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CHAPTER XIV.

The dwelling of the Coadjutor. A very curious and unlooked•for
position. The reader, if fond of love-makings, will doubtless
relish this chapter amazingly. The story might end here—but
it don't.

THE cloister of Netre Dame was then, as to-day, an as-
semblage of buildings disposed round many courts which
originally had served for the habitation of the monks and
clergy attached to the cathedral church. The principal
dwellings formed that which was termed the " Petit
Archeveque," and was set aside especially for the use of
the coadjutors of the archbishops of Paris. In ordinary
times nothing could be more calm and silent than this vast
locality, frequented only by the quiet and staid dignitaries
of the church; but at the epoch of which we write, it ap-
peared more like the stronghold of some warlike chieftain
than the calm and peaceful home of a studious ecclesiastic.
Here it was that the numerous escort of Paul de Goudi
resided—his men-at-arms and attendants to parliament
by day. Sentinels paraded in front of the entrance
and round the building at night ; in fact, every care was
taken to prevent surprise, and a vigorous opposition could
have at any time been maintained against all beseigers.
In case of any disturbance, the Coadjutor could have put
the towers of Notre Dame in a state of defence, so that
the old metropolitan church of France supplied the place
of a citadel to the lion-hearted leader of La Fronde. In
spite of all seeming difficulties in penetrating the interior
of this well-guarded place, the coach in which our friends
were seated, met with no stop or hindrance until it had
reached the door of a guard-room at which a gentleman-
at-arms stood to reconnoitre the arrival. The driver mut-
tered a few words, and was ordered to pass on In do-
ing so the scholar enquired if the Coadjutor had returned.
" But just now," replied the officer; " and he must he
mad thus to expose himself nightly without an escort. As
for you, Master Student. I am desired to tell you that he
awaits your coming in the library. Good night."
So saying, be re-entered a sort of apartment which
served as a reception for the guard. The coach rumbled
heavily through a dark court, and stopped opposite a flight
of stone steps. The travellers desended, and guided by
Vireton, to whom the intricacies of the mansion seemed
perfectly familiar, they arrived at a spacious antecham-
ber, where a tired lacquey slept profoundly on a bench.
" Wait for me here," said the Scholar, in a whisper.
" I will see his lordship, and acquaint him with the pre-
sence of this young lady, and explain to him how it has
arisen ; believe me, I will not fail to interest him in your
behalf."

" We have no hope but in the powerful protection of
Monsieur le Coadjutor," murmured the Countess, sinking
on a seat.

Eustache addressed a word of kindness to the lovers,
and left them smilingly. The next minute he disappeared
without awaking the valet, who slept on unconscious of
the presence of others.
The Coadjutor was alone in his study, seated before a
secretaire, the desk of which was covered with a mass of
letters and papers ; he was perusing, by the light of a huge
silver lamp, the notes which served him at a future pe-
riod, in the compilation of his memoirs, and which he took
great pains every night to arrange and put in order. Not-
withstanding the whole day and part of the night had been
spent in activity, he exhibited that unceasing energy of
mind and body for which he was so celebrated, and he
did not seem to be in the least fatigued. When Eustache
entered he received him with that free kindly manner
which he always shewed to those he esteemed and encou-
raged. The frank gaiety of the Coadjutor was a proof of
his tranquillity of mind, and the nobleness of his spirit.
" So here you are, worthy lieutenant," exclaimed De
Gondi, casting his pen upon the table, and turning his
arm chair towards the Scholar. "It seems then we have
succeeded to the very limit of our wishes. Ha, ha, ha !
I cannot help laughing when I think of that poor devil,
De Croissi ; what a figure he made when he found his
prisoner had been whisked off almost in the very sight of
the Queen. Faith, it was a bold stroke—ha, ha !- -and
all the glory is your own, brave Scholar. You have rare
qualities for an intrigue."
" And is my lord then satisfied with my poor services?"
inquired the pleased Scholar, rubbing his hands ; " it must
be confessed that my lord has added not a little to the
success of the affair. Discitejustitiam moniti."

