CHAPTER II
A BRIDE WHO PLAYS WITH DOLLS
Gabriel took a by-path well-known to him, so as to go more quickly; and yet he let his horse slacken his pace, so that it seemed almost as if he were allowing the handsome beast to adapt his gait to his own train of thought. Emotions of very different sorts succeeded one another in the young man's mind, by turns passionate and gloomy, haughty and subdued. When he remembered that he was the Comte de Montgommery, his eyes sparkled, and he drove his spurs into his horse as if drunken with the breeze which fanned his temples; and then he would say to himself, "My father has been murdered, and his death is not avenged!" and his rein would drop listlessly from his hand. But all at once he would reflect that he was going into the world to fight, to make a name for himself, formidable and dreaded, and to pay all his debts of honor and of blood; and he would start off at a mad gallop as if he were really on his way to fame at that moment, until the thought came to him that he would be obliged to leave his little Diane, so blithe and pretty, when he would relapse into gloom again, and would gradually slacken his pace to a walk; as if he could thus delay the cruel moment of separation. "But," thought he, "I will come back again, after I have found my father's enemies and Diane's relatives;" and Gabriel, spurring his steed on fiercely once more, flew as swiftly as his own hopes. His destination was at hand; and surely in that young heart thirsting for happiness, joy had driven away gloom.
Looking over the hedge which enclosed old Enguerrand's orchard, Gabriel spied Diane's white dress among the trees. To tie his horse to a willow-tree and leap the hedge at a bound was the work of but a moment; glowing with pride and triumph, he fell at the young girl's feet.
But Diane was weeping.
"What is it, my dear little wife," said Gabriel; "and whence this bitter sorrow? Has Enguerrand been scolding us because of a torn dress, or because we made a slip in saying our prayers; or has our pet bullfinch flown away? Tell me, Diane dear. See, your faithful knight has come to comfort you."
"Alas! Gabriel, you cannot be my knight any more," said Diane; "and that is just why I am sad and am crying."
Gabriel supposed that Diane had learned from Enguerrand her play-fellow's name, and that perhaps she wished to test him. He replied,—
"What has happened, pray, Diane, lucky or unlucky, that can ever make me give up the dear title which you have allowed me to assume, and which I am so proud and happy to bear? See, here I am at your knees."
But Diane did not seem to understand; and she wept more bitterly than before, as she hid her face on Gabriel's breast, and sobbed,—
"Oh, Gabriel, Gabriel! We must not see each other any more."
"And who is to prevent us?" he rejoined quickly.
She raised her lovely fair head and her eyes swimming with tears; then with a little pout, altogether sober and solemn, she replied, sighing profoundly,—
"Duty."
Her sweet face assumed an expression that was so despairing and so comical at the same time that Gabriel, fascinated, and entering, as he supposed, fully into her thoughts, could not forbear a laugh; and taking the child's fair face in his hands, he kissed it over and over again; but she nervously drew away from him.
"No, my friend," said she, "no more of these little chats of ours. Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! they are forbidden us now."
"What stories has Enguerrand been telling her?" said Gabriel to himself, persisting in his error; and he added aloud, "Don't you love me any longer, then, dear Diane?"
"I! not love you any longer!" cried Diane. "How can you think and say such things, Gabriel? Are you not the friend of my childhood, and my brother for my whole life? Have you not always been as kind and loving as a mother to me? When I laughed, and when I wept, whom was I sure to find at my side, to share my joy or my sorrow? You, Gabriel! Who carried me when I was tired? Who helped me to learn my lessons? Who took the blame for my mistakes, and insisted on sharing my punishment when he couldn't succeed in having it all himself? You again! Who invented a thousand games for me? Who made sweet nosegays for me in the meadows? Who hunted out goldfinches' nests for me in the woods? You, always you! I have found you always, in every place and at all times, so kind and generous and devoted to me, Gabriel. I shall never forget you, Gabriel; and while my heart lives, you will live in my heart. I should have liked to give you my life and my soul, and I have never dreamed of happiness except when I have dreamed of you. But all this, alas! doesn't keep us from being obliged to part, never to see each other again, no doubt."
"And why not? Is it to punish you for mischievously letting your dog Phylax into the poultry-yard?" asked Gabriel.
"Ah, no, for something very different, believe me!"
"Well, what is it, then?"
She rose, and as she stood with her arms hanging by her side, and her head cast down, she said,—
"Because I am somebody else's wife."
