Chapter XLVIII: Charles IV

M. Schreckhorn, an officer of the Swiss guard, was now ushered into my chamber, and with much formality, and more bad French, announced that the Duke required my presence in the hall of the palace, so early as might be convenient for me. This announcement was, of course, a command to be obeyed. Duke Charles, the father of Nicola--I mean of Marie Louise, for so I must in future name her--was about to question me. How my heart beat as I started from my chair!

'I am ready,' said I.

'But your toilette, monsieur,' said the Swiss.

'True, I had forgotten it; excuse me for one moment, M. le Suisse, and then I am at your service.'

I hastily removed all traces of my recent adventures and discomforts, arranged my costume as well as its capabilities permitted, and placed upon my left breast the cross of St. Lazare, which I had hitherto carried in a secret pocket: I was then conducted by the Swiss across the quadrangle and up one of the guarded staircases, to the great hall of the palace; the place where feasts were given, ambassadors received, and high festival held.

This hall was a noble apartment of more than one hundred feet in length. I perceived that it was floridly decorated, and that towards the upper end it was crowded by gentlemen in glittering costumes and armed soldiers, for the halberds of the hundred Swiss guards gleamed as their bearers stood ranked along the wall, fifty on each side. Tattered and dusty banners, taken in ancient battles, hung darkly down from the arched roof; and around the wall, on shields of carved stone, were painted all the heraldic bearings of Duke Charles: the three winglets of Lorraine, covered by a ducal mantle, and surmounted by an eagle; burele _argent_, and _gules_ for Hungary; the fleur-de-lis _or_, on a barbel _gules_ for Naples; the crosslets of Jerusalem; the four pales _gules_ of Arragon; the fleur-de-lis with a border _gules_ for Anjou; the golden lion of Guelderland, and the black lion of Juliers, with two barbels of Bar-le-Duc.

Under these honours hung the portraits of those dukes of Lorraine who had won them by war or alliance, painted by Jan de Mahuse, by Titian, Rubens, or Poussin. There was grim Godfrey of Ardennes in the chain armour in which he was slain by the Saracens at the battle of Louvain; Gothelo who stormed Verdun from Conrad the Salique; Baldwin, King of Jerusalem and Duke of Lorraine; Duke Theobald II., who fought so valiantly at Spire; Duke Raoul, who was slain at Cressy; Duke Claude, armed cap-a-pie, as he appeared at the passage of the Alps in 1515; his daughter, (the mother of Mary Stuart,) Marie of Lorraine, whose birth-place, the old ducal castle of Bar, had--in memory of her--been spared from sack and fire last winter by the Garde du Corps Ecossais; Anthony Duke of Lorraine and Calabria, who fought the Lutherans and conquered Alsace, a stern warrior sheathed in black armour, and bearing on his left wrist a Scottish falcon, the gift of our monarch James V.; in short, the hall was surrounded by portraits, real or imaginary, of all the thirty-two dukes of the old Merovingian house of Lorraine, and the thirty-third in succession awaited me under a canopy or cloth of estate, seated at a table, which was covered by papers and letters, the usual paraphernalia of a council-board; and as I gazed about me and thought of all the past glories of this ancient line of ducal princes, even the hope that Marie Louise would pity the passion with which she had so wantonly inspired me died away in my aching heart.

The Duke was still attired as I had last seen him in the morning. Pappenheim stood by his chair, eyeing me with dark scrutiny, for he had a keen, penetrating eye and imperious expression of face. De Bitche stood a little in the background in his half armour, as colonel of the petardiers, and under his open helmet I read an expression of undisguised malice in his eye. I had a debt to settle with this worthy personage; but the trick he had played me, and the destruction of my fine horse, were, at that moment, less near my heart than a sense of bitterness at the discovery I had made, and of the humiliation of standing before Charles of Lorraine in the character of a spy.

I looked anxiously round for Vaudemont, but he was not in the hall, neither was his sister, though many ladies of rank were present; and as I approached, with an air of as much firmness and honest dignity as I could assume, the courtiers of the military Duke, the councillors of state, master of requests, keeper of the seals, and others drew near, while the officer of Swiss presented, saying, in a low voice,--

'Monseigneur le Duc, this is the gentleman our prisoner--M. l'Abbé.'

'I am no abbé, M. le Suisse,' said I, bluntly; 'I am Arthur Blane, a Scottish gentleman in the service of king Louis.'

