Read Ebook: Richelieu: A Tale of France v. 2/3 by James G P R George Payne Rainsford

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Ebook has 190 lines and 20363 words, and 4 pages

In the mean while, Pauline returned to the Church of St. Gervais, where she found Mademoiselle de Hauteford still on her knees in the Chapel of St. Denis.

Pauline's recital of what had happened, called forth but few remarks from her companion, who only observed, that seven would be an unpleasant hour, for that by that time night began to fall. To Mademoiselle de Beaumont, however, night seemed more favourable to her enterprise than day, when the trepidation which she felt was visible to every passing eye; and she congratulated herself on the prospect of the darkness covering the agitation which might lead to suspicion if observed.

I shall not follow the two ladies through the remaining part of the day. Suffice it, that Mademoiselle de Hauteford employed herself in preparations for the long journey which the Cardinal's sentence of banishment required her to take, and that Pauline's time passed in anxiety and apprehension, till the hour came for her once more to visit the Bastille.

It was now quite dark, and the streets not being so crowded as when she before passed through them, Pauline proceeded more calmly, except when the torch-bearers of some of the gay world of Paris flashed their flambeaux in her eyes as they lighted their lords along to party or spectacle. At the Church of St. Gervais she again left Mademoiselle de Hauteford with the servant; and now, well acquainted with the way, ran lightly along till she arrived at the Bastille, where, not giving her resolution time to fail, she passed the drawbridge, and entered the outer gate, which was at that moment open. Before her stood the figure of the Porter, enjoying the cool evening air that blew through the open gate into the court. His hand rested upon the edge of the door, and the moment Pauline entered, he pushed it to with a clang that made her heart sink.

Pauline's heart sank at the idea of being carried before the Governor, well knowing how little competent she was to answer any inquiries concerning her errand; but the excess of fear will often give courage, and the most timid animals turn and resist when pressed to extremity. Thus Pauline summoned up all her resolution, and remembering the allusion which the Porter had made to Chavigni's orders in favour of the Woodman, she replied boldly: "This is no time for jesting, Sir! and as to detaining me, it would be as much as the Governor's post is worth, if it came to Monsieur de Chavigni's ears that he ever thought of such a thing."

"So, so!" cried the Porter with a grin, "you are a friend of Monsieur de Chavigni's. So--I thought there was something made him so careful of yon sour old Woodman. These great Statesmen must have their little relaxations. So that is it, Mademoiselle? He takes especial care of the father for the daughter's sake."

There was a drop or two of the warm blood of Languedoc flowing in Pauline's veins with all her gentleness, and her patience now became completely exhausted. "Well, Sir!" she answered, "all I have to say to you is, that if I meet with any insolence, it may cost you dear. So bring me to see my father, or refuse me at once."

As he spoke, the Governor approached: "Whom have you got here, porter?" he asked, while he eyed Pauline with one of those cool luxurious glances that made her shrink.

"This is the Woodman's daughter, Sir," replied the man, "who wishes to speak with her father."

Terrified, confused, and ignorant of the Woodman's name, Pauline faltered forth, unconscious of what she said, "I do not know."

"Ha! ha! ha! thou sayest well, my pretty damsel," cried the Governor laughing, and thinking that she answered his jest in kind. "It is a wise father that knows his own child; and why not a wise child that knows his own father? But without a joke, what is your supposed father's name?"

"My supposed father!" repeated Pauline, in the same state of perturbation; "Oh, Philip the Woodman."

"Nay, nay," replied the Governor, "that does not answer my meaning either. What is the surname of this Philip the Woodman?"

The impossibility of answering overpowered her. Pauline had not the most remote idea of Philip's name, and another instant would indubitably have betrayed all; but at the moment the Governor asked his question, Philip had entered the court. He had heard the last sentence, saw Pauline's embarrassment, and divining its cause, with quick presence of mind caught her in his arms, and kissed her on both cheeks, with that sort of fatherly affection which would have deceived the Governor's eyes by day, much less by the fainter light of the lanterns in the archway.

"My dear child!" cried he, "how art thou? and how is thy mother?" And then turning to the Governor, without giving her time to reply, he went on, "My name, Sir, which you were asking but now, is Philip Grissolles, but I am better known by the name of Philip the Woodman, and some folks add the name of the wood, and call me Philip the Woodman of Mantes."

"Philip Grissolles!" said the Governor; "very well, that will do. It was your surname that I wished to know, for it is not put down in the order for your detention, and it must be inserted in the books. And now, Monsieur Philip Grissolles, you may take your daughter to your cell; but remember that you have to wait upon the Count de Blenau in half an hour, by which time I shall have returned. You can leave your daughter in your cell till you have done attending the Count, if you like."

