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diff --git a/old/14219-h/14219-h.htm b/old/14219-h/14219-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1243da0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14219-h/14219-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12197 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Helmet Of Navarre, by +Bertha Runkle.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .par { float: left; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: -6%; + margin-right: -12%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Helmet of Navarre, by Bertha Runkle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Helmet of Navarre + +Author: Bertha Runkle + +Release Date: November 30, 2004 [EBook #14219] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELMET OF NAVARRE *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/001.jpg" width="45%" alt="" +title="" /> +<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"><a name="003.jpg"></a> <a href= +"images/003.jpg"><img src="images/003.jpg" width="45%" alt="" +title="" /></a><br /> +<b>THE FLORENTINES IN THE HÔTEL DE MAYENNE</b> +<br /></div> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/004.png" width="45%" alt="" +title="" /> +<br /></div> +<h1>THE HELMET OF NAVARRE</h1> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANDRÉ CASTAIGNE</h3> +<h4>THE CENTURY CO.</h4> +<h5>NEW YORK 1901</h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TO MY MOTHER</h2> +<div class="center">Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst +the ranks of war,<br /> +And be your oriflamme to-day the Helmet of Navarre.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">LORD MACAULAY'S +"IVRY."</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br /></div> +<div class="center"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td align="right">CHAPTER</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#I">I</a></td> +<td> <a href="#I">A FLASH OF LIGHTNING</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#I">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#II">II</a></td> +<td> <a href="#II">AT THE AMOUR DE DIEU</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#II">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#III">III</a></td> +<td> <a href="#III">M. LE DUC IS WELL GUARDED</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#III">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#IV">IV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#IV">THE THREE MEN IN THE WINDOW</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#IV">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#V">V</a></td> +<td> <a href="#V">RAPIERS AND A VOW</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#V">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#VI">VI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#VI">A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VI">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#VII">VII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#VII">A DIVIDED DUTY</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VII">62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#VIII">VIII</a></td> +<td> <a href= +"#VIII">CHARLES-ANDRÉ-ÉTIENNE-MARIE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VIII">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#IX">IX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#IX">THE HONOUR OF ST. QUENTIN</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#IX">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#X">X</a></td> +<td> <a href="#X">LUCAS AND "LE GAUCHER"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#X">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XI">XI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XI">VIGO</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XI">107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XII">XII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XII">THE COMTE DE MAR</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XII">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIII">XIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XIII">MADEMOISELLE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIII">134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIV">XIV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XIV">IN THE ORATORY</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIV">153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XV">XV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XV">MY LORD MAYENNE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XV">167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVI">XVI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XVI">MAYENNE'S WARD</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVI">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVII">XVII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XVII">"I'LL WIN MY LADY!"