Lord Montagu's Page. G. P. R. James

myself. I did not drink one drop last night at the inn, because he told me not. I am mighty sick at my stomach, however. I wish I had a drop of brandy, just to settle it. I have a mind to go out and get just one gill to settle it—only one gill. No, I won't; for then I should take another, and so forth. It shall not be said that my young master was lying sick and I went and got drunk. Let my stomach take care of itself; and, if it chooses to be sick, it must be so. I wonder if he will die, poor boy. He has a good heart, though he is as hasty as a tinker's cur, and as stern as a general. Marton," he continued, to the good woman who entered seeking something, "how is Master Ned?"

      "Much the same, Pierrot," answered Marton. "The doctor says there will be no change yet a while."

      "Marton, I am resolved not to drink any more," said Pierrot, in a solemn tone.

      "Keep to it," she replied, with a laugh, but evidently with very little confidence. "Why, Pierrot la Grange, for the last ten years you have been forever at the flask. You were a very good young man before that, and well to do; ay, and a handsome man too. I have seldom seen a more personable man than you were then, before you took to that filthy custom of making a beast of yourself; but now your face is all over blotches, and your nose is so red you might fire a cannon with it."

      "Well, well, you shall see, Marton," rejoined Pierrot. "I have taken a resolution, and fallen upon a plan by which I can keep it, too; and you may tell the syndic that I will drink no more. Why, just now, I thought to go out and get myself some brandy, with a spur rial—as he calls it—which Master Ned gave me, because I am sick at the stomach; but I resisted, and would not stir a step on account of my resolution."

      "Ah! are you sick at the stomach?" said Marton, quietly. "Suppose I get you a little cloves and strong waters."

      Pierrot evidently hesitated; but then he suddenly exclaimed, "Not a drop, Marton, thank you; not a drop. I was once sober for three whole days, and, I dare say, should have continued so, but that fellow Jargeau got hold of me and persuaded me to drink. It was his cue to make me drunk then. So those who know me will never ask me to take a drop, if they love me."

      "That they certainly will not," said Marton, going away with what she had come to fetch.

      Her conversation with Pierrot had one good effect, however. She told her master that she really believed La Grange intended not to drink any more, not only inasmuch he told her so, but because he refused a glass of cloves and strong waters which she had offered him on account of his being sick at the stomach.

      "Most likely sick because he has not had his morning's draught," said Clement Tournon. "However, encourage all good resolutions, and do not offer him any more. Marton, I will speak with him myself in the course of the day, and can judge better than you can."

      The worthy syndic could not keep his promise, however. The day passed over, and he did not see Pierrot; for the town of Rochelle was in considerable agitation at that time, the events passing round it being sufficiently menacing to impress all minds with anxiety, but not sufficiently urgent to produce unanimity by the presence of immediate danger. Pierrot kept his resolution, however; and the day passed by without his having tasted any fluid stronger than water. The next morning, though he did not feel himself altogether comfortable, his nausea had departed, and he was more bold in his purpose. About ten he was sent for to speak with the syndic, who was much too wise a man to ask him questions which had any relation to brandy. Clement Tournon, however, examined him closely in regard to his knowledge of Edward Langdale, what letters he brought, when he had sailed from England, whether the intimations Jargeau had received had been accompanied by no information of the young man's objects in coming to Rochelle.

      "He had a long and stormy passage: that I know," answered Pierrot; "and as to Jargeau, if he had any information he kept it to himself, as he always does. But you can ask him himself, syndic. Whether the lad has any letters, you should know better than I do; for, if he have, they must be in his bags—and you have had bags and keys too in your hands these two days, when I have never had either at all."

      "I pry not where I have no right," replied Clement Tournon, coldly. "No hand opens his bags while he is alive and in my house. As for Jargeau, he sees not matters as I do, or I would ask him for information. The Lord Montagu I do not know, though you say the youth is his page; and I cannot divine why that lord has sent him to me. Indeed, I heard his lordship was in France."

      "But he is the great Duke of Buckingham's right hand," said Pierrot; "and perhaps Master Ned has been sent to you by the duke."

      "I have some suspicion it may be so," answered the syndic. "I once had some diamond pendants made for him in great haste; and perhaps he wishes to employ me again."

      "In making cannon-balls this time, perhaps, monsieur," said Pierrot, dryly; but, to his surprise, the syndic answered, quite calmly, "Perhaps so; for I am told that this morning at daybreak a fleet of ships-of-war was descried standing in toward Rochelle, and the people thought it was under English colors."

      He looked keenly at Pierrot as he spoke; but the countenance of the latter at once showed that he had not been trying to deceive any one as to the amount of his knowledge; and he clapped his hands, exclaiming, "Hurrah! We shall have some stirring times again, then, and shall not have to lie here cooped up like rats in a trap, but have fighting every day, and——"

      "Plenty of brandy," said the syndic, finishing the sentence for him.

      "Not a drop, upon my salvation!" said Pierrot.

      "Well, your salvation may a good deal depend upon your keeping that resolution," replied the syndic, "for a man does many things when he is drunk for which drunkenness can be no excuse, though it may be an aggravation. But hark! What is that? It was a cannon-shot, was it not? The fleet must be nearing the town. I must to the council. Well, you may go in and see the young gentleman. But mind, be as still as death. Say nothing to him; and, if he recognises you, and asks you any questions, answer shortly and quietly, and leave him. You said he was of gentle birth, I think. You are sure he is of gentle birth?"

      Though Pierrot might, and in fact did, think it strange that a merchant of Rochelle should lay such stress upon gentle—otherwise noble—birth, he assured the syndic, from what he had seen of the English, that all the household pages of British noblemen were selected from good families; and, while they were still speaking together, one of the goldsmith's apprentices came to call the syndic to the city council, telling him that a boat had just landed from the English fleet.

      Clement Tournon called for his gown and chain; and, after giving repeated directions to Pierrot as to his demeanor in the chamber of Master Ned, and donned his robes in the man's presence, he proceeded to the town-hall, followed by two of his men.

      The inclinations, if not the affections, of Pierrot were divided. He would fain have gone to the hall to know the news of the day—news, as it proved, much more important than he dreamed of. But then again came the thought of his poor young master; and, being a conscientious man when he was sober, and sometimes a conscientious man even when he was drunk, he fancied it a duty to visit Master Ned. He soon found, however, that he could do nothing in the world for him. The lad's mind still wandered terribly; and, though he gave some indications of recollecting Pierrot, he asked him no questions, and called him "My Lord Duke." Pierrot might then have turned his steps to the hall, but in one of Ned's half-muttered speeches the name of Jargeau was uttered; and, remembering that personage would inevitably be at the place of meeting, the good man thought it better to wait for tidings till the syndic returned.

      The news arrived soon enough for Pierrot's mortification, and immediately spread through the whole house. It was to the effect that the Lord Denbigh, in command of a powerful British fleet, had come to offer assistance to the town of Rochelle; that there had been a warm and even angry debate in the council, but in the end the anti-English party had prevailed, and all that Tournon and Guiton could obtain was, that a civil reply should be made to the English admiral, thanking him and King Charles for their proffered aid, but declining it on the score that no previous intimation had been given to the citizens of the approach of a fleet to their port.

CHAPTER VI.