and struck one more good stroke for Burgundy. But the poor lad was dead! God have his soul--the poor lad was dead!" and as he spoke, the old knight dashed the tear from his eye with the back of his brown hand.
"Little is there more to tell, madam," he proceeded, after a moment's pause. "By this time the battle had changed to a flight and a pursuit. There were not ten men who held together on the field. Shame to him who turns his back while one hope lasts; but no shame to him who flies from a lost field. I saw the duke galloping to the left; and as I knew the country well, I spurred for the bridge of La Buissiere, and sad it was to see the road all strewed with dead and dying. But when I came near the bridge, the matter was still worse, for there was that foul traitor, Campo Basso,[4] with a barricade of carts and wagons, cutting off the fugitives from his betrayed master's host. When I looked forward, there were the Italian devils--when I looked behind, down were coming the German swine. On the one hand was the hill, with the Swiss pikes gleaming over the top, and on the other was the river. The water afforded the only chance; so in we plunged. Our horses were strong and unwounded, and we struggled through, though many a gallant gentleman sunk close before our eyes. But, lady," he added, once more, as the excitement of detailing the battle passed away, "I am growing faint again, and in good sooth I have little more to tell; therefore, by your Grace's leave, I will retire."
Mary answered not a word, but gazed upon the old man with the same fixed painful glance; but the duchess bowed her head, and the Lord of Neufchatel, with the aid of his two attendants, moved towards the door.
Before he reached it, however, he paused, and turning round exclaimed--"Faith! I had forgot the very errand which made me make such haste; for I have travelled with scarcely an hour's rest, in order to bid you take instant measures to secure the country, for that wild young wolf of Lorraine will be upon the frontier speedily; and even as I passed by Brussels I heard strange tales of movements in France. You, my Lord of Imbercourt, look to it with all speed; for, believe me, not an hour is to be lost."
Thus saying, he turned and left the chamber, while Imbercourt advanced to the princess, and besought her to be comforted. She answered nothing, however; and only by a melancholy wave of the hand, expressed how deep were her apprehensions.
"Nay, Mary, my sweet child," said the duchess, "give not way to despair: remember, there is a God of mercy above us, who sees all, and rules all, for the best."
Mary of Burgundy cast her fair arms round her stepmother, and exclaiming, "My father! oh, my father!" burst into a passionate flood of tears.
"Leave us, my Lord of Imbercourt," said the duchess. "Let me beseech you to take all the measures necessary for our security; and send out messengers to gain more intelligence of this sad defeat. Call those whom you can best trust to council; and, for God's sake, suffer not your mind to be overcome at the moment that all its energies are most required."
Imbercourt bowed and withdrew: but there were circumstances in the situation of the country which rendered it impossible for him to act or think with that calm tranquillity which he had displayed at other times. A deep and heavy gloom fell over him from the first moment that the loss of the fatal battle of Nancy met his ear; and he never seemed wholly to recover his former energies.
He took care, however, to summon to the side of the princess, in her hour of need, all those who, he thought, might give consolation and support. Messengers were instantly despatched to the Lord of Ravestein, the Duke of Cleves, the Bishop of Liege, and several others, whose relationship to the house of Burgundy afforded the best security for their taking an interest in its fate; and Imbercourt endeavoured, as far as possible, to increase the military force within the town of Ghent, without exciting the watchful jealousy of the inhabitants; but the country was totally drained of men, and few, if any, could be added at a short notice to the force within the town--at least, few of those feudal troops on which alone reliance could be placed.
In the meanwhile, during the evening and the early part of the night which followed the arrival of the Lord of Neufchatel, post after post came in from the side of Alost and Brussels, bringing new details and rumours of the battle; and each additional fact proved it to have been more disastrous and bloody than it had appeared at first. Nothing was heard but long lists of the dead, or exaggerated computations of the total loss. Still, there was a deep silence in regard to the duke himself. No one knew what had befallen him in the fight or the pursuit; and no one ventured to assert, what all internally believed, that he had fallen upon that bloody plain. The very silence, however, was ominous; and the whole of the inmates of the ducal dwelling in Ghent passed the night in that gloomy apprehension, which is perhaps more racking to the heart than absolute sorrow.
