Corse de Leon; or, The Brigand: A Romance. Volume 1 (of 2), Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  There are few situations in life which convey to the mind of man morecompletely the sensations of comfort, security, and repose, than when,after a long day's ride, he sits at ease by a glowing fire, andhears--while all the ready service of a well-conducted inn is inbustling activity to minister to his wants or satisfy his appetite--therain patter and the tempest roar without. Nor is it from any selfishcomparison of their own fate with that of others less happy that menderive this sensation, notwithstanding the dictum of the most selfish ofwould-be philosophers. It is, on the contrary, from a comparison oftheir own situation at the moment with what that situation sometimes hasbeen, or might even then be, that the good and the generous experiencesuch feelings; and, though the thought of others exposed to the tempestmust naturally cross their minds, yet that thought is mixed with pityand regret.

  The little inn towards which Bernard de Rohan and his companions wereproceeding, under the guidance of the priest, when last we left them,though the village in which it stood contained not above nine or tencottages, was good for the time and the country. Its only sitting-room,of course, was the great kitchen, into which the door opened from theroad; but that kitchen was well fenced from the wind and rain; thewindows were small, and cased in stone; the door was sheltered by a deepporch, where host and travellers sat and amused themselves in the summerdaytime; and, as it was the first house met with after passing some ofthe steepest mountains between France and Piedmont, everything was doneto make it attractive in the eyes of weary wayfarers.

  The thunder had passed, the air had become cold and raw, the night wasas dark as a bad man's thoughts, a fierce wind was blowing, and theheavy rain dashed in gusts against the clattering casements; but allthose indications of the harsh and boisterous state of the weatherwithout did but serve to make the scene within seem more comfortable tothe eyes of a traveller, who sat in one of the large seats within thesheltering nook of the chimney, watching the busy hostess prepare morethan one savoury mess for his supper on the bright wood fire that blazedupon the hearth. In the mean time, several attendants of various kindsmight be seen in different parts of the wide kitchen, cleaning anddrying harness, clothes, baldrics, and weapons, or preparing othermatters for the service of their lord, with all the devices of courtlyluxury.

  Those attendants, however, were not the attendants of Bernard de Rohan,nor was the traveller that cavalier himself; he being yet upon his waythither, and enduring all the fury of the storm.

  The one of whom I now speak was a man of about the same age, but ratherolder. He was decidedly a handsomer man also: his features were allfiner in form; he was taller; his complexion was fairer, without,however, being effeminate; and it was evident, too, that he knew hispersonal advantages, and was somewhat vain of them. He was dressed withmuch splendour, according to the fashion of that day; and, though heseemed to have met with some part of the storm, it was clear that he hadnot been long exposed to it.

  In short, as he sat there, he might well be pronounced one of thehandsomest and most splendid cavaliers of his day; but there was asomething which a closely-observing eye might detect in the hanging browand curling lip that was not altogether pleasant. It could scarcely becalled a sneer; yet there was something supercilious and contemptuous init too. Nor was it altogether haughty, though pride undoubtedly had itsshare. It was a dark and yet not gloomy expression. It seemed as if theheart beneath was full of many an unfathomable idea, and proud of itsimpenetrability. The thoughts might be good or bad; but it was evidentlya countenance of much thought under a mask of lightness: a deep lakebeneath a ripple.

  The stranger had, as we have said, been looking on while the hostess,with a bustling maid, prepared manifold dishes for his supper; and headded, from time to time, a gay jest to either of them upon the progressof the work. His tone was familiar and easy; but it might be remarkedthat his jest always arose from something that came beneath his eye, andthat, in general, he took no notice whatever of the reply, scarcelyseeming to hear that any one else spoke, and making no rejoinder, butletting the matter drop till he thought fit to jest again.

  At length, however, he said, "I prithee, dame, double yon portion ofsteaks from the roe-deer, and add me some twenty eggs to the omelet. Youwill have more visiters shortly."

  The good woman started up with a look of some surprise, and might,perhaps, have thought her guest a conjuror, had not his words beenfollowed so closely by the noise of horses' feet, that the source of hisknowledge was evident at once. A moment after voices were heard calling,and the aubergiste, who had been aiding some of the servants at theother side of the kitchen, opened the door carefully and looked forth.The cold wind rushed in fiercely, like a besieging army into a stormedcity, and the yellow wax flambeau which the host carried to the door,and which, in that land of bees, was in those days common to everycountry inn, was extinguished in a moment, notwithstanding the fierceflame wherewith it burned.

  All on that side of the wide, dingy room was now in darkness; but voiceswere heard as of many persons speaking, with cries for horseboys andhostlers, in the easily-distinguished tongues of attendants, while thelandlord assured the travellers again and again that he would bestowupon them a thousand-fold better accommodation and entertainment thanthere was the least chance of their obtaining in reality.

  At the same time, a full, rich, merry voice was heard chuckling at theboasts of mine host, and exclaiming, "Ay, ay, landlord! is it not so? Weshall have dolphins and mullets, ortolans and beccaficos, musk sherbetfrom Constantinople, true Roman Falernian mingled with honey, and, tocrown all, a Pythagorean peacock! Nothing less will serve us in thiscold night; though, methinks, a good capon and a tankard of mulledAvignon claret[1] would warm me well, were it but ready this minute."

