Bernard de Rohan waited for nearly an hour before the person whom he wished to see made his appearance. At length, however, the aubergiste entered; and—with a face of so much mystery and importance as almost to make the young gentleman believe that he was acquainted with the character and pursuits of the brigand—he announced that the Chevalier Lenoir had called again to know if the Baron de Rohan had returned. In a minute or two after, Corse de Leon himself entered the room; and Bernard could not but feel some surprise at the manner in which the wild, bold, vehement rover of the mountain side conformed to the usages of society, and bent down his energies, if we may so say, to the customary trammels of an artificial mode of life.

He shook hands with Bernard de Rohan as an old friend, put down his hat upon the table by his side, remarked that the dust had soiled his plume, spoke of the heat of the past day, and with such empty nothings carried on the interview till the aubergiste had retired and closed the large oaken door behind him.

The moment he was gone, however, the brigand said abruptly, "I came hither before, to lead you to the scene whither it seems you had gone without me. Is not that a lovely sport?" he continued, with a curling lip and a flashing eye; "is not that a lovely sport for keen, sleek priests, after feasting in the refectory? Is not that a sweet amusement for these holy and gentle pastors to go to, with the grease of their patties still sticking upon their lips? Pastors! why our pastors of the Alps would teach them better than that: they take the wool and use the milk, but they roast not the lambs of their flock, as the people of the plains do. By Heaven, it would do my soul good to make yon bloodthirsty capuchin eat the flesh he has cooked this night. They call us lawless brigands," he continued. "Pray God that we may ever be lawless, so long as there are such laws as these. I came to show you this spectacle, for I once told you I would make you witness such things, but you had gone without me."

"I went not willingly," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I was caught in the crowd, and could not disentangle myself. I hate and abhor such sights, and think that these acts are disgraceful and ruinous to our religion. If anything could justify heresy, such persecution surely would do it."

"Think not, think not," cried Corse de Leon, eagerly, "think not that this is a crime of our religion alone, or of any other. It is man, and man's infamous laws, and the foul vice of that strange compact which rogue has made with rogue, and villain with villain, and tyrant with tyrant, and fool with fool, in order that the cunning may have the best means of outwitting the strong; that the criminal may torture and destroy the innocent, and the virtuous be for ever the prey of the vicious. Catholic or Protestant, heretic, infidel, Turk, it is all the same: man is bound together, not by a league for mutual defence, but by a league for mutual destruction and corruption. Here you yourself have a friend and comrade, who fights by your side, and whom you trust. What is the first thing that he does! Betrays you—seeks to injure you in the darkest way—plots—contrives—cabals—"

"There is a day of reckoning coming," replied Bernard de Rohan.

"Ay, and it may come soon," answered Corse de Leon, "for that very man is now in Lyons."

Bernard de Rohan started up and laid his hand upon his sword, which he had thrown down upon a chair beside him; but the brigand went on, saying, "Not to-night, not to-night. Let it be in the open day; and it were better, too, before the whole court of France."

"I will not wait for that," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Where I find him, there will I punish him. But, as you say, it must be in the open day. Yet I must not let him escape me; I will write to him this instant."

"The way of all others to make him escape you," replied Corse de Leon. "He might, on this occasion, refuse to meet you hand to hand; he might—"

"No," answered Bernard de Rohan, "no, he dare not. There is no French gentleman who dares to be a coward. To those whom he has wronged he must make reparation, even though it were with life. Besides, this is not a man to turn away from the sword's point."

"I know not," answered Corse de Leon, "for I am not one of you; but methinks—though there is nothing upon all the earth now living that could make me turn aside from my path—there would be something very terrible to me in a wronged friend. However, this man may have an excuse you know not of to refuse you that which you desire: he may say that the matter is before the king, which, as I learn, it is. Be persuaded: wait till to-morrow: then let him be narrowly watched: meet him alone; and, when your sword is drawn upon him, then, as you say, he cannot well evade you."

"He shall not," answered Bernard de Rohan. "But still it is not him that I now seek, it is my own dear Isabel; and here, in this town of Lyons, I have lost all trace of her, though she must have been here last night."