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVII">203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XVIII">TO THE BASTILLE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVIII">222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIX">XIX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XIX">TO THE HÔTEL DE +LORRAINE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIX">241</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XX">XX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XX">"ON GUARD, MONSIEUR"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XX">251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXI">XXI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXI">A CHANCE ENCOUNTER</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXI">266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXII">XXII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXII">THE SIGNET OF THE KING</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXII">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXIII">THE CHEVALIER OF THE +TOURNELLES</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIII">296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXIV">THE FLORENTINES</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIV">319</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXV">XXV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXV">A DOUBLE MASQUERADE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXV">336</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXVI">WITHIN THE SPIDER'S WEB</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVI">362</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXVII">THE COUNTERSIGN</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVII">379</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXVIII">ST. DENIS—AND +NAVARRE!</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVIII">402</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXIX">THE TWO DUKES</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIX">423</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXX">XXX</a></td> +<td><a href="#XXX">MY YOUNG LORD SETTLES SCORES WITH TWO FOES AT +ONCE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXX">440</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXXI">XXXI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#XXXI">"THE VERY PATTERN OF A +KING"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXXI">461</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<div class="center"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#003.jpg">THE FLORENTINES IN THE HÔTEL DE +MAYENNE</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#003.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#098.jpg">"WITH A CRY MONSIEUR SPRANG TOWARD +ME"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#098.jpg">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#128.jpg">"IN A FLASH HE WAS OUT OF THEIR GRASP, +FLYING DOWN THE ALLEY"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#128.jpg">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#160.jpg">"I DO NOT FORGIVE HIS DESPATCHING ME HIS +HORSE-BOY"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#160.jpg">149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#180.jpg">MLLE. DE MONTLUC AND FÉLIX BROUX IN +THE ORATORY</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#180.jpg">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#216.jpg">"SORRY TO DISTURB MONSIEUR, BUT THE HORSES +MUST BE FED"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#216.jpg">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#248.jpg">"HE WAS DEPOSITED IN THE BIG BLACK +COACH"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#248.jpg">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#272.jpg">"WE CLIMBED OUT INTO A SILK-MERCER'S +SHOP"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#272.jpg">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#324.jpg">AT THE "BONNE FEMME"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#324.jpg">313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#408.jpg">"IT DESOLATES ME TO HEAR OF HER +EXTREMITY"</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#408.jpg">397</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#422.jpg">ON THE WAY TO ST. DENIS</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#422.jpg">411</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#478.jpg">THE MEETING</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#478.jpg">467</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE HELMET OF NAVARRE.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<img src="images/014.png" width="60%" alt="" title="" /> +<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> +<h3><i>A flash of lightning.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>t the stair-foot the landlord stopped me. "Here, lad, take a +candle. The stairs are dark, and, since I like your looks, I would +not have you break your neck."</p> +<p>"And give the house a bad name," I said.</p> +<p>"No fear of that; my house has a good name. There is no fairer +inn in all Paris. And your chamber is a good chamber, though you +will have larger, doubtless, when you are Minister of Finance."</p> +<p>This raised a laugh among the tavern idlers, for I had been +bragging a bit of my prospects. I retorted:</p> +<p>"When I am, Maître Jacques, look out for a rise in your +taxes."</p> +<p>The laugh was turned on mine host, and I retired with the +honours of that encounter. And though the stairs were the steepest +I ever climbed, I had the breath and the spirit to whistle all the +way up. What mattered it that already I ached in every bone, that +the stair was long and my bed but a heap of straw in the garret of +a mean inn in a poor quarter? I was in Paris, the city of my +dreams!