By this time he had thrown open the door; and, striding boldly into the chamber, he advanced with a "Good morrow, fair cousin: if you be in want of counsellors, here am I ready to give you my advice."
Mary's cheek turned pale as he approached; but she replied, mournfully, "My best and most tried counsellors have been taken from me, sir, and I know not in whom I may now trust."
"Trust in me, fair cousin, trust in me," replied the Duke; but Albert Maurice interrupted him.
"I believe, sir," he said, "that it is customary for the princess, when she wants the counsel of any individual, to send for him, and for none to intrude themselves upon her without such a summons. I, having been so honoured this morning, and having received her commands, shall now leave her, doubting not that she will be well pleased that we both retire."
"School not me, Sir Citizen," replied the Duke of Gueldres, fiercely; "for, though you fly so high a flight, by the Lord! I may find it necessary some day to trim your wings."
Albert Maurice replied only by a glance of withering contempt, which might have stung the other into some new violence, had not Mary interposed. "I did not think to see such wrangling in my presence, gentlemen," she said, assuming at once that air of princely dignity which became her station; "I would be alone. You may retire!" and for a single instant the commanding tone and the flashing eye reminded those who saw her of her father, Charles the Bold.
The rude Duke of Gueldres himself was abashed and overawed; and, having no pretence prepared for remaining longer, he bowed, and strode gloomily towards the door, satisfied with having interrupted the conversation of the princess and Albert Maurice, of which he had from some source received intimation. The young citizen followed, not sorry to be relieved from entreaties which had nearly overcome what he believed to be a virtuous resolution, although--with that mixture of feelings from which scarcely any moment in human life is exempt--he was pained and angry, at the same time, to be forced to quit the society of one so beloved, however dangerous that society might be to his well considered purposes. He bowed low as he departed; and Mary, dropping the tone of authority she had assumed, with clasped hands, and an imploring look, murmured, in a low tone, "Remember! oh, remember!"
The Duke of Gueldres proceeded down the stairs before him, with a heavy step and a gloomy brow. Nevertheless, that prince, whose cunning and whose violence were always at war with each other, only required a short time for thought, to perceive that he could not yet, amidst the bold designs which had been instilled into his mind, dispense with the assistance and support of the young citizen; and he determined, as speedily as possible, to do away any unfavourable impression which his rude insolence might have left upon the mind of the other.
"Master Albert Maurice," he said, as soon as they had reached the vestibule below, "i'faith I have to beg your pardon for somewhat sharp speech but now. Good sooth, I am a hasty and a violent man, and you should not cross me."
"My lord duke," replied Albert Maurice, gravely, but not angrily, "your apology is more due to yourself than to me. It was the Duke of Gueldres you lowered: Albert Maurice you could not degrade; and as to crossing you, my lord, that man's violence must be a much more terrible thing than I have ever met with yet, that could scare me from crossing him when I felt it my duty to do so."
The Duke of Gueldres bit his lip, but made no reply; for there was a commanding spirit about the young burgher, which, supported by the great power he possessed in the state, the other felt he could not cope with, at least till he had advanced many steps farther in popular favour. He turned away angrily, however, seeing that conciliation was also vain; and, flinging himself on his horse, rode off with the few attendants whom he had collected in haste to accompany him to the palace.
Albert Maurice returned more slowly to the town-house, clearly perceiving that the coming of the Duke of Gueldres, in the midst of his conference with the princess, had not been accidental, and endeavouring, as he rode on, to fix with certainty upon the person who had given that prince the information on which he had acted.
A day intervened: but at noon on that which followed, an immense, dense crowd was assembled in the open space before the town-house of Ghent. Nevertheless, though the multitude was perhaps greater than ever the Square of St. Pharaïlde had contained before, there was a stillness about it all, which spoke that men were anticipating some great event. Each one who spoke addressed his neighbour in that low tone which argues awe: but by far the greater part of the people remained perfectly silent, with their eyes turned towards the town-house, immediately in front of which stood a scaffold, hung with black cloth, supporting two low blocks of wood, and surrounded by a large party of the burgher guard. A still larger body of the same troops kept the space between the scaffold and the public building before which it was placed; and, in all, the armed force present seemed more than sufficient to keep order and overawe the evil-disposed. In fact, the regular municipal power had been increased to an extraordinary degree during the last fortnight, both by an extended levy amongst the citizens themselves, and by the raising of a number of extraordinary companies from amongst the peasantry of the neighbouring districts, joined to all such disbanded soldiers as were willing to enrol themselves under the banners of the commune. The trained force thus at the disposal of the town-council of Ghent amounted to at least seven thousand men, and, on the morning of which we speak, a great part of this body were drawn up between the town-house and the scaffold, and in the main court of the building.
