Chapter LXXI: The Viscount's Advice

Succeeding events passed with such rapidity, that I may be pardoned in noting them briefly.

Next day, my soldiers found the body of the Duke in the stream below the tower, and bore it into Lutzelstein.

Marie Louise, being naturally warm-hearted and affectionate, wept for the poor boy's death, and wreathed a chaplet of white roses for his head when we coffined him; and with every honour that the emergencies of the time, and the slender nature of my garrison would admit, we buried him at a little chapel of St. Nicolas that stood on the mountains, about three miles distant; and there Father Colville said all the necessary prayers.

During three or four days after the funeral, I left Marie Louise in undisturbed seclusion, to recover her composure, after the excitement consequent to this (in conventional phraseology) fatal event, which set her _free_; and which, I fear me, I was too selfish to wish undone; though salving my conscience by the reflection that I had left nothing unattempted to save the child who had perished; and from my soul I thanked heaven, that in the first natural impulse of generosity and humanity, I had plunged into the lake, and been the first to attempt his rescue.

Without other emotion than tenderness and respect, I had beheld Marie Louise kiss the white brow of the dead child--her spouse--as the poor little fellow lay in the rough coffin my soldiers had fashioned for him.

As captain of Lutzelstein I acted chief mourner.

So ended this tragedy!

I was now, however, less anxious for the arrival of my successor, and hoped that my application might be overlooked by the Marquis, or rejected by Lavalette. So true it is, that we never know the events a day may bring forth!

My new wishes in the matter proved futile; for one morning I was awakened at daybreak, by my chamber-door being noisily opened, and the tall form of Dundrennan, in the cuirass and helmet of the Garde du Corps Ecossais, stood before me. The words of welcome I would have spoken, died away on my lips, unuttered; for I knew that his arrival announced an indefinite separation from Marie Louise.

'What,' said he, 'still a-bed, as if you were in Paris!'

'I have so little to care for here, at Lutzelstein.'

'How, so little say you, when your fair friend--a veritable princess--is here, and a widow too!'

I shrugged my shoulders.

'How French you have become,' said the jovial Viscount; 'but say, has not your suit prospered since the drowning of her juvenile spouse?'

'Hush!' said I; 'do not speak thus, for heaven's sake!'

'Devil take me, if I understand thee, Arthur Blane!' grumbled the Viscount, biting his dark moustache; 'but rouse thee, man, truss thy points, and let us to breakfast. I have had a long ride overnight from Seltz, which we captured at our swords' point three days ago. Old Patrick Gordon lost an ear by a pistol-shot, in the assault; but the cuirassiers expect you anon; for it seems that I am to be your successor, for a little time, in this detestable place. Ouf! But Madame la Duchesse d'Alsace--by Jove! it _will_ be awkward for me to have such a charming prisoner in my care--one who is another's lady love, too!'

'Dundrennan, your gabble tortures me,' said I, springing from bed, and proceeding hurriedly to dress.

'I had a narrow escape in the assault, for Ramsay's Scots blew up the powder-magazine--a pleasant little piece of excitement, which cost twenty of them their lives. But how have you wearied of your captaincie?'

'Because I am weary of my life.'

'With a prisoner so fair in ward--a widow, a virgin widow too--lovely in her weeds and tears!'

'Dundrennan, I will kill you!'

'No, you will not; but you shall listen to me and to reason.'

'Reason from you, Viscount?'

'Yes,' said he, becoming grave; 'is your passion real?'

'Alas, too real!'

'Then conquer it, if it cannot prosper.'

'Folly, Viscount--a real passion cannot be conquered; a fanciful one can alone be stifled.'

'This love affair has been a misfortune to you both, Arthur.'

'True, Viscount; but we cannot control our hearts.'

'We--then the lady fully responds?'

'Oh, yes--as much as lover could desire.'

'You are riddles! She must be won by a coup-de-main, or she will soon be taken from you, and then you will be compelled to forget her.'

'Impossible!' said I, buckling my sword-belt over my pourpoint.

'So you think; but nothing is impossible to time. Learn to love her at a distance; her image will then fade gradually, while another may soon supplant it; for the human heart cannot remain long vacant.'

I shook my head sorrowfully.

'Well--I have but one other advice to offer.'

'And that is--'

'To carry her off while there is yet time. With such a prize to win, and such a love already won, with swords enough to back me, I would bear her off before the assembled kings of Europe.'

'You counsel boldly, Dundrennan.'

'Because I counsel wisely. Women will forgive everything that has love for an excuse. Let us be bold in love as in war. A little modest assurance in the flowery field of Venus will carry one on, when modest merit fails to win the day.'

'You talk like the ruffs and gallants of the Boulevards. But ah, Viscount! you do not know Marie Louise. Every thought of hers is full of innocence--every action full of charm and grace.'

'Of course,' chimed Dundrennan, stroking his moustache with a very provoking air; but at that moment Frank Ruthven appeared to announce that four strange horsemen, richly dressed, well armed and mounted, were at the gate of the tower, and imperiously demanding admittance.

'Which way came they?' I asked, assuming my sword and mantle.

'By the road from Lorraine.'

'They have come from Paris,' said Dundrennan.

'Probably,' said I, and a gloomy foreboding of their mission sank like a cloud over my heart.