LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 468, 14 December 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

UNDER THE Pill TREES. | A STOEY Or A CAUDINALi's I,OVE. (Concluded. 7 ) 'On the contrary there were several witnesses present, and tbe marriage, like other marriages, was duly entered in the church register.' ' Your sacred character forbids me to doubt your words, yet you must pardon me if I still indulge some scepticism respecting a fact so entirely out of the common order of things. May there not be some mistake arising out of similarity < f names or something of that kind ?' ' There is no mistake at all.' ' Well, 1 shall never be quite convinced unless with my own eyes I see the actual entry in the register.' ' That you may easily do. The book is close at hand in the vestry-room ; I \\ ill send for it, and at once dispel your doubts.' While thejservant was gone for the book, the count made a transition to the wine, and concerted a little scheme in his head, which, on account of the lively and jocund humour of the priest, he was not without hope might succeed. Alluding for the nonce to a fabulous entity—l mean his own cellar—he became extremely eloquent in praise of that rare Burgundy—the Clos Vougeot—of which he affirmed he possessed a considerable quantity, though he had never owned a bottle in his life. His object was to pique the cure's vanity. Here, however, the servant entered with the fatal register, the production of which in a certain law court of Paris would suffice to wither up all tbe proud hopes of the second man in France, and consign him, if not to oblivion, at least to ruin and disgrace. While the woman was laying the book upon the table, and the priest was putting on his spectacles, the count sat with beating heart and trembling hands, as if awaiting the announcement of his own doom. Had the good man observed his perturbation he must have set it down to something more than idle curiosity, and in that case would probably have sent back the book without opening it. But he was far too intent on displaying his own importance, and proving that he held a great man's fate in his hands, to reflect on the folly and danger of his proceeding. Slowly, deliberately, ostentatiously, the cure turned over the leaves of the register, till with a triumphant twinkle of his eye he caught sight of the record of the too famous marriage.