Mary wept her father as dead; but yet she insisted upon hearing the tidings that every courier brought in, with that anxious eagerness which showed that a spark of hope, however faint, still remained alive within her bosom; but with her, and, indeed, with every one else, as fresh news arrived, as the accounts of the stern determination evinced by the duke before the battle were multiplied, and as his often reiterated declaration that he would never quit the field alive, was repeated, the conviction of his death became more and more complete.
In the meanwhile, the people of the city, collecting in eager and anxious crowds in the streets, especially towards the Brussels gate, canvassed in low tones the events that had taken place. As one horseman after another entered the town, still some individual would start out to accost him, and running by his side as he rode on, would gather from him whatever information he would afford, and then return to tell it to the groups, whose comments on the past were seldom unconnected with some of those whispered apprehensions for the future, which, like the low moanings of the rising wind, generally give notice of a coming storm long before it is ready to fall upon the earth.
CHAPTER XX.
It was remarked as an extraordinary fact, that during the whole course of that evening--an evening of the greatest excitement and anxiety, perhaps, that Ghent had ever known--not one of the principal and most influential citizens was seen in the streets of the city. The groups which collected were altogether of the lower classes; and those amongst them who were supposed to be the most knowing in the policy of the higher burghers, could discover no other sign of interest and agitation on their part, than was afforded by the sight of one of the serving-men of Albert Maurice calling rapidly at the houses of five or six of the principal merchants, amongst whom the druggist Ganay was the first.
Gradually, as the evening closed in, the crowds began to disperse--a considerable number returning home early, to discuss with their wives and families the news they had collected in the town, and to acquire that degree of domestic importance which a budget of strange tidings is always sure to impart to the bearer. One after another, the diminishing groups thus separated at length--the wind, which was intensely cold, though symptoms of a thaw had begun to manifest themselves, driving even the most persevering to the shelter of their own homes, as the night advanced--and only one or two idle young men, who could boast some acquaintance with the soldiers on guard at the Brussels gate, remained after nine o'clock within the warm refuge of the guard-house, waiting for any tidings that might still arrive.
The many varied scenes, the continued presence of danger, the frequent breaking short of ties and affections, have all a natural tendency to render the heart of an old soldier, in some degree callous and indifferent to events which agitate and affect younger and fresher-minded men. It was wonderful to hear with what calm composure the veterans in the guard-house talked over the events which had spread grief and dismay through the palace, and excitement and alarm in the city. Although they all loved and admired the character of Charles the Bold, for the very lion-hearted qualities which had led him to attempt impossible enterprises, and to rush upon certain defeat, yet they canvassed his conduct with calm and somewhat contemptuous examination, and spoke of his probable death in the same terms that they might be supposed to use in talking of a hound which had been gored by the boar.
"Why the devil did he sit down before Nancy, in the middle of winter?" cried one; "he might have known very well that nobody would stay with him, looking at stone walls, in a frost like this."
"Ay, ay, but he did worse than that!" replied another: "why did he trust a set of Italian hirelings, when he had good subjects of his own?"
"Why, old lions," rejoined a third, "will, they say, grow both suspicious and obstinate."
"Full time, then, that they should get their throats cut," answered the first: "but I know old Charlie well; and I will bet a flagon of Beaune to a flask of sour Rhenish, that he never left the field of Nancy. No, no; he had had enough of running away; and sure I am that he died like a stag at bay. Well, I am almost sorry that I was not with him, though a warm guardhouse and a pottle-pot are better, at any time, in a January night, than the cold ground and a bloody nightcap. Hie thee over, Bontemps, to the vintner's at the corner, and fill the flagon with the best thou canst get for that broad piece. By my faith! we will have a carouse to the old Lion of Burgundy, be he living or dead, and then we will go sleep. Hie thee over, while I undo the gate, for there is some one blowing his horn: a new post from Alost, bringing more news, I warrant."
While one soldier, according to the request of the other, ran across the street to seek matter for the potations with which they proposed to conclude the night, his senior proceeded to the gate, where, the portcullis being raised, and the drawbridge let down, a cavalier immediately rode in, whom he addressed with--"Ha! Master Prevot; you can never have gone as far as Alost since you rode out."