" You flatter me, Sir Scholar," said the Coadjutor,
with an assumption of modesty. " The plan is thine, and
thou bast alone almost executed it. But where is our
man ? Have you not brought him with you ?"

Eustache smiled.
" Why do you smile ?"
" I have, my lord ; he is in the antechamber—but—"
" But what P why not bring him in ?"
" Because, my lord, the scheme has been more suc-
cessful than perhaps you expected, or perhaps will have
wished. I have delivered two prisoners instead of one."
" Two ! what is this you tell me ?"
" The truth is—almost at the moment we were about
to depart from the palace, a charming young lady, in a
state of despair—in tears, my lord—came and threw her-
self in the arms of Mons. Fabien de Croissi. We could
not leave the palace without her ' • so we—"
The Coadjutor's face wrinkled up.
" This is news, indeed; and do you know this young
maiden, so fair and in such distress P"
"I have no tseen her face yet it has been too dark to
see any tning ; ou twho can she be but the Countess de
Montglat ?--one of the Queen's maids of honour."
" Why what—in the name of--have you been thinking
of, Eustache Vireton," exclaimed the Coadjutor, in an
• " a tine crowning of your handy work you have
made indeed, by bringing a petticoat into the cloisters of
Notre Dame."

-
" My lord," replied the Scholar, timidly, " she would
not leave Mons. de Croissi, and—he would not leave her •
so I—l relied on your usual kindness of heart to—"
"A pest upon you and your suppositions," cried Gondi,
pacing the chamber rapidly to and fro. " You have done
well, Master Eustache ; and yet you have put me in a
most awkward predicament. To juggle the young gentle-

man out of the hands of his stupid brother was nothing
but a happy piece of pleasantry, and will one day put the
Queen into a rare good humour, when I tell her the truth
of the adventure—ha, ha ! but to carry off boldly and
daringly a maid of honour who has committed a grave of-
fence against the state, faith this is something more than
a jest. The Queen will be furious when she knows of
De Montglat's disappearance ; and should she find out
that we have played her this trick just at the moment she
is about to make me cardinal—"

" Cardinal !" repeated Vireton, opening widely his

eyes.