At the same time, it is to be remarked, that almost all the burghers, and a number of the peasantry of the country round about, had provided themselves with warlike weapons, since the first disturbances which followed the death of the duke; so that the multitude which thronged the space before the town-house appeared universally in arms. The principal weapons with which they had furnished themselves were long pikes; and any one gazing over the market-place might have fancied it crowded by an immense body of dismounted lancers; but, at the same time, a number of the more wealthy were provided with swords also; and one or two appeared more in the guise of regular men-at-arms than simple citizens.
It was remarked that amidst the assembly were a number of persons with somewhat hard features and weather-beaten countenances, habited in the ordinary dress of peasants, but in general better armed than the rest of the people. These men seemed to have but few acquaintances in the town, but wherever any two of them met, they appeared instantly to recognise each other; and, by a quiet, unobtrusive, but steady movement forward, they gradually made their way one by one through the crowd, to the immediate vicinity of the scaffold. Another circumstance, also, was noticed by those persons in the crowd who employed all their vacant moments in looking about them, which was, that, close to the head of one of the bands of the burgher guard, and conversing from time to time with the officer who commanded it, appeared a young man of a powerful and active form, dressed as a common man-at-arms, with the beaver of his helmet, at what was called the half-spring; in short, so far open as to give him plenty of air, yet not sufficiently thrown up to expose his face.
In those days, it must be remembered that the appearance of men in armour had nothing extraordinary in it, either in the country or the town, and consequently such a sight was not at all uncommon in the streets of Ghent at any time; but it had become far more so since the burghers had assumed the authority they now claimed, as not a few of the rich young merchants, every now and then, chose to ape the nobles, whom they were desirous of overthrowing; and would appear in the streets, clothed, like the ghost of Hamlet's father, in complete steel.
Whether the captain of the band to whom the stranger addressed himself, was or was not previously acquainted with the man-at-arms, he seemed well pleased with his company, which certainly somewhat tended to relieve the irksome anticipation of a disagreeable duty. Their conversation, however, soon appeared to turn upon more important matters; and they spoke quick and eagerly, though in so low a tone, that only a few words of what they said reached the bystanders.
"I wish them no ill, poor wretches, God knows," the captain of the band was heard to say, in reply to something the other had whispered the moment before. Two or three indistinct sentences succeeded; and then, he again answered, "If any one would begin, I would follow! we have as good a right to a say in the matter as any one else."
Again the man-at-arms spoke with him rapidly; and the other rejoined in a low and hurried tone--"Stay! I will see what the men say! Stand back, sir!" he added, pushing back, angrily, one of the crowd, who intruded upon the open space, and came within earshot. He then walked leisurely along the file of men that he commanded, speaking a few words, now to one, now to another; and then, turning back with an air of assumed indifference, he said to the person with whom he had before been speaking, "It will do! They do not want any more blood spilt. They are all murmuring, to a man. Go and talk with the captain on the other side."
While this was passing in the immediate vicinity of the scaffold, several of the persons I have described as looking like weather-beaten peasants, had, in making their way through the crowd, paused to speak with a number of the citizens; at first asking some questions in regard to the multitude, and the dark preparations before the town-house, as if ignorant of what had lately taken place in the city. They then generally proceeded to comment on the reply made to them; and then something was always said about the shame and horror of staining their market-place with public executions for state crimes which the events of a few weeks might render no crimes at all.
Thus, one of them demanded of a fat burgher, by whom he passed, "Why, what is the matter, neighbour? This looks as if they were going to cut off some one's head."
"And so they are, to be sure," replied the citizen. "They are going to do execution upon the Lord of Imbercourt, and Hugonet the Chancellor, who were condemned this morning for treating with France and receiving bribes."
"Ay, did they receive bribes?" rejoined the peasant: "that is strange enough; for I always thought that they were as free and liberal of their gold to those who needed it, as any men living, and coveted nothing belonging to another; and those are not the sort of men, I have heard say, who usually receive bribes."
"Ay, that is true enough, indeed!" answered the citizen, with a sigh.
"But did they really receive bribes?" persevered the peasant. "Was it clearly proved?"
"No, no, I believe not," replied the citizen. "Proof they could not get--proof they could not get; but there was strong suspicion."
"'Tis hard a man should die for mere suspicion, though; for who would be safe if that were law?" said the other. "If I had been one of them, I would have appealed to the King of France and court of peers."
"Why, so they both did," replied the citizen; "but they are to die for all that."
"Then I would not be a citizen of Ghent for ten thousand crowns," answered the peasant; "for, by the Lord! Louis and his peers will be like to hang every one of them that he catches; and it is a sad thing to be hanged for spilling innocent blood. Were I one of the citizens of Ghent, they should never stain the market-place in such a way while I had a voice to raise against it."
"Ay, ay, it is very sad!" said the citizen: "and I dare say if any one would begin, many a man would cry out against it too."