Gabriel did not joke any more, and a vague dread pierced his heart; he replied with a trembling voice,—
"What do you mean by that, Diane?"
"I am no longer Diane," was the reply, "but Madame la Duchesse de Castro, since my husband's name is Horace Farnèse, Duc de Castro."
And the child could not help smiling a little through her tears as she said it. "My husband" indeed, and she a child of twelve! Oh, it was magnificent: "Madame la Duchesse!" But she speedily became sad again when she saw Gabriel's suffering.
The young man was standing before her, pale, and with a frightened look in his eyes.
"Is this a joke? Is it a dream?" said he.
"No, my poor friend, it is a sad truth," replied Diane. "Didn't you meet Enguerrand on the way? He started for Montgommery half an hour since."
"I came by the short cut. But go on and finish your story."
"Why is it, Gabriel, that you have been four days without coming here? Such a thing never happened before, and it made us unhappy, don't you see? Night before last I had very hard work to go to sleep. I hadn't seen you for two days, and was very uneasy, and I made Enguerrand promise that if you didn't come the next day we should go to Montgommery the day after that. And then, as if we had had a presentiment, Enguerrand and I fell to talking of the future, and then of the past, and of my relatives, who seemed, alas! to have forgotten me. It is a wretched tale that I have to tell you, and I should have been happier perhaps if they had really forgotten me. All this serious talk had naturally made me a little sad, and had wearied me; and I was, as I said, a long while going to sleep, and that is why I awoke rather later than usual yesterday morning. I dressed myself in a great hurry, told my beads, and was just ready to go downstairs when I heard a great commotion under my window before the house door. There were magnificent cavaliers there, Gabriel, attended by squires, pages, and varlets, and behind the cavalcade was a gilded carriage, quite dazzling in its splendor. As I was looking curiously at this retinue, and marvelling that it should have stopped at our modest dwelling, Antoine came and knocked at my door, and gave me a message from Enguerrand that I should come down at once. I don't know why I was afraid to go, but I had to obey, and I obeyed. When I went into the great hall, it was filled with these superb seigneurs whom I had seen from my window. I then fell to blushing and trembling, more alarmed than ever; you can understand that, Gabriel, can't you?"
"Yes," said Gabriel, bitterly. "But go on, for the thing is becoming decidedly interesting."
"As I entered," continued Diane, "one of the most elaborately dressed of the gentlemen came to me, and offering me his gloved hand, led me up to another gentleman no less richly adorned than he, to whom he said, bowing low,—
"'Monseigneur le Duc de Castro, I have the honor to present to you your wife. 'Madame,' he added, turning to me, 'Monsieur Horace Farnèse, Duc de Castro, your husband.'
"The duke saluted me with a smile. But I, in my confusion and grief, threw myself into Enguerrand's arms, as I spied him standing in a corner.
"'Enguerrand! Enguerrand! this is not my husband, this prince; I have no husband but Gabriel. Enguerrand, tell these gentlemen so, I beg you.'
"The one who had presented me to the duke knitted his brows.
"'What is all this fol-de-rol?' he said to Enguerrand sternly.
"'Nothing, Monseigneur; mere childishness,' said Enguerrand, pale as a ghost. And he said to me in an undertone, 'Are you mad, Diane? What do you mean by being so rebellious?—refusing thus to obey your relatives, who have found you out, and come to claim you!'
"'Where are these relatives of mine?' said I, aloud. 'It is to them that I must speak.'
"'We come in their name, Mademoiselle,' replied the frowning gentleman. 'I am their representative. If you don't believe what I say, here is the order signed by Henri II., our Lord the King; read it.'
"He handed me a parchment sealed with a red seal, and I read at the top of the page, 'We, Henri, by the grace of God;' and at the foot the royal signature, 'Henri.' I was blinded and stunned and overwhelmed. I was dizzy and delirious. All that crowd of people with their eyes on me! And even Enguerrand abandoning me! The thought of my relatives! The name of the king! All this was too much for my poor little head. And you were not there, Gabriel!"
"But it seems as if my presence could have been of no use to you," was Gabriel's reply.
"Oh, yes, Gabriel, if you had been there, I would have continued to resist; while, as you were not there, when the gentleman who seemed to be managing the whole thing said to me, 'Come, there has been delay enough. Madame de Leviston, I leave Madame de Castro in your hands; we shall expect you presently in the chapel,' his tone was so sharp and imperious, and seemed to allow so little remonstrance, that I let myself be led away. Gabriel, forgive me; I was worn out and bewildered, and I hadn't an idea in my head."
