CHAPTER XXI.
We shall pass over the forenoon of the following day rapidly. The news of her father's death reached Mary of Burgundy early in the morning; and though she wept long and bitterly, her grief was now more calm and tranquil than it had been while uncertainty remained mingled with sorrow. More agitating tidings, however, had reached the Lord of Imbercourt and the Chancellor Hugonet, at a still earlier hour: for, by daybreak, the first rumours of the disarming of the soldiery, and the seizure of the gates and walls of the city by the burgher guard, had been communicated to them; and before they could take any measures in consequence, the painful fact that every post or defence in Ghent was in the hands of the citizens, had been reported from all quarters. Respect for the grief of the princess caused them to withhold from her, for some hours, the knowledge which they themselves possessed of the state of the city; and it was only when, by means of some other private agents, they received information that the principal burghers of the town had assembled in the town-house, and were voting a petition to the princess, praying a restitution of all those rights and privileges of which they had been deprived by Duke Charles, that they found it absolutely necessary to communicate to her, both what had occurred and what was likely to follow.
The news affected Mary of Burgundy less than they had expected; and, indeed, proved only a sufficient stimulus to rouse her from the grief into which she had fallen.
"Fear not, my Lord of Imbercourt," she said, as she saw the apprehension that overshadowed his countenance; "fear not, I will soon find means to quiet and satisfy the good people of Ghent. It was only while the will and ordinances of my father were opposed to my own inclinations, that I found any difficulty, or entertained any fear, in regard to the tranquillity of the state."
"I hope, madam, and I trust," replied Imbercourt, "that you may find it easy; but a stirred-up population is like one of those ravenous beasts, that seems to acquire a greater appetite by feeding largely. I trust that the Lords of Ravestein and Cleves, with others to whom I have despatched messengers, may soon arrive, and in sufficient force to overawe these insolent burghers; so that you may be obliged to grant nothing but that which is just and right, and be able to check concession at the proper point. Hark, lady!" he added, as a distant shout burst upon his ear, "the unmanly brutes allow you not one day for sorrow: they are coming even now."
Mary's cheek turned a little pale; but she showed no other sign of apprehension; and merely replied--"Let them come, my lord! They shall find it difficult to conquer the love of Mary of Burgundy; for love is the only arms that I shall oppose to my subjects. Alas! that they should ever be mine! I beseech you, my good lords, to have the hall of audience fittingly prepared to receive the people, who seem approaching fast. Have such guards and attendants drawn up as may give us some show of state. Alice, my sweet friend, seek out the noble duchess, and pray her to cast by her grief for a moment; for much do I need her presence and support in what is about to occur."
The orders of the princess were promptly obeyed. Margaret of York joined her in a few minutes. The hall of audience was prepared as speedily as possible; and everything was ready for the reception of the burghers before they reached the gates of the palace. The deputation, consisting of about twenty persons, dressed in their municipal robes, proceeded from the town-house on foot, followed and surrounded by an immense multitude of the lower orders, shouting loudly--"Ghent and liberty! Ghent and liberty! Long live the noble syndics!" They soon arrived at the building called the Cours du Prince; and some surprise, perhaps, was felt by the citizens, on finding themselves at once admitted to the palace, without any question, and ushered, through a line of armed guards, to the great hall of audience. The general impression among them was, that the counsellors of the princess, possessing a greater armed force than the townsmen had been aware of, were determined to bring the matter to an immediate decision; and, perhaps, even to arrest them in the palace, for the events of the night before. This supposition was rather increased by the appearance of the hall of audience, which was also lined with armed attendants; and by the demeanour of Imbercourt, Hugonet, and other counsellors, who stood with somewhat severe and frowning countenances on each side of the chair of state, which now remained vacant, under the rich crimson canopy that had so often overhung the stern, determined features of Charles the Bold.
As soon as they had entered the chamber, the deputation paused, uncertain to whom to address themselves. The counsellors neither spoke nor changed their position; and, for a few moments, there was a dead, unpleasant silence, which no one chose to break. At that instant, however, when the dumb confronting of the court and the citizens was becoming even painful to both, the door by the side of the throne was thrown open by one of the hussiers or door-keepers, and Mary of Burgundy, leaning on the arm of Margaret of York, preceded by some of the officers of the palace, and followed by two or three female attendants, entered the apartment, and advanced towards the chair.
She ascended the steps on which it was raised, but did not sit down; and, turning towards the deputation of the burghers, she bowed her head with a gentle inclination, while the novelty of her situation, the feeling that she was taking possession of her dead father's throne, and the difficulty of her circumstances, overcame her firmness for an instant, and she burst into tears.
Wiping the drops rapidly from her eyes, she made a sign to the Chancellor Hugonet, who immediately took a step forward, and said--addressing the deputation of citizens, who still stood at the further end of the room--"The high and mighty Princess, Mary, Duchess of Burgundy, Countess of Flanders and Hainault, is ready to receive any persons on behalf of her good town of Ghent."
There was a slight pause; and then Albert Maurice, as president of the provisional council, advanced towards the throne, and knelt on one knee upon the first step. Mary extended her fair hand to him, as he knelt, and with a flushed cheek and quivering lip, the young burgher bent his head over it, while something very like a tear glittered in his eye, too. In his left hand he held a roll of parchment; and, before he rose, he said--"Madam, I come to lay at your feet a humble address of condolence, and petition, from your good and faithful subjects, the citizens of Ghent. Is it your good pleasure that I read it?"
