Before a mirror of the most beautiful polish that it was possible to conceive, and a toilet table covered with all the most costly essences and perfumes which could be procured from the four quarters of the globe, appeared the Duchess of Valentinois, seated in a large armchair of rich velvet, towards nine o'clock in the evening of the day whereof we have just been speaking. She was clothed in a dressing-gown of silver tissue, and all the stately and somewhat cumbrous apparel of the day had been put off, while, with three maids all busy about her person, she was dressing for the assembly of the court, which was to be held that evening. Nor did she appear in the least the less lovely that she was without any of the additions that dress and ornament sometimes make to beauty; nor, strange to say, did she appear less young when thus unassisted by art, than even when dressed in the most sumptuous mode of the court. The eye of the woman who was combing her long, rich, luxuriant brown hair, detected not one silver thread marking the passing of years among the rest. The teeth were as white and pearly as those of youth. The brow and neck without a furrow ploughed by the hand of time.

On a footstool at the lady's feet sat a very lovely girl, bearing in her countenance a slight resemblance to herself. She was already dressed with great splendour, and sat looking up in the face of the duchess, as if admiring and wondering at the beauty which seemed to set even the great destroyer of all things at defiance.

The duchess, upon her part, looked down at her with pleasure and affection, calling her "Ma belle Henriette," and, parting the hair farther away from her brows with her own hands, she said, "You must look your loveliest to-night, Henrietta; for you must do much in the way of captivation."

The girl smiled playfully, and replied, "No, no! that were bad policy; I would rather not look so lovely now as afterward. His love, at present, I can count upon. But I must try and be more captivating hereafter, to keep it when he is my husband."

The duchess smiled in turn: "Ah, my Henrietta," she said, "the love of man is not so difficult to keep, if woman do but use the same efforts to retain it that she does to win it. We often make men fickle who would be faithful, thinking that to captivate them once is all-sufficient. How many do I daily see, Henrietta, who take all imaginable pains to win affection; who are gay and cheerful, courteous and kind, willing to please and ready to be pleased; robing themselves, as it were, in small graces and sweet allurements; and who, when the object is attained, cast away, at once, every effort; are dull and cheerless, exacting, sullen, and harsh, and then wonder that the won heart is lost more quickly than it was gained! When children catch flies, my Henrietta, they put not down a drop of honey, which the insects can eat and fly away. There must be enough honey to keep them, my child."

"It is a lesson that I will remember," replied Henriette de la Mark. "But, as I have always thought, dear lady, that it is happiness we seek, and not admiration, I trust I should never have forgotten that the same means must be taken to keep affection that are used to win it. But hark! there are manifold sounds below. Surely the guests are not arriving already?"

The question was soon answered; for, a moment after, one of the female attendants was called to the door, and returned to tell the duchess that two gentleman had arrived in haste, and anxiously desired to speak with her. She turned towards the woman with somewhat of angry scorn in her countenance, asking if they had been told that she was at her toilet. The woman replied in the affirmative; but that they had, nevertheless, urged the important nature of their business.

"Bid them send me their names," replied the duchess, after thinking for a moment. "Meyrand's letter declared that he would soon be here. Perhaps he has come himself."

It was as she thought. But the other name which the servant brought back was that of the Lord of Masseran.

"Bid them wait but a moment," replied the duchess. "I will not be long. Tie up my hair, Laurette, in a large knot. Any how, any how; but be quick."

Then, drawing the dressing-gown more closely round her, and preceded by one of her women bearing a light, she descended to a saloon below, making a sign to Henriette de la Mark to remain till she returned.

Standing near a table in the room which Diana of Poitiers now entered, appeared the tall and graceful Count de Meyrand, and the dark-looking and subtle Marquis of Masseran. Each, to a certain degree, retained his usual aspect, though neither could entirely banish from his countenance the varied emotions which were busy at his heart. Graceful and dignified in demeanour Meyrand still was. Indeed, it was so much a matter of habit with him to act with ease and calm self-possession, that they could never be entirely lost; but still his usual air of indifference was gone, and there was an eager impatience in his eye which marked that strong and busy passions were agitating him within. On the other hand, the look of calm subtlety, which was the reigning expression of the countenance of the Lord of Masseran, but which we have already seen, on more than one occasion, give way to fiercer passions, had now yielded to an expression of restless disquietude, while his eye turned sharp and flashing at every sound.