"By my faith! I have, though," replied Maillotin du Bac; "look at my beast--he is steaming like a quagmire with hard riding."
"Well, what news?--what news?" cried the other; "you must have heard some tidings."
"Nothing new at all," replied the Prevot: "all is stale as a miser's cheese;--a battle fought and lost; men dead, but not buried; the army dispersed, and every one gone Heaven knows where. Good night, good night!" and so saying, he rode on. But it is remarkable, that though his horse was evidently ready to drop with fatigue, he did not, at first, take his way towards his own dwelling, but directed his course towards the house of the little druggist Ganay.
In the meantime the soldiers in the guard-house discussed the contents of the flagon, with which their messenger returned; sharing it liberally with the two or three young artisans whom they had permitted to remain at their post. With what had been drunk before, the contents of the gallon pot which was now brought over was sufficient, notwithstanding the fact of its being shared with the citizens, to obfuscate, in some degree, the intellects of the soldiery; and, after having given their civil companions a somewhat unceremonious notice to go home, they cast themselves down upon the straw which was provided for their accommodation during the night, and soon forgot everything else, under the influence of the drowsy god. The sentry without, who had been ordered to watch well, of course felt a greater inclination to sleep than ordinary, which was increased by the cold; and, in spite of various vigorous efforts to keep himself awake, by walking rapidly up and down, dropping the end of his partizan upon the ground, and several other little experiments of the same kind, he found himself, from time to time, nodding most refreshingly under the shelter of the high arch which spanned over the gate.
How long this state of things had continued none of the soldiers knew, when suddenly the sentry was woke by his weapon being snatched hastily from his hands; and, on shaking off the slumber which oppressed him, he found himself pinioned by a number of powerful men, while a stern voice, backed by a naked sword at his throat, commanded him to be silent on pain of death. Faithful, in this instance at least to his duty, without a moment's consideration, the soldier shouted, "To arms! to arms!" But he was instantly thrown down and tied by those who held him, while a number of others made their way into the guard-house. The soldiers there were already upon their feet; and the captain of the watch was starting forward to light the match of his arquebuse at the lantern which hung against the wall, when a powerful man, rushing in, closed with him, and, throwing him violently back, interposed between him and the light. A dozen more persons, completely armed, poured into the building; and more than one stern voice commanded the four soldiers which it contained to lay down their arms at once.
"Who, in the fiend's name, are you, my masters?" exclaimed the captain of the watch: "let us hear that, before we put down our arms, at all events:" and while he spoke he made impatient signs to one of his companions to get out of the small window, and give the alarm: but this scheme was frustrated by the same tall, powerful figure which had before prevented him from lighting his match.
"We are the officers of the burgher guard of Ghent," replied the stranger, "whose incontestible right and privilege it has been, in all ages, to mount guard on the walls and at the gate of our own city; which privilege, though it was usurped from us by the Duke Charles, is no less valid than before that act. Give up your arms, then, quietly, and no harm shall befall you."
"Before we do that, good sir," answered the captain of the watch, "we must have authority from our superior officers. As you well know, the commander for the night is at the Ypres gate; send to him, and we will obey his commands."
"You seek, sir, to gain time," said the other; "but it is in vain. The walls and the gates are now in our hands. Our sentinels are mounted everywhere; and each military post which had been unlawfully placed by the Duke of Burgundy, throughout the city of Ghent, has been disarmed before we came hither. Yield, therefore, with a good grace, for yield you must; and as no blood has been shed already, pity it were to begin now."
"Well sir! well!" replied the captain of the watch: "you say right in that, at least; though I should be willing enough to shed blood of my own, or of other men, could it prove of service. But four can hardly cope with twenty; therefore, ground your arms, my lads, and give them up. We are your prisoners, sir."
"You have done wisely, soldier," said Albert Maurice, for he it was who spoke; "take their arms, my friends, but suffer them to pass freely out. As our fellow-citizens arrive, let all the posts be doubled. Now, good Master Ganay," he added in a whisper, "gather together the men we named, and join me quickly at my house. It wants but four hours to daybreak; ere the sun rises, we have as much to do as would take lazy statesmen full many a month. I go round by the western magazine, to secure, if possible, the stores and artillery. But be quick, for now despatch is everything."