Mary bowed her head; and Albert Maurice, rising from his knee, unrolled the parchment which he held, and read, in gentle and respectful tones, the address which had that morning been agreed to in the town-hall. The terms in which it was couched were as mild and moderate as the young burgher, by his utmost eloquence, had been able to procure. The citizens, in the language of grief and respect, spoke of the high qualities of the late Duke of Burgundy; and touched as lightly as possible upon those acts of arbitrary power and barbarous harshness, which had deprived him of that love which the more noble and generous parts of his character might have obtained from his subjects. They continued, however, to notice his attacks upon the liberties of the good towns of Flanders, in terms both severe and firm; and they petitioned the princess immediately to take into consideration the consequences which such aggressions had produced, and to remedy the wrong that had been done by her father.
While Albert Maurice read the petition, the deputation had gradually advanced, and formed a little semicircle at a few yards distance from the throne; and when the young citizen had concluded, the princess immediately replied, addressing herself to all:--
"I did think, my good friends," she said, in a tone rather sad than reproachful, "that the day on which I first heard the sad news of my poor father's death, might have been passed in privacy, sanctified to mourning and to sorrow. I know, however, that communities are little capable of feeling for the griefs and affections of individuals, especially when those individuals are their princes; and, therefore, laying by my sorrow, I come willingly to hear your wants and wishes, and to assure you all of my firm resolve to do everything I can to satisfy and to make you happy. In regard to the rights and privileges of the city of Ghent, far be it from me, now or ever, to inquire why they were restrained or abridged by your late sovereign lord, my father; or to renew old griefs and dissensions, by investigating who was right or wrong in the times past. Me, men of Ghent, you have never yet offended; you are my fellow-countrymen, therefore I feel for you: you are my subjects, therefore I love you. At once, then, whether as a boon, or as a right, whether as your own due, or as a testimony of the affection of Mary of Burgundy, take, hold, and use wisely, all those privileges and immunities whatever, which you can prove that you have possessed at any time within fifty years of the present day. Farther back let us not inquire, for it would lead us to times when Ghent and Flanders, under the usurped domination of a man who was raised from the dregs of the people, by the people's discontent, endured a grosser and more bloody tyranny than ever they suffered from the most savage and cruel of their native princes."
"We thankfully accept your Grace's bounty," replied Albert Maurice; "and, without derogating from our own inherent rights, we willingly receive your free and generous confirmation of them, as a grace and benefit conferred; and so humbly take our leave."
"You will confer, my friends," said Mary, "with my chancellor here present, in regard to all the particulars which you may claim, and will have them clearly established and defined to the full extent of the words that I have used."
The deputation were then permitted to kiss the hand of the princess, and withdrew; and Mary, after giving one hasty glance round the hall of audience, retired, once more to indulge her grief in her own apartments.
With her, and with the Duchess of York, the hours passed in lonely mourning, only interrupted from time to time by an occasional call to transact some of the necessary business of the state; or by the tidings of some event which it was thought indispensable to communicate. In the streets and lanes of the city, however, the day went by with all those signs which show an anxious and excited population. Continual crowds collected in various parts of the town; now conversing among themselves, now listening to some popular declaimer. The busy and important were seen hurrying to and fro in every direction. The song, the fiddle, or the cornemuse, were exchanged for pitiable verses on the pitiable battle of Nancy; and while one part of the city was overflowing with people, and rang with the sound of many tongues, another showed streets totally deserted, the abode of silence and solitude.
At length, towards evening, a strong disposition to riot and tumult displayed itself. Whispers and rumours, originating no one knew where, were spread rapidly amongst the crowd, tending strongly to excite them to outrage. Some said that the council were bringing in large bodies of soldiers; some that the nobles were arming their attendants, and intended to repossess themselves of the gates. But the strongest and most generally credited reports were directed against the eschevins, or police magistrates of the city, whose very duties of investigation and punishment rendered them at all times obnoxious to the lower classes, but who were now hated in a tenfold degree, from the abrogation of the popular form of election in their last appointment. In several districts petty tumults actually took place; whoever bore the appearance of either a noble or a lawyer was insulted as soon as he appeared; and the burgher guard, which was more than once called out, with a very natural leaning to the people from which it was selected, took merely such means of repression as dispersed the crowds in one spot, only to collect in larger numbers in another.
In the meanwhile, Maillotin du Bac, as Prevot, and the druggist Ganay, as one of the notables of the town, mingled with the crowds, and harangued them with the apparent purpose of persuading them to return peaceably to their houses. The first, indeed, was anything but popular in the city; and some supposed that he was exposing himself to outrage by the active part he took; but it was wonderful to see how readily he assumed the tone and deportment necessary to captivate the people, and how speedily the multitude forgot his former conduct. It is true that neither he nor Ganay in their speeches said one word to appease the current of popular indignation, or to divert it from the point to which it was tending. They used every sort of common-place argument to induce the people to return to their own dwellings. They told them that it would be much better, much safer, much more prudent, to disperse, and to let things take their course; though they acknowledged, at the same time, that the eschevins, in the discharge of their illegal office, had acted cruelly and basely. Nevertheless, they said, that those instruments of tyranny would doubtless be brought to justice, if they were not by any means smuggled out of the city. In short, they did what may always be done: excited the people in a far greater degree, while they affected to tranquillize them; and pointed their fury to the very object from which they pretended to turn it.
