CHAPTER XIII
DECEMBER 31, 1557
Our readers doubtless have divined why Pierre Strozzi had found Lord Wentworth in such bitter and angry mood, and why the governor of Calais spoke so haughtily and ironically of Vicomte d'Exmès.
It was because Madame de Castro's detestation of him seemed to increase from day to day.
When he would send to ask her leave to call upon her, she would always try to find an excuse for putting him off. But if she were sometimes compelled to submit to the infliction of his presence, her cold and formal reception betrayed only too plainly her feeling toward him, and left him more despairing on each successive occasion.
However, he had not yet grown weary in his love for her. With nothing to hope for, he still did not despair. He desired, at least, to comport himself toward Diane as became the perfect gentleman who had left behind at the court of Mary of England a reputation for most exquisite refinement and courtesy. He overwhelmed his fair captive with his attentions. She was waited upon with the utmost consideration and regal luxury. He had given her a French page, and had engaged for her one of those Italian musicians who were in such high repute at the period of the Renaissance. Sometimes Diane would find in her apartments dresses and ornaments of enormous value, which Lord Wentworth had caused to be sent from London for her; but she never noticed them.
On one occasion he gave a great fête in her honor at which he assembled all the notable English there were in Calais or in France. His invitations even crossed the channel; but Madame de Castro obstinately refused to appear.
Lord Wentworth, being repulsed with such coldness and disdain, said to himself day after day that it would surely be much better for his peace of mind to accept the princely ransom which Henri II. offered, and give Diane her freedom.
But by doing so he would give her up to the welcome embraces of Gabriel d'Exmès, and the Briton could never find in his heart sufficient strength and courage to make so great a sacrifice possible.
"No! no!" he would say to himself, "if she will not be mine, at all events she shall belong to nobody else!"
While he was thus irresolute and suffering, the days and weeks rolled away.
On the 31st of December, 1557, Lord Wentworth had succeeded in making his way into Madame de Castro's apartments. We have said before that he could scarcely breathe elsewhere, although he always left her more melancholy and more in love than ever; but to see Diane, stern though her glance might be, and to hear her voice, however ironical its tones, had become the most imperious necessity for him.
He remained standing while they talked, and she sat before the high chimney-piece.
They talked upon the one harrowing subject which united them and kept them asunder at the same time.
"Suppose, Madame," said the passionate governor, "that at last, beside myself on account of your cruelty, and enraged by your contempt, I should forget that I am a gentleman and your host?"
"You would dishonor yourself, my Lord, but would cast no stain upon me," Diane replied firmly.
"We shall be dishonored together," Lord Wentworth retorted. "You are in my power! Where will you find shelter?"
"Mon Dieu! in death," she calmly replied.
Lord Wentworth turned pale and shuddered. That he should cause the death of such as Diane!
"Such obstinacy is not natural," he added, shaking his head. "In reality you would be afraid to drive me to extremities, if you did not still cling to some insane hope, Madame. You are always dwelling upon the happening of some impossible event. Come, tell me, from whom can you be expecting succor at this hour?"
"From God, from the king—" Diane replied.
There was a sort of rising inflection in her voice and in her thought as well,—a hesitation which Lord Wentworth knew only too well how to interpret.
"She is doubtless thinking of that d'Exmès," he said to himself.
But it was a dangerous memory which he did not dare to touch upon or to arouse.
He contented himself with the bitter rejoinder,—
"Yes, count upon the king and upon God! But if God had thought fit to help you, Madame. He would have come to your rescue the very first day, I should think! and here a year has passed away, ending to-day, during which you have not felt the benefit of His protection."
"Then I will rest my hopes on the year which begins to-morrow," replied Diane, raising her lovely eyes to heaven, as if imploring aid from on high.
"As for the King of France, your father," Lord Wentworth continued, "I imagine that he has on hand matters of sufficient moment to occupy all his power and engross the whole of his thoughts. France is in even greater peril than his daughter."
"Ah, it is you who say that!" Diane retorted in a tone of doubt.
"Lord Wentworth does not lie, Madame. Do you know in what condition your august father's affairs are?"
"How can I know in this prison?" Diane replied, who nevertheless could not forbear a movement which betokened interest.
"You have only to ask me," Lord Wentworth rejoined, delighted to be listened to willingly for a moment, even as the bearer of evil tidings. "Well, then, you must know that the return of the Duc de Guise to Paris has in no way ameliorated the situation of France as yet. Some troops have been recruited, and a few places reinforced,—nothing more. At the present moment there is hesitation and uncertainty everywhere. Their full military strength, concentrated on the northern frontier, has succeeded in stopping the triumphant progress of the Spaniards; but the French generals are undertaking nothing on their own account. Will they attack Luxembourg? Will they make a descent on Picardy? Nobody knows. Will they try to retake St. Quentin, or Ham—?"