" Yes, cardial," continued the Coadjutor; " this
evening, after a secret conference, she sent off my nomi-
nation in proper form. Judge now, Master Scholar, if
this is a moment to embroil me with her highness. How
do you think I can conceal this girl in a house full of sol-
diers. They will not fail to discover her, and that quickly,
and what will become of my good name should this kid-
napping story and her concealment here, reach the ears of
the Queen, and—of--of certain other ladies; eh ! Master
Scholar."
He stopped and bit his lips.
" Come," continued he ; " we must not think any lon-
ger, we must act ; we must send these young folks away.
Suppose we put them into a coach, and let them go where
they like ; or send the young lady off, and keep the young
man ; but perhaps he will not be separated from his
pretty countess : let them both go--I wont see them."
" But I pray your pardon, my lord ; where can they go
at this time of night? They are both strangers in Pa-
ris, and they cannot find even shelter, much less a home.
Besides they are sure to be discovered ; and think of the
pitiable fate in reserve for them."
" What do I care ; I have done quite enough for this
young fellow ; and it is no fault of mine if he is always in
a scrape. I have saved him twice from the hands of the
Philistines; he must now help himself. After all, I
have no interest whatever in him, and it matters not to
me whether he goes to prison or he does not go ; I only
wanted to spoil that enterprise against M. le Conde. It
has failed ; the rest I don't care a straw for. As for this
bella contessa, I confess that I pity her ; when she wept
before the Queen she certainly looked very beautiful. I
did not doubt that I should have obtained her pardon ;
but this is no reason why I should get into a quarrel with
her Majesty. Let her go to the Carmelites, if she likes ;
it is no affair of mine."
" But my lord."
" Go to the devil," exclaimed the Coadjutor, pacing
up and down in a perfect pet, the cardinal's hat now
floating, now vanishing, before his eyes.
" But my lord ; in the name of good manners and—
and morality."
" What is that you say ?" asked the Coadjutor, sud-
denly stopping, and turning sharply round.
Paul de Gondi had a great horror of scandal, notwith-
standing his own somewhat lax morals ; without doubt
the Scholar knew this well.
" In truth, my lord," replied the Scholar, with a hypo-
critical accent, "that it will be only an act of Christian
charity not to abandon thus these young people. Think
what will become of them if no one exercises over them a
paternal authority ; they may perhaps become a shame
to their relations ; —they are in the springtime of South,
my lord, and—"
" True, true," interrupted Paul de G,A;idi, with a
thoughtful air ; " but what have I do with that ?"
De Gondi again paced the chamber.
" Why should I, Master Vireton, create new difficul-
ties at this moment ? I will not—l cannot."
" Well, hut my lord ; consent only to see them but a
moment."
" For what purpose ?"
" For—for—why just to give them a little advice ; and
—tell them of the scandal that may arise by their pecu-
liar position, and—and"
The Coadjutor burst into a loud laugh.
" You are the devil himself in diplomatising, Eustache ;
you can always find reasons," said he, throwing himself
into his arm-chair. " Well, let them come in. We will
see what will be the best way to proceed when we have
spoken to them."
Paul de Gondi inwardly chuckled. He could not for-
bear smiling at the recollection of Fabien's escape, and
the present peculiar position of the two young people about
to appear before him.
Vireton ran out of the chamber, and the next moment
returned w!th his proteges.
They entered with slow steps, and made the prelate a
silent salutation. Elizabeth v'sibly trembled as she leant
upon Fabien's arm; the emotions and sorrows of the d,.y
had spread upon her beautiful countenance a most touch-
ing air of melancholy. She wept no more ; but the sad-
ness of her looks was more lovely than the brightest
smile of joy. The depression of Fabien was more manly ;
he appeared not to feel his own situation, but to expe-
rience only anxiety for the confiding girl who had thus
so strangely and unexpectedly been cast upon his pro-
tection, and whose sole help he knew himself to be. His
countenance was firm, and the violent passions which had
but just now so highly excited him had left on his features
but faint traces. His eyes followed attentively every
gesture of his young companion ; for her he suffered—for
her sake he implored pity. Seeing them thus sustaining
each other, the Coadjutor, in spite of himself, could not
but feel moved ; he was not ignorant of the fatality which
accompanied this young, noble, and handsome couple,
that intrigue and ambition had dragged from solitude,
to bruise and destroy. In the presence of Elizabeth he
could not feel angry •, he rose from his seat, and offered
his hand to conduct her to a chair near him, with the ut-
most grace and politeness.
" Sit down, my child," said he, in his blandest tone of
voice ; " sit down, and recover yourself; and you,
gallant sir, be seated. God, who holds in his hands the
hearts of kings, will not abandon you if you put your trust
in him."

This religious consolation, which may appear strange
from the lips of Paul de Gondi, was neither the effect of
abstraction nor hypocrisy ; in the midst of his pleasures
and his gallant, ies, the Coadjutor had preserved for reli-
gion a profound respect and sincere faith. Late in life he
gave ample proof of this, when his political career was
past, for he became a model for fervent and devout
Christians.
Elizabeth answered only by an inclination of the head ;
but Fabien, with whom the kindness of the Coadjutor had
given courage, said, in a tone of the profoundest respect,
" The measure of your goodness is overflowing to-
wards me, my lord. The day before yesterday you
saved my life, in rescuing me from the bands of the en-
raged populace ; yesterday you snatched me from the
terrible anger of the Queen ; nevertheless I yet dare to
implore your powerful intererence in succouring this
lady, so unhappily for herself linked with my misfor-
tunes."