The troops which remained in the town, though totally insufficient to overawe the citizens, or to repossess themselves of the walls and gates, were numerous enough to hold out, for any length of time, the palace or Cours du Prince, as it was called, which, according to the custom of the day, was strongly fortified; and which was, luckily, fully provisioned. The attention, therefore, of the ministers of the orphan princess was solely directed to adding temporary defences to her dwelling, and to repairing any slight defect which time or oversight had produced, without attempting the vain task of putting down the turbulent spirit which was manifesting itself in the city. No hostility, indeed, was evinced by the populace towards the princess or her attendants; and servants were suffered to go to and from the palace without the slightest molestation. But still the tidings of tumultuous movements, in various parts of the town, poured in through the evening; and, as Mary sat in a high chamber of a tall tower, long since pulled down, but which then rose above most of the buildings round, the distant shouts and cries caught her ear, and more than once made her inquire the cause. Towards nightfall, Imbercourt was summoned to her presence; and she asked eagerly if there were no means of pacifying the people.
"None, madam," replied the minister; "without, indeed, you could bribe some of their demagogues; and that would, of course, be merely hiring them to create tumults hereafter, whenever they wanted a fresh supply. I am afraid they must be suffered to have their way for a time. In the end, the populace will see their own folly, and the base selfishness of those that mislead them, and will return to quiet and tranquillity of their own accord. In the meanwhile, thank God, the palace is secure; so be under no apprehensions, madam, for we could hold it out for six months, against any force they can bring."
"Oh, I fear not for myself, my lord," replied Mary; "I fear for my subjects and my friends. I beseech you, my lord, leave not the palace to-night: they might murder you in your way to your own hotel."
"I do not believe, madam, that they have any ill-will towards me," replied Imbercourt: "I have never done them wrong, and have often stood between them and the anger of their prince. But my duty commands me to remain here, at least till the town is somewhat more calm; and I certainly will not quit the palace this night."
So saying, he withdrew; and Mary approached the lattice of the room in which she had been sitting, and which commanded a somewhat extensive view over the city; though the objects that were visible were rather the roofs of buildings and the spires of churches, than the busy multitudes which she would fain have watched, herself unseen. Every now and then, however, a glance was to be caught of some of the manifold canals and squares of Ghent; and Mary threw open the window, in order, ere the light faded away entirely, to gain a view of any of the crowds whose shouts she heard. But the effort was vain; and turning away from the chilling blast of the January wind, she closed the window, and was returning to her seat, when she found that Alice of Imbercourt had followed her to the deep arch in which the casement was situated.
"I wish, dearest lady," said her fair follower, "that you would take the counsel of a simple girl, which, I have a fond belief, would be better than that of all these grave signiors."
"Well, my Alice," replied the princess, with a faint smile, "what would you have me do?"
"May I speak boldly, lady?" demanded Alice.
"Ay, indeed, as boldly as you will," answered Mary, whose heart wanted some bosom into which to pour its anxieties and sorrows. "But first, dear friend, send away those two girls, who sit moping by the fire, sharing my distress, without feeling my grief. Bid the page go light the lamps in the lower chamber, and tell them to take thither their embroidery frames, and work diligently, while we two stay here in the grey twilight, as dim and melancholy as my thoughts."
Her commands were speedily obeyed. "And now, Alice," she said, as the other returned, "what would you have me do?"
"I would have you despatch a messenger this very night," replied the young lady, boldly, "to the only person on whose arm and to whose heart you can rely to defend and guard you in the present strait--I mean to the Arch--"
"Hush, hush! Not for a universe!" cried Mary "Good Heaven! what would he deem me? No, Alice, no! you would surely never advise me to such a step. Fie! fie! mention it not!"
"I knew that you would start away, my dearest mistress," replied her fair counsellor; "but you must hear me still. What can you do better? What can you do so well? The circumstances in which you are placed, the difficulties which surround you, do they not justify such an act? do they not render it wise and right, instead of indelicate and bold? The Archduke Maximilian was once plighted to you by your own father; and if ever two people loved each other--"
"Hush! Alice, I entreat, I command," interrupted the princess. "It must not, it cannot be. If such be your advice, speak no more: what I wanted was counsel how to tranquillize these unquiet people of Ghent."
"I had something to say on that score, too," replied Alice of Imbercourt; "but perchance, my advice will not be more palatable to you, in regard to that matter, than in regard to the other."
"Nay, nay; be not offended, Alice," answered Mary; "none can judge of that on which you were speaking, but myself; but, of this business of Ghent, perhaps any one can judge better."
"Well, then, madam, I will say my say," replied Alice; "and you can follow my counsel or not, as you think best. You marked the young burgher, with the furred robe and the gold chain, who read you the address this morning? You must remember him--as handsome a youth as ever lady's eye rested on."
"I scarcely saw him," said the princess; "nor should have noticed him at all, but that I think it was the same who, some three or four months since, was accused before the council of high treason, and acquitted himself most nobly."
"The same, exactly the same," replied Alice; "his name is Albert Maurice, as I hear; and he bears the noblest reputation of any young citizen of them all. I have heard even my own father declare, that yon young man has too high a mind, and too noble a spirit, for his class and station."
"Well, what of him?" demanded the princess; "I fear me that his noble spirit will work us little good; for, from all I saw to-day, he seems to lead the disaffected of the city."
"You marked him not as I did, madam," answered Alice: "never mind what I saw, or what I fancied that I saw. He does lead all parties in the city, I hear; and I am fain to think, that had it not been for him, that petition and address, as they call it, would have had a ruder tone. Lady, that young man is well disposed towards you and yours; and I believe that he might be easily worked upon to use his great influence to cure the present madness of the people."
"Indeed, I believe he is well disposed," said Mary; "for, I remember, by your father's counsel, I had him called back after the trial, and besought him, in private, to do his best to maintain peace and order in the city."