</p> +<p>I am a Broux of St. Quentin. The great world has never heard of +the Broux? No matter; they have existed these hundreds of years, +Masters of the Forest, and faithful servants of the dukes of St. +Quentin. The great world has heard of the St. Quentins? I warrant +you! As loudly as it has of Sully and Villeroi, Trémouille +and Biron. That is enough for the Broux.</p> +<p>I was brought up to worship the saints and M. le Duc, and I +loved and revered them alike, by faith, for M. le Duc, at court, +seemed as far away from us as the saints in heaven. But the year +after King Henry III was murdered, Monsieur came to live on his +estate, to make high and low love him for himself.</p> +<p>In that bloody time, when the King of Navarre and the two +Leagues were tearing our poor France asunder, M. le Duc found +himself between the devil and the deep sea. He was no friend to the +League; for years he had stood between the king, his master, and +the machinations of the Guises. On the other hand, he was no friend +to the Huguenots. "To seat a heretic on the throne of France were +to deny God," he said. Therefore he came home to St. Quentin, where +he abode in quiet for some three years, to the great wonderment of +all the world.</p> +<p>Had he been a cautious man, a man who looked a long way ahead, +his compeers would have understood readily enough that he was +waiting to see how the cat would jump, taking no part in the +quarrel lest he should mix with the losing side. But this theory +jibed so ill with Monsieur's character that not even his worst +detractor could accept it. For he was known to all as a +hotspur—a man who acted quickly and seldom counted the cost. +Therefore his present conduct was a riddle, nor could any of the +emissaries from King or League, who came from time to time to +enlist his aid and went away without it, read the answer. The +puzzle was too deep for them. Yet it was only this: to Monsieur, +honour was more than a pretty word. If he could not find his cause +honest, he would not draw his sword, though all the curs in the +land called him coward.</p> +<p>Thus he stayed alone in the château for a long, irksome +three years. Monsieur was not of a reflective mind, content to +stand aside and watch while other men fought out great issues. It +was a weary procession of days to him. His only son, a lad a few +years older than I, shared none of his father's scruples and +refused point-blank to follow him into exile. He remained in Paris, +where they knew how to be gay in spite of sieges. Therefore I, the +Forester's son, whom Monsieur took for a page, had a chance to come +closer to my lord and be more to him than a mere servant, and I +loved him as the dogs did. Aye, and admired him for a fortitude +almost more than human, in that he could hold himself passive here +in farthest Picardie, whilst in Normandie and Île de France +battles raged and towns fell and captains won glory.</p> +<p>At length, in the opening of the year 1593, M. le Duc began to +have a frequent visitor, a gentleman in no wise remarkable save for +that he was accorded long interviews with Monsieur. After these +visits my lord was always in great spirits, putting on frisky airs, +like a stallion when he is led out of the stable. I looked for +something to happen, and it was no surprise to me when M. le Duc +announced one day, quite without warning, that he was done with St. +Quentin and would be off in the morning for Mantes. I was in the +seventh heaven of joy when he added that he should take me with +him. I knew the King of Navarre was at Mantes—at last we were +going to make history! There was no bound to my golden dreams, no +limit to my future.</p> +<p>But my house of cards suffered a rude tumble, and by no hand but +my father's. He came to Monsieur, and, presuming on an old +servitor's privilege, begged him to leave me at home.</p> +<p>"I have lost two sons in Monsieur's service," he said: "Jean, +hunting in this forest, and Blaise, in the fray at Blois. I have +never grudged them to Monsieur. But Félix is all I have +left."</p> +<p>Thus it came about that I was left behind, hidden in the +hay-loft, when my duke rode away. I could not watch his going.</p> +<p>Though the days passed drearily, yet they passed. Time does +pass, at length, even when one is young. It was July. The King of +Navarre had moved up to St. Denis, in his siege of Paris, but most +folk thought he would never win the city, the hotbed of the League. +Of M. le Duc we heard no word till, one night, a chance traveller, +putting up at the inn in the village, told a startling tale. The +Duke of St. Quentin, though known to have been at Mantes and +strongly suspected of espousing Navarre's cause, had ridden calmly +into Paris and opened his hôtel! It was madness—madness +sheer and stark. Thus far his religion had saved him, yet any day +he might fall under the swords of the Leaguers.</p> +<p>My father came, after hearing this tale, to where I was lying on +the grass, the warm summer night, thinking hard thoughts of him for +keeping me at home and spoiling my chances in life. He gave me +straightway the whole of the story. Long before it was over I had +sprung to my feet.