"Well, well," answered the other, "I must forward, and see what is going on; and I hope some one will cry out against it."
Thus speaking, the peasant, as he seemed to be, pushed his way on for a little distance, and then, pausing by another of the citizens, held with him a short conversation, like that which we have just narrated, asking very nearly the same questions, and making very nearly the same observations on the answers he received.
The instance which has just been particularized was only one out of many; for in every part of the crowd were to be seen persons similar in appearance to the man whose conversation we have just detailed, and who acted precisely upon the same plan, though the words they made use of might be slightly different. The man-at-arms who, as we have mentioned, had been talking with the captain of one of the city bands, in accordance with the intimation he had received, was, in the meantime, making his way round to speak with the person who commanded the company at the other side of the scaffold. As, in his apparent military capacity, he strode boldly across the space kept clear in front of the scaffold, and consequently encountered none of the impediments which might have delayed him, had he attempted to proceed through the crowd, he would, probably, soon have accomplished this purpose; but at that moment a considerable noise and disturbance was heard in the direction of the town-house, mingled with shouts of "They are coming! They are coming!"
The ear of the man-at-arms immediately caught the sound. He paused for a single instant; and then taking a step back to a spot whence he could descry the intermediate space between the scaffold and the town-house, he saw a body of people moving from the principal entrance of that edifice, through a double line of the burgher guard. The procession consisted of a number of the municipal council, a body of various officers of state, Maillotin du Bac the Prevot marechal, two executioners with naked axes, and the unfortunate nobles Imbercourt and Hugonet, bound and bare-headed.
The man-at-arms instantly perceived that he would not have time to accomplish what he proposed; and with three strides he placed himself once more by the side of the officer with whom he had before been speaking. Gathered at the same point were, by this time, at least a hundred and fifty of the peasant-looking men whom we have before described; and, forcing their way through the crowd in every direction, with no longer any affectation of ceremony, or regard to the convenience of those they thrust out of their way, there appeared a number of others perfectly similar in appearance. The eyes of the whole of this distinct body were evidently turned upon the man-at-arms; and it was observed that the one who stood nearest to him held something enveloped in the flap of his coarse brown coat, as if to be given at a moment's notice.
"Now," said the man-at-arms, addressing the captain of the burgher guard, "do your duty as a brave man, as a good citizen, and more, as a good Christian, and you shall have plenty of support."
"But who are you?" demanded the captain of the guard, eyeing him eagerly; "who are you, who so boldly promise support in such a case as this?"
"I am the Vert Gallant of Hannut," replied the man-at-arms; and at the same moment, stretching back his hand to the peasant behind him, he received a broad green scarf and plume, the one of which he fastened instantly in his casque, and waved the other, for a moment, high in the air before he threw it over his shoulder.
The signal had an instantaneous effect. The brown coarse coats of the peasants were thrown off, and they appeared armed in steel corslets and brassards, while the distinctive marks of the well-known Green Riders of Hannut were seen boldly displayed in the midst of the streets of Ghent. Although where each of these men was making his way onward, and at the point where so many had already congregated, this sudden change occasioned a considerable sensation; yet the great body of the crowd was agitated by so many different feelings, and the tumult was at that moment so great, that the transaction did not attract general attention. Almost every one throughout the multitude was, indeed, moved by sensations of his own; and each nearly at once gave voice to those feelings, as his eye happened to catch different points in the scene that was passing in the square.
"They are coming! they are coming!" shouted some. "Where? Where?" exclaimed others. "Who the devil are these?" cried those who saw the green riders. "Death to the enemies of Ghent!" vociferated the fierce. "Poor wretches! will no mercy be shown to them!" said the pitiful. "What a large axe! How pale they look! Who are those behind?" cried others of the crowd.
In the meanwhile the mournful procession came on. The new eschevins of Ghent, elected by the people themselves, mounted the scaffold, and ranged themselves around, to see the sentence they had lately pronounced carried into execution. The two executioners took their places by the blocks, and leaned the axes which they bore against them, while they made themselves ready to go through the preparatory part of their sad function. The condemned nobles followed after; and several members of the municipal council--but Albert Maurice was not amongst them--closed the whole, and occupied the only vacant space left at the back of the scaffold. At the same moment a gentleman in splendid arms, half concealed under a surcoat of costly embroidery, followed by a number of richly-dressed attendants, forced his way rudely through the crowd, and thrust himself close to the foot of the scaffold, on the opposite side to that where the Vert Gallant had placed himself. He then crossed his arms upon his broad, bull-like chest, and stood gazing upon the awful scene that was proceeding above, with a look of ruthless satisfaction.
The Lord of Imbercourt at once advanced to the front of the scaffold, and gazed round upon the multitude before him. He was very pale, it is true; but his step was as firm as when he strode the council-chamber in the height of his power: and not a quiver of the lip, not a twinkle of the eyelid, betrayed that there was such a thing as fear at his heart.