"My father's counsel was wise, madam," replied Alice, with a quiet smile; "and his daughter's is just of the same piece. What I would have you do now is what my father led you to do then. Send for this Albert Maurice, and beseech him, fairly and gently, to do his best to quiet the populace, and to restore tranquillity. Appeal to his generosity--to his gratitude; show him how frankly you granted the petition of the citizens this morning; and, take my word, you will make a convert and a powerful friend."
"With all my heart," exclaimed Mary, at once; "but there is no time to be lost: hie thee down to thy father, dear Alice; tell him what I have resolved to do, and bid him send a messenger for the young citizen directly."
"Nay, nay, dear lady," answered Alice, smiling again, "that way will never do. In the first place, I hear my father is not, just now, the best beloved in the city, for suffering a young man to be executed who had committed murder, and was condemned by the eschevins; and, besides that, I learned from one of my women but now, that he had sent, in his own name, to this Albert Maurice and another of the citizens, named Ganay, and that they refused to come."
"Then, most probably, they would refuse me, too," replied the princess; "and though Mary of Burgundy will do all that she can to make her people happy, she must not stoop to beg their presence, and be refused."
"No fear, no fear, madam," said Alice of Imbercourt; "but leave the matter to me, and I will answer for it, that, ere half an hour be over, the young citizen shall be standing here before you."
"What do you propose to do, then," demanded the princess.
"Merely to write a billet, desiring Master Albert Maurice, in the name of Mary, Duchess of Burgundy, to render himself to the palace, with all speed, in order to speak with his sovereign," was her fair attendant's answer.
"Nay, but it may seem strange," said the princess; "I hardly dare to do so without speaking with your father."
"If you make it a matter for counsellors, lady," replied Alice, "all our scheme fails, or worse may come of it than you suspect. I have already heard the constable of the reiters and one of your Grace's council regretting that they did not seize upon the deputation this morning, as a pledge for the submission of the people. No, no; he must come in disguise, and must go in disguise. I will send the page with the billet; he is shrewd and active, and shall bring him in by the postern, on the canal. Nay, nay, lady," she added, seeing Mary about to make some farther opposition, "I will take it all upon myself. I will write the note, and send the page, and bid the sentry give him admission on his return: and if aught is heard of it, it will but pass for the trick of a mad-headed girl--and I have more to lose than you too, my princess," she continued, laughing; "for I have a lover who could be as jealous as a spaniel dog, if I chose to let him."
Mary still hesitated, and probably might have refused her consent; but some nearer and louder shouts met her ear, giving evidence that the crowds were increasing as the night came on, and determined her to accede. Alice's proposal was agreed to accordingly; and, as every moment was apparently adding to the tumult in the city, she proceeded to put the scheme in execution immediately.
CHAPTER XXII.
The torrent of business in which Albert Maurice found himself involved, had occupied his time in such a manner as hardly to permit of his giving much attention to the tumultuous assemblages which took place, during the day, in various parts of the city. Popular leaders, indeed, are apt to attach too little importance to those commotions which, being frequently raised by themselves with ease and rapidity, they fancy they can allay with the same facility and power; but a time comes when they are to be undeceived, and it was approaching with Albert Maurice. Towards two o'clock the young citizen had addressed the people in the market-place, and had easily induced them disperse, by informing them that the princess had most generously granted them, of her own accord, all that they could desire. He had then, in the belief that all the other crowds would melt away, in the same manner, before night, retired to his own dwelling; and, in the most remote and noiseless apartment which it contained, had proceeded to make, with rapidity and decision, all those arrangements on which depended the defence of the city against external enemies, and the predominance of the popular party within its walls. He wrote at length to all the municipal councils of the various towns in Flanders; he took measures for organizing a considerable national force; he sent express orders to the guard at all the gates, to refuse admission to any party of armed men; and he issued orders for the fabrication of arms as speedily as possible, in order that the citizens might be found in a state of preparation, if the privileges and liberty they had regained should be menaced from without.
Thus passed the three hours of light that remained after his return home; and busy hours they were. At length feeling himself, notwithstanding his great corporeal powers, somewhat wearied with the immense exertions which he had made, he proceeded into the garden attached to his dwelling, which formed a little terrace on the banks of the Lys. As he stood there, turning his aching brow to the cool wind, the full roar of the tumult in the city burst upon his ear, like the distant sound of a stormy sea; and, after listening for a few moments to the combination of discordant noises, which rose up from the many streets and squares, he felt at once that some great change had taken place in the popular mind since he had left the market-place; and, turning quickly back, he prepared to go forth and use all the power he knew that he possessed to restore tranquillity. At his own door, however, he was met by a boy, who instantly pronounced his name, though it was now dark, and demanded to speak with him.
"Who, and what are you, boy?" demanded the young citizen.
"I bear you a billet from a lady," replied the youth; "and you must read it directly."
"A billet from a lady!" cried Albert Maurice, with a sneer curling his handsome lip. "Go, go, my boy, this is no time for idle gallantries. Give me the note, and get thee hence; I will read it to-morrow."
"Nay, but you must read it this moment," the other answered, without giving him the note: "ay, and that in private, too," he added. "So come, good sir, go back into your house; and take it with reverence and care, for it deserves no less."
"Thou art bold enough," replied Albert Maurice; but at the same time there was something in the deportment of the boy, so unlike that of the common Love's messengers of those days, that he yielded to his desire; and, turning into the house, strode quickly to the chamber in which he had been writing, and in which a light was still burning.