</p> +<p>"Do you still wish to join M. le Duc?" he said.</p> +<p>"Father!" was all I could gasp.</p> +<p>"Then you shall go," he answered. That was not bad for an old +man who had lost two sons for Monsieur!</p> +<p>I set out in the morning, light of baggage, purse, and heart. I +can tell naught of the journey, for I heeded only that at the end +of it lay Paris. I reached the city one day at sundown, and entered +without a passport at the St. Denis gate, the warders being hardly +so strict as Mayenne supposed. I was dusty, foot-sore, and hungry, +in no guise to present myself before Monsieur; wherefore I went no +farther that night than the inn of the Amour de Dieu, in the Rue +des Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>Far below my garret window lay the street—a trench between +the high houses. Scarce eight feet off loomed the dark wall of the +house opposite. To me, fresh from the wide woods of St. Quentin, it +seemed the desire of Paris folk to outhuddle in closeness the +rabbits in a warren. So ingenious were they at contriving to waste +no inch of open space that the houses, standing at the base but a +scant street's width apart, ever jutted out farther at each story +till they looked to be fairly toppling together. I could see into +the windows up and down the way; see the people move about within; +hear opposite neighbours call to each other. But across from my +aery were no lights and no people, for that house was shuttered +tight from attic to cellar, its dark front as expressionless as a +blind face. I marvelled how it came to stand empty in that teeming +quarter.</p> +<p>Too tired, however, to wonder long, I blew out the candle, and +was asleep before I could shut my eyes.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Crash! Crash! Crash!</p> +<p>I sprang out of bed in a panic, thinking Henry of Navarre was +bombarding Paris. Then, being fully roused, I perceived that the +noise was thunder.</p> +<p>From the window I peered into floods of rain. The peals died +away. Suddenly came a terrific lightning-flash, and I cried out in +astonishment. For the shutter opposite was open, and I had a vivid +vision of three men in the window.</p> +<p>Then all was dark again, and the thunder shook the roof.</p> +<p>I stood straining my eyes into the night, waiting for the next +flash. When it came it showed me the window barred as before. Flash +followed flash; I winked the rain from my eyes and peered in vain. +The shutter remained closed as if it had never been opened. Sleep +rolled over me in a great wave as I groped my way back to bed.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> +<h3><i>At the Amour de Dieu.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-w.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>hen I woke in the morning, the sun was shining broadly into the +room, glinting in the little pools of water on the floor. I stared +at them, sleepy-eyed, till recollection came to me of the +thunder-storm and the open shutter and the three men. I jumped up +and ran to the window. The shutters opposite were closed; the house +just as I had seen it first, save for the long streaks of wet down +the wall. The street below was one vast puddle. At all events, the +storm was no dream, as I half believed the vision to be.</p> +<p>I dressed speedily and went down-stairs. The inn-room was +deserted save for Maître Jacques, who, with heat, demanded of +me whether I took myself for a prince, that I lay in bed till all +decent folk had been hours about their business, and then expected +breakfast. However, he brought me a meal, and I made no complaint +that it was a poor one.</p> +<p>"You have strange neighbours in the house opposite," said I.</p> +<p>He started, and the thin wine he was setting before me splashed +over on the table.</p> +<p>"What neighbours?"</p> +<p>"Why, they who close their shutters when other folks would keep +them open, and open them when others keep them shut," I said +airily. "Last night I saw three men in the window opposite +mine."</p> +<p>He laughed.</p> +<p>"Aha, my lad, your head is not used to our Paris wines. That is +how you came to see visions."</p> +<p>"Nonsense," I cried, nettled. "Your wine is too well watered for +that, let me tell you, Maître Jacques."</p> +<p>"Then you dreamed it," he said huffily. "The proof is that no +one has lived in that house these twenty years."</p> +<p>Now, I had plenty to trouble about without troubling my head +over night-hawks, but I was vexed with him for putting me off. So, +with a fine conceit of my own shrewdness, I said:</p> +<p>"If it was only a dream, how came you to spill the wine?"</p> +<p>He gave me a keen glance, and then, with a look round to see +that no one was by, leaned across the table, up to me.</p> +<p>"You are sharp as a gimlet," said he. "I see I may as well tell +you first as last. Marry, an you will have it, the place is +haunted."</p> +<p>"Holy Virgin!" I cried, crossing myself.</p> +<p>"Aye. Twenty years ago, in the great massacre—you know +naught of that: you were not born, I take it, and, besides, are a +country boy. But I was here, and I know. A man dared not stir out +of doors that dark day. The gutters ran blood."