" No, no, my lord," cried Elizabeth, clasping her
hands ; " if your generosity should be exercised upon
either of us, let it, be upon my companion, who, loyal
and brave, has resisted, in the very presence of the most
powerful persons in the kingdom, the temptations of
riches and honour, held out to him as rewards for
crime. He it is, my lord, who has a claim upon your
generosity—not I—l, who ought to bear with resigna-
tion my ingratitude towards my royal mistress."
The Coadjutor placed his hand to his brow with an
air of reflection. " Truly, my dear lady, I should be
glad to he of service to both of you, for your affliction
and situation greatly interest me, and you are evidently
the innocent victims of those political influences to which
I have given perhaps too much of my titre and thoughts.
Unhappily I am placed in so difficu.lt a position, that I
cannot follow the bent of my own inclinations, which
would lead me to serve you. I cannot tell you upon
what point, but there is imminent danger to me in al-
lowing you to remain in the cloisters."
Elizabeth quickly arose. "My lord," she asked with
firmness, " is not my presence the sole cause of your
embarrassment P and if I were to leave these walls,
would it not be possible for you to give Fabien an asy-
lum ? "
" Mademoiselle, I avow frankly—"
" Well, then, my lord, will you allow me the use of
your coach, that has just brought us here P I will go
back to the palace, which indeed I ought not to have

quitted."
" What would you, Elizabeth ? " exclaimed Fabien.
" Do you not reflect, that if you to-night return to the
palace, you will he turned from it with shame to-mor-
row ? Have you forgotten that the doors of a convent
will close upon you, and separate you for ever from the
world and me ?"
44 Lady," said the Coadjutor, " it is cruel perhaps to
reproach you in your misfortunes ; nevertheless I must
point out to you the imprudence which you have com-
mitted in thus quitting the palace stealthily and at
night with a young and gallant cavalier. This action,
notwithstanding the peculiar circumstances under which
you have been placed may appear somewhat to excuse
you, is not the less blameable in itself; and you see that
God punishes you by deep regrets."
" Oh ! will you hut hear me, my lord ?" cried Eli-
zabeth warmly. " The frightful position in which I
found myself was surely a sufficient excuse. No one
knows what Fabien has suffered through me, and for my
sake: no one can tell what bitter reproaches he ought
to heap upon me this day. Before the ambition of my
good aunt condemned me to endure the pomp and splen-
dour of the court, I loved Fahieu with a pure affection,
and Fabien returned my love. Our attachment was
superior to the vicissitudes of position and fortune, and
we were betrothed in the eye of Heaven. Nevertheless
I parted from him, in obedience to the higher duty I
owed my kind relation, and soon I appeared to forget
him. He thought me unkind ; but I had not forgotten
him. He doubtless accused me of ingratitude. Oh !
did he but know what I suffered, when that proud wo-
man whom I thought my benefactress--"
She stopped, as if recollecting the alleged close ac-
quaintance of the Coadjutor with Madame de Chevreuse.
" Go on, go on, my child," said the Coadjutor, smi-
ling. " It is true Madame de Chevreuse is my friend,
but I will not attempt to excuse either her faults or
those of—of her daughter ; and if I confess to you my
thoughts, 1 have often pitied you to find you placed at
the mercy of Madame de Chevreuse."
" Alas ! my lord, it is but too true. She asserted over
me a strange domination, at which I have often blushed.
For fear that I should find an escape from her tyranny,
she watched my simplest actions. My affection for