The moment he had entered, the apparel of the page, and a small St. Andrew's cross, embroidered on his left breast, at once showed that he was a servant of the house of Burgundy. Instantly closing the door, Albert Maurice took the note with every sign of reverence and respect, and read it attentively by the light of the lamp. As he did so, however, his cheek flushed, and then turned pale and flushed again, and he demanded eagerly, "Who gave you this note, Sir Page?"
"The Lady Alice of Imbercourt," replied the boy; "and she bade me lead you speedily to the postern on the river."
Albert Maurice paused, and mused; and though no heart that ever beat in a human bosom knew less of fear than his, yet the ordinary calculation of danger which every one makes when engaged in enterprises of importance forced itself upon his notice, and he could not but feel that the step proposed to him was replete with peril. Was it probable, he asked himself, that the princess should send to him at that hour? And was not the dispatch of the note he held in his hand, much more likely to be part of a scheme framed by the Prevot, or some of the inferior agents of the government, in order to get the chief leader of the popular party, the president of the provisional council, into their hands, as a tie upon the people?
Yet, as he gazed upon the billet, it was evidently a woman's writing; and as he re-read the contents there was something in it all which put prudence and caution to flight at once. Was not the very name of Mary of Burgundy enough? To be requested by her to visit her dwelling in secrecy and disguise! to see her, to speak with her in private! to bask in the light of those beautiful eyes! to hear that soft and thrilling voice! The very hope was worth all the perils that ever knight or paladin encountered; and his re-perusal of the billet determined him at once to go.
Where to find some speedy means of disguising his person was his next thought; but then, immediately remembering the monk's grey gown in which he had already travelled so far, and which, by some accident, had been left behind by his former guide, he instantly sought it out, stripped off the furred robe which he had worn through the day, and buckling on a sword and poniard under the frock, strode on after the page, with that increased feeling of security which we all experience when we know that we have the means about us of selling our lives dearly, happen what will in the course before us.
"Better follow at a short distance behind, good father," said the boy, as they proceeded into the street; "you know your way towards the back of the Cours du Prince. If we go separate we shall the better escape notice, and you will find me on the narrow path beneath the walls."
As he spoke thus, he darted away, and Albert Maurice followed with the hurried step of excitement and expectation. It was now completely dark; and passing onward along the quay of the canals, and through one or two of the many large squares of Ghent, he soon saw enough of popular feeling to make him anxious to resume a garb in which he might take measures for repressing the turbulent spirit that was every moment gaining ground. At the corner of each of the larger streets immense bonfires, blazing and crackling in the chill air, at once lighted, and warmed, and excited the multitudes that assembled round them. But this was not all; wine, and ale too, that genuine Flemish beverage, were circulating rapidly amongst the crowds of men and women, whose class and appearance did not at all warrant the supposition that their own means could procure, even on an extraordinary occasion, such copious supplies of dear and intoxicating liquors. All this excited a suspicion in the mind of Albert Maurice, that some unseen agency was at work, to rouse the people to a far higher pitch than he wished or had expected; and at the same time, he felt that such scenes of tumultuous rejoicing on the news of the loss of a great battle, and the death of their bold and chivalrous sovereign, was indecent in itself, and must be bitter, indeed, to the child of the dead prince. Such sights, of course, increased his speed; and hastening on as fast as possible, he soon found himself upon the narrow ledge of land between the fortified wall of the palace and the river. But he was alone; the page was nowhere to be seen; and Albert Maurice began to suspect he had been deceived; but, a moment after, the appearance of the boy, hurrying up as fast as his less powerful limbs permitted, soon showed him that his own anxious haste had outstripped even the page's youthful activity.
Although a sentry paraded the wall above, with his slow match lighted, no challenge was given; and three sharp taps upon the postern door soon caused it to fly open, and admit them within the walls of the building. An inferior officer of the guard stood by, and held a lantern to the face of the page as he entered. The boy endured his scrutiny quietly; but, to the surprise of the young citizen, he found that the appearance of the page was received as a passport for himself. The officer withdrew the lantern without farther comment, as soon as he had satisfied himself in regard to the boy's person, and suffered Albert Maurice and his conductor to enter the palace.
Up long and manifold staircases--through innumerable doors and interminable passages, the page led the leader of the Gandois, and only stopped at length, when both were out of breath, at a small, deep doorway, where he knocked before he entered, making a sign to Albert Maurice to pause. The boy was then told to come in, and remained within for some minutes, while the young burgher continued in the dark passage, his heart beating, as he thought of his near meeting with Mary of Burgundy, with that thrill of expectation which would seem to partake of the nature of fear, were it not almost always mingled in some way with feelings not only of hope, but of joy.
After a time the boy returned; and, leading the young burgher to another door, he threw it open, and admitted him into an apartment fitted up with all the ostentatious splendour for which Charles of Burgundy had been famous in the decoration of his palaces. It seemed to have been a room peculiarly allotted to that prince's leisure moments; for all around hung various implements of sylvan sport, each ornamented in some way with the arms of Burgundy, and piled up against the walls in the manner of trophies.
There is something strangely solemn in entering the chamber of one lately dead. It seems more empty, more vacant and cold, than when its master, though absent, is living. It appeals to our own feelings and connects itself, by the thin gossamer threads of selfishness which the human heart draws between our own fate and every external event that befalls our fellow-men, with an after-period, when our chamber shall be left thus cold and lonely, and our place be no longer found amongst the living.
All spoke of the last Duke Charles, and of the bold rude sports of which he had been fond. Even the sconce that held a few lighted tapers was fashioned in the shape of a boar's head; and as the young citizen entered the chamber, he felt that feeling of pity for, and sympathy with, the deceased prince which nothing could have inspired but his death: that common fate which breaks down all that holds man from man, and first makes us feel our near kindred to each other.