On the appearance of Madame de Valentinois, the count advanced with signs of low and humble homage, and raised the hand which she proffered him respectfully to his lips. The Lord of Masseran came a step behind, and then a momentary pause took place. It was broken, however, by the duchess herself, who was much too impatient to learn the cause of their sudden arrival to wait till it was explained in the course of conversation.

"Welcome to Paris, Monsieur de Meyrand!" she said. "But say, what is it that brings you here at this hour? It must be business of importance, I am sure."

"Nothing but business of immediate moment, madam, would have induced me thus to trespass upon you," replied the count; "but I have myself arrived within this half hour in the capital. I came, I confess, with some wrongful suspicions of my good friend the Marquis of Masseran here, in regard to the lady of whom I wrote to you. I fancied that he had been instrumental in preventing me from executing my purpose of bringing her with all speed to the presence of the king. His manner, and his solemn assurances, however, madam, both show me that I was mistaken; and it would appear—"

"But stay, stay, Monsieur de Meyrand," said the duchess; "first tell me exactly what is the case, and how you and Monsieur de Masseran are interested in the business. I remember well Mademoiselle de Brienne, of whom you speak, and a sweet girl she was, well fitted to set any cavalier's heart on fire, so that I can easily conceive that yours was touched, Monsieur de Meyrand, with that same flame of love. But, if all friends agree, the lady surely can never have such great objections to yourself as not to be won by less forcible means than those you seem to have been using. I will speak with her: I will see what can be done. Let me thank you, my good lord, for the tidings you sent me concerning the edict: I have turned them this day to good advantage. But still the king is not easily won in this matter."

"By Heaven! madam," replied Meyrand, vehemently, "he must be won, and that right soon, or all will go wrong with us. But hear me, dearest lady! hear me out. You have a faint and very wrong idea of all this affair. We are all deeply concerned; and, pardon me for saying it, but your own wishes and excellent views are closely and intimately connected with our objects and purposes. You ask for a frank and candid explanation: you shall have it in a very few words. The Lord of Masseran and I are equally, but somewhat differently, interested in this matter. I am moved in some degree, as you are pleased to say, by love. Yes!" he added, "it is so! by love the most strong and passionate; and yet, I know not why or how, but something very like hatred mingles with it: deep and bitter indignation at having been made the sport of a mere girl, and determination to force her to be mine or die—"

He paused and bit his lip, and a shade of dissatisfaction came over the brow of Diana of Poitiers as she listened; but the next moment the count went on, with a slight sneer.

"The Lord of Masseran is affected otherwise. He, madam, as you know, married the mother of this fair dame; and to this bright Isabel descend, at that mother's death, certain fair estates close to the frontier line of France and Savoy."

"I understand, I understand," replied Diana of Poitiers, interrupting him. "The Count of Meyrand may be easy in his dealings about those estates, if he but obtain the hand of the fair lady. Is it not so, my good lords?"

"Something of the kind, madam," replied the count.

"A treaty of partition! ha?" continued the lady. "Now for the obstacle, and for the manner in which this affects me?"

"The obstacles are somewhat difficult to be encountered, madam," joined in the Lord of Masseran, "especially as this noble count is somewhat of a suspicious nature. But, to make a long tale short, madam, there was, it seems, in years long past, a promise made by the old Count of Brienne that his daughter should marry a certain young nobleman named Bernard de Rohan. That promise was foolishly committed to writing; but I hold that it was of course conditional, and requires to be confirmed by the consent of the mother. The young gentleman we speak of has been long warring with the armies in Italy; but, called thence, as I believe, by the young lady herself, who has a marvellous love for her own way, he appeared in Savoy some short time ago. I absented myself for a few days from my own home, making a pretence of coming to Paris, in order to see what would take place. But, although I had good information of all that passed, what between the young lady's wit and the youth's impudence, they had very nearly won the race. Myself and Monsieur de Meyrand, here, surprised them in the very celebration of a clandestine marriage."