"Go on! that is very easily understood," said Gabriel, with a bitter smile.
"They took me to my chamber," Diane resumed. "There, this Madame de Leviston, with the help of two or three women, took a fine dress of white silk from a great chest. Then, in spite of my shrinking, they undressed me and dressed me again. I scarcely dared to take a step in such fine clothes. Then they put pearls in my ears, and a string of pearls about my neck; my tears fell fast upon the pearls. But these ladies no doubt only laughed at my embarrassment, and at my grief too, perhaps. In half an hour I was ready, and they were so kind as to say that I was charming thus arrayed. I think it was true, Gabriel; but I cried away all the same. I at last convinced myself that I was going through a dazzling but dreadful dream. I stepped without any exertion of my own, and went back and forth like a machine. Meanwhile the horses were stamping at the door, and squires, pages, and varlets were standing in attendance. We descended the stairs. Again the gaze of the whole assemblage seemed to go right through me. The gentleman with the harsh voice offered me his hand again, and led me to a litter all of satin and gold, where I was to take my seat on cushions almost as beautiful as my dress. The Duc de Castro rode by the side of my litter, and so the procession slowly ascended to the chapel of the Château de Vimoutiers. The priest was already at the altar. I don't know what words were said over me or to me; but I felt suddenly, in the midst of this strange dream, that the duke placed a ring on my finger. Then, after twenty minutes or twenty years, I didn't know which, a fresher air seemed to be blowing on my face. We were leaving the chapel; they called me 'Madame la Duchesse.' I was married! Do you hear that, Gabriel? I was married!"
Gabriel replied only with a wild burst of laughter.
"Just think, Gabriel," continued Diane, "I was so entirely beside myself that it was not until just as I was going into the house again that it occurred to me for the first time, having recovered myself a little, to look at the husband whom all these strangers had come to force upon me. Until then I had not looked at him, Gabriel, although I had seen him. Oh, my poor dear Gabriel, he isn't half as handsome as you are! He is only moderately tall, and for all his fine clothes he looked much less distinguished than you in your plain brown doublet. And then he had an expression as impertinent and overbearing as yours is sweet and refined. Add to this hair and a long beard of a bright red. I have been sacrificed, Gabriel. After he had talked a while with the man who had passed himself off as the king's representative, the duke approached me and took my hand.
"'Madame la Duchesse,' said he, with a very cunning smile, 'I beg you will pardon the stern necessity which compels me to leave you so soon. But you may or may not know that we are in the midst of a war with Spain, and my men-at-arms demand my presence immediately. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again soon at court, where you will go to take up your abode near his Majesty the King, after this week. I trust you will deign to accept some trifling presents which I will leave here for you. Au revoir, Madame. Continue to be light-hearted and fascinating, as befits your age, and amuse yourself, and play with all your heart, while I am fighting.'
"With these words he kissed me familiarly on the forehead, and his long beard pricked me: it is not soft like yours, Gabriel. And then all these fine gentlemen and ladies saluted me, and away they went, Gabriel, one by one, leaving me at last alone with my father Enguerrand. He didn't understand this transaction much better than I. They had given him the parchment to read, wherein the king commanded me, so far as he could make it out, to marry the Duc de Castro. The gentleman who represented his Majesty was the Comte d'Humières; Enguerrand recognized him from having seen him formerly with Monsieur de Vimoutiers. All that Enguerrand knew more than I, was the melancholy fact that this Madame de Leviston, who had superintended my toilette, and who lives at Caen, would come one of these days to take me to court with her, and that I must be always ready. There is the whole of my strange and mournful story, Gabriel. Ah, no, I forgot. When I went back into my chamber I found a great box, and what do you suppose was in it? You could never guess. A superb doll, with a complete outfit of linen and three dresses,—white silk, red damask, and green brocade,—all for the use of the doll. I was beside myself with rage, Gabriel, to think that these were my husband's presents! The idea of treating me like a little girl! The red dress is most becoming, to the doll, because her complexion is painted so naturally. The little shoes are lovely, too; but the whole affair is shameful, for it seems to me that I am no longer a child."