The purpose of Albert Maurice was accomplished without difficulty. The magazine was but scantily guarded; and the sleeping soldiers were surprised at that post as easily as the others had been at the guard-houses. The gates, the defences, and all the principal military stations, were now in the hands of the people; and Albert Maurice hastened home to meet a number of individuals, selected from the most influential citizens, on whose consent, and with whose aid, he proposed to assert the ancient privileges of the city of Ghent, as the first step to those grander plans of general emancipation, which yet remained but vague and undefined even in his own mind.
So rapid had been the determination and the movements of the young citizen through all that night, so prompt and successful all his measures, that even Ganay, stirred up by revenge and hatred, and guided by consummate cunning and shrewdness, had been left far behind. Where he had expected to be obliged to urge and suggest, he found himself at once compelled to follow and obey; and, yielding readily to a mind that he felt to be far superior, he had been hurried through a series of actions in a few hours, which he had contemplated before, indeed, but which he had contemplated as the work of many days, and long and difficult intrigues.
Between ten at night and three in the morning, the young citizen had received, from the druggist himself, the certainty of the Duke of Burgundy's death, which had been obtained by the Prevot; had formed his determination at once, had arranged his plans with prompt decision, had assembled the ancient burgher guard in force in his courtyard; by a few brief and striking words had explained to them his views and his schemes; had carried all voices in his favour; and, finally, had seized every military post in the town, except the palace, without bloodshed, while the regular soldiery had everywhere been surprised and disarmed.
His last effort upon the magazine, the one of the greatest importance, had been effected, as sometimes happens, with more ease than attempts which had seemed less difficult; and, leaving the citizens who had accompanied him, to guard that post, he hastened home through the solitary streets, not a little rejoiced to find, by the stillness of the whole city, that the silence and caution which had been enjoined in the first instance were still preserved. No one had arrived when he again crossed the threshold of his own door; and whispering a few hasty orders to the servant who admitted him, in regard to saddling horses, and preparing trustworthy messengers, he entered the chamber where he was about to meet his fellow-citizens; and casting himself back in a chair, covered his eyes with his hand, and abandoned himself, for a moment, to deep thought. More than one pang crossed his heart, as he contemplated the future; but he smothered them instantly; and, banishing regret, he directed the whole powers of his mind to consider the best means for obtaining that object for which he had now irrevocably determined to struggle.
So deep, so intense was the meditation to which he yielded himself, that Ganay and several others entered the apartment without his perceiving their presence; and it was only the voice of the druggist, demanding if he slept, that roused him from his reverie.
"Sleep!" he exclaimed, starting up; "no, no! Who could sleep on such a night as this? Welcome, my friends, welcome! Each sit down, I pray: others will soon be here; but it is not fitting that of the few hours which are given us for action, even one minute should be wasted in waiting for any man. Some things need long counsel; in others, little can be risked. Let us choose those first that are most easily determined. Citizens of Ghent! are you not resolved to recover the liberties and privileges which have been torn from you by the unholy hand of power?"
"We are! We are!" replied a number of stern voices around.
"Is it not requisite, then," continued Albert Maurice, "that you should call your brethren of the other good towns of Flanders and Brabant to join with and support you, in asserting the rights of all?"
"Beyond all doubt! Let it be done!" was the answer.
"Well, then, by this time," said the young citizen, "four strong horses stand saddled, ready to set out; and four trustworthy messengers are prepared to bear to Brussels, Ypres, Bruges, and Louvain, our request that the worthy burghers of those great towns will send us deputies to give force to our proceedings. My letters, written nearly six months ago, when the battle of Morat was lost and won, have prepared them to do so at a moment's warning. The gates are now in our own hands; shall the messengers set out?"
"The sooner they depart the better!" replied the rest; and a few lines, hastily penned to each of the cities, were despatched without farther delay.