"Must I die with my hands tied, like a common felon?" he said, addressing the executioner.
"Not if your lordship is prepared to die without offering resistance," replied the other.
"I am prepared, sir," answered Imbercourt, "to die as I have lived, calmly, honestly, fearlessly."
The executioner began to untie his hands; and the Vert Gallant, giving one glance round the crowd, apparently to ascertain the proximity of his followers, drew forward his sword-belt, and loosened the weapon in the sheath. Imbercourt, at the same time, was advancing as far as possible, as if to address the people, and the whole multitude, seeing it, kept a profound silence; when suddenly, in the midst of the still hush--just as the Vert Gallant of Hannut was passing round the head of the file of burgher guards, till he was within a few steps of the scaffold itself--a sweet and plaintive voice, which would have been inaudible under any other circumstances, was heard from amongst the crowd exclaiming, "Oh, let me pass! for God's sake, let me pass! They are murdering my faithful servants. Let me pass; in pity, in mercy let me pass!"
"It is the princess! it is the princess!" cried a number of voices: "let her pass! let her pass!" and, by an involuntary movement of feeling and compassion, the people drew hastily back on either side, and Mary of Burgundy, in the deep mourning of an orphan, with her bright hair escaped from her veil, and flowing wide over her shoulders, her face deluged in tears, and her hands clasped in agony, rushed forward into the open space, and, casting herself upon her knees before the people of Ghent, exclaimed aloud the only words she could utter, "Oh, spare them--spare them!"[9]
"Yes, yes," cried an honest burgher from the crowd, "we will spare them. Out upon it! has not the prince always had power to show mercy? Hark ye, neighbours, pikes and swords for Martin Fruse! On upon the scaffold! We will save them!"
"Back, false citizen; back!" cried the cavalier in the glittering dress we have described. "What, would you interrupt the course of justice! By the sun in heaven, they shall die the death!" and, drawing his sword, he threw himself between the people and the scaffold.
All was now tumult and confusion; and in one instant it seemed us if a general spirit of civil strife had seized upon every part of the multitude. Some shouted, "Mercy for them! mercy for them!" Some, "Justice! justice! slay the traitors!" Pikes were crossed, and swords were drawn on all sides. The burgher guards were as divided as the people. Mary of Burgundy was borne fainting behind the scaffold; and those upon the scaffold itself seemed paralysed by surprise and fear. But the green scarfs and burgonets of the Riders of Hannut were seen forcing their way forward through the press, in spite of all opposition; and at the same moment the thundering voice of the Vert Gallant was heard rising above everything else: "On, on to the scaffold, friends of mercy!" he cried. "Lord of Imbercourt, cast yourself over, you are amongst friends!"
Imbercourt might have done so; but he was instantly seized by Maillotin du Bac, and one of the executioners, who unhappily awoke from their first consternation in time to prevent him from seizing the opportunity which was unexpectedly presented to him.
The Vert Gallant, however, pushed forward, sword in hand. All gave way, or went down before him; the pikes opposed to his breast shivered like withered boughs beneath his arm; and he was within a yard of the spot where Imbercourt stood, when he was encountered, hand to hand, by the cavalier we have before mentioned; and each found that he had met an enemy very different from the burghers by whom they were surrounded. Each was powerful and skilful; but the Vert Gallant had, by more than twenty years, the advantage of his adversary; and feeling that the fate of Imbercourt must be decided in the twinkling of an eye--for the guards and executioners were forcing him down to the block--he showered his blows upon his adversary with a thundering rapidity that in a moment brought him upon his knees. He was still, however, between the young cavalier and the scaffold; and, fierce with the eagerness of the encounter, Hugh of Gueldres drew back his arm, to plunge the point of his sword into the throat of his opponent, when the voice of one of the cavalier's attendants exclaimed aloud, "Save the duke! For God's sake, save the Duke of Gueldres! Forbear! forbear!"
The Vert Gallant paused, gazing upon his prostrate enemy, with feelings that can be understood, when it is remembered that it was his own father, who, beaten down by his superior strength, lay within an inch of his sword's point, raised for the purpose of terminating their struggle by a parent's death. His eyes grew dim, his brain reeled, the sword dropped from his hand, and he fell back upon the pavement, without power or consciousness.
At the same moment, the axe of the executioner swung high in the air; there was a dull, heavy blow, a rush of dark blood poured over the scaffold, and the Lord of Imbercourt was no more.