"Yes! you are a child, Diane," replied Gabriel, whose anger had insensibly changed to sadness; "nothing but a child! I have no grudge against you for being only twelve years old, for that would be unfair and absurd. But I see that I have done wrong to allow myself to feel so earnest and deep a sentiment for such a young and fickle creature; for my grief has taught me how dearly I loved you, Diane. I repeat that I wish you no ill, but if you had been stronger, and had mustered up sufficient force to resist such an unjust command, if you had only known how to obtain a little delay, Diane, we might have been very happy together, since you have found your relatives, and they seem to be of noble birth. I, too, Diane, have come to tell you a great secret which was not revealed to me till this very day. But what's the use now? It is too late. Your weakness has broken the thread of my destiny, which I thought I held in my hand at last. Can I ever fasten the ends together again? I foresee that my whole life will be filled with thoughts of you, Diane, and that my youthful love will always hold the first place in my heart. But you, Diane, in the lustre of the court, and in the continual whirl and excitement of parties and festival-making, will soon lose sight of him who has loved you so dearly in the time of your obscurity."
"Never!" cried Diane. "And see, Gabriel, now that you are on the spot, and can encourage and help me, do you want me to refuse to go when they come after me, and to say no to all their prayers and entreaties and commands, so that I may always stay with you?"
"Thank you, dear Diane, but don't you see that henceforth, in the sight of God and man, you belong to another? We must do our duty and abide our fate. We must, as the Duc de Castro said, go each to his place,—you to the dissipations of the court, and I to the battlefield. I only pray God that I may see you again some day!"
"Yes, Gabriel, I shall see you again, and I shall always love you!" cried poor Diane, throwing herself, sobbing, into her friend's arms.
But just at this moment Enguerrand appeared in a path close by, with Madame de Leviston at his heels.
"Here she is, Madame," said he, pointing to Diane. "Ah! is that you, Gabriel?" said he, as he saw the young count. "I was just on my way to Montgommery to see you when I met Madame de Leviston's carriage, and had to retrace my steps."
"Yes, Madame," said Madame de Leviston, addressing Diane, "the king has written to my husband that he is in haste to see you, and so I have anticipated the date of our departure. If you please, we will set out in an hour. Your preparations will not require much time, I fancy, will they?"
Diane looked at Gabriel.
"Courage!" said he, gravely.
"I am very happy to say," resumed Madame de Leviston, "that your good foster-father can and will go to Paris with us, and will overtake us to-morrow at Alençon, if agreeable to you."
"If it is agreeable to me!" cried Diane. "No one has yet named my relatives to me, but I shall always call Enguerrand Father."
And she held out her hand to Enguerrand, who covered it with kisses, so that she might have an opportunity to steal another glance undercover of her tears at Gabriel, who stood there thoughtful and sad, but none the less resigned and determined.
"Come, Madame," said Madame de Leviston, who was vexed a little perhaps by these leave-takings and delays, "remember that you must be at Caen before night."
Diane, almost suffocated with her sobs, rushed off without more ado to her chamber after signing to Gabriel to wait for her. Enguerrand and Madame de Leviston followed her, and Gabriel waited.
After an hour or so, during which the luggage that Diane was to carry with her was stowed away in the carriage, Diane appeared, all ready for the journey. She asked Madame de Leviston, who followed her about like a shadow, to allow her to take one last turn around the garden, where she had spent twelve years in careless, happy play. Gabriel and Enguerrand walked behind her while she made this visit to her old haunts. Diane stopped before a bush of white roses which Gabriel and she had planted the year before. She picked two roses, one of which she fastened in her dress, while she breathed a kiss upon the other and gave it to Gabriel. The young man felt that she slipped a paper in his hand at the same time, and he put it hastily into his doublet.
When Diane had said adieu to all the paths and all the groves and all the flowers, she had to make up her mind to take her departure. When she reached the carriage which was to take her away, she shook hands with each of the servants, and with the good folks from the village, who knew and loved her every one. She had not strength to say a word, poor child; she only gave each of them a kind nod of the head. Then she embraced Enguerrand, and Gabriel last of all, with no signs of being embarrassed by Madame de Leviston's presence. In her friend's embrace she found her voice a moment, and when he said, "Adieu! adieu!" she replied, "No, au revoir!"
Then she entered the carriage that was waiting, and childhood, after all, seemed not quite to have lost its hold on her, for Gabriel heard her ask Madame de Leviston, with the little pout which became her so well,—
"Have they put my big doll up there somewhere?"
Away went the carriage at a gallop.
Gabriel opened the paper Diane had handed him; in it he found a lock of the fair yellow hair that he used to like so to kiss.
A month later, Gabriel, having arrived in Paris, presented himself to Duc François de Guise, at the Hôtel de Guise, under the name of Vicomte d'Exmès.