"Or Calais," Diane interposed, fixing her eyes keenly upon the governor, to note the effect upon his features of this chance shot.
But Lord Wentworth did not even frown; he said with a proud smile,—
"Oh, Madame, allow me to lay that question aside without considering it. One who has any idea at all of warfare will not admit for a moment such an insane supposition; and Monsieur le Duc de Guise has had too much experience to expose himself by such an extraordinary and impracticable undertaking to the ridicule of every man in Europe who wears a sword."
At that moment there was some confusion at the door, and an archer rushed in without ceremony.
Lord Wentworth went to meet him, much irritated.
"What is the meaning of your daring to interrupt me thus?" he demanded.
"Pardon me, my Lord," the archer replied. "Lord Derby sent me to you in all haste."
"And for what pressing reason? Come, explain yourself!"
"Information has been received by Lord Derby that an advance-guard of two thousand French arquebusiers was seen yesterday two leagues from Calais, and his Lordship sent me to notify my Lord at once."
"Aha!" cried Diane, who made no attempt to conceal her satisfaction.
But Lord Wentworth coolly said to the archer,—
"And was it for this only that you have had the impudence to follow me here, villain?"
"My Lord," said the poor devil, in his stupefaction, "Lord Derby—"
"Lord Derby," the governor interposed, "is a short-sighted individual, who takes mounds of earth for mountains. Go and tell him so from me."
"How about the guards, my Lord, which Lord Derby ordered doubled as quickly as possible?"
"Let them remain as they are, and bother me no more with these ridiculous phantoms!"
The archer bowed respectfully and left the room.
"Nevertheless, my Lord," said Diane de Castro, "you see that in the opinion of one of your ablest lieutenants, my insane prevision is capable of being realized to the full."
"I feel more than ever constrained to undeceive you upon this point," Lord Wentworth responded with imperturbable coolness. "I can give you the explanation of this false alarm in two words, nor can I conceive how Lord Derby allowed himself to be deceived by it."
"Let us see," said Madame de Castro, intensely eager for light upon a subject upon which her whole life seemed to be concentrated.
"Very well, Madame," continued Lord Wentworth; "one of two things has happened: either Messieurs de Guise and de Nevers, who are, I admit, skilful and prudent commanders, mean to revictual Ardres and Boulogne, and are on their way thither with the troops whose presence has been announced, or else they are making a feint against Calais for the purpose of calming the fears of Ham and St. Quentin, and mean to try to take one of those towns by surprise, by suddenly retracing their steps."
"But how do you know, Monsieur," rejoined Madame de Castro, with more rashness than discretion,—"how do you know, pray, that their feint has not been made against Ham or St. Quentin, in order to surprise Calais more effectually?"
Fortunately she had to deal with an immovable conviction, rooted upon national and personal pride as well.
"I have already had the honor of assuring you, Madame," said Lord Wentworth, disdainfully, "that Calais is one of those places that cannot possibly be surprised or taken; before it can even be approached, Fort Ste. Agathe must be carried, and the fort of Nieullay as well. To carry all these posts would take a fortnight at least of unvarying success; and during those fifteen days England would be warned of the danger, and would have ample time—yes, fifteen times what would be necessary—to pour forth all her might to rescue her precious city. Take Calais! Ah, I cannot help laughing at the bare idea!"
Madame de Castro, wounded to the quick, bitterly retorted,—
"The source of my sorrow is to you a source of delight. How can you suppose that our souls could ever understand each other?"
"But, Madame," cried Lord Wentworth, growing pale, "I only wished to destroy those delusive imaginings of yours which keep us asunder. I wished to prove to you as clearly as the sun shines that you are feeding upon chimeras, and that the French court must have gone mad before such an attempt as you are dreaming of could ever be imagined there."
"There is such a thing as heroic madness, my Lord," said Diane, proudly; "and I am sure that there are great-souled men too, whose love of glory—nay, whose simple devotion would prevent them from drawing back from such sublime extravagance."
"Oh, yes!—Monsieur d'Exmès, for example!" cried Wentworth, carried away by jealous fury which he could no longer restrain.
"Who told you of that name?" asked Madame de Castro, in amazement.
"Confess, Madame," the governor rejoined, "that you have had that name upon your lips ever since the beginning of this interview, and that in your inmost heart when you were invoking the aid of God and your father you were also thinking of this third liberator."