Before all this was completed, a number of other citizens had arrived; and the chamber was almost full. Everywhere were to be seen men with faces pale from anxiety and excitement; some armed in hasty guise, with such armour as could be caught up in a moment; some with their night gear scarcely laid aside; and each, as he entered, gazing round upon the rest, with half wild and somewhat fearful glances, as the light of the lamps dazzled their eyes, on entering from the dark streets without. Gradually, however, as they beheld a number of friends and acquaintances all gathered together in the same cause as themselves, the boldness which men derive from union began to spread amongst them. Every one present had long before been prepared, in some degree, for such events as were now taking place; and, while they had been taught to look to Albert Maurice as the man from whose voice and conduct the rest of the citizens were likely to take their tone, he had taken care to ascertain the sentiments of each individual, whom he now called to consult with him, in a moment of such exigency. He well knew, indeed, that it is by no means a necessary result, that the conduct of a large body of men will be regulated by the personal opinions of each. The shades of thought and character in different men are so infinite, that, when united, as in multitudes, they produce combinations which defy previous calculation; and besides that fact, there is something in the very change of position, from an isolated station to a place in a large body, which alters the feelings of the persons themselves. Some, singly bold, are timid in a multitude; and some, cowardly as individuals, become even rash when supported by numbers.
Albert Maurice trusted to himself, however, to give the impress of his own mind to all the proceedings of the great burghers, and through them to rule the people also: but he well knew that the task before him would be to restrain rather than to excite; for seldom, very seldom, has a country, justly or unjustly, risen against the power that previously ruled it, without going infinitely farther than those who stirred it up originally designed.[5]
As soon as he perceived that all whom he had called were present, the young citizen at once determined to address them, before any one else could interpose to give a wrong direction to their efforts. "Men of Ghent," he said, "may I crave your patience for a moment? Certain news has just been received by our friend and fellow-citizen here present," and he pointed to the druggist, "that in this last and fatal battle, wherein he staked his country's welfare and shed his people's blood in an unjust quarrel, Charles Duke of Burgundy has paid the forfeit of his obstinacy and ambition with his life. Now, men of Ghent, who is there amongst us that does not feel that our rights have been infringed, our privileges usurped, and our liberties trampled on, by him, who has gone to give an account of all the wrongs he has so boldly committed? We all know it, and we all feel it; and there is not an artisan, however humble, in all Ghent--nay, in all Flanders, that is not preparing to take arms to vindicate the freedom of our native land. That freedom, citizens, we may look upon as secure; for never yet did a whole nation join heart and hand in asserting its liberty, but it gained its object against all opposition. But, oh! my friends, let us beware--let us be cautious--let us be wise--let us be just--let us be merciful. Those who would guide a stirred-up people through a successful insurrection, must be calm as well as bold, and moderate as well as zealous. The wild horses of popular excitement must be governed with a firm and a clear eye, and strong rein, or they will pass far beyond the golden goal of liberty, and rush into bloodshed, anarchy, and licence. We take upon ourselves a great and an awful responsibility; and every drop of unnecessary blood that is shed in this great effort, will cry loudly to Heaven for vengeance on the head of the rash men who caused or suffered it to flow. The sway of all that vast and wealthy land which lately rested in the hand of Charles, called the Bold, has now descended to a young and gentle lady, who, if her counsellors be good----"
"We will give her good counsellors!" cried some one beside him; but Albert Maurice proceeded: "Who, if her counsellors be good, will, at our petition, not only restore us to our rights and privileges, but will afford us some security that they shall never be infringed again. But let us do nothing harshly. Let us proceed mildly and legally, though firmly; and first petition, as good and faithful subjects, for the redress of our wrongs, before we proceed to obtain it by our own right hands. Such moderation, my friends, will gain us the love and support of all good men--will prevent neighbouring princes from interfering while we obtain our liberty, and will at once serve best our cause, and satisfy the conscience of the most scrupulous."
"Methinks, Master Albert Maurice, you have already begun pretty boldly," said one of the more moderate of the citizens: "I hear that the gates and walls of the city have already been forcibly taken from the duke's guard, and the soldiers have been disarmed."
"That, sir, was done," replied Albert Maurice, "solely for our own security; and had it not been done, our meeting now, or our petitions hereafter, unsupported by any power of our own, would have been utterly fruitless. It was done to prevent the princess from being carried away from us before our liberties were secure; it was done to prevent the introduction of large forces into this town, before we were prepared to bid them defiance; and, in doing it, we only asserted and resumed the immemorial right of the citizens of Ghent to guard their own walls and gates--a right which had been long unjustly usurped."