' Here it is,' said he, 'come and look at it, you will then acknowledge that there is no mistake.' Making a strong effort to quell his agitation, the excited courtier drew near his host and read over his arm, which was stretched across the page, the clear, emphatic indubitable words which demonstrated the bishop and the lady of tin: cottage to be man and wife. ' Seeing is believing,' he remarked coldly, and resumed his seat, while a priest, throwing the book carelessly on a corner of the table, said with a satisfied air,— ' You will now acknowledge that I have not maintained more than I can make good.' ' Quite true. However it is an affair of the past and as such should perhaps be forgotten. Yet my surprise, I own, is very great, considering the cautious, politic character of the bishop. But all men at times fall into error, and this was his.' Perceiving that his guest had become thoughtful and sombre the cure exclaimed—- ' Don't trouble yourself about so old an aflair—it is no business of ours—the bishop has had his pleasure, and now enjoys his power. Let us be merry. You were awhile ago talking of Clos Vougeot, and I will show you a bottle than which the Regent himself has not a finer. Excuse me for a moment I never allow my servant to go to that bin, and must therefore fetch it myself.' So saying he left the room closing the door after him. This was the critical moment the count, who had carefully noticed the page of the register, sprang from his chair, seized the volume, and turning to the place with eager fingers, tore out the leaf, and folding it up hastily, thrust it into his pocket, and then contemptuously threw back the book to the corner of the table. He now regarded the priest and his wine with disdainful impatience, being anxious to be on the road to Paris. Still habitual politeness compelled him to be an actor a little longer, and to assist his host in drinking what, had the good man known his guest's thoughts and conduct, he would have wished had been poison. The Burgundy, however*, was so excellent that the noble thief could not resist the exhilaration it produced in his frame, and stuck to the bottle till it was finished. He then rose to take his leave, when the cure, who, as they say in Touraine, was far on the way to Jerusalem, inquired with a hiccup whether he would not like to have one more pee]) at the register. ' By no means,' exclaimed the Count, not a little alarmed, " I am perfectly satisfied. Many thanks for your hospitality. Good night!' He then made his way towards the door with a rather unsteady step, and the clatter of his high-heeled boots M r as heard upon the pavement before the priest had time to take up the registei*. Proud of being in possession of a secret which he now saw was considered of so much importance, he determined to feast his eyes once more on the proof of the fact. He therefore deliberately put on his spectacles, and taking up the volume, placed it square before him in search of what he called the bishop's page, but could nowhere find it. He took off his spectacles, wiped them carefully, put them on again, and took to turning over the volume once more. ' 1 am too far gone he murmured to himself, as he called his pretty servant, upwards of forty by law, but twenty three by nature, and desired her to look for what he was in search of. ' Ah ! Monsieur,' she exclaimed, ' you forget that I can't read.' ' Never mind it,' said the cure, as he patted her head and chucked her under the chin, ' I'll look to-morrow.' Arrived at the inn, the Count instantly ordered post-horses to be put to a light carriage, and set off for Paris. Once or twice he thought of staying till the morning, that he might call at the cottage in the hope of again meeting alone the young lady, who ran incessantly in his head ; but, comforting himself with the resolution that when he should be Governor he would come back and dazzle her into compliance, he persisted in his original design and drove off hastily into the darkness. No incidents varied the count's journey, which the magnificent castles he built in the air caused to appear short. Having reached Paris he drove directly to the bishop's palace, and, being conducted into the great man's presence, arnounced the complete success of his enterprise. 'Give me the document,' exclaimed r the bishop. ' Nay, you must excuse me. When the order for my appointme it shall have be< n signed we will exchange documents ; till then I shall retain your little amorous momento in my keeping.' ' Rascal! ' muttered the bishop between his teeth, and was; proceeding to add something meant to blunt the sting of his unceremonious expression, when the count observed drily—- ' We are both rascals, but not less useful to each other for that reason.' ' Well, come here to-morrow about this time and we will settle our accounts.' On the following day the transaction was completed between two of the worst men in Prance, one of whom rose to the step next the papal throne, while the other, from having been a black-leg, a swindler, a disgrace to his order, obtained an appointment which conferred on him all but supreme power over a province little less in extent than a kingdom. But his triumph he felt would not be complete unless he could take with him as his mistress the daughter of the man whom he had just made a cardinal and who had made him a prince. Away, therefore to the banks of the Loire he went, not this time as an obscure individual mounted on horseback, but in a superb carriage with a numerous suit in rich liveries. Young women are often misled by show, oftener still by the visions ajjparently boundless wealth opens up before them. The cardinal's daughter had inherited something of her father's love for the splendour of rank and the allurements of society ; so that when the count informed her he had come from the cardinal with authority to conduct her to his palace in the palace in the capital, her heart throbbed with tumultous emotions of delight. While sketching to her the glories of her future destiny, he skilfully contrived to lead her some distance from the cottage. It was the evening of a lovely day in summer when the air in that of France is at once balmy and intoxicating. So competely was the girl absorbed by her own hopes and expectations that she failed to catch the exact import of the words addressed to her. Paris has always been the Elysium of French women, young and old. What she hoped to find there it would have perplexed her to explain, though the indefinite and unintelligible bliss acted ao powerfully on her hmcy

that she knew not whether she was walking upon the earth or floating through the atmosphere. The count likewise must have been not a little bewildered, otherwise he would have noticed a man walking behind them with a pistol in his hand and his finger on the trigger, while his face looked ghastly pale and his eyes flashed fire. Presently they reached a spot where a number of fir-trees interlacing the branches above obscured the pathway. Here the count put his arms round the lady's waist and was drawing her towards him with some violence when a pistol ball entered his breast and brought him to the ground. The lady shrieked and the assassin, springing forward and taking; her in his arms, said in hurried and wild accents, —- ' The wretch would have insulted you and I have punished him.' ' Oh, heavens !' she exclaimed, ' you have slain the count, who was sent to me by my father !' 'Ho was brought to you,' replied the young man, 'by his own villany and for no other than villanous purposes. I tell you I know the man. You forget that my brother is your father's secretary, and that through him I could not fail to learn the worst machinations of your enemy, who lies there, dead I hope. Let us leave him to the wolves or the gens d'armes, I care not which. If lam discovered 1 am ready to answer for what I have done -if not nothing need be said.' The deed never did come to light, since the only persons to whom it was known were most deeply interested in keeping the secret. The count's body was found and buried the witnesses were married—but were they happy ? No ! Childless they lived—childless they died—the man first, and the wife when about to receive extreme unction confessed the particulars I have just related. And who were the actors in this little drama V Is tliere any student of French history who needs to be told? 1 think not, and for that reason I have narrated the above circumstances without mentioning names. >—■————MM— I—^———