Jean Charost

“ Jean Charost looked down thoughtfully, and his countenance changed. To betray the secrets of the dead, to plant a fresh thorn in the heart of the Duchess of Orleans, already torn, as it must be, to explain how and why he had hesitated to obey his lord's commands, was what he would fain escape from at almost any risk; and his confidence in his own innocence made him believe that his refusal could do him no material damage.
"It will be better for yourself, sir, to be frank and candid," said the Duke of Berri; "a few words may clear you of all suspicion." ”

“ He threw it sharply open, and entered a small room having no exit, except through the hall; but he paused, without speaking, for a moment, although before his eyes lay poor Jean Charost strapped down upon a sort of iron bedstead, and one of the prévôt's; men stood actually turning a wheel at the head, which elongated the whole frame, and threatened to tear the unfortunate sufferer to pieces. For an instant, the duke continued to gaze in silence, as if desirous of seeing how much the unhappy young man could bear. ”

“ Jean Charost withdrew and sought his own room; but it is not to be denied that the moment was a perilous one for his favor with the Duke of Orleans. It is a very dangerous thing to witness the weaknesses of great men--or those emotions which they look upon as weaknesses. Pride, vanity, doubt, fear, suspicion, all whisper hate against those who can testify that they are not so strong as the world supposes. ”

“ Jean Charost took no apparent notice; but bowing low to the Duke of Burgundy, who turned away his eyes with haughty coldness, and inclining his head to Madame De Giac, who looked full at him with her sweet, serpent smile, he quitted the room with a calm, firm step, and the attendant closed the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, the duke exclaimed, with a low, bitter laugh, "On my life! he lords it as if he were of the blood royal."
"Honesty is better than royal blood," said the astrologer. ”

“ When Jean Charost was seated in the room of Juvenel de Royans, a lamp lighted, and his companion stretched out at ease, partly on his bed and partly on a settle, the latter assumed a graver tone, and De Brecy perceived with pain that he was both depressed in mind and sadly shattered in body. Twelve years of almost incessant campaigning had broken down his strength, and many wounds received had left him a suffering and enfeebled man. ”

“ Your feelings are not my feelings, your thoughts not my thoughts, yet I can comprehend and appreciate you; these men can not."
"I am afraid, sir," said Jean Charost, "that I owe your good opinion more to a prepossession in my favor than to any meritorious acts of my own; for, indeed, I have had no opportunity of serving you."
"Yes, you have, greatly," replied the duke; "not perhaps by acts, but by words, which prove often the greatest services. He who influences a man's mind, De Brecy, affects him more than he who influences his mere earthly fortunes. ”

“ In a room on the first floor of the eastern tower of the gate-house, Jean Charost is once more before us. Monterreau's blood-stained bridge, the dauphin and the murderers, and the dying Duke of Burgundy, have passed away; and there are but two women with him. Yes, I may call them women both, though their ages are very far apart. One is in the silver-haired decline of life, the other is just blossoming; they are the withered flower and the bud. ”

“ It is not the walls, or the earth, that make a cheerful home. It is the spirits that are in it."
"Thou art a young philosopher." said Jean Charost, with a smile; "but we will see."
The next morning Jean Charost was upon his way toward Monterreau, still dressed in his monkish garb--for the proverb proved true in his case--but now mounted on an old mule, the very beast that had carried the Duke of Orleans on the night of his assassination. It had been given to him by the duchess when last he saw her, and when she felt the hand of death pressing heavily upon her. ”

“ May I inquire how old you are, Signor De Brecy?"
"Like yourself, Seigneur André," replied Jean Charost, with a smile; "old enough to be wiser."
"Marvelous well answered!" exclaimed the jester. "The dear infant is a prodigy! Did you ever see any thing like that?" he continued, throwing back his black cloak, and exhibiting his large stomach, dressed in his party-colored garments, almost resting on the saddle-bow.
"Yes, often," answered Jean Charost. ”