</p> +<p>"And that house—what happened in that house?"</p> +<p>"Why, it was the house of a Huguenot gentleman, M. de +Béthune," he answered, bringing out the name hesitatingly in +a low voice. "They were all put to the sword—the whole +household. It was Guise's work. The Duc de Guise sat on his white +horse, in this very street here, while it was going on. Parbleu! +that was a day."</p> +<p>"Mon dieu! yes."</p> +<p>"Well, that is an old story now," he resumed in a different +tone. "One-and-twenty years ago, that was. Such things don't happen +now. But the people, they have not forgotten; they will not go near +that house. No one will live there."</p> +<p>"And have others seen as well as I?"</p> +<p>"So they say. But I'll not let it be talked of on my premises. +Folk might get to think them too near the haunted house. 'Tis +another matter with you, though, since you have had the +vision."</p> +<p>"There were three men," I said, "young men, in sombre +dress—"</p> +<p>"M. de Béthune and his cousins. What further? Did you +hear shrieks?"</p> +<p>"There was naught further," I said, shuddering. "I saw them for +the space of a lightning-flash, plain as I see you. The next minute +the shutters were closed again."</p> +<p>"'Tis a marvel," he answered gravely. "But I know what has +disturbed them in their graves, the heretics! It is that they have +lost their leader."</p> +<p>I stared at him blankly, and he added:</p> +<p>"Their Henry of Navarre."</p> +<p>"But he is not lost. There has been no battle."</p> +<p>"Lost to them," said Maître Jacques, "when he turns +Catholic."</p> +<p>"Oh!" I cried.</p> +<p>"Oh!" he mocked. "You come from the country; you don't know +these things."</p> +<p>"But the King of Navarre is too stiff-necked a heretic!"</p> +<p>"Bah! Time bends the stiffest neck. Tell me this: for what do +the learned doctors sit in council at Mantes?"</p> +<p>"Oh," said I, bewildered, "you tell me news, Maître +Jacques."</p> +<p>"If Henry of Navarre be not a Catholic before the month is out, +spit me on my own jack," he answered, eying me rather keenly as he +added:</p> +<p>"It should be welcome news to you."</p> +<p>Welcome was it; it made plain the reason Monsieur's change of +base. Yet it was my duty to be discreet.</p> +<p>"I am glad to hear of any heretic coming to the faith," I +said.</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" he cried. "To the devil with pretences! 'Tis an open +secret that your patron has gone over to Navarre."</p> +<p>"I know naught of it."</p> +<p>"Well, pardieu! my Lord Mayenne does, then. If when he came to +Paris M. de St. Quentin counted that the League would not know his +parleyings, he was a fool."</p> +<p>"His parleyings?" I echoed feebly.</p> +<p>"Aye, the boy in the street knows he has been with Navarre. For, +mark you, all France has been wondering these many months where St. +Quentin was coming out. His movements do not go unnoted like a +yokel's. But, i' faith, he is not dull; he understands that well +enough. Nay, 'tis my belief he came into the city in pure +effrontery to show them how much he dared. He is a bold blade, your +duke. And, mon dieu! it had its effect. For the Leaguers have been +so agape with astonishment ever since that they have not raised a +finger against him."</p> +<p>"Yet you do not think him safe?"</p> +<p>"Safe, say you? Safe! Pardieu! if you walked into a cage of +lions, and they did not in the first instant eat you, would you +therefore feel safe? He was stark mad to come to Paris. There is no +man the League hates more, now they know they have lost him, and no +man they can afford so ill to spare to King Henry. A great Catholic +noble, he would be meat and drink to the Béarnais. He was +mad to come here."</p> +<p>"And yet nothing has happened to him."</p> +<p>"Verily, fortune favours the brave. No, nothing has +happened—yet. But I tell you true, Félix, I had rather +be the poor innkeeper of the Amour de Dieu than stand in M. de St. +Quentin's shoes."</p> +<p>"I was talking with the men here last night," I said. "There was +not one but had a good word for Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Aye, so they have. They like his pluck. And if the League kills +him it is quite on the cards that the people will rise up and make +the town lively. But that will not profit M. de St. Quentin if he +is dead."</p> +<p>I would not be dampened, though, by an old croaker.</p> +<p>"Nay, maître, if the people are with him, the League will +not dare—"</p> +<p>"There you fool yourself, my springald. If there is one thing +which the nobles of the League neither know nor care about it is +what the people think. They sit wrangling over their French League +and their Spanish League, their kings and their princesses, and +what this lord does and that lord threatens, and they give no heed +at all to us—us, the people. But they will find out their +mistake. Some day they will be taught that the nobles are not all +of France. There will come a reckoning when more blood will flow in +Paris than ever flowed on St. Bartholomew's day. They think we are +chained down, do they? Pardieu! there will come a day!"</p> +<p>I scarcely knew the man; his face was flushed, his eyes +sparkling as if they saw more than the common room and mean street. +But as I stared the glow faded, and he said in a lower tone:</p> +<p>"At least, it will happen unless Henry of Navarre comes to save +us from it. He is a good fellow, this Navarre."