"It was wisely done! it was nobly done!" cried a number of voices, in the midst of which Ganay the druggist stepped forward, and said: "Friends and fellow-citizens! all here present are bearers of high offices in the several trades, and members of the great commune of Ghent; but we are meeting without form or order. Let us resolve ourselves into a council, as a temporary government of the city; and as president thereof I here propose him whose able conduct, whose patriotic zeal, and whose prompt activity, has already conducted us, thus far, with triumphant success."
A murmur of applause followed, which soon rose into a loud and unanimous assent to the proposal. Nor did Albert Maurice affect to decline an office which he had previously determined to assume. His thanks he expressed with manly eloquence, and assured his fellow-citizens, with the convincing voice of true feeling, that the liberty and prosperity of his native land should ever be the dearest wish of his heart, and the principal object of his endeavours.
As soon as this subject was discussed, an old man, one of the fathers of the city, rose up, and addressed the new president. With a slight touch of the monitory garrulity of old age--at least, most of those who heard him thought it such--he offered a word or two of caution to the young man who had taken upon him so bold and high a part. "He would not," he said, "urge him, to be more moderate in his views, for he seemed to feel the necessity of moderation already; but he would warn him, in the course that was before him--a course, the turns and circumstances of which, none could yet tell--to beware of his own heart--to guard against ambition, or revenge, or love: for he was young and ardent; and that spirit must be either very cold or very strong, which could resist the influence of some mighty passion, when under the excitement of great events."
Though Albert Maurice listened with attention, and felt, more deeply than he suffered to appear, the justice of the good man's speech, yet there were others who showed some degree of impatience, and evidently thought it out of season. The old burgher perceived this feeling, and, breaking off quickly, went on with the more immediate matter before them. "It is evident, Master Albert Maurice," he said, "that you have thought over all these events long and deeply before this night; and, indeed, who is there amongst us who has not so thought? What, then, is the result of your consideration? What is the first step that you advise us to take?"
"This," replied Albert Maurice: "to meet to-morrow early, at the town-house, and there to prepare a petition, at once condoling with the princess on the events which have placed the government in her hands, and beseeching her to listen to the voice of her own heart, and spontaneously to restore to the good towns of Flanders those rights and privileges of which her father deprived them. Especially, let us entreat her, in the first instance, to do away with that false and illegal body of men, which, under her father's jurisdiction, and by his appointment, administered in this city--not justice, but the arbitrary will of the prince; and to give us back our true and legitimate magistrates, chosen by ourselves, from amongst ourselves, to dispense our own laws to us and to our children."
While the full mellow voice of the young citizen touched thus pointedly upon those subjects in regard to which the feelings and passions of the druggist Ganay were so highly excited, the eye of the unhappy father flashed like a living fire, and a small bright red spot gathered in the centre of his sallow cheek, while his lip quivered as if he could scarcely restrain the passion from bursting forth. The moment that Albert Maurice had done speaking, he started up from his seat, and exclaimed in a quick, sharp, discordant voice, which trembled with the very effort that he made to banish from its tones anything like personal rancour.
"I second the proposal. Are we all agreed?"
"We are," echoed the conclave.
"Now I," continued Ganay, "must offer my proposal, too. Listen to me, men of Ghent. Our rights are our own--inherent, unchangeable; which the voice of no despot can wring from us; which his power may hold in abeyance, but which it can never destroy; which, when even suspended, still exist in full force, and render everything that is done in opposition to them unjust, illegal, criminal. I therefore call upon you solemnly to arraign and to condemn those men, who, chosen from ourselves by the late despot, Charles, became the instruments of his tyranny against their own countrymen. The twenty-six men, falsely calling themselves magistrates of Ghent--appointed, not by the people of Ghent, according to ancient law and usage, but by the Duke of Burgundy, contrary to all our inclinations and consent--have, for nearly ten years, presumed to rule and judge, and doom to punishment, and shed blood, within the walls of this city; for which, as traitors, oppressors, and murderers, unjustified in their proceedings by any law or right, I claim their death, as the just punishment for their crimes, and a due warning unto others in the time to come."