"Perhaps not," replied the brigand. "I have no certain tidings of her any more than you have; but listen to what I do know. I reached this place in haste to-day; and during the morning, at the inn called the Dolphin, near the old church by the river, I saw a man who had been with this Meyrand in Savoy, his guide, and assistant, and confidential knave. He knew me not, and indeed, perhaps, had never seen me; for I see many, but am seen by few. I made inquiries, however, and I found that this man had preceded his lord from Paris on business, it was said, of mighty moment. He was preparing rooms for him, gaining intelligence, and, in fact, making all things ready for whatever knavery so skilful a master might have in hand. I inquired farther, and found that yesterday, shortly after the man's arrival, a lady and her train had paused for some moments at the same inn; that one of his servants had spoken to this serviceable villain, and that, without descending from her litter, she had gone on, it was said, towards Geneva. To-day I waited and watched for the arrival of your enemy, and the moment he did come, he was closeted with his knave. A minute after, the host was summoned, and much inquiry made for fresh horses to go towards Geneva. By this time, however, it was late; none but tired beasts could be found, and the journey was put off till daybreak to-morrow morning."

"We will travel the same road," said Bernard de Rohan, "we will travel the same road. But what can have induced Isabel to take the way to Geneva?"

"We know not that this lady was the same," replied Corse de Leon; "but, supposing her to be so, forget not that she believes you to be dead. I have told you that the matter is before the king; and she may fear that, as this Count de Meyrand is a known intimate of a woman all too powerful in this land of France, some constraint may be laid upon her will in order to make her give her hand to him."

"They shall find," replied Bernard de Rohan, "that there is one whose claim upon her hand is not so easily to be cast off; and, even were I dead, I am full sure that to the last day of her existence she would look on one who could betray his friend with nothing but abhorrence and disgust."

"It may be so," replied the brigand; "but you have yet one thing to learn. Your claim upon her hand is already disallowed. On that the king's decision has gone forth three days ago. An edict, which has just reached Lyons, was then registered in the Parliament of Paris, rendering all clandestine marriages, past or future, null and void. This was aimed at you, depend upon it, for both the wily Italian and the artful Frenchman were then at the court of France."

Bernard de Rohan covered his eyes with his hand, and paused thoughtfully without reply. "All this," he said at length, "all this shows, my friend, the absolute need there is of my being speedily in Paris. Wherever Isabel may turn her steps, she will soon hear that I am living if I appear before the king; and in another point of view, also, my speedy appeal to Henry himself may do good. There is one whom you have mentioned who does certainly possess much power—far too much for any subject in the realm; but yet I judge not of her so harshly as you perhaps may do. She has a noble spirit, and I think would not willingly do wrong. Besides all this, she is the trusted friend of one who loves me well—the MarÉchal de Brissac; therefore I do believe that especially she would not wish to injure me. When I have seen her, she has always seemed to regard me highly; and I will own—although I must regret that any one should hold such authority in the land of France as often to overrule the king's wisest ministers—I do believe that, for her own personal advantage, she would in no degree seek what is unjust to another, or do that which might be dangerous to her country. I have no doubt that one of her first wishes is to promote, in every way, such plans as she considers just and wise; and although, of course, she may from time to time be biased, like every other person, by blinding mists of prejudice or of self-interest, yet I do think that she is less so than any other being who ever yet filled a situation of splendid disgrace and ill-bought authority. I believe, then, that with her, as with the king, a few plain words of remonstrance and explanation will win that support which is alone needful to my just claims."

"Then go thither at once," said Corse de Leon, with a dissatisfied air. "If you will still trust to those whom you have not tried, go thither, and encounter whatever the consequence may be. Were I you, my conduct would be different."

"What would you do, then?" asked Bernard de Rohan. "I do not propose to go to the court at once, but merely after I have done all that I can to trace my Isabel on the road that she has taken. Say! what would you do were you situated as I am?"

"It matters little," replied Corse de Leon, "for we are differently formed. You are like the stately warhorse, doubtless strong and full of fire, but broken down to the bit and rein of custom, and trained to pace hither and thither, as the great riding-master called society wills. Your affections may be vehement, your courage high, your heart sincere, but you are not fitted and formed for the wild life of freedom, or for a desperate and deadly struggle against the trammels of habit, and the lash and spur of opinion. I, on the contrary, am the lion—or, if you will, the tiger, or the wolf. No hand tames me and goads me on—my mouth knows no bit and curb—the desert is my home—solitude my society—my own will my law—and they who strive to take and chain me, to break me down to the world's habits, or to bind me by man's opinions, will either rue the bite of the free wild beast, or see him die before the hunters, in silence and despair. If you would know what I would do, I would take my revenge of that bad man; I would seek the lady till I found her; I would tell her that dangers, obstructions, impediments, and the vain idleness of a world's laws were before us if we did not trample upon that world's judgments; I would ask her to cast off for me and with me the prejudices of country and connexions; I would make my native place of the first land of freedom I could find; I would find my friends and my relations among the brave, and the free, and the good, wherever I met them; I would press out from the grape of liberty the wine of my own happiness, and I would drink of the cup that my own hand had prepared. But such counsels are not for you; such things are not parts of your nature."