</p> +<p>"They say he can never enter Paris."</p> +<p>"They say lies. Let him but leave his heresies behind him and he +can enter Paris to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Mayenne does not think so."</p> +<p>"No; but Mayenne knows little of what goes on. He does not keep +an inn in the Rue Coupejarrets."</p> +<p>He stated the fact so gravely that I had to laugh.</p> +<p>"Laugh if you like; but I tell you, Félix Broux, my +lord's council-chamber is not the only place where they make kings. +We do it, too, we of the Rue Coupejarrets."</p> +<p>"Well," said I, "I leave you, then, to make kings. I must be off +to my duke. What's the scot, maître?"</p> +<p>He dropped the politician, and was all innkeeper in a +second.</p> +<p>"A crown!" I cried in indignation. "Do you think I am made of +crowns? Remember, I am not yet Minister of Finance."</p> +<p>"No, but soon will be," he grinned. "Besides, what I ask is +little enough, God knows. Do you think food is cheap in a +siege?"</p> +<p>"Then I pray Navarre may come soon and end it."</p> +<p>"Amen to that," said old Jacques, quite gravely. "If he comes a +Catholic it cannot be too soon."</p> +<p>I counted out my pennies with a last grumble.</p> +<p>"They ought to call this the Rue Coupebourses."</p> +<p>He laughed; he could afford to, with my silver jingling in his +pouch. He embraced me tenderly at parting, and hoped to see me +again at his inn. I smiled to myself; I had not come to +Paris—I—to stay in the Rue Coupejarrets!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> +<h3><i>M. le Duc is well guarded.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>stepped out briskly from the inn, pausing now and again to +inquire my way to the Hôtel St. Quentin, which stood, I knew, +in the Quartier Marais, where all the grand folk lived. Once I had +found the broad, straight Rue St. Denis, all I need do was to +follow it over the hill down to the river-bank; my eyes were free, +therefore, to stare at all the strange sights of the great +city—markets and shops and churches and prisons. But most of +all did I gape at the crowds in the streets. I had scarce realized +there were so many people in the world as passed me that summer +morning in the Town of Paris. Bewilderingly busy and gay the place +appeared to my country eyes, though in truth at that time Paris was +at its very worst, the spirit being well-nigh crushed out of it by +the sieges and the iron rule of the Sixteen.</p> +<p>I knew little enough of politics, and yet I was not so dull as +not to see that great events must happen soon. A crisis had come. I +looked at the people I passed who were going about their business +so tranquilly. Every one of them must be either Mayenne's man, or +Navarre's. Before a week was out these peaceable citizens might be +using pikes for tools and exchanging bullets for good mornings. +Whatever happened, here was I in Paris in the thick of it! My feet +fairly danced under me; I could not reach the hôtel soon +enough. Half was I glad of Monsieur's danger, for it gave me chance +to show what stuff I was made of. Live for him, die for +him—whatever fate could offer I was ready for.</p> +<p>The hôtel, when at length I arrived before it, was no +disappointment. Here one did not wait till midday to see the sun; +the street was of decent width, and the houses held themselves back +with reserve, like the proud gentlemen who inhabited them. Nor did +one here regret his possession of a nose, as he was forced to do in +the Rue Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>Of all the mansions in the place, the Hôtel St. Quentin +was, in my opinion, the most imposing; carved and ornamented and +stately, with gardens at the side. But there was about it none of +that stir and liveliness one expects to see about the houses of the +great. No visitors passed in or out, and the big iron gates were +shut, as if none were looked for. Of a truth, the persons who +visited Monsieur these days preferred to slip in by the postern +after nightfall, as if there had never been a time when they were +proud to be seen in his hall.</p> +<p>Beyond the grilles a sentry, in the green and scarlet of +Monsieur's men-at-arms, stood on guard, and I called out to him +boldly.</p> +<p>He turned at once; then looked as if the sight of me scarce +repaid him.</p> +<p>"I wish to enter, if you please," I said. "I am come to see M. +le Duc."</p> +<p>"You?" he ejaculated, his eye wandering over my attire, which, +none of the newest, showed signs of my journey.</p> +<p>"Yes, I," I answered in some resentment. "I am one of his +men."</p> +<p>He looked me up and down with a grin.</p> +<p>"Oh, one of his men! Well, my man, you must know M. le Duc is +not receiving to-day."</p> +<p>"I am Félix Broux," I told him.</p> +<p>"You may be Félix anybody for all it avails; you cannot +see Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Then I will see Vigo." Vigo was Monsieur's Master of Horse, the +staunchest man in France. This sentry was nobody, just a common +fellow picked up since Monsieur left St. Quentin, but Vigo had been +at his side these twenty years.</p> +<p>"Vigo, say you! Vigo does not see street boys."