"Were they married? Were they married?" demanded the duchess, eagerly; for, whatever be her own views, woman's heart is rarely without interest in a tale of love.

"There was a ring upon the young lady's finger," replied the Marquis of Masseran, while the Count de Meyrand stood silent and bit his lip; "farther we know not."

"What did you do next?" exclaimed the lady, with an impatient look, which neither of her two companions thought very favourable to their cause.

"Why," replied the Lord of Masseran, "we separated them, of course; and I carried the young lady some way through the mountains, arranging, in fact, a little sort of drama or mystery with my good friend the count, wherein he played the part of deliverer, rescued the young lady from my hands, and, according to our agreement, was bringing her here to Paris, in the trust that you, from wise motives which the count knew you to possess, would support the right of the mother to dispose of her daughter's hand to whom she pleased."

The marquis, in delivering this account, had paused and hesitated several times, and Diana of Poitiers had remarked that he avoided carefully all mention of the after-fate of Bernard de Rohan.

"What has become," she asked at length, interrupting him, and fixing her eye full upon his face, "what has become of the young Baron de Rohan, sir?"

The Lord of Masseran turned his look to the Count de Meyrand without answering; but the duchess went on sternly and impetuously, "I insist upon knowing, sir, what was done in regard to Monsieur de Rohan? You surprised him at the very altar, you say! You have gone too far not to say more!"

"Why, of course, madam, it was necessary to separate them," replied the Count de Meyrand. "Monsieur de Rohan was carried into the chateau of my friend, Monsieur de Masseran, who kindly and liberally undertakes to provide the young gentleman with board and lodging for a certain time. No evil was done him, though the very act that he was performing might well have justified more violence than was used."

"In short, sir," said the duchess, addressing the Lord of Masseran sternly, "in short, sir, you have imprisoned one of the king's very best officers and most faithful subjects—the right hand of the MarÉchal de Brissac—and one who has rendered himself famous in the wars of Italy, and without whose assistance the difficulties which surround the marshal in Piedmont would be terribly augmented."

"Madam," replied the Count de Meyrand, with a slight sneer, which no prudence could repress, at the reputed tenderness of the duchess towards Brissac, "had we known that Monsieur de Rohan was so absolutely necessary to your graceful friend, we would have sent him under a strong escort across the mountains, for time was all that we wanted."

"He must speedily be set at liberty," answered the duchess; "for I cannot have it said that anything in which I take a share is connected with a transaction so detrimental to the service of the king; and now, Monsieur de Meyrand, show me in what way you think I am interested in this affair."

"Why, madam, you must clearly see—" said the count.

"It matters not what I clearly see, my lord," exclaimed the duchess, interrupting him. "Give me your own showing of the matter."

"Why thus it is," replied the count. "Since I had the honour of bearing to Rome the copy of an edict proposed by the king, you have three or four times done me the great favour of writing to me, and consulting with me in regard to the opposition made to that edict, and to the best means of inducing the king to promulgate it. Now, madam, one clause in that edict annuls all existing marriages which have been contracted without the consent of parents or guardians; and you did me the honour to reveal to me that such a clause was absolutely necessary to the proposed marriage of the Duke of Montmorency and the king's daughter, Madame de Farnese, and to that between the constable's second son, the Duc Damville, and your fair relation, Mademoiselle de la Mark. That clause is equally necessary to me and to Monsieur de Masseran, in order that, the clandestine marriage of Mademoiselle de Brienne with the Baron de Rohan being annulled, she may, with her mother's consent, give her hand to me. Thus, madam, what I pray and beseech you to do is, as the views of both tend absolutely to the same point, to give us the most zealous aid and co-operation in persuading the king to promulgate this edict at once."

Diana of Poitiers paused for a moment in intense thought ere she answered, while the two noblemen stood gazing upon her in silence. "I will do so," she replied at length; "but, in the first place, Monsieur de Rohan must be set at liberty."