'And none in his garde du corps is more gallant or more true,' said the old Duke, drawing off his long leather glove, and presenting his hand to me; not to kiss, after the absurd fashion of princes, but to press, like a brave, honest man; for this venerable soldier, though usually calm and grave, and lofty without pride, could act act very impulsively at times.

'By this honour, Monseigneur,' said I, in a voice that grew tremulous with conflicting emotions, 'I presume that I am not to be treated as a prisoner of war.'

'Prisoner?--no, no my brave stranger--my daughter has told me all.'

'All?' I reiterated in my heart; 'what can he mean by all'?'

'I have much to thank you for, M. Blane; but I am an old soldier, and have few words to spare; yet I can well appreciate deeds of honour, faith, and loyalty. I would speak with you of my daughter, Mademoiselle Marie-Louise, whom you have hitherto known under the very homely name of Nicola.'

'Of Nicola--oh yes, Nicola!' I faltered involuntarily, for that dear name, rendered by association so delightful to my ear, made me start, as it stirred my inner heart. A large mirror hung near me; I surveyed my own face in it, and the immobility of its features surprised even myself. This expression was fortunate, as I was the centre of many curious eyes, that stared at me without the slightest ceremony.

'You hear me?' said the Duke, gently.

'Monseigneur, I am all dutiful attention.'

'Mademoiselle Louise was discovered last night at a country hostelry, between this and Commercy.'

'Discovered----'

'By the Count de Bitche, colonel of our petardiers, who had gone there on a mission of kindness, believing her to be a lady, whose protector had been killed by some of our people in a brawl; but imagine his astonishment, on finding there the Princess of Lorraine, attired like a little sister of Vincent de Paule!'

I gave the Count a furtive glance of hatred and defiance, to which he replied by a smile of scornful pride.

'M. Blane,' continued the Duke, 'you have been the means of saving, from the degradation of the Bastille, a princess of a house which, though menaced now by ruin and destruction, is fully equal to, and more ancient than, many of the royal lines in Europe--a house which, through Marie of Guelders and Marie of Lorraine, has been twice allied to the sovereign princes of your own country. I repeat to you, that my daughter has told me all--(_all_ again!)--and I must seek the means to repay you--not for the observance of your word of honour, pledged to Clara d'Amboise, faithfully to conduct Mademoiselle here--but for the unmerited humiliation to which that duty has been the means of subjecting you.'

'I thank you, Monseigneur le Duc. An exile from my own country, I have but the inheritance of a Scottish gentleman--a poor soldier of fortune--'

'And this, Monsieur--'

'Is my father's sword--with glory and adversity.'

'That sword shall be restored to you. M. de Bitche, restore his rapier to M. Blane,' said the Duke, again pressing my hand; 'Monsieur, I see by the order which you wear, that you are a man of merit as well as of courage. What say you to enter the service of my daughter's intended husband?'

'Ah--she has not told him _all_,' thought I, bitterly; 'or Charles IV. would not speak thus to me.'

'His regiment of horse lacks a Major--but you frown; you Scots are all devoted to the service of France. Well, well; I seek not to tempt you from your allegiance; but for the good deed you have done him, Charles of Lorraine will ever esteem you as one of his dearest friends.'

'Oh Monseigneur, you overwhelm me by this condescension.'

'And now, M. Blane, you are welcome to reside at our palace of Nanci so long as you please.'

'Your hospitality, Monseigneur, would endanger my honour as a loyal soldier,' said I, impatient to leave for ever the home and vicinity of one who had cost my heart so dear.

'Well--well; the main-body of your army is far from here, beyond the Rhine, under the Marechal de la Force. How stand you for funds?'

'I am at zero, Monseigneur,' said I; for I had spent so much in procuring luxuries for my fair companion, that I had scarcely a denier left.

The Duke wrote for me an order on his Comptroller-General of Finance for a thousand crowns; but when presented, only fifty were forthcoming; for war and impending conquest had sorely impaired the resources of his once princely inheritance.

He presented me with a beautiful pair of silver-mounted girdle pistols; and now many gentlemen and cavaliers of his court, who had hitherto held coldly aloof, pressed around me, with those compliments and congratulations that flow so readily from a courtier's oily tongue; but I observed that still the suspicious or haughty Pappenheim, and the sullen De Bitche, were resolved to shun me. After some frivolous conversation I retired, and was conducted, by M. Schreckhorn, the Swiss, to my own apartments, where again I seated myself at the table as before, to ponder over all that had passed.