He then proceeded to the gate, and beckoning to the Porter, he whispered to him, "Do not let her go out till I come back. It is seldom that we have any thing like that in the Bastille! Doubtless, that Woodman would be glad to have her with him; if so, we will find her a cell."

Pauline was glad to accept of his offer, for her steps faltered so much that she could hardly have proceeded without assistance; and thus, leaning on the Woodman, she was slowly conducted through a great many narrow passages, to the small vaulted chamber in which he was lodged.

As soon as they had entered, the Woodman shut the door, and placing for Pauline's use the only chair that the room contained, he began to pour forth a thousand excuses for the liberty he had taken with her cheek. "I hope you will consider, Mademoiselle, that there was no other way for me to act, in order to bring us out of the bad job we had fallen into. The Porter of the prison told me this morning that my daughter was coming to see me, and knowing very well I had no daughter, I guessed that it was some one on the Count de Blenau's account; but little did I think that it was you, Mademoiselle--you that I saw in the wood of Mantes on the day he was wounded."

Pauline was still too much agitated with all that had passed to make any reply, and sitting with her hands pressed over her eyes, her thoughts were all confusion, though one terrible remembrance still predominated, that she was there--in the very heart of the Bastille--far from all those on whom she was accustomed to rely--habited in a disguise foreign to her rank--acting an assumed character, and engaged in an enterprise of life and death.

All this was present to her, not so much as a thought, but as a feeling; and for a moment or two it deprived her not only of utterance, but of reflection. As her mind grew more calm, however, the great object for which she came began again to recover the ascendency; and she gradually regained sufficient command over her ideas to comprehend the nature of the excuses which Philip was still offering for his presumption, as he termed it.

"You did perfectly right," replied Pauline; "and, having extricated us from a dangerous predicament, merit my sincere thanks. But now," she continued, "without loss of time I must see the Count de Blenau."

"See the Count de Blenau!" exclaimed Philip in astonishment. "Impossible, Mademoiselle! utterly impossible! I can deliver a letter or a message; but that is all I can do."

"Why not?" demanded Pauline. "For pity's sake, do not trifle with me. If you have free admission to his prison, why cannot you open the way to me?"

"Because, Mademoiselle, there is a sentinel at his door who would not allow you to pass," replied Philip. "I have no wish to trifle with you, indeed; but what you ask is merely impossible."

Pauline thought for a moment. "Cannot we bribe the sentinel?" she demanded. "Here is gold."

"That is not to be done either," answered Philip. "He is not allowed to speak to any one, or any one to speak to him. The first word, his fusil would be at my breast; and the second, he would fire: such are his orders, Mademoiselle, and be sure he would obey them."

"Well then," cried Pauline, "fly to the Count de Blenau, tell him that there is a lady here from the Queen, with a letter which she must not trust to any one else, and ask him what is to be done--but do not stay long, for I am afraid of remaining here by myself."

The Woodman promised not to be a moment, and hastened to the Count de Blenau's apartment, where the wary sentinel, as usual, examined him well to ascertain his identity before he gave him admission. He then entered and communicated as rapidly as possible to De Blenau the message he had received.

"It is Mademoiselle de Hauteford, without doubt," said De Blenau thoughtfully; "I must see her by all means."

"See her, Sir!" exclaimed Philip. "The guard will never let her pass. It is quite impossible."

"Not so impossible as you think. The gates of the inner court do not shut, I think, till nearly nine--Is there any one in the court?"

"No one, Sir," answered the Woodman; "all the State prisoners were locked up at six."

"Well then, Philip," proceeded De Blenau, "do you know a small tower in the court, where you just see through the archway part of an old flight of steps?"

"Oh yes, I know it well," replied Philip. "The tower is never used now, they tell me. There is a heap of rubbish in the doorway."

"Exactly," said the Count. "Now, my good Philip, bring the lady with all speed to that tower, and up the old flight of steps till you come to a small iron door: push that with your hand, and you will find that it brings you into the inner room, where I will wait for you."

The darkness which pervaded the unlighted avenues of the Bastille was so great, that Pauline was obliged to follow close upon Philip's footsteps for fear of losing her way. The Woodman, however, was a little in advance, when a faint light showed that they were approaching the open air, and Pauline began to catch an indistinct glimpse of the dark towers that surrounded the inner court. But at that moment Philip drew back:--"There is some one in the court," he whispered: "Hark!"--and listening, she clearly heard the sound of measured steps crossing the open space before her.

"It is the guard," said the Woodman, in the same low voice; "they are going to relieve the sentinel at the Count's door." He now waited till they were heard ascending the stairs, and then, "Quick, follow me across the court, Mademoiselle," he said; "for they go through this passage on their return."

"For God's sake, Mademoiselle," whispered the Woodman, "run back as quickly as you can to my cell, for we cannot pass now without their seeing us. I will wait here, for they would hear my heavy feet in the passage, and follow us both; but if I can stop them a while, I will, to give you time."

