Prince Eugene and His Times Part 11

"It is right," remarked the duke, "and I begin to feel considerable respect for our little abbe!"

"I shall compel respect from more than the Duke de Bouillon,"

thought his nephew.

"Farewell!" said Olympia, with as much self possession as if she had been starting for a tour of pleasure. "Tell the king that I forget to pity my own impotence in compa.s.sionating his."

The carriage rolled away, first under the illuminated windows of the rooms of state, where the unconscious Princesses de Carignan were doing their best to entertain the motley a.s.semblage, that had been so suddenly deserted by their mother; then along the dimly-lighted streets where Eugene's heart beat with painful apprehension lest the crowd should recognize the fugitive; then they entered the avenue where the court had turned its back upon Olympia and her extravagant hopes, and at last--they reached the gates.

Meanwhile the Duke de Bouillon had returned to the salons, where he announced the departure of the countess to her guests; the servants had dispersed, and returned to their usual employments, all except one, who crept stealthily out, and, turning the corner, advanced a few paces into a dark and narrow alley. Two hors.e.m.e.n were waiting his appearance there.

"Has she gone?" asked one.

"Yes," replied the man; "and relays have been ordered to hasten her escape."

"What route did she take?"

"She goes to Brussels, by the way of Rheims, Rocroy, and Namur."

"Here are your four louis d'ors."

With these words, the two hors.e.m.e.n galloped away, turning their horses' heads toward the palace of the minister of war. In the porte-cochere stood Louvois himself, who, motioning them not to dismount, spoke a few low words, and then handed to each one a package of letters and a purse of gold.

"Fly with all speed," said he, in his parting injunctions. "Kill as many horses as you list--I pay for their carca.s.ses; but see that at every station you arrive a full hour before the countess."

He then entered his carriage, and drove to the Louvre to inform the king that his royal commands had been obeyed, and that the Countess de Soissons had been suffered to escape.

As the chariot that was bearing away the disgraced Olympia drove through the barrier and entered upon the high-road, the two hors.e.m.e.n galloped past, and so completely did they distance the unhappy travellers, that in a few moments the echo of their horses' feet had died away into silence.

CHAPTER VII.

THE FLIGHT.

It was a glorious night--a night of sapphire skies, radiant with stellar diamonds--one of those nights whose beauty intensifies pleasure, and whose gentle influence soothes pain; which, to the joyous heart seem to prefigure heaven; to the sorrowing are like the healing touch of the Almighty hand, which, in exceeding love, has stricken it with a pa.s.sing pain.

But not a ray of hope or consolation refreshed the dreary wastes of the heart of Olympia de Soissons. She had withdrawn herself from the embrace of her son, and leaned far back into the corner of the carriage. But for the glare of her large, black eyes, as they reflected the light of the lamps on either side, she might have been asleep, so motionless she lay; but, whenever Eugene turned a timid glance upon her rigid features, he saw that she seemed ever and ever to be looking away from him, and far out upon the black and shapeless ma.s.ses of the woods through which they journeyed all that night.

He had tried to divert her by conversation; but to his remarks she had made such curt and random replies, that he desisted, and left her to the bleak solitude of her own reveries.

And thus they pa.s.sed the night. With fresh relays of eight spirited horses, they travelled so swiftly, that when morning dawned, the lofty towers of the Cathedral of Rheims were seen looming through the mist, and the coachman drew up before the gates.

But, although a courier had been sent in advance to order it, no relay was there. The coachman turned to Eugene for instructions.

"This is most unfortunate," replied he, "for it compels us to enter the city and change horses at the royal post-house. While arrangements are being made there, will it please my dear mother to leave her carriage and partake of some refreshment?"

The countess replied with a silent bend of the head, and Eugene sent forward a courier, with orders to have breakfast prepared. The carriage pa.s.sed the old Roman gate, and entered the city, made famous by the coronation of so many kings of France. The rattle of the wheels over the rough stone pavement made the countess start with apprehension of she knew not what, and she withdrew cautiously from sight.

"It is well that the roll of this clamorous carriage cannot awaken our foes," said she, as they stopped before the post-house.

Her rejoicings were premature; for the master of the post-horses came leisurely forward, his face expressing a mixture of rude curiosity with careless contempt.

"You want post-horses?" asked he, with a familiar nod.

Eugene's large eyes flashed fire. "It would appear," said he, "that you do not know to whom you have the honor of speaking, or else you would remove your hat."

"Oh, yes, I know who you are," answered he, insolently. "That is the Countess de Soissons, and you are the little abbe, her son. But I keep on my hat, for it is cool this morning, and it suits me NOT to remove it."

"It suits you, then, to be a boor, a barefaced--"

"Peace, Eugene!" interrupted Olympia, in Italian; "peace, or you will cause me some detention that may imperil my life. See; in spite of the undue hour, how many men are around our carriage. They are not here by accident. Their presence only proves that Louvois'

couriers have antic.i.p.ated us; and if ever we hope to pa.s.s the frontiers of France, we must be discreet."

"And I may not, therefore, chastise this varlet! I must sit tamely by while he insults my mother!"

"He is but a tool, Eugene. Spare the instrument, and strike the hand that directs it against me."

"By the Eternal G.o.d, I will smite that hand!" said Eugene, while the master of the post-horses stood staring at Olympia with an expression of familiarity that would have cost him his life, had she been free to take it. But sweet as the honey of Hybla were the words she spoke.

"Good sir, would you be so obliging as to furnish us with eight horses?" said she, almost imploringly.

"Eight horses! for that light vehicle? It looks much as if you were trying to make your escape, and were sore pressed to move on."

"I am, indeed, sorely pressed," said she, in tones of distress; "hasten, I implore of you, hasten!"

"You cannot have them before half an hour," said he, turning on his heel, and re-entering the house.

The countess now called to one of her footmen: "Go, see if we can have a room and some breakfast."

The man obeyed, but returned almost immediately, with a most embarra.s.sed expression.

"They have no vacant room, and say that your highness need not trouble yourself to leave the carriage, in search of lodgings, were it even for five minutes."

"Then go and bring us each a cup of chocolate," replied the countess, with a sigh.

The footman renewed his pet.i.tion, and this time returned, accompanied by a woman, who, in angry haste, approached the unhappy fugitives:

"You are the Countess de Soissons?" asked she, with a bold stare.

"Yes, madame, I am; and I hope you will do me the favor to serve us a cup of chocolate."

"You do--do you? Well, I have come out here to tell you that I shall do no such thing. How do I know that your breath may not poison my cup and--"

"Woman!" cried Eugene, springing up from his seat.

His mother put him firmly back. "I command you to keep silence,"