Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James

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СКАЧАТЬ which formed one angle of the building, and received light from two different sides, had apparently been one in former times, but each was large enough to form a very convenient room; and there was an air of comfort and habitability, if I may use the term, which seemed to the eye of Jean Charost the first cheerful thing he had met with since his entrance into the palace.

      On the table, in the writing-room, were spots of ink of no very old date; and one article, belonging to a former tenant had been left behind, in the shape of a sword hanging by one of the rings of the scabbard from a nail driven into the oaken partition. In passing through, Jean Charost paused to look at it, and the old écuyer exclaimed, "Ah, poor fellow! he will never use it again. That belonged to Monsieur De Gray, the duke's late secretary, who was killed in a rencounter near Corbeil. Master Juvenel de Royans thought to get the post, but he had so completely lost the duke's favor by his rashness and indiscretion, that it was flatly refused him.

      "Then probably he will be no great friend of mine," said Jean Charost, with a faint smile; "and perhaps his conduct just now had as much of malice in it as of folly."

      Monsieur Blaize paused and meditated for a moment. He was at that age when the light tricks and vagaries of sportive youth are the most annoying--not old enough to dote upon the reflected image of regretted years, nor young enough to feel any sympathy with the follies of another age. He was, nevertheless, a very just man, and, as Jean Charost found afterward, just in small things as well as great; in words as well as deeds.

      "No," he said, thoughtfully; "no; I do not think he is one to bear malice--at all events, not long. His nature is a frank and generous one, though overlaid by much conceit and vanity, and carried away by a rash, unbridled spirit. It is probable he neither cared who or what you were, and merely resolved, in order to make the foolish boys round him laugh, that he would have what he called some sport with the stranger, without at all considering how much pain he might give, or where an idle jest might end. There are multitudes of such men in the world, and they gain, good lack! the reputation of gallant, daring spirits, simply because they put themselves and every one else in danger, as if the continual periling of a hard head were really any sign of being a brave man. But we must not keep the signor's dinner waiting. It is one of his little foibles to love his meat well done, and never drink bad wine. Your eyes seem seeking something. What is it you require?"

      "I thought, perhaps," replied Jean Charost, "that my baggage might have been brought up here, as the apartment, it seems, was prepared for me. It must have come some time ago, I think. My horse, too, I left at the gates, and Heaven knows what has become of him."

      "We will inquire--we will inquire as we go," said the écuyer; "but no great toilet is required here at the dinner hour. At supper we sometimes put on our smart attire; but, in these hazardous times, one never knows how, or how soon, the mid-day meal may be brought to an end."

      Thus saying, he turned to the door, and, taking a different way back from that which he had followed in leading Jean Charost to his apartments, he paused for a moment at a little dark den, shut off from one of the lower halls by a half door, breast high, and spoke a few words to some invisible person within.

      "Stall number nineteen," growled a voice from within. "But who's to dress him? No groom--no horse-boy, even!"

      "We will see to that presently," replied the écuyer; and then seeing a man pass along the other side of the hall, he crossed over, spoke to him for a moment or two, and returning, informed Jean Charost that his baggage had arrived, and would be carried up to the door of his apartments before dinner was over.

      On returning to the rooms of the maître d'hôtel, they found that high functionary emerged from his accounts, and ready to conduct them into his own private dining-room, where, by especial privilege, he took his meals with a select few, and certainly did not fare worse than his lord and master. There might be more gold on the table of the Duke of Orleans, but probably less good cheer. The maître d'hôtel himself was a sleek, quiet specimen of Italian humanity, always exceedingly full of business, very accurate, and even very faithful; by birth a gentleman; nominally an ecclesiastic; fond of quiet, if not of ease, and loving all kinds of good things, without the slightest objection to a sly joke, even if the whiskers of decency, morality, or religion were a little singed thereby. He was an exceedingly good man, nevertheless, a hater of all strife and quarreling, though in this respect he had fallen upon evil days; and his appearance and conduct, with his black beard, his tonsure, his semi-clerical dress, and his air of grave suavity, generally assured him respect from all members of the duke's household.

      Two other officers, besides himself and the écuyer, formed the party at dinner with Jean Charost, and every thing passed with great decorum, all parties seeming to enjoy themselves among fat capon, snipes, rich Burgundy, and other delicacies, far too much to waste the precious moments in idle conversation.

      Jean Charost thought the dinner very dull indeed, and wondered, with a feeling of some apprehension, if his meals were always to be taken in such solemn assembly. Peals of laughter, too, which he heard from a hall not far off, gave the gravity of the proceedings all the effect of contrast. But the young gentleman soon found that when that serious passion, hunger, was somewhat appeased, his companions could unbend a little. With the second course, a few quiet jokes began to fly about, staid and formal enough, indeed; but the gravity of the party was soon restored by Monsieur Blaize starting a subject of importance, in which Jean Charost was deeply interested. He announced to the maître d'hôtel that their young companion, not knowing the customs of the duke's household, had brought no servant with him, and it was agreed upon all hands that this was a defect to be remedied immediately.

      Jean was a little puzzled, and a little alarmed at the idea of expense about to be incurred; for his education had been one of forced economy, and the thought of entertaining a servant for his own especial needs had never entered into his mind. He could only protest, however, in a subdued and somewhat anxious tone, that he knew not where or how to procure a person suitable; but, on that score, immediate assistance was offered him by the maître d'hôtel himself.

      "I have more than a hundred and fifty names on my books," he said, "of lads all eager to be entered upon the duke's household in any capacity. I will look through the list by-and-by."

      But, without giving him time to do so, every one of the gentlemen at the table hastened to mention some one whom he would be glad to recommend, leading Jean Charost to say to himself, "If the post of lackey to the duke's secretary be so desirable, how desirable must be the post of secretary itself!"

      The discussion continued during the whole of the second course, each having a good deal to say in favor of his nominee, and each a jest to launch at the person recommended by any other.

      "There is Pierre Crouton," said one elderly gentleman. "He was born upon my estate, near Charenton, and a brisker, more active lad never lived. He has had good instruction, too, and knows every corner of Paris from the Bastile to the Tour de Nesle."

      "Well acquainted with the little Châtelet, likewise," said Monsieur Blaize. "I have heard that the jailer's great dogs will not even bark at him. But there is Matthew Borne, the son of old James Borne, who died in the duke's service long ago."

      "Ay," said another, "poor James, when he was old, and battered to pieces, married the pretty young grisette, and this was her son. It's a wise son that knows his own father. Pray, what has become of her, Monsieur Blaize? You should know, if any one does."

      "I know nothing about her," said the écuyer, somewhat sharply. "Her son came to me, asking a recommendation. I have given him that, and that's all I know."

      "Trust to me, trust to me, my young friend," said the maître d'hôtel, in a whisper, to Jean Charost. "I will find the lad to suit you before nightfall. Come to me СКАЧАТЬ