Fabieu gave her great offence. She forba le in,. writo44
to Normandy. The day I ventured to transgre:ls that
order, she shewed me my lt,tter intercepted."
" Poor Eliz•theth ! " exclaimed Fabien ; " and I to
have accused you of unkindness ! "
" This was not all," continued the maid of honour
" Fabien mentally suffered through me, but he lived in
tranquillity and peace in his country home. The bril-
liant worid which would have converted the affianced
ma d into an ingrate, would have made the intr. she
loved a murderer. Designs the most artful—false-
hoods the most cunningly concocted—were originated;
and I—l it was, who drew the one dearest to my heart
into the snare. My name was used to induce him to
commit a horrid crime, but which, thank Heaven, he
has scrrned as I felt he would do. lit is who will have
condemned him to captivity, should he be discovered.
Oh ! my lord, reflect but one moment. This night, see-
ing him pursued—despairing—a fugitive—could I have
abandoned him, when all the evils heaped upon him are
of my creation ? Do not think that in quitting the pa_
lace I did so from a wish to elude the deserved punish.
ment the Queen has awarded me; hut Fabien told me
that my presence alone would give him strength to sup.
port life. I have followed him to aid, to console him."
A silence of some minutes followed Elizabeth's touch-
ing address.
" I believe you to be sincere, my child," replied Paul
de Gondi, with a thoughtful air; " and if the step you
have taken is blameable in itself, it is possible the mo-
tives may be praiseworthy. But, however moved I may
appear to be by your affliction, I still fail to perceive
means to assist you."
" I will go, my lord," said Elizabeth resignedly ; " I
will return to the palace."
" Then I will go with you," exclaimed Fabien with
determination.
The Coadjutor rose, and paced up and down the li-
brary for a moment. He suddenly stopped. " Come
what will, I will protect you. We must endeavour to
deceive your enemies. I will see what can be done.
Remain here, my dear children ; and I pledge you my
word that I will defend you against the world. Paul
de Gondi does not promise in vain."
" Oh, my lord ! what kindness is this ? "
" Stop," said the Coadjutor, with a sly air, as if a
sudden thought had but just flashed across his brain ;
" I shall attach certain conditions to my services."
" Oh ! name them, my lord," exclaimed Elizabeth
and Fabien.
" The first is, that to-morrow I must marry you in
my private chapel. I must take this precaution for cer-
tain reasons—of a personal nature. As neither of you
have relations who can claim any right to dispose of
you, the affair can be effected without difficulty."
Fabien gazed fondly upon the young Countess, who
hung down her lovely head, her face suffused with the
deepest blushes. Paul de Gondi smiled.
" Fabien," murmured Elizabeth, " am not I ahead);
your affianced wife ? "
"The second condition is, that you will undertake to
obey me without remonstrance.
The young couple fervently promised absolute obedi-
ence.

" Well, then, as a commencement," continued the
Coadjutor, " I must tell you that you must consider
yourselves as prisoners within these walls. Outside num-
berless dangers surround you. Moreover, as crowds of
persons every day pass through the Cloister, and as
amongst the multitude some may recognise you, you
must remain closely concealed within the apartments
allotted to you. Without you will undertake to do this,
I cannot answer for your safety."
" Sly lord, we will implicitly obey you."
" You will find, my dear young friends, that my hos-
pitality will prove neither agreeable nor splendid ; but,"
added he jokingly, "you will, I dare say, think it better
than what you would have met with in the Bastile or
amongst the Carmelites. Mademoiselle, for this night I
must place you under the charge of my old housekeeper,
Dame Germaine; and she will no doubt administer to
your comfort as much as our limited accommodations
for ladies will admit. For you, M. Fabien, Master
Scholar here will see you well bestowed. Adieu till
to-morrow ! "

The Coadjutor gracefully waved his hand, and bid-
ding his protegees good night, Fabien and Elizabeth
immediately retired, attended by the domestic who had
been summoned by the Scholar, and to whom instruc-
tions had been given.
Paul de Gondi and the Scholar were again alone.
The Coadjutor rested his elbow on his desk, and appeared
buried in thought, and quite unconscious that the Scholar
was gazing on his countenance with much curiosity. A
movement made by him attracted De Gondi's attention,
and dissipated the train of reflection in which he had
indulged.

"Ah ! my trusty lieutenant," said he, smiling, " are
you still here ? Well, what would you ?"
" I only wish to know if I have not worthily served
you, my lord ?"

"- Right well, and you richly deserve reward; and I
will fulfil my promise ; but before I bestow nn you the gift
I named as a recompense for your zeal, I have yet occa-
sion for your services for some short time. You are ad-
venturous, skilful, full of expedients, and I believe honest ;
you can yet be useful to me. Remain with me, and you
shall lose nothing by it, believe me, good Eustache."
" My dear lord," replied the Scholar, delighted to chew
his zeal in his patron's service ; " I would rather remain
near you than enjoy the richest benefice in your gift ; and
if it is your wish we will together endeavour to assist otir
young friends, and crown them with happiness."
" With happiness, good Scholar," repeated Gondi, with
a sigh ; " then you think that they may yet be happy now
that the first danger is past."
" I do indeed, my lord; the young man is brave, frank,
and honest ; the lady is fair, gentle, and loving."..

•
" I she is fair, and asYou say. , loving," added the
Coadjutor, with something like a sigh.
" My lord, such a remark and such a sigh would become
better a gay young gallant than a grave and sage cardi-
nal."