There was no one in the chamber; and the page, after telling Albert Maurice that the lady would be with him in a moment, retired and left him to think both of the living and the dead. His thoughts of the latter, however, soon ceased; for in this active life the solemn impressions are naturally the most transitory; and the expectation of meeting Mary of Burgundy soon absorbed the whole. He had no time to analyse his feelings, or to examine with microscopic accuracy the workings of his own heart. Since the day when he had first seen her in the market-place her image had become connected with almost every thought that had passed through his mind. The name of the princess, and her conduct in all the events of the day, of course formed a constant part in the conversation of the people; and whenever she was mentioned, the fair form and the mild liquid eyes rose to the sight of the young burgher, and the sweet melodious tones of her voice seemed to warble in his ear. He had refused to let his own mind inquire what was going on in his bosom; but the words of Ganay had, perhaps, in some degree, opened his eyes to his feelings; and the sensations which he experienced while waiting her coming in that chamber tended still more to undeceive him.
"What, what was he doing?" he asked himself: "encouraging a passion for an object beyond his reach." But even while he so thought, a thousand wild and whirling images rushed across his brain--of triumph, and success, and love. But how was it all to be obtained? By overthrowing her power to raise himself into her rank; by overturning the institutions of his country; by risking the effusion of oceans of blood, and by inducing months of anarchy? Still these were the only means by which he could ever hope to win the hand of Mary of Burgundy; and he asked himself, would such means win her love? Even were he to give way to the towering ambition, which was the only passion that had hitherto struggled with patriotism in his bosom--the only one which he had feared--would it obtain the gratification of that love which was now rising up, a stronger passion, still destined to use the other as its mere slave?
Such feelings as I have said rushed rapidly through his brain, while expectation mingled with the rest, and made his heart beat till it almost caused him to gasp for breath. These sensations were becoming well-nigh intolerable, when the door opened, and Mary of Burgundy, followed a step behind by Alice of Imbercourt, entered the apartment, and the door was closed. The princess was still pale with grief; but there was a fitful colour came and went in her cheek, that was far lovelier than the most rosy health. Her eyes, too, bore the traces of tears; but their heaviness had something touching in it, which, perhaps, went more directly to the heart than their brighter light.
With a flushed cheek and agitated frame the young burgher advanced a step, and made a profound inclination of the head as the princess entered, not well knowing whether, when received in so private a manner, to kneel or not. But Mary, after pausing a moment, with a doubtful glance, as her eye fell upon the monk's frock with which he was covered, held out her hand for him to kiss as her subject, a custom then common to almost all ladies of sovereign station; and the young citizen at once bent the knee, and touched that fair hand with a lip that quivered like that of a frightened child. He then rose, and stepping back, waited for Mary to express her commands, though his eye from time to time was raised for a single instant to her face, as if he thought to impress those fair features still more deeply on the tablet of his heart.
"I thank you, sir, for coming so speedily," said the princess, "for, in truth, I have much need of your counsel and assistance."
"I trust, madam, you could not entertain a doubt of my instant obedience to your commands," replied Albert Maurice, finding that she paused.
"The only thing which could have led me to do so," said the princess, "was your refusal to come at the bidding of my faithful friends, the Lords of Imbercourt and Hugonet."
"There is some great mistake, madam," replied the young citizen, in surprise; "the noblemen, to whom your Grace refers, have never signified any wish to see me. Had they done so, I should have come at their request, with the same confidence that I have obeyed your commands."
"Alice," cried the princess, turning to her fair attendant, "my information came from you. I hope it was correct."
"All I can say, fair sir," said Alice of Imbercourt, advancing a step, and applying to the young burgher the term that was generally used in that day, from noble to noble--"all I can say, fair sir, is, that I heard my father, the Lord of Imbercourt, despatch a messenger this day, at about three of the clock, to entreat Master Albert Maurice and Master Walter Ganay to visit him at the palace immediately; and I heard, scarcely an hour ago, by the report of one of my women, that a direct refusal had been returned."
"Not by me, lady, certainly not by me," replied Albert Maurice. "Since the hour of two, this day, I have been in my own cabinet busily engaged in writing, and know but little of what has passed in the city. But assuredly no messenger has ever reached me to-day from the palace, except the page who brought me the command, which I am here to obey. But you say another name was coupled with mine. Perhaps that person may have returned the uncourteous refusal of which you speak."
"I am very sorry for it, then," answered Mary of Burgundy; "for the matter on which I desired to see you, sir, would be much better transacted with men and statesmen than with a weak women like myself."
"Your pardon, madam!" exclaimed Albert Maurice. "If what you would say refers to the city of Ghent and its present state, much more may be done by your own commands, expressed personally to myself, than by an oration of the wisest minister that ever yet was born. Statesmen, madam, are often too cold, too prudent, too cautious, to deal with the frank multitude, whose actions are all passion, and whose motives are all impulse. But, oh! madam, there is a natural, generous, gentle feeling about all your demeanour, from your lightest word to your most important deed, which is well calculated to make our hearts serve you, as well as our heads or our hands."
The young burgher spoke with a fervour and an enthusiasm that called the blood up for a moment into Mary's cheek. But as the chivalrous courtesy of the day often prompted expressions of much more romantic admiration, without the slightest further meaning than mere ordinary civility, Mary of Burgundy saw nothing in the conduct of the young citizen beyond dutiful and loyal affection. The possibility of her having raised a deeper or more tender feeling in the bosom of her subject never once crossed her thoughts. It was to her as a thing impossible; and, though she certainly felt gratified by the fervent tone of loyalty in which Albert Maurice expressed himself, she dreamed not for a moment that that loyalty could ever become a warmer feeling in his breast.
