Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times. G. P. R. James

However, you may follow it or not as you like. Bold measures are fitted for dangerous circumstances; and deceit, such as has been used towards you, will justify you in employing means which, were it otherwise, I would not advise, and you ought not to follow. If you find her disposed to give her hand to you, and you make open and decided opposition to the scheme which they themselves have devised, a thousand to one you will be driven out of the château, and all the influence of her guardian even to compulsion itself, may perhaps be used to force her into a marriage with your rival. In the present condition of the country, it will be difficult to enforce your rights, so long as she remains here; by no means difficult for them, in the course of a year or two, to drive her, by persecution, into the arms of a man she hates. I would advise you, then, all these things considered, not to let them fully know, all that takes place between you. Give no decided answer the moment your interview is over; but say they shall know your resolution the following day. Take advantage of the time; and, having gained her consent, and arranged your plan, fly with her at once to the camp of the King. Beyond all doubt Henry, as soon as he is informed of her father's intentions regarding you, will bestow her hand upon you. He is a good-humoured man enough; frank and free; and has a weakness for all love affairs. He will be glad enough, too, to secure the support of the houses of De Montigni and Marennes to his own cause; for at present he is a king without a kingdom; a soldier without money; and, by my faith, too, a husband without a wife. However, you need not fear his taking yours, for they do say he is over head and ears in love just now with another person; otherwise I would not answer for him."

      De Montigni smiled: "You are no courtier, Monsieur Chasseron," he said, "and your plan suits me well; but there may be difficulties in the execution."

      "Pooh, boy!--None, none," cried his uncle; "the business will be quite easy. Here are old Estoc and I as full of stratagems as the Duchess of Montpensier. We have had all our cunning bottled up for these ten years, since I got that cursed wound; and we'll arrange between us a plan for getting you all out of the château, so that no one shall know anything about it, for eight hours at least. The King is besieging Dreux they say; and you can soon reach his camp."

      "But can I persuade Rose to consent?" asked De Montigni.

      "To be sure, to be sure," answered the old commander; "when she sees that there is nothing else for it, she won't hesitate. Besides, your taking her off to the King's camp, is not as if you were running away with her to marry her without any authority."

      "Certainly not," said Chasseron; "remember to impress that upon her mind: first, that it is according to her father's own disposition, that she gives you her hand; secondly, that the King's right to the guardianship of a noble ward, is paramount to that of your uncle, and quite supersedes it."

      "And you think," asked De Montigni, "that I may be perfectly sure of Henry's conduct?"

      "Perfectly," replied Chasseron.

      "I will be answerable for that," said the commander in a grave and emphatic tone. "I will pledge my honour, which was never yet forfeit, that His Majesty shall bestow upon you the hand of Rose d'Albret, as soon as you reach his camp, and all the circumstances are explained to him."

      "Well, then," said De Montigni, "my course is clear, and my conduct decided. If the hopes that you have raised prove just, and that sweet girl consents, we will fly as has been proposed. If not, and I am disappointed, I will make the renunciation which is demanded of me, raise my own retainers, join the King, and, fighting for my lawful sovereign, will wed myself to honour as my only bride."

      "I trust, Sir," said the good farmer, "you may ere long be able to serve the Bearnois, as they call him, not only with your own retainers, but with those of Marennes and Liancourt too."

      "God send it--God send it!" cried the commander; "and I will get into the saddle, too, if the devil were in my hip instead of a pistol ball. Come along, Estoc; you and I will go and lay out a plan for carrying off the lady, and I will let Louis know the result to-morrow by daybreak:--But mind you do your part well, my boy. No shyness--no diffidence--go right to the point at once. Tell her all about it, and let her judge for herself.--Now, Monsieur de Chasseron, Estoc and I will see you to your room," and thus saying, they took leave of De Montigni, and retreated for the night.

      CHAPTER VIII.

      We must now give a space, a very short space indeed, to Rose d'Albret, who, after speaking a few moments with her uncle, the priest, and Chazeul, had retired to her own chamber in search of solitary meditation. There, however, she found her maid waiting for her, it having been her custom for some weeks, since Chazeul had taken up his residence at the château, to quit the rest of the party as soon after supper as possible.

      "There, take off this stiff gown, Blanchette; give me a dressing gown, undo and comb my hair; and then you may go and gossip with Monsieur de Montigni's servants. They have just come from Italy, and will tell you, I don't doubt, how much prettier the girls of France are than those on the other side of the Alps. I will undress myself, when I feel sleepy."

      "Indeed, Mademoiselle, I don't want to gossip with them," said Blanchette; "if I talk with anybody, it shall be with Alphonso, Monsieur de Chazeul's head valet. He is a fine man, and a gay one, like his master. Ay, indeed, Monsieur de Chazeul is something like a man."

      Rose d'Albret turned suddenly towards her, and fixed her eyes upon her face, asking, "How much has he given you, Blanchette?"

      "Lord, Mademoiselle!" cried the girl, turning crimson.

      "Yes, Blanchette, I wish to know," said Rose; "tell me exactly how much he has given you. These fine gentlemen think that a lady's heart can never be won rightly without bribing her maid; and therefore, just in proportion to the number of crowns you have received, I shall judge that Monsieur de Chazeul values my love. I am quite serious, so mind you reckon up exactly."

      The girl evidently did not clearly see whether her mistress spoke ironically or not, but the tone of Rose d'Albret was so serious, that she inclined to the latter opinion, and answered hesitatingly, "Why of course, Mademoiselle, he has given me some little presents at different times, as all gentlemen do when they are in love."

      "Little presents!" cried Rose in the same tone, "why then he values me little. But count up, count up, Blanchette, how much altogether."

      "Why, maybe, perhaps a hundred crowns in the whole, Mademoiselle," answered the maid.

      "A hundred crowns!" cried Rose d'Albret, "I am worth more than that; and I'll tell you what, Blanchette, you are a great fool if ever you say a word in his favour again, unless he gives you treble as much. So you look to it, undo my hair, and make haste."

      The girl obeyed the orders she received, and then, by her mistress's direction, left her. The moment she was gone, however, Rose shook her head sadly, and burst into tears, exclaiming, "Alas, that they should thus fill me with suspicion! I am bought and sold like the goods of a market. No one comes near me that is not bribed or corrupted by some means. I have nowhere to turn for advice or sympathy or consolation. What is the meaning of all this? Am I to believe that it is poor Rose d'Albret, he seeks? No, no, he would take other means to win love, if love were all he wanted. But I will know, I will see into the bottom of his heart before I give him my hand.--Give him my hand? Oh God! to think that the day is coming so soon!--But I will have some better insight; and if they use such art with me, surely I may be excused for practising some with them."

      Rose d'Albret leaned her head upon her hand, and thought long and bitterly; but her mind was now pursuing another course; the image of De Montigni had risen up before her. Nor would it be banished, though she was afraid to look upon it steadily. "He is very little changed," she said to herself; "I can trace all the features of the boy in the man. He has lost his gay, light-hearted laugh, however--his cheerful look that spread light around him. He has grown grave and stern. Can he have suffered? Disappointed love, perhaps, has done its sad work upon his heart. Oh, that I could comfort him!"

      She thought again, and other images seemed to present themselves; for, after a moment's silent musing, she started up, crying "God forbid! God forbid! Ah! what would come of it, if it