It is a sad thing for a calm, retired student, to sit down and depict the fierce and terrible passions which sometimes animate his fellow-beings; and it is scarcely possible to tell how worn and shaken his whole frame feels, after hurrying through some scene of angry violence and wild commotion. He meets, indeed, with compensations in pursuing his task. There may be a high and indescribable pleasure in portraying the better qualities of human nature in all their grand and beautiful traits; in describing sweet scenes of nature, and in striving to find latent associations between the various aspects of the material world and the mind, the feelings, or the fate of ourselves and our fellow-men. Nay, more, there may be some touch of satisfaction--part self-complacency, part gratified curiosity--in tracing the petty things of humanity mingling with the finer ones, the mighty and the mean counterbalancing each other within the same bosom, and in discovering that the noblest of recorded earthly beings is linked on to our little selves by some fond familiar fault or empty vanity. But at the same time, though not so wearing as to paint the struggle of mighty energies called forth on some great occasion, it is even more painful, perhaps, to sit and draw the same strong passions working by inferior means, and employing the low and treacherous slave, Cunning, instead of the bold bravo, Daring. To such a picture, however, we must now turn.
It was on the evening of the day, whose sanguinary commencement we have already noticed, that, placed calmly by a clear wood fire, with all the means of comfort, and even luxury around him, Ganay, the druggist, sat pondering over the past and the future. Neither he himself, nor Albert Maurice, had appeared at the execution of Imbercourt and Hugonet--the one careless of what else occurred, so that his bitter revenge was gratified--the other naturally abhorring scenes of blood. The druggist, however--though where it was necessary he neither wanted courage to undertake, nor hardihood to execute the most daring actions--was ever well pleased to let more careless fools perform the perilous parts of an enterprise, employing the time, which would have been thus filled up by action, in thinking over the best means of reaping his own peculiar harvest from the seed sown by others. He now revolved every circumstance of his present situation, and scanned the future--that dim and uncertain prospect--with steady eyes, determined to force his way onward, through its mists and obstacles, without fear and without remorse.
The predominant sensation in his bosom, however, was gratification at the consummation of his long sought revenge. The man whom he most hated on earth, who had offered him a personal indignity, and who had refused pardon to his son, he had sent to join the unhappy magistrates who had condemned that base and flagitious boy; and when he contemplated the difficulties he had surmounted to bring about that act of vengeance, the schemes he had formed and perfected, the events which he had turned from their natural course, by his sole art, to accomplish his purpose, the men he had used as instruments, and the passions he had bent to his designs--when he contemplated, I say, the whole course of his triumphant machinations, there rose up in his bosom that pride of successful villany, which is so often the ultimate means of its own punishment by the daring confidence which it inspires.
The maxim of Rochefoucault is applicable to men as well as women. Where was there ever the man who paused at one evil act? Ganay had previously determined to limit all his efforts to the death of the eschevins and of Imbercourt; but his very success in that endeavour had entailed the necessity, and furnished the encouragement, to new and, if possible, less justifiable acts. Nevertheless, it must not be thought that there was no such thing as a thrill of remorse ever entered his bosom. There probably never yet was a man, however he might brave it to the world, who, with a bosom loaded with crimes, did not feel remorse when solitary thought left him a prey to memory. Conscience is an Antæus, that, though often cast to the earth by the Herculean passions of man's heart, rises ever again re-invigorated by its fall; and he must be strong, indeed, who can strangle it altogether.
Remorse mingled its bitter drop even with the cup of Ganay's triumph; and while he gazed upon the crackling embers, the joy of his successes faded away; a feeling of age, and solitude, and crime, crept over his heart; and the memories of other years--the hopes and dreams of boyhood and innocence, rose up, and painfully contrasted themselves with the mighty disappointment of successful vice. Through life he had found many means of stifling such murmurs of the heart, in the excitement of new schemes and the intricacies of tortuous policy; but now he had learned another way of lulling the mind together with the body; and, rising with his usual calm and quiet pace, he approached a cupboard, poured a small silver cup half full of ardent spirits, and then swallowed in its contents a certain portion of that narcotic which he had found so soothing under the first anguish of his son's death. Then carefully replacing the cup and the vial, he again took his seat before the fire, and listened, as if waiting for some visitor.
He was not kept long in expectation; for, in a very few minutes after, the door was opened by the boy, and Maillotin du Bac entered without farther announcement. The cheek of the Prevot was flushed with wine, and his lip curled with triumph; but he had by this time, learned the influence of Ganay in the affairs of Ghent too completely to treat him with aught but the most profound deference. After some formality, he took the seat that Ganay offered; and hypocras and wine having been brought in, with spices and comfits, he helped himself largely, and then, at the request of the druggist, recapitulated the events connected with the execution of the morning, which we need not repeat.
"So now," said the Prevot, in conclusion, speaking of the unhappy Imbercourt, "he is dead, and that score is cleared. Master Ganay, I give you joy, with all my heart! Your son's death is nobly avenged, and you can sleep in peace. Now, give me joy in return."
"I do! I do! Sir Prevot," replied Ganay, grasping the hand the other held out to him in his thin fingers: "I do! I do, with all my heart!"