Pauline doubted not that she could remember the turnings, and, gliding along as fast as possible, she endeavoured to find her way back. As she went, she heard some words pass between Philip and the guard; and immediately after, she distinguished that they had entered the passage, for the echoing tramp of their feet, reverberated by the low arches, seemed following close upon her. Terrified and agitated, she flew on with the speed of lightning. But we all know how difficult it is to retrace any course we have pursued in the dark; and in her haste and confusion, Pauline lost the turning she ought to have taken, and, afraid of going back, even after she discovered her mistake, she paused for a moment in a state of alarm and suspense, little short of agony.

She could now distinctly hear the guard approaching, and not knowing where the passage might terminate, or what might obstruct the path, she felt her way with her hand along the wall, till at length she discovered a small recess, apparently one of those archways which gave entrance to the various cells, for beneath her fingers she felt the massy bolts and fastenings which secured it from without. She had scarce a moment to think, but, placing herself under the arch, she drew back as far as possible, in the hope that sheltered by the recess, and concealed by the darkness, the guard would pass her by unnoticed.

It was a dreadful moment for poor Pauline. The soldiers were not so near as the echoes of the place had led her to imagine; and she had several minutes to wait, holding her breath, and drawing herself in, as if to nothing, while the tramp of the armed feet came nearer and nearer, till at length she felt, or fancied that she felt, their clothes brush against her as they passed; and then heard their steps becoming fainter and more faint as they proceeded to some other part of the building.

It was not till all was again silent, that Pauline ventured, still trembling with the danger she had just escaped, to seek once more the path she had lost in her terror. But her search was now in vain; she had entirely forgot the turnings that she had taken in her flight, and in the darkness only went wandering on from one passage to another, starting at every sound, and always convinced that she was mistaken, but not knowing in what direction to seek the right.

At length, however, she found herself at a gateway which led into what seemed an open court, and imagining from the towers she saw round about, that she had arrived once more at the spot from which she had been frightened by the approach of the guards, she resolved again to seek more cautiously the cell of the Woodman, to which, of course, he would return in search of her. But as she turned to put this resolve in execution, she perceived a light coming down the passage towards her; and without giving herself a moment to reflect that it might possibly be the Woodman himself, fear seized her again, and darting across the court, she looked round for some place of concealment.

Exactly opposite, she perceived another archway similar to the one she had left, and concealing herself within it, she paused to see who it was that followed, it just occurring to her mind at that instant, that perhaps she was in full career away from the very person she wished to find. But, the moment after, the light appeared in the archway, and glancing on the face of the man who carried it, discovered to her the features of the Governor.

This sight was not calculated to allay her fears; but her alarm was infinitely increased when she perceived that he began crossing the court towards the spot where she stood. Flight again became her resource, and, turning to escape through the passages to which she supposed that archway led, as well as the others, she struck her foot against some steps and had nearly fallen. Recovering herself, however, without loss of time she began ascending the steps that lay before her, nor stopped, till reaching a small landing-place, she looked through one of the loopholes in the wall, and beheld the Governor directing his course to another part of the building.

Satisfied that he did not follow her, but faint and out of breath with the speed she had employed in her flight, Pauline paused for a moment's repose; and stretching out her hand, she leaned against a door which stood at the top of the staircase:--however, it afforded her no support, for the moment she touched it, it gave way under her hand, and flying open, discovered to her a well-lighted apartment. New terror seized upon Pauline; her eyes were dazzled by the sudden glare, and drawing back she would have fallen headlong down the stairs, but at that instant she was caught in the arms of De Blenau.

Which gets Pauline out, and Philip in, and leaves De Blenau in the middle.

This unpalatable news reminded Pauline to deliver the letter from the Queen, which in the joy and agitation of their first meeting she had neglected to do. De Blenau looked it over with a hurried glance. "She commands me," said he, "to confess all exactly as it occurred; but on one or two points I have already refused to answer, and if I do so now without producing the Queen's warrant for my conduct, I shall be held a base coward, who betrays his trust for fear of the torture."

"And do you hesitate, Claude?" demanded Pauline, rather reproachfully--"do you hesitate to take the only means which can save you? Do you think nothing of what I feel? You, Claude, may be proof against corporeal torture; but I can not endure much longer the mental agony I have suffered since you have been confined here, especially when I reflected that even while you were acting most nobly, I was suspecting you ungenerously. If you love me as you profess, dear Claude, you will take the means that the Queen directs to ensure your safety."

"Well, dearest Pauline," replied De Blenau, yielding to the all-persuasive eloquence of woman's lips, "I will do as you wish, and endeavour to pursue such measures as will be both safe and honourable. But now conclude what you were telling me, of having lost yourself in the prison, and how you found your way hither."

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