"I believe not," replied Bernard de Rohan; "but still the first part of your advice I shall follow, and at daybreak to-morrow will set out to meet this man upon the way, and bid him draw his sword where there is none to interrupt us."

"Should he refuse?" said the brigand. "He is well accompanied—has many men with him, and some who seem to bear a high rank and station. He may refuse to draw his sword, and say that the matter is before the king: what then?"

"I will spurn him as a cur," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I will strike him in the midst of his people; call him a coward as well as a knave, and send him back with the brand of shame upon his brow. It matters not to me who are with him! If gentlemen be there, so much the better; Bernard de Rohan's name is not unknown, Bernard de Rohan's honour bears no stain; and they shall hear his treachery and baseness blazoned in the open day by a tongue unknown to falsehood."

Corse de Leon gazed upon him for a moment with a grave, perhaps one might call it a pitying smile. "You have forgotten," he said, "or never fully known, the court of France. There has there risen up," he added, "within my memory, a habit, an affectation of indifference, if you like to call it so, to all things on this earth; which indifference is born of a corrupt and a degraded heart, and of sated and exhausted appetites. To a high mind, furnished with keen and vigorous faculties, nothing on earth can be indifferent; for acuteness of perception—a quality which, in its degree, assimilates us to the Divine nature—weighs all distinctions. As God himself sees all the qualities of everything, whether minute or great, and gives them their due place, so, the grander and the more expansive the intellect may be, the more accurately it feels, perceives, and estimates the good or evil of each individual thing. The low and the base, the palled taste of luxury, the satiated sense of licentiousness, the callous heart of selfishness, the blunted sensibilities of lust, covetousness, gluttony, effeminacy, and idleness, take refuge in indifference, and call it to their aid, lest vanity—the weakest, but the last point to become hardened in the heart of man—should be wounded. They take for their protection the shield of a false and tinsel wit, the answer of a sneer, the argument of a supercilious look, and try to gloze over everything, to themselves and others, with a contemptuous persiflage which confounds all right and wrong. Thus will this count and his companions meet you; and you will gain neither answer nor satisfaction, but a jest, a sneer, or a look of pity."

"It matters not," replied Bernard de Rohan, "it matters not! There are some things that men cannot laugh away! Honour, and courage, and virtue are not columns planted so loosely that a light gale can blow them down; and I will mark his brow with such disgrace that an ocean of laughter and light jests will never wash the stain off again. When I have done that, I will seek my Isabel, and by her own wishes shall our future conduct be guided. You have reasoned like a learned scholar, my good friend; but yet you see you have not converted me to your thoughts, though I will own that it much surprises me to find you have such varied knowledge of courts, and, I should think, of schools also."

"I have of both," replied Corse de Leon: "the one I have seen, though in an humble sphere; the other in my youth I frequented, and gained there knowledge which those who taught me did not know that they communicated. However, I wished not to convince you or to overrule your determination, for that determination is not wrong. I only desired that you should go to its execution with a full knowledge of all that you might meet with. Follow your plan, therefore, as you have laid it down, and in executing it I will not be far from you in case of need. There is no knowing what a bad man may do, and you ride too slightly attended to offer much resistance in case they sought to do you wrong."

"Oh, I fear not, I fear not," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Here, on the soil of France, I have no fear of any acts of violence, such as that from which I suffered in Savoy."

"Have you not seen to-night," said his companion, "have you not seen this night what wrongs are daily done, even here? However, as I have said, I will not be far from you; so, for the present, farewell, and let not daylight see you a lingerer in this dark city."

Thus saying, he turned and left his young companion, who remained for some time plunged in deep thought; and, though the light of bright hope continued still unextinguished before him, mists and clouds came across the flame from time to time, making it wavering, uncertain, and obscure.

END OF VOL. I.