"But stay! stay!" cried Maillotin du Bac; "you do not yet know for what. Hark ye, Master Ganay, revenge is sweet to every honourable man. Did you ever hear tell of the Vert Gallant of Hannut? Did you ever hear how he overpowered me by numbers, and disgraced me as a man and a knight? He delivered yon proud Albert Maurice, too, when he was a less worm than he is now. Well, he it was, who, as I tell you, encountered the good Duke of Gueldres, and would have slain him, had not his own foot slipped, or some one dashed him down, and the duke was rescued."
"Well, well, what of him?" cried the druggist; "what has befallen him?"
"Why, he is safe in the prison of the town-house," replied the Prevot, "and shall die after seven days' torture, if I live to the end of them. His fellows, somehow, cut their way through, and got out of the press, every one of them; but he himself was trodden down as he lay, by the people, and was taken up by the burgher guard, half dead, after the crowd dispersed. We shall give him two or three days to recover. There is no use of killing him like a rat caught in a trap, you know, and just knocking his head against the stones, without letting him know why or wherefore. No, no! we must give him time to recover his strength and his senses, or he will die upon the first wheel. But there is more--there is more to be told still," continued the Prevot, rather heated by the wine, and seeing that the other was about to reply. "Who, think you, this famous long-concealed Vert Gallant proves to be at last? Who but the nephew of that old sorcerer, the Lord of Hannut? and, by the holy cross! if ever I live to see quiet times again, that vile, heathenish wizard shall roast in the market-place of Brussels, if there be such a thing as law and religion in the land. I knew it all the time! Bless you, Master Ganay, I saw through it all, from the time I was at the castle. I told the Lord of Imbercourt that his nephew was the brigand leader; you may ask him if I did not--though, by the way, he won't answer, for he is dead--but I told him, nevertheless, that I was sure it was the old man's nephew.--Master Ganay, here's to you!"
Ganay had turned somewhat pale as the other spoke: but he showed no farther sign of discomposure; and replied immediately: "His nephew! You must mistake. He has no nephew. He once had a son!" he added, in a voice, the tremulous tone of which the Prevot, whose faculties had not been rendered more pellucid by the wine he had drunk, attributed to the painful remembrance of his own loss--"he once had a son! But the boy died in infancy."
"Nay," replied Maillotin du Bac, "of that I know nothing. All I know is that this youth is his nephew--this Sir Hugh de Mortmar."
"But I tell thee, good friend, it cannot be," rejoined the druggist, somewhat sharply. "No nephew has he. Surely I should know."
"Well, well, 'tis all the same," cried the Prevot. "If not his nephew, he passes as such; and die he shall, after the torture has racked his every limb. Ay, Master Ganay, he shall die," he added, clasping his strong and sinewy hand tight, as if holding some substance which he was determined to let no power on earth wring from his grasp; "he shall die, although your precious President were to give his right hand to save him; and if, out of what he calls his fine feelings, he attempt to repay the good turn the Vert Gallant did him at Hannut, and free him from prison in return, he may chance to stumble at that step himself, and die along with him. I owe him something, too, which I have not forgot. So let him look to it."
Ganay mused for several minutes over the words of his companion, who spoke evidently under the excitement both of passion and drink. The wine, however, had not very deeply affected his discretion; and the moment after, remembering the close connexion between the druggist and Albert Maurice, the Prevot added, "Not that I mean any harm to your friend, Master Ganay, only let him not meddle with my prisoner, that is all. I am sure I have refrained from Seeking any vengeance against him himself, simply because he is your friend; and will not, if he keep his hands from interfering with my affairs."
Still Ganay was silent, and remained musing, with his eyes bent upon the fire, till he perceived that Maillotin du Bac, somewhat discomposed by his companion's taciturnity, and imagining that he had made a blunder in regard to Albert Maurice, was again about to apply to the bowl of spiced wines, as the best means of restoring his confidence and composure. At that moment the druggist, stretching out his hand, caught him gently by the arm, saying, "Stay, stay, Master Prevot, we have both had enough of that for the present; and as we may have many things to speak of which require cool heads, let us refrain till all is settled, and then drink our fill."
"Well, well, 'tis the same to me," rejoined the Prevot, relinquishing the bowl, and taking his seat once again. "What would you say, Master Ganay? Command me; for you know that we are linked together by the same interests, and therefore are not likely to differ."
"Well, then, listen for a moment, good Sir Maillotin, while I just tell you a few things concerning this Lord of Hannut, which, though they belong to the days past, do not the less bear upon the days present."
The druggist then paused, and again mused for a moment in deep thought, ere he proceeded; and in his countenance there was that air of deep calculating thought, which may often be seen in the face of a skilful chess player, when pausing, with suspended finger, over some critical move. At length he went on: "We must both serve each other, Sir Maillotin; and if you will aid me in what I propose, I will help you to what you wish, though you dare not even hope for it."