“ At the end of the second passage, the little party issued forth upon a long cloister forming one side of a quadrangle, and separated from the central court by an open screen of elaborately carved stone work. Here the old monk turned, and gave a sidelong glance at Jean Charost, lifting his lantern a little, as if to see him more distinctly, and the Duke of Orleans, seeming to take this as a hint, paused for an instant, saying, "Wait for me here, M. De Brecy; I will not be long." He then walked on, and Jean Charost was left to perambulate the cloister in solitude, and nearly in darkness. ”

“ Jean Charost answered briefly and distinctly, and the judge then inquired, "Did you meet any one, as you entered this house, who seemed to be quitting it?"
"No," replied Jean Charost, "several persons were lingering about the gate, and in front, between the walls and the chain; but nobody seemed quitting the spot."
"No one in a long flowing robe and cowl, the habit of a priest or a friar?" asked the judge.
"No," replied Jean Charost; "but we saw, a few moments before, a man such as you describe, seeking admission at the gates of a large house like a monastery. ”

“ Jean Charost gazed at him with a cold, unmoved look, expressive, perhaps, of surprise, but nothing else, and then passed on his way.
"Those gentlemen will bring themselves into trouble before they have done," said Martin Grille. "That Monsieur De Royans is already deep in the bad books."
"No deeper than he deserves," answered Jean Charost. "But perhaps they may find they have made a mistake before they have done."
"Ah, good sir, never quarrel with a courtier," said the servant. "They are like wary fencers, and try to put a man in a passion in order to throw him off his guard. ”

“ Madame Moulinet was seated there, with the child upon her knee; but the door on the opposite side of the room was closing just as Jean Charost went in, and he caught a glance of a black velvet mantle, before it was actually shut.
"How thrives the child, Madame Moulinet?" asked Jean Charost, looking down upon the infant with a glance of interest, but with none of that peculiar admiration which grown women feel and grown men often affect for a very young baby. ”

“ At length, Jean Charost stopped, looked round and smiled, and Martin Grille, riding up, exclaimed, in a half-dolorous half-laughing tone, "Spare me, sir, I beseech you. You forget I am not accustomed to such wild capers. Every man is awkward, I find, in a new situation; and though I can get on pretty well at procession pace, if my horse neither kicks nor stumbles, I would rather be excused galloping over hillsides, for a fortnight at least, till my leather and his leather are better acquainted." ”

“ Here Jean Charost pulled up his horse, and then, slackening the rein, let the beast put down his head to drink. Martin Grille did so likewise; but a moment after both heard a sound of voices speaking at some little distance on the left.
"Hark! hark!" whispered Martin Grille. "There are people in the wood--in the very heart of the wood."
"Why, where would you find woodmen but in the wood?" asked Jean Charost. "You will hear their axes presently."
"I hope we shall not feel them," said Martin Grille, in the same low tone. ”

“ Solemn and slow the notes of the chant rose up as the procession swept along before the gates of the palace, and the words of the penitent King of Israel were heard ascending to the sky, and praying the God of mercy and of power to pardon and to succor. The grasp of the hand grew less firm, but the weight pressed heavier and heavier; and, turning suddenly round, Jean Charost cast his arm about the duke, from an instinctive feeling that he was falling to the ground. ”

“ Jean Charost took leave of his host with a few courteous words; but the stranger mounted in silence, rode out as soon as the gates were open, and turning at once to the right, led the way quite round the town, crossed a small stream, and then, by paths with which he seemed perfectly well acquainted, dashed on at a quick pace to the westward, leaving the others to come after as best they could, much to the inconvenience, be it said, of poor Martin Grille, whose horse stumbled continually, as horses will do with bad riders. ”

“ There was some truth in what he said; and Jean Charost sent by him the orders he desired, nor was he long in giving them.
"Now tell me all, while I am dressing," said his master, as soon as he had returned. "I know no cause for fearing any thing; but it is an uncertain world, good Martin, and there are unseen dangers around our every step."
"This one is plain enough," answered Martin Grille. "Nôtre Dame is not plainer. It is simply, sir, that the king has sent a certain sergeant of his, with a long troop of archers at his back, to arrest and bring you to his presence. ”