  [Footnote 1: The first time I ever find the word claret used, it isapplied to the wine of Avignon.]

  While the jovial priest, whom I have described in the first chapter ofthis true history, descended from his ass, joking at every movement withthe host, Bernard de Rohan, smiling at his new companion's merriment,sprang to the ground and entered the kitchen of the inn, leaving hisattendants to lead round the horses to the stables at the back of thebuilding. It might not, it is true, be very satisfactory to him to findthat the inn was so fully tenanted as he soon saw that it was; but hewas one of those who fail not to enjoy what may fall to their lot as faras possible; and, as he advanced towards the fire, he thanked Heaven fora place of shelter from the rude buffeting of the storm.

  In the mean while, the first occupant of the inn continued, with thatair of self-satisfied indifference which has been a part of theaffectation of the pampered and insolent in all ages, to look at nothingbut the proceedings of some rebellious sticks upon the hearth, whichresisted all the soft persuasions of the woman whom the hostess had leftto tend the savoury messes at the fire, while she herself aided herhusband in receiving, like Hope, her new visiters with false promises.The occupant of the chimney-corner looked neither to the right nor tothe left; and, to have judged by his countenance, one would havesupposed that he heard not one sound of all the many that were stirringaround him, nor had a greater interest in anything on earth than in thecooking of a steak of roe venison. Even when Bernard de Rohan advancedwith his arms jingling as he trod, and, after a momentary glance at him,laid hold of his arm with a friendly smile, the stranger merely turnedround, with a look of perfect unconcern, to see who it was that, eitherin enmity or good-fellowship, thus called his attention.

  When he saw who it was, however, he became more animated, and, risingwith a smile, shook hands with him warmly. "Ha! Bernard de Rohan!" heexclaimed, "I can hardly believe my eyes. Why, baron, who would havethought to meet you thus in a Savoyard inn? Have you then quitted Italyto follow Guise, and meet the enemy in the North? You have not thrown bythe spear and sword, I see! But, in a word, say what do you here?"

  "Why, to say truth," replied the other, "nothing is now to be donebeyond the Apennines; and though, as you might well know, after all
thatoccurred at Civita, I am as little likely to follow Guise as a greyhoundis to hunt in company with a lion, yet there is no use in staying behindwhen he has not only left the field himself, but taken all his forceswith him. I am tired of this warfare, too! I long for some repose. Ihave now been three years absent from France, and I have a yearning tosee my own land once more."

  "Yes, and some fair dame therein," rejoined his companion. "Is it notso, De Rohan? I remember well you seemed to have but small delight inthe bright eyes of the young Italians, and I often thought that it mustbe some remembered love of the past that kept you thus heart-whole."

  "It may be so, count," replied Bernard, gayly. "What man is therewithout a lady-love? If there be one, he is neither fit for war norpeace: he wants the great excitement to glory, and courtesy, and greatdeeds. But, even had it not been for that, Meyrand," he added, moreseriously, "I love the ladies of my own land best. Bright looks arelittle to me without true hearts, and beauty but a frail substitute forgoodness."

  "Pshaw, Sir Moralizer!" cried his companion; "beauty is a woman's bestpossession till she be old; and then, when she has done with the Graces,let her take up with the Virtues, or the Muses, or anything else shelikes."

  "Let her take up with anything, in short," said the jolly priest, comingforward to the fire, and shaking his gown to dry it; "let her take upwith anything but a libertine, a fop, or a courtier. Let her bear age,or ugliness, or anything but children to fools--so shall she do well inthis world and the next! Is it not so, gay sir?"

  The Count de Meyrand stared at him with a look of haughty surprise; buthe found that the priest was as indifferent as he could be, and herelapsed for a minute or two into silence, while the page of Bernard deRohan came up to disarm his lord. The operation was somewhat long, and,by the time it was accomplished, the trestles had been brought forthfrom their corner, the long wooden boards which, joined up the middle,served for a table, had been taken from the wall against which theystood and laid upon those trestles, and over all a fine white tableclothhad been spread, with the salt in the midst.

  Plate after plate of well-cooked viands, emitting an odour most savouryto hungry men, was next placed on the board by the neat hostess, and thecount, with Bernard de Rohan in the buff jerkin he had worn under hisarmour, moved to take their seats at the head of the table. The priestsat down beside his young travelling companion, while a sneering smilecurled the lip of Meyrand, and he could not refrain from saying, in alow but not inaudible voice, "Why, baron, what a princely youth you havebecome, to travel with your fool, and in canonicals too."

  Bernard did not reply; and the priest, though he heard every word, saidnothing till, the attendants having all ranged themselves at the lowerend of the table, together with the host and hostess, he proceeded tobless the meat. He had scarcely concluded, however, when the door of theinn suddenly opened, and a person rushed in in the garb of a servant. Hewas without hat or cloak, and there was a cut, though but a slight one,upon his forehead. "Help! help!" he cried, gazing eagerly around thecircle; "help! help! they are carrying away my Lord of Masseran and myyoung lady to murder them in the mountains."