"Madam, that is impossible," exclaimed the Lord of Masseran. "Were he set at liberty, all our plans and prospects are at an end together. His very first act would be to seek this rash, imprudent girl, who thinks herself fully justified by her father's written consent; and, depend upon it, he would soon find means of discovering her, though we cannot."

"Why, in the name of Heaven, where is she?" demanded the duchess. "Why, you said but now, Monsieur de Masseran, that you left her in the count's hands, that he might bring her to Paris."

"Ay, but she escaped from his hands, madam," replied the Lord of Masseran. "Whether the count is quite innocent of all knowledge of female wiles, or whether he had been somewhat harsh and importunate with her, I cannot tell; but at the end of the very first day's journey she contrived to escape from him, how or when no one can discover. I had come on to Paris in order to justify the detention of Bernard de Rohan, and, in fact, to give an account of my whole conduct to the king; but the good count, thinking that I must have some hand in the lady's flight, followed me hither as rapidly as possible, without taking sufficient time to inquire after her on the spot."

The duchess heard him to an end, but her mind had run on far before her; and she was gazing thoughtfully upon the ground, with various feelings contending more strongly in her bosom than her two companions imagined. Bernard de Rohan, she well knew, was the dearest friend of one who certainly possessed her highest esteem—perhaps her highest affection—the MarÉchal de Brissac, and she loved not to take any share in injuring or grieving him. We must say even more. Not being naturally of a harsh or unkindly disposition, she was anything but disposed to abet such machinations against two people who loved each other; and she could not but feel at her heart that there existed between the Lord of Masseran and the Count de Meyrand a dark and shameless conspiracy for frustrating the intentions of the Count de Brienne, and thwarting the affections of his daughter. All these considerations opposed themselves to the very thought of aiding them in their purposes; but yet her own views, her own dearest objects, were to be obtained by the same means which tended to promote theirs; and she clearly saw that, if without exposing, as she might do, the real views and purposes of the parties concerned, she were to bring this case before the king as a new instance of a marriage in opposition to the parent's consent, she would instantly obtain the promulgation of the edict which was so necessary to her own designs. She paused, then, and thought, considering, in the first place, the opposing motives which led her this way and that, and afterward asking herself whether she could not combine the two; whether it was not possible to use the fact of this clandestine marriage in order to obtain the king's signature to the edict, without ultimately separating the hands of Bernard de Rohan and Isabel de Brienne. A few moments convinced her that she could do so. The edict would, of course, annul their marriage; but then she thought, "the great services of this young cavalier, the friendship of Brissac, the support of Montmorency, the father's written consent, will surely be enough to obtain for him afterward the hand of this fair girl from the king himself; at least, my management shall render these things sufficient;" and, trusting that it would be so, she resolved upon that evil policy of employing bad means in the hope of directing them to good results; a policy which has seldom, if ever, yet failed to end in misery and ruin.

"What says the mother?" demanded the duchess, after this long pause.

"Oh, she says the same as myself, of course," replied the Lord of Masseran.

"Of course!" replied the lady, her lip curling slightly as she spoke. "I had forgotten! Is she in Paris?"

"She is here," replied the Lord of Masseran; "and not only ready, but eager, to declare that this marriage has been against her will."

"Indeed!" said the duchess: "and the brother? There is a youth I have seen about the court, a gay, thoughtless, high-spirited lad, who gained some renown under this very Baron de Rohan: what says he to the marriage?"

"Oh! he is too young and thoughtless," replied the Count de Meyrand. "He has been asked nothing on the subject, though there is reason to fear, we must not deny, that he would give his voice in favour of his old companion."

"But one thing is clear and certain," added the Lord of Masseran. "His consent was not asked to the marriage; therefore it was without his approbation and against the mother's."

"So far so good," replied Diana of Poitiers. "Now mark me, gentlemen, you must leave the whole conduct of this business to me; and if you pledge yourselves to act exactly as I am about to dictate, I, on my part, will pledge myself to obtain the promulgation of an edict annulling this marriage within twelve hours from this time."

A glad smile lighted up the face of the Count de Meyrand. But the Lord of Masseran asked in a low, sweet tone, "Pray what are the conditions, madam?"