"Am I obliged to render an account of my thoughts to you?" said Diane.
"You need render no account to me, for I know all," replied the governor. "I know some things of which you have no idea, Madame, and which it suits my pleasure to tell you to-day, to show you how little you can build upon the ecstatic passion of these romantic lovers. Notably, I know that Vicomte d'Exmès was made a prisoner at St. Quentin when you were, and was brought here to Calais at the same time with you."
"Can it be?" cried Diane, astounded beyond measure.
"Oh, there is more than that, Madame! Otherwise I should have told you nothing. For two months Monsieur d'Exmès has been at liberty."
"And I never knew that a friend was suffering with me, and so near me!" said Diane.
"You did not know it, but he did, Madame," said the governor. "I must confess that when he first learned the fact he exhausted himself in terrible threats against me. Not only did he challenge me to single combat, but—as you foresaw, with a charming sympathy—carrying his love to the point of madness, he declared to my face his determination to take Calais."
"My hopes are greater than ever, then," said Diane.
"Don't hope for too much, Madame," said Lord Wentworth; "for once more I tell you, since Monsieur d'Exmès addressed his appalling farewell to me six months have passed. To be sure, I have had news from my aggressor in that time. At the end of November he sent me, with scrupulous promptness, the amount of his ransom; but not a word of his haughty defiance."
"Wait, my Lord," Diane retorted. "Monsieur d'Exmès will find a way to pay his debts of every description."
"I doubt it, Madame, for the day of maturity will soon be past."
"What do you mean?" asked Madame de Castro.
"I sent word, Madame, to Vicomte d'Exmès, by the messenger who came to me from him, that I would await the fulfilment of his double challenge until the 1st of January, 1558. It is now Dec. 31, 1557."
"Well, then," Diane interrupted him, "he has twelve hours still."
"True, Madame," responded Wentworth; "but if I hear nothing from him by to-morrow at this hour—"
He did not finish his sentence. Lord Derby at this moment burst into the room in terror.
"My Lord," he cried, "I was right! It was the French, and they are marching upon Calais!"
"Nonsense!" rejoined Wentworth, changing color in spite of himself,—"nonsense! It is impossible! Who says it is so? More rumors and gossip and fanciful alarms?"
"Alas! no, but facts, unfortunately," Lord Derby replied.
"Not so loud, Derby; don't speak so loud," said the governor, approaching his lieutenant. "Come, come, be cool! What do you mean by your facts?"
Lord Derby replied in a low voice, in accordance with the request of his superior officer, who did not choose to show any signs of weakness before Diane.
"The French attacked Fort Ste. Agathe unexpectedly. Nothing was in readiness to resist their assault,—neither walls nor men; and I am much afraid that they are by this time masters of the first line of fortifications of Calais."
"They will still be a long way off from us," said Lord Wentworth, eagerly.
"Yes," rejoined Lord Derby; "but they will meet with no obstacle after that until they reach the bridge of Nieullay; and the bridge of Nieullay is two miles from this place."
"Have you sent reinforcements to our outposts, Derby?"
"Yes, my Lord, pardon me, without your orders,—nay, in spite of your orders."
"You have done well," said Lord Wentworth.
"Bub the reinforcements will have arrived too late."
"Who knows? Let us not be alarmed. You must go with me at once to Nieullay. We will make these rash rascals pay dear for their audacity; and if they already hold Ste. Agathe, why, we shall be free to drive them out of it."
"God grant it!" said Lord Derby; "but they have begun the game manfully."
"We will have our revenge!" replied Wentworth. "Who commands them, do you know?"
"It is not known,—probably Monsieur de Guise, or Monsieur de Nevers, at least. The ensign who rode here at full speed to bring the almost incredible news of their sudden appearance told me only that he recognized at a distance, in the front rank, your former prisoner, you remember, Vicomte d'Exmès—"
"Damnation!" cried the governor, clinching his fists. "Come, Derby, come quickly!"
Madame de Castro, with her senses sharpened, as they are apt to be at important crises, had heard almost all of Lord Derby's report, although made in a low voice.
When Lord Wentworth took leave of her, he said—
"You will excuse me, Madame; I must leave you, as business of importance—"
"Go, my Lord," she interrupted, not without a tinge of malice in her tone; "go, and try to re-establish your supremacy, which is cruelly threatened. But remember, meanwhile, two things: first, that the greatest delusions are just the ones that are not doubtful; and in the second place, that you can always rely upon the word of a French gentleman. It is not yet the 1st of January, my Lord."
Lord Wentworth, in a fury of rage, left the room without replying.