  These words produced a very different effect upon the persons who heardthem. The Count of Meyrand sat perfectly still and indifferent,listening with his usual air of cool self-possession to all that the mansaid, and never ceasing to carve with his dagger the meat that wasbefore him, on which he had just commenced when the interruption tookplace.

  On the other hand, Bernard de Rohan and each of his servants, as ifmoved by the same impulse, started up at once. The young gentleman'sleft hand fell naturally to grasp the scabbard of his sword, and, beforethe man had done speaking, he had taken three steps towards the door ofthe inn.

  Two or three circumstances, however, occurred to interrupt him for amoment. There were various confused movements on the part of manypersons present, and a clamour of several tongues all speaking at once.

  At the same time the count exclaimed, "Stay one moment, baron! Stay anddrink one cup of wine with me before you go out in this sweet stormynight to help one of the greatest scoundrels that Savoy can produce, orFrance either. Stay, stay one moment! Well," he added, seeing Bernard deRohan turn from him with a look of impatience, "well, go and helpMasseran, if you will! Heaven send the rogues may have cut his throatbefore you reach them!"

  "Your horse, my lord!" cried one of the attendants.

  "Your armour, sir!" said another.

  "No, no, on foot! on foot!" cried Bernard de Rohan; "on foot as we are!Time is everything. Lead on, fellow! lead on! Send us out torches, minehost!"

  The jovial priest had started up almost at the same time as histravelling companion. "By our Lady, I will go with you!" he cried, "toshrive the dying. It is a part of a priest's trade; though, I confess,if I were knight, and noble and gallant cavalier, I would stay where Iam, like this brave count, and exercise my chivalry upon venison andtankards of wine."

  While he was speaking, there drew out from some dark corner of theinn-kitchen--where he had remained unnoticed by any one--a tall, thin,gaunt man, with a straw hat on his head, and a large, coarse brown cloakenveloping almost the whole of his figure. He took three steps forwardinto the full light, and certainly there had seldom been seen a morestriking, if not a more handsome countenance, or a more remarkable andeven graceful bearing, than that which the stranger presented. He was aman apparently about five-and-thirty years of age, with aquilinefeatures, large, black, flashing eyes, the bronze of sun, and wind, andstorm upon his face, and five or six deep scars upon his cheek and brow.He was remarkably erect in person, and, though certainly meager, wasbroad-shouldered and muscular, or rather, perhaps, I may say, sinewy;for the hand that grasped his cloak, and the part of the arm and wristseen above it, displayed the strong markings of the muscles like cordsunder the skin.

  He came directly in the way of Bernard de Rohan as the young cavalieradvanced towards the door; and it must be confessed that there wassomething strange and startling in the sudden apparition of thestranger, which made the other pause, and, with an involuntary motion,advance his right hand towards the hilt of his sword.

  He drew it back again instantly, however, somewhat ashamed of themovement, while the new personage thus brought upon the stage said, in adeep but melodious voice, "I will go with you too, young gentleman, andmay do you better service than our good friend the priest here."

  "But, Master Leon," exclaimed the landlord of the inn, advancing towardshim with an entreating look.

  "Hush!" cried the stranger, holding up his hand; and, at the samemoment, the jovial priest turned also upon the host, exclaiming, "Fryyour eggs, fry your eggs, Gandelot, and leave other people to frytheirs. Don't be afraid! we'll not toss the omelet into the fire, norspill the grease, nor set the chimney in a blaze. You know me and I knowhim; and, though he is the last man that should say I can't do goodservice when I like it, yet I will go with him without a quarrel!"

  When every one is speaking at once, a conversation which would beotherwise long is very rapidly brought to a conclusion; and though, aswe have seen, there were here two or three interlocutors, all that wehave described scarcely interrupted Bernard de Rohan half a minute."Lead on, lead on, then!" he exclaimed impatiently, addressing theservant who had made the appeal for assistance, and to whom the Count deMeyrand had been addressing a few words in a low tone. "Lead on, I say,quick!" and in another moment they were all beyond the door of the inn,and standing upon the mountain-side in the cold air of night.

  The count remained at the table; and, shaping their conduct upon that oftheir lord, not one of his servants attempted to move. Meyrand, however,did not, upon the whole, seem particularly well satisfied with what hadtaken place. Perhaps he might not be quite contented with the inactivepart he was playing; and it is certain he asked himself whether Bernardde Rohan could attribute his conduct to want of courage. He recollected,however, that they had mounted to the assault of many a well-defendedbreach together, and he felt sure that there could b
e no doubt of thatkind on his companion's mind. He remained in thought, however, for aminute or two longer, forgetting even the supper that was before him,and the air of indifference which he usually bore; but at length hebeckoned one of his men to his side, and spoke a few words to him in avery low tone, only suffering the last two to be heard: they were, "Youunderstand!"

  The man bowed his head in reply, called three of his companions awayfrom the table, sought hastily in the different corners of the innkitchen for various offensive weapons, and then left the place, as if tofollow and assist Bernard de Rohan and his party.