As he spoke, his whole frame trembled with the angry passion that was burning at his heart. His words flowed rapidly and clear; and his face, with the bright dark eyes, flashing from beneath his heavy-knitted brow, offered the very picture of eloquent revenge. A murmur of doubtful import spread through his auditory; some carried away by his passionate oratory, some unwilling to begin their course with such a sweeping act of severity. Albert Maurice himself--sympathizing deeply with the feelings of the childless father, yet resolved, upon every principle of reason and right, to oppose a proposition which, he well knew, proceeded rather from the spirit of revenge than a sense of justice--paused between his contending feelings; when, to the surprise of all, good Martin Fruse raised up his portly person, and, with one of those bursts of generous indignation, which sometimes rendered him almost eloquent, opposed himself strongly to the course suggested by his friend the druggist.
"No, no!" he exclaimed; "no, no! that will never do. Good God! my fellow-citizens, shall it be hereafter said that the people of Ghent rose up powerfully in defence of their own liberties, and made their first act the slaughter of six-and-twenty defenceless men, who had been acting under the belief that they were justified by the law? If any one was to blame, it was the Duke Charles, not they; and good sooth, I doubt, that, at the worst, you could prove they did not legally hold their posts; for, by my faith, we all consented that the duke should appoint them, when we thought he was going to hang us all. A cheap bargain we thought it then, when he was at our gates with ten thousand men. But even were it not so, and had we not consented, should we be the first to make widows and orphans in our own city? Should we shed more Flemish blood, when so much has already flowed to no purpose? Should we punish men for actions in which they believed there was no offence? Fie! fie! Take from them their offices; reprove them for having so far betrayed their country, as to accept the post they held from one who had no right to give it; and let them go back to their dwellings to mourn over their fall. What say you, my fair nephew? Do I judge aright?"
"Most wisely, sir, as far as my poor judgment goes," replied Albert Maurice. "None would show more rigorous justice towards men who, perhaps, have been somewhat severe in the discharge of their office, than I would, but that it is clear that the citizens of Ghent formally consented to their nomination by the duke, and, therefore, that during his life, they were acting at least under legal authority."
"But not after his death!" cried Ganay. "Charles Duke of Burgundy, died on the fifth day of this month; and three days after his death my child was butchered by men whose only title to authority had ceased. The cry of blood must and shall be heard; and if it be not--"
Whatever the druggist added, was muttered in so low a tone, that no one distinguished its import. Albert Maurice, however, saw the necessity of conciliating him, well knowing the influence he possessed over the minds of many whose support was absolutely requisite to success in their undertaking. He now also began to experience how difficult is the task of binding into one mass a large body of men, without any power over them but that which is afforded by the evanescent bubble, popularity. Revenge, ambition, avarice, vanity, pride, and every other passion common to the sons of man, he knew must ever be fertile sources of disunion in assemblies where, as in that over which he presided, each one feels that his individual adhesion is of too great consequence to the schemes of the rest, for anything to be refused him, however unreasonable his request. But he had yet to learn that the enchanter's wand, that stilled the very angry seas themselves, would wave in vain over the unbridled passions of mankind.
"Master Ganay," replied the young citizen, seeing the impression which had been made upon a great part of the burghers by the certain fact that the druggist's son had been condemned and executed after the duke's death--"the case you mention is one totally distinct from any of the rest, and must be considered and judged of apart. Doubt not you shall have full justice done you; and the day after to-morrow we will assemble in our public hall, and solemnly debate on what course we must pursue in that respect. In the meanwhile, let us not embarrass our present consultations with any point on which there may be a difference of opinion: morning will soon be here. Our proceedings, then, are thus far determined:--first, to petition the princess for restoration of our rights: if she grant them, well; but if by evil counsellors she be persuaded to refuse, then to assert them with our blood and with our fortunes, till the last man amongst us perish! Am I right? Well, then," proceeded Albert Maurice, as a ready assent followed his words, and many of the assembly rose to depart, "to-morrow, by eight in the morning, let us meet in the town-hall; and, in the meantime, friends and fellow-counsellors of the good city of Ghent, have I not your authority to provide for the guarding and safety of the town?"
"You have! you have!" was the general reply; "and now good night."
One by one the counsellors of the town of Ghent departed from the apartment of the young citizen. But Ganay, the druggist, lingered behind the rest. The conversation between him and Albert Maurice was brief and rapid, but stern and to the point.