"I trust, sir," she replied, "ever to merit the opinion you have expressed, and to keep the love of my good people of Ghent, as well as that of all my subjects. But, indeed, the conduct that they are now pursuing evinces but small regard either for my feelings or my interest, nor much gratitude for the first willing concession that I have made in their favour. You say, sir, you know little that has passed in the city since an early hour, listen, then to the tidings that have reached me."
Mary then recapitulated all that she had heard concerning the tumults in different parts of the city; and a conversation of considerable length ensued, which--from all the important and interesting circumstances discussed, from the free and unceremonious communication which it rendered necessary, and from the continual bursts of high and generous sentiments, upon both parts, to which the great events they spoke of gave rise--brought all the feelings of the young citizen within the circle of the one deep, overpowering passion which had been long growing up in his bosom. If he came there doubting whether he loved Mary of Burgundy, before he left her presence his only doubt was, whether there was anything else on earth worth living for but the love he felt towards her.
Such thoughts had their natural effect both on his appearance and demeanour. He still maintained that tone of deep respect due from a subject to his sovereign; but there was a free grace in all his movements, a brilliant energy in all he said, a spirit of gentle, chivalrous loyalty in all his professions, inspired by the great excitement under which he spoke, that raised the wonder and admiration of Mary herself, though still no one dream of bolder aspirations ever crossed her imagination.
The chamber in which this conference was held was turned towards the river, rather than to the square before the palace; and the shouts which had made themselves loudly audible in the apartments from which Mary had just come, had hitherto been less distinctly heard where she now stood. But, in a moment after, the multitudes which had assembled in other places seemed directing their course over a bridge that lay a little higher up the stream; and the sounds came with redoubled force. Shouts, cries, and songs of every kind were borne along with the wind, to the chamber in which the princess was standing; and, pointing to the casement, she bade the young citizen open it, and hearken to what was passing without.
Albert Maurice did so, and, in listening, his cheek became alternately pale and red; his brow knitted, and his eye flashed; and, turning to the princess, he replied, "I know not, madam, what they have done, or what they are about to do, but certainly some sort of insanity seems to have seized upon the people. However, I will this instant go forth, and, as I live, if they have committed the crimes of which I am led to fear they are guilty, from some of the cries I have just heard, the perpetrators shall meet the punishment they deserve."
He turned towards the door as he spoke, but Mary desired him to pause. "Stay, stay, sir, a moment," she said: "Alice, bid the page see that the way is clear."
The young lady opened the door, and whispered a few words to the boy, who waited in the passage beyond, and who instantly proceeded to ascertain that no change had taken place to obstruct the burgher's egress from the palace. Scarcely was he gone on this errand, however, when a pale reddish glare began to pour through the open window, waxing stronger each moment; and Mary, whose face was half turned towards it, started forward, exclaiming, "Look, look! Good Heaven, they have set fire to the city!"
Albert Maurice sprang to the casement also; and, as with his right hand he threw further open the lattice, his left rested for a single moment on that of Mary of Burgundy, which she had accidentally placed upon the sill of the window. It was but for an instant, yet a thrill passed through his whole frame that made his brain seem to reel.
But he had no time to indulge such thoughts. A bright pyramid of flame was at that very moment springing up through the clear night air, affording a strange and fearful contrast to the pure sweet beams of the early moon. Redder and redder the baleful glare arose, as if striving to outshine the moonlight, and streaming over the city, displayed the dark black masses of the buildings; wall, and roof, and tower, and spire, standing out in clear relief upon the bright background of the blaze. Thence gleaming on, the two lights were seen flashing together upon the river, amidst the innumerable black spots formed by the boats, in many of which a number of human figures might be descried, gazing with upturned faces at the flame. The wooden bridge, too, with the crossing and interlacing of its manifold piles and beams, appeared at a little distance beyond, a piece of dark fine tracery upon the glittering mass of the stream; and there, too, an immense multitude were to be observed, looking on calmly at the fire which was consuming some of the finest buildings in the city.
All this was gathered by the young citizen at one glance. "They have set fire to the prison and the hall of justice," he cried, divining in an instant, both from the direction of the flames, and the cries he had before heard, the crime which had been committed. "This must be put a stop to! Madam, farewell. When you shall hear to-morrow of the events of this night, you shall either learn that I am dead, or that I have done my duty."
The page had by this time returned; and Albert Maurice followed him with a rapid step through the same passages by which he had been conducted to his interview with the princess. Just as they reached the ground floor of the castle, however, there was the sound of a coming step. The boy darted across the corridor in a moment, and Albert Maurice had but time to draw the cowl of his monk's gown over his head, when he was encountered by the Lord of Imbercourt, advancing with a hasty step towards the apartments of the princess.
The young citizen, with all his feelings excited by what had just passed, was both fearless and careless of any mortal thing, and, making slight way for the nobleman to pass, was striding rapidly on after the page; but Imbercourt caught him by the arm, exclaiming, "Who are you, sir? and what do you here?"
"I do the errand on which I am sent," replied the young citizen, "and interrupt no man. Unhand me, sir; for I am not to be stayed."
"Not till I see your face," said Imbercourt sternly: "your voice I should know. But that form, I doubt me, is no monk's."
As he spoke, he raised his hand towards the cowl which covered the head of the young citizen. But Albert Maurice shook off his grasp, saying, "Man, you are unwise! Stay me further at your peril."