"Speak, speak! Master Ganay," replied the Prevot; "and fear not that I will refuse to serve you willingly and well. We have drawn vastly well together yet; and there is no danger of our not doing so to the end."
Still however, the druggist hesitated for some minutes; for though he could assume a false frankness as well as any one, he was not, by nature, at all communicative, and what he had resolved, upon long deliberation, to propose to the Prevot, required a more full confidence than he could place in any one without pain. "I will tell you a story," he said at length, "I will tell you a story, good Maillotin du Bac. Listen then. 'Tis just two-and-thirty years ago since I first heard much of this Lord of Hannut, who was then a bright, brave young cavalier, whose life was not to be counted on for two hours together, so much was his courage better than his prudence. He had, as well you know he still has ample wealth and large possessions, while his cousin, the present Duke of Gueldres, whose father was then living, was so munificent a prince, as often to be pinched for a hundred florins. Report said that the young duke, who was then heir to Hannut, piously wished that his gallant cousin might find the road to heaven speedily. But, as fate would have it, the Lord of Hannut one day unexpectedly married, and within a year, his fair lady made him the father of a son, of which she was delivered at their pleasure-house of Lindenmar. All this went mightily against the stomach of the good young Lord of Gueldres, whose father, then living, kept him on scanty means; when, by another strange turn of fate, the pleasure-house of Lindenmar was burnt to the ground, and the infant son of the young Lord of Hannut perished in the flames. As fortune would have it, a detachment of Duke Philip's army was marching over the hill, within sight at the time, and with it was my good Lord of Gueldres, together with Thibalt of Neufchatel, and a number of other knights and nobles. As soon as the fire was discovered, they all galloped down to put out the flames; and my Lord of Gueldres might have passed for as zealous a friend as the rest, had he not been fool enough to cry out, as if in jest, to let the whole place burn, so that he had the lands of Hannut."
"He had better have kept that to himself," interrupted the Prevot, shaking his head sagaciously. "No man has a worse enemy than his own tongue. The good duke should have learned that it is better never to let people know one's wishes, for they are never long in discovering one's designs afterwards."
"He has marred all his good fortune through life," replied Ganay, "by those rough sayings of his; for though he says no more than other men think, yet he makes all men that hear him his enemies, by exposing their feelings while confessing his own."
"However," continued the druggist, after this sage and liberal observation, "down he came with the rest, of course, to make them think what he said was a mere joke, and plunged into the flames with the foremost. All was confusion, and no one knew what the other was doing. The Lord of Hannut himself was stunned by the fall of a beam upon his head, and was with difficulty dragged out by his servants. Thibalt of Neufchatel, his great friend and brother in arms, carried out the lady unhurt, through the midst of the flames; but the heir of Hannut perished, and for some hours, no one could tell what had become of Adolphus of Gueldres."
"Why you describe it all as well as if you had been there yourself," said Maillotin du Bac.
"I was there," replied the druggist, drily; "but you shall hear. What put it into Thibalt of Neufchatel's head, I know not; but, after saving the lady, he rushed back again into the house, and finding me in the further wing, he dragged me out by the hair of the head, vowing that I had kindled the fire. Now, you must know that I was then a humble friend and domestic surgeon to the young Duke of Gueldres; and when they searched my person, they found a number of letters, which they thought of very doubtful meaning, and a few drugs, the use of which their ignorance could not comprehend, and which they wanted much to prove were materials for secretly lighting a flame. The good duke, too, was not present; and, under all these circumstances, they had nearly killed me on the spot. I took it all silently, for a man can but die once in this world, and very little does it matter when that once may fall. All I said was, to call my young lord, for that he would clear me; and they agreed, at length, to spare me till the duke, that is at present, could be found. He was not heard of, however, till the next day, when it was discovered that he had retired to a neighbouring village, much scorched by the flames. He instantly despatched a letter to the Lord of Neufchatel, informing him that he himself had sent me to inquire after the health of his fair cousins, the Lord and Lady of Hannut, which was the cause that I had not been seen accompanying him with the rest of the army. The servants of the household of Lindenmar vouched for my coming the evening before on that errand, and gave a good report of my proceedings. The Lord of Hannut himself joined to exculpate me; and I easily found means to convince Thibalt of Neufchatel that he had grossly ill-treated me, and foully aspersed my character. Had he continued to treat me ill, I might have devised a way to satisfy myself; but, on the contrary, as soon as he was convinced of my innocence, nothing would serve him to testify his sorrow for what had occurred, and to compensate the injury he had inflicted. He kept his eye upon me through life, and, I may well say, has been the origin of all my fortunes. The proofs he gathered together of the charge against me, and of my innocence, he has always kept in his own possession; and I have not chosen to press for their being given up to me, lest it should seem that I was afraid of anything therein contained. Do you understand me?"