"Albert Maurice," said the druggist, "are we still one in purpose?"
"If you so will," replied the young burgher; "but beware that you bring nothing to divide our councils."
"Nay, rather, you beware that you stand not between the sword of justice and its victim," rejoined the other; "for, as I live, if you do, my love for you will become something bitterer than hate; and more than your ruin--the ruin of your cause, shall follow."
The eye of the young citizen flashed fiercely, as he was thus dared in the first hour of power. "Mark me!" he said, grasping the arm of his companion, and bending his majestic head over him, while he fixed his full stern glance upon the sallow face of the other: "mark me! It is time that our mutual determination should be spoken; yours has already found voice, now hearken to mine. For the service you may do to the cause that I hold dear, I will give a certain way to your revenge. You see I understand you. But if you take one step beyond that, and show me that you would rule our efforts for your purposes, I will crush you or die. Man, you have met with your master! and, though you may have caused the misery of lordly houses, the star of my destiny is above your scope!"
As Albert Maurice spoke, the cheek of the druggist turned even paler than before; and he answered, in a subdued voice, "Ha! indeed! We do, then, know more of each other that I thought. But this is all vain," he added, after a momentary pause; "if you know so much you know, too, that I love you. But, Albert Maurice, I must--I will have my revenge."
"You shall have justice," replied the young citizen, "and I will not oppose you; though I think reason, and humanity, and a right construction of the law, should save the unhappy men at whom you aim. The day after to-morrow, however, plead your own cause before the council in the town-hall. I will be absent; and if they judge for you, I will not interpose by word or deed."
The druggist paused, and thought for a moment. "Be it so," he said, at length. "They must condemn them: and now for you, Albert Maurice. Mark me! There are two paths open before you. The one, which you seem choosing for yourself, leads to a long struggle between the people and the throne, which, after nicely balancing rights, and weighing tenderly the thousand grains of dust that constitute all questions of government and policy, shall end in nothing for the state, and your own death and ruin. The other, on which I would guide you, conducts, by a few bold strides, to power, to empire, and to love! You see I know you, too! Choose for yourself, and let your actions speak the result. Farewell! I will be ever by your side, to prompt you to your own advantage, even to the last moment."
Thus speaking, the druggist quitted the apartment, and followed the rest of the citizens; while Albert Maurice remained in the solitude of his own chamber, with his eyes fixed still upon the spot where Ganay had stood.
"To power--to empire--to love!" he repeated, in a low tone "How dexterously yon man knows to mix the small portion of leaven, calculated to turn and change the whole heart of him to whom he speaks. To power--to empire--and to love!" and the young burgher seated himself slowly, and turned his head towards the shady side of the room, as if the very light of the lamps looked into his heart, and disturbed the intense thoughts that were working in the dark chamber of his bosom.
"No!" he cried, at length, clasping his hands together; "no! not no! My country, thou shalt be my first object! and if, in serving thee, without one effort for myself, aught of good befall me personally, I will receive it, only as a reward for working thy freedom; but never shall the thought of my individual wishes mingle with my aspirations for the benefit of my native land. Fiend! how thou hast tempted me!"
He then gave a moment or two to other ideas connected with his situation at the time; and the first blossom of that full harvest of regrets, which every man, who sows the Cadmean seeds of civil strife, is destined to reap in bitterness of heart, rose up in his bosom, as he thought of the fate of the unhappy men, whom he felt forced to yield to the revenge of Ganay; or to resign every hope of delivering his country. It was the first sacrifice of better feeling he had yet been obliged to make; but the first is ever the augury of many more. Albert Maurice, indeed, would fain have persuaded himself that it was not a sacrifice. He strove to prove to his own mind that the men deserved their fate. He called up instances of their severity--of their cruelty; and recapitulated to his own heart the specious sophistry of Ganay; asserting that the act they had committed, however just had been their sentence on the druggist's son, was illegal from the previous death of him from whom alone they derived their power. He reasoned, he argued in vain--his heart was unsatisfied; when a neighbouring clock, striking the hour of five, made him start from his seat, and gladly take advantage of its warning voice, to cast away thoughts that brought regret, in the busy activity of preparing the city to hold firmly the power it had assumed.