“ The more just and the more generous of the competitors content themselves with what they can obtain, or, at all events, do not deny some portion of merit to a more fortunate rival; but the baser and the meaner spirits--and they are the most numerous--not only envy, but hate; not only hate, but calumniate."
"I am most grateful, sir, for all your kindness toward me," replied Jean Charost; "but I can not at all attribute the enmity of Monsieur de Royans, or any of the rest, to jealousy of your favor, for from the moment I entered your household it was the same." ”

“ On many occasions the young secretary had the opportunity of conversing with the duchess; and her quiet gentleness, the strong, unshaken, uncomplaining affection which she showed toward her husband with all his faults, together with native graces unhardened, and personal beauty hardly touched by time, made Jean Charost marvel greatly at the wayward heart of man, and ask himself, with doubt and almost fear, if ever he himself could be brought to sport with or neglect the affections of a being such as that. ”

“ The things as plain as day become all dim and obscure, false lights glare around us, and nothing is real but our own sensations."
Jean Charost smiled. "I have escaped as yet, father," he said. "It is true, indeed, that when I look back on some passages of my life--on the actions of other men, and on my own--I sometimes wonder how I could view the things around me as I did at the time, and all seems to me as if I had been acting in a dream."
"Passion, passion," said the monk--"the dream of passion!" ”

“ But in sorry truth, all monasteries are very much like this--those that I have seen, at least."
"And nunneries?" asked Jean Charost.
"Somewhat better," she answered, with a sigh. "Whatever faults women may have, they are not such coarse ones as we have seen here to-night; but I know not much about them, for I have been long enough in one only to judge of it rightly; and now I feel like a bird with its prison doors unclosed, because I am going to join the court of the Queen of Anjou: that does not speak ill of the nunnery, methinks. ”

“ A low groan was the only reply; but that was sign sufficient that life was not extinct, and Jean Charost was carried gently forward to a spot behind the trees, well concealed from the field of battle. The old monk, before he followed, paused to take one more look at the bloody plain of Azincourt. By this time, the main body of the French army was in as great disorder as the advanced-guard, while the English forces were making way steadily with the royal banner floating in the air.
"All is lost," murmured the monk. "God help them! they have cast away a great victory." ”

“ Something strange links our destiny together. I came hither to inquire of Fate concerning you; and here you are, to meet me."
"I am glad to see you without your late companions, sir," replied Jean Charost. "I feared you might be in some peril."
"No danger--no danger," answered the other. "They were ruffians--but what am I? Not a man there but had fought under my pennon on fields of honorable warfare. Wrong, injustice, baseness, ingratitude, had made gallant soldiers low marauders--what has the same made me--a demon, with hell in my heart, with hell behind me, and hell before!" ”

“ Though they say, 'Espaly, near Puy,' it is not so near as they call it. My boy shall go with you on a quick-trotting ass to bring back the mule."
"And the news," said Jean Charost, "if he can get it. So be it, however; for, good sooth! I am tired. I have not slept a wink for six-and-thirty hours; but let them make all haste."
"As quick as an avalanche, sir," said the landlord; "and God speed you, if you bring good news to our noble prince. He loves wine and women, and is exceedingly devout to the blessed Virgin of Puy; so all men should wish him well, and all ladies too." ”

“ Nay more, he had taxed his utmost means, he had mortgaged the very bequest of the Duke of Orleans, he had done every thing--but impoverish his mother--in order to carry with him as many men as possible to swell the hosts of France.
The last piece of his armor was buckled on--Martin Grille took up the casque--a cup of wine was brought, and Jean Charost embraced his mother and the child.
"How hard your breast is, Jean," said the little girl.
"None too hard," said the mother. "God be your shield, my son. He is better than sword or buckler." ”