"These," replied the duchess at once. "And remember, gentlemen, that I am one who will not be trifled with; so that, if you fail to perform exactly your part, you shall find your whole schemes fall about your heads, and perhaps crush you in the ruins thereof. The very moment that I have obtained that edict, Monsieur de Masseran, without the loss of a single hour, you shall depart from Paris, and set this young cavalier, Bernard de Rohan, at liberty. Do not interrupt me! This is indispensable. You can leave the marchioness behind. In the next place, to guard against the evil consequences which I see you anticipate, you shall engage the young Count of Brienne to set off instantly in search of his sister, in order to bring her at once to Paris to the presence of the king. You, Monsieur de Meyrand, shall not make the slightest attempt to seek for her yourself, nor shall you at present quit Paris. But this young gentleman, instructed that this edict annuls the clandestine marriage, and is upon the very point of being signed, shall go as the guardian of his sister's honour, and, at the same time, as the friend of Monsieur de Rohan, to bring her safely back to the protection of her mother and of his majesty. His own sense of what is right, under such circumstances, will be a sufficient guarantee that he do not suffer his sister to remain an hour with a man who is not her husband; and now—"

"But, madam," said the Count de Meyrand, "if you will pardon me for thus rudely interrupting you, I would point out one slight obstacle to the arrangement you propose, which renders it absolutely impossible, and may make it expedient that I should go myself. Henry of Brienne is at Grenoble, I understand."

"Well, then, sir," said the duchess, imperiously, "some one else must go. You must not! Were the other the lowest valet in my household, he is more fit than you are to bring this lady to Paris."

The Lord of Masseran had remained silent till the duchess's answer was made, but he then joined in the conversation again, in one of his sweetest tones, saying, "The count is mistaken, dear madam; Henry of Brienne is in Paris. He thought of going to Grenoble, but did not go. He was with his sweet mother not an hour ago."

"Well, then, hear me!" said the duchess. "Do you undertake, Monsieur de Meyrand, not to set out upon this search at all?" The count laid his hand upon his heart, bowed with mock humility, and replied, "Who ever yet resisted your commands? Nay, I am not jesting! I give you my promise, madam."

"Then, my Lord of Masseran," continued the duchess, "all I have to say is this: Wait here for five minutes till I write a note above. Give it to Henry of Brienne: afford him every direction and hint for finding his sister, and bringing her at once to Paris. As soon as he has set out, come with your fair lady to the palace to offer your complaint regarding this clandestine marriage to his majesty. I will take care that you shall have an immediate hearing, and I pledge myself that the edict shall be signed this night. To-morrow morning, at daybreak, you depart alone, posthaste, to liberate Bernard de Rohan. Is it not so?" and she fixed her keen eye firm upon him.

"It is, madam," replied the Lord of Masseran, better pleased at the arrangement than she knew.

"As for you, Meyrand," she added, with a smile, "take my advice: come also to the court, appear totally unconcerned in this whole business, and press your suit upon the king, if you so please, when the edict is signed."

"A woman's policy is always the best, madam," replied the count, "and in this instance I shall follow it to the letter."

"I must now leave you," said the lady, "for I am already late. Wait here for the note, and then let us to our several parts with all speed."

In less than the time that she had specified, a servant brought in an open note, which contained these words:

"Diana, duchess of Valentinois, to Henry, count of Brienne, greeting:

"These are to inform you that your sister Isabel de Brienne has contracted a clandestine marriage with Bernard, baron de Rohan; and that, inasmuch as this night an edict will be signed annulling all marriages of the sort, it is absolutely necessary to your own honour and to that of your sister that you should immediately proceed to find and bring her to Paris till the farther pleasure of the king be known. The Baron de Rohan having been arrested the moment that the marriage was celebrated, will be set at liberty immediately; but it is requisite that you should prevent all communication between him and your sister until it be authorized by his majesty."

The Lord of Masseran made no scruple of reading the contents and showing them to the Count de Meyrand, who marked them with a smile, and adding, "We must make quite sure of the youth, however," led the way from the apartments of the duchess.