"Quite well," replied Maillotin du Bac, drawing his clear hawk's eyes together, with a shrewd glance upon the druggist's face; "quite well. What more?"
"Why this," answered the druggist: "I love not be in the power of any man. While Adolphus of Gueldres was in prison, and likely to remain there--while Thibalt of Neufchatel was living, and likely to live--the matter did not much signify; but now that Adolphus of Gueldres is free, and that Thibalt of Neufchatel is dying of the wounds he received at Nancy, it might be as well that those papers were in my own possession. Thus, then, it must be managed, Sir Prevot: you must find some excuse to take possession of his house with your men-at-arms the moment the breath is out of his body; and while you are sealing up the effects, I may be looking for the papers."
"But what, suppose I keep them in my possession for you?" demanded Maillotin du Bac, with one of his shrewd looks.
"Why, then," replied the druggist, calmly, "I cannot aid you in overthrowing Albert Maurice, and in obtaining possession of his person and his wealth."
"I understand," said the Prevot; "we are agreed. But what surety have I that you will do so when you have the papers?"
"This," answered Ganay, without any expression of indignation at a doubt of his honesty, which he felt to be perfectly natural, but, at the same time, approaching closer to the Prevot, and speaking in a low, but clear and emphatic tone--"this, that Albert Maurice--by what means I know not--has discovered my secret, and must die."
"Good! good!" replied the Prevot; "'tis better than a bond! We are agreed, we are agreed, mine excellent good friend. But, hark ye, Ganay, there is one bad stone in the arch. This Thibalt of Neufchatel, this good Count Thibalt, is marvellously better to-day. It would seem that the death of Imbercourt and Hugonet had done him good; for, about the time of the axe falling, he began to mend."
Ganay, as was his habit when he heard any unpalatable tidings, replied nought, but fixed his eyes upon the fire, and mused. "He is an old man," said the druggist, at length, speaking in a low and quiet voice--"he is an old man, this good Count Thibalt."
"Ay, doubtless is he," replied Maillotin du Bac, who was one of those people who take a keen delight in discovering difficulties and objections, solely for the sake of giving pain and disappointment to those whom they were likely to thwart; "but he is a hale old man, and may live these twenty years, if he get over this bout."
"He must have had enough of life," continued Ganay, in the same meditative tone. "It is time he were asleep. Adolphus of Gueldres has visited his sick couch more than once. It is time he were asleep."
The Prevot was silent; and Ganay, after considering his hawklike features for a moment or two with an inquiring glance, added quietly, "Well, well, Sir Maillotin, we will see. These sudden gleams of convalescence often precede death in the badly wounded. I know these matters better than you do, my good friend; and I have no faith in this sudden and strange amendment. Let us keep ourselves in readiness, and wait the result. You will be prepared at a moment's notice," he added, in a more sharp and decided tone, throwing off at once the quiet conversational manner of his former speech; "perchance he may die to-morrow, perchance the next day; but be you on the watch, and ever ready to secure the house."
"I will! I will!" answered Maillotin du Bac; and then speaking to the druggist's purpose more than to his words, he added, "I will be ready to secure the house and all that, Master Ganay; but I can do no more in this business. To take men off except by the cord or the steel, when they have merited their fate, is out of my line of operations."
"Who required you to do so?" demanded the druggist, gravely. "No, no, Sir Prevot, men may die without your help or mine either. So, now to the bowl! We understand each other, and that is enough. Be you ready when I send to warn you that the good count is dead. If he live, you know, which is likely, vastly likely--if he live, why all the rest is in the moon. Sir Prevot, I carouse to your good rest this night; do me justice--do me justice in the bowl!"
Thus ended their more important conversation; and all that passed farther referred to the mysteries of the tankard, and need not be here inflicted on the reader. It may be necessary to observe, however, that the druggist did not suffer the Prevot Marechal to leave his house till he had imbibed a sufficient quantity of various kinds of intoxicating liquors to require the aid of two stout men to bear him home; and that Ganay himself was, at the same time, incapable of quitting the chair in which he sat.
It may be asked, was a man of such subtle schemes an habitual drunkard, then? Far from it, though he could drink as deep as any one, when some object might be gained by so doing: but he was one of those men whose limbs only became inebriated, if we may use such an expression, while their brain remains unclouded; and the debauch in which he indulged was one of calculation, not pleasure. He had soon seen that, in the case of the Prevot, the prudent guard which was usually placed upon his lips was half asleep at the post long before their conversation was over; and though he believed that he could trust to old habits of caution to keep his companion from any indiscreet babbling, either drunk or sober, yet he determined not to let him leave his dwelling till utterance itself was drowned in wine. Of himself he had no fear; and, leaning on his boy, he tottered to his bed in silence.