"Ho! a guard without there!" shouted the Lord of Imbercourt, till the whole passages rang, and cast himself immediately in the path of the burgher. But Albert Maurice seized him in his powerful grasp, and, with one effort sent him reeling to the further part of the corridor, where he fell almost stunned upon the floor.
Without a moment's pause, the young citizen darted through the door by which the page had disappeared, traced without difficulty the passages which led to the postern, passed unquestioned by the sentry who was conversing with the boy, and, in a moment after, was standing upon the terrace without the palace walls.
Casting off the monk's gown, he rolled it hastily up and threw it into the water; and then striding along the narrow quay, between the Cours du Prince and the river, he directed his way at once towards the bridge. It was still covered with people; and some one, recognising him as he came upon it, pronounced his name, which was instantly spoken by a hundred other voices. Still Albert Maurice passed on, forcing his way through the crowd, but marking attentively the various countenances, as he went, by the light which the flames of the burning buildings cast upon them. There were many he recognised, but he spoke to none for some moments, till he came to a stout honest-looking clothworker, near whom he stopped for an instant.
"Are you ready to obey my commands, Gibelin?" he demanded.
"To the death, Master Albert," replied the other; "the rogues have set fire to the hall of justice."
"I see," answered Albert Maurice; "follow me thither, and, as you go, collect as many as you can who will obey without question."
He then strode on, stopping from time to time at the various crowds, wherever he recognised a person on whom he could depend. With each of these, a momentary conversation took place, of the same nature as that which he had held with the man he called Gibelin. To some, however, his address was much more brief. To others, merely, "Follow me, Kold! follow me Gastner!"
His commands were instantly obeyed; those whom he charged to collect more, were successful in doing so; and as he made his way forward, a body of two or three hundred men, gathered in this manner from the different crowds, continued pushing their way after him in an irregular manner, up the great street, in which the old prison and hall of justice were situated. Those buildings had been built so as to retire a little from the general facade of the houses; and, being placed exactly opposite to each other, left a sort of square between them. The edifices on both sides were now on fire; but notwithstanding the intense heat, the place or square was filled to overflowing with people, whose appearance and occupation seemed altogether those of devils in human form. The blaze of the burning buildings cast upon their swarthy and excited countenances, disfigured as they already were by drink and passion, a glare that was perfectly infernal. Loud shouts of exultation, or rather screams of triumphant hatred, rent the air: and, round about the square, suspended by the neck to the long stone water-spouts which then distinguished the city of Ghent, were to be seen a number of human figures, quivering and convulsed in the agonies of death, while the demon yells of the populace hailed the contortions of their victims with horrible delight.
Such, it is well known, was the death of the unhappy eschevins, whom Charles of Burgundy had appointed for the city of Ghent; but the vengeance which was immediately taken on some of the perpetrators of that cruel act is not so generally recorded. Albert Maurice found the multitude in the first exultation of the barbarous feat they had committed; and many of those who had taken a leading part therein were still making a parade of their activity. The young citizen, however, hesitated not a moment; but striding up to a wretch who held the end of one of the ropes used as the means of inflicting death upon the eschevins, he seized him at once by the collar of his jerkin, and dragged him towards the middle of the square.
A momentary movement was made by the people to resent this interference, and to rescue their comrade; but he was instantly passed from the hands of Albert Maurice to the trustworthy followers whom he had called together, with the words, "To the town-house!" The next moment the young citizen, without appearing even to see, or notice the threatening aspect of the people, again strode through the midst of them, and made another prisoner of a better class, thundering no measured terms of reproach upon him as he cast him back into the hands of those that followed. The multitude now perceived that amongst themselves, in every part of the square, there were persons of their own rank and appearance, acting with the young burgher, whose name, never mentioned by any of the citizens without respect and applause, also began to circulate rapidly amongst them. Even those most bent upon evil, not knowing who was prepared to support, and who to oppose them, lost confidence in themselves. Fear, the most contagious of all diseases, seized them; and, one by one, they made their way from the scene of their criminal excesses. Those on the outside of the mass felt those within pressing to escape, and catching the alarm, began to run also; so that in a few minutes, Albert Maurice, and the men who had followed him, alone remained in the square, together with three prisoners, while a fourth had been hurried away.
To cut down the bodies of the unhappy men who had become the victims of popular fury was the proceeding of the burgher and his companions; but as all aid in their case was found to be in vain, the attention of Albert Maurice was soon turned to prevent the conflagration from spreading further than the public buildings to which it had been communicated. As they were very much isolated in their situation, this object was easily effected; and, as soon as it was accomplished, the young citizen proceeded with hasty steps towards the town-house, where he found a number of the municipal officers in somewhat lengthy debate concerning the measures to be pursued for tranquillizing the city. The superior mind of Albert Maurice instantly brought all wordy discussions to an end; and while armed parties of the burgher guard were despatched with peremptory orders to disperse the crowds, the attention of those who now ruled in Ghent was called to the case of the ruffians taken redhanded in the crime they had committed. The ancient laws of the city were hastily consulted; were found to be conclusive in regard to their guilt and punishment; a confessor was summoned; and, ere daybreak the next morning, the four persons who had acted the most prominent part in the death of the eschevins had tasted the same fate before the town-hall of Ghent.
With a sternness which formed no part of his original nature, but which grows sadly and destructively upon the human heart in such scenes of excitement and violence, Albert Maurice with his own eyes saw the decree of the municipal council carried into effect ere he trod his way homeward. But as soon as the execution was over, he returned to his dwelling; and, exhausted with all he had gone through during the last eight and forty hours, he cast himself upon his bed, and slept.