" True, trusty Scholar ; but I possess a heart the least
ecclesiastical in all the world ; but since it has fallen to
my lot to wear the sacerdotal robe—black, violet, or red—
what does it matter P but now away, you require some
rest."

" And you, my lord."
The statesman made Eustache a sign of farewell, and
again commenced the perusal and arrangement of those
profound political calculations which occupied all his
thoughts.
How easily might we here conclude our narration. A
few dashes of the willing pen would tell how the lovers

were married, how the Queen forgave, and how all the
dramatis personte met Kith their deserts ; but we must
still continue the vein of history, and trace it out. The
events of one day have yet to be told—a day replete with
excitement, opening with the assembling of armed men,
amidst the ringing tones of trumpets, and closing with a
deed of blood.

(To be continued.)

NOTICES.

The Farmer's Magazine. London : Joseph Rogerson,
Norfolk-street, Strand.

The number of this magazine for the present month is
more than usually full of information, which must be in-
valuable to the agriculturists. In addition to the letter-
press it contains a beautifully executed engraving of Chas.
Coiling, Esq., the celebrated breeder of short-horns, and
a vignette engraving of a short-horned heifer to which a
first prize was awarded at the agricultural show at York,
in 1842. Accompanying the former we have a short me-
moir of Mr. Coiling, by C. W. Johnston, Esq., F.R.S.,
from which the following extracts may be of interest to
our agricultural readers :
ORIGIN OF THE SHORT-HORNED BREED.—The cha-
racter of Charles Colling was evidently cool, calm, saga-
cious, and energetic. His neighbours and rival breeders,
who watched his progress with all the anxiety that his
unexampled success so naturally excited, could never di-
vine the objects he had in view, or the principles on which
he acted. These traits in his character have been inci-
dentally noticed by Professor Youatt, in his excellent
work on cattle, when tracing the history of the Teeswater
Short Horns; and what he has so well described we will
not attempt to give in other language. •` Whatever,"
says Mr. Youatt, "had, been the merits of the Teeswater
cattle, it is certain that Mr. Coiling greatly improved
them, and although it bas been often asserted that his
success was the result of chance, arising from the posses-
sion of an animal with the merits of which, it is supposed,
he was at one time unacquainted, yet the writer of this
article is of opinion that Mr. Colling's success resulted
from a deliberate and well considered plan. Coiling found
the Teeswater, like all other :extravagantly large cattle,
very frequently of loose make and disproportion. He was
sensible, also, of the difficulty of breeding with anything
like certainty large good animals ; and though he had on
all occasions declined to throw any light on his views and
proceedings, still the writer thinks he can detect, in the
very outset, and through the progress of his practice, a
resolution to reduce the size of this breed, and at the same
time, by that means, to improve its form. This he is sup-
posed to have effected in the first instance through the
medium of a bull called " Hubback," an animal respect-
ing which there has been much controversy, principally
touching the purity of his blood, a question now of little
importance, because it is admitted on all hands that Mr.
Coiling adopted another cross which prevails in a majority
of superior short horns of the present day.
HUBBACK," THE SIRE OF THE SHORT-HORNED
BREED.—Without entering on an inquiry as to the cir-
cumstances by which " Hubback's" title to be considered
of pure blood is supported or weakened, it may suffice
to observe, that it appears probable that he possessed on
one side the improved blood. The possessor of his dam
was a person in indigent circumstances, and grazed his
cow on the highways ; when afterwards she was removed
to good land, near Darlington, she became so fat that she
did not again breed, and her son having the same propen-
sity in a high degree, was useful as a bull but during a
very short period. The quality of his flesh, hide, and
hair, are supposed to have been seldom equalled ; and as
he was much smaller than the Teeswater cattle, he was
eminently calculated to forward Mr. Colling's views.
It has been remarked that we have at present no supe-
rior horses on the turf, which does not boast the blood of
the Godolphin Arabian ; so it may be asserted that we
have no superior short-horns which do not claim descent
nearly, or remotely, from Hubback.
This account of " Hubback" differs in some particulars