</p> +<p>"I am no street boy," I cried angrily. "I know Vigo well. You +shall smart for flouting me, when I have Monsieur's ear."</p> +<p>"Aye, when you have! Be off with you, rascal. I have no time to +bother with you."</p> +<p>"Imbecile!" I sputtered. But he had turned his back on me and +resumed his pacing up and down the court.</p> +<p>"Oh, very well for you, monsieur," I cried out loudly, hoping he +could hear me. "But you will laugh t'other side of your mouth by +and by. I'll pay you off."</p> +<p>It was maddening to be halted like this at the door of my goal; +it made a fool of me. But while I debated whether to set up an +outcry that would bring forward some officer with more sense than +the surly sentry, or whether to seek some other entrance, I became +aware of a sudden bustle in the courtyard, a narrow slice of which +I could see through the gateway. A page dashed across; then a pair +of flunkeys passed. There was some noise of voices and, finally, of +hoofs and wheels. Half a dozen men-at-arms ran to the gates and +swung them open, taking their stand on each side. Clearly, M. le +Duc was about to drive out.</p> +<p>A little knot of people had quickly collected—sprung from +between the stones of the pavement, it would seem—to see +Monsieur emerge.</p> +<p>"He is a bold man," I heard one say, and a woman answer, "Aye, +and a handsome," ere the heavy coach rolled out of the arch.</p> +<p>I pushed myself in close to the guardsmen, my heart thumping in +my throat now that the moment had come when I should see my +Monsieur. At the sight of his face I sprang bodily up on the +coach-step, crying, all my soul in my voice, "Oh, Monsieur! M. le +Duc!"</p> +<p>Monsieur looked at me coldly, blankly, without a hint of +recognition. The next instant the young gentleman beside him sprang +up-and struck me a blow that hurled me off the step. I fell where +the ponderous wheels would have ended me had not a guardsman, quick +and kind, pulled me out of the way. Some one shouted, +"Assassin!"</p> +<p>"I am no assassin," I cried; "I only sought to speak with +Monsieur."</p> +<p>"He deserves a hiding, the young cur," growled my foe, the +sentry. "He's been pestering me this half-hour to let him in. He +was one of Monsieur's men, he said. Monsieur would see him. Well, +we have seen how Monsieur treats him!"</p> +<p>"Faith, no," said another. "We have only seen how our young +gentleman treats him. Of course he is too proud and dainty to let a +common man so much as look at him."</p> +<p>They all laughed; the young gentleman seemed no favourite.</p> +<p>"Parbleu! that was why I drew him from the wheels, because +<i>he</i> knocked him there," said my preserver. "I don't believe +there's harm in the boy. What meant you, lad?"</p> +<p>"I meant no harm," I said, and turned sullenly off up the +street. This, then, was what I had come to Paris for—to be +denied entrance to the house, thrown under the coach-wheels, and +threatened with a drubbing from the lackeys!</p> +<p>For three years my only thought had been to serve Monsieur. From +waking in the morning to sleep at night, my whole life was +Monsieur's. Never was duty more cheerfully paid. Never did acolyte +more throw his soul into his service than I into mine. Never did +lover hate to be parted from his mistress more than I from +Monsieur. The journey to Paris had been a journey to Paradise. And +now, this!</p> +<p>Monsieur had looked me in the face and not smiled; had heard me +beseech him and not answered—not lifted a finger to save me +from being mangled under his very eyes. St. Quentin and Paris were +two very different places, it appeared. At St. Quentin Monsieur had +been pleased to take me into the château and treat me to more +intimacy than he accorded to the high-born lads, his other pages. +So much the easier, then, to cast me off when he had tired of me. +My heart seethed with rage and bitterness against Monsieur, against +the sentry, and, more than all, against the young Comte de Mar, who +had flung me under the wheels.</p> +<p>I had never before seen the Comte de Mar, that spoiled only son +of M. le Duc's, who was too fine for the country, too gay to share +his father's exile. Maybe I was jealous of the love his father bore +him, which he so little repaid. I had never thought to like him, +St. Quentin though he were; and now that I saw him I hated him. His +handsome face looked ugly enough to me as he struck me that +blow.</p> +<p>I went along the Paris streets blindly, the din of my own +thoughts louder than all the noises of the city. But I could not +remain in this trance forever, and at length I woke to two +unpleasant facts: first, I had no idea where I was, and, second, I +should be no better off if I knew.</p> +<p>Never, while there remained in me the spirit of a man, would I +go back to Monsieur; never would I serve the Comte de Mar. And it +was equally obvious that never, so long as my father retained the +spirit that was his, could I return to St. Quentin with the account +of my morning's achievements. It was just here that, looking at the +business with my father's eyes, I began to have a suspicion that I +had behaved like an insolent young fool. But I was still too angry +to acknowledge it.</p> +<p>Remained, then, but one course—to stay in Paris, and keep +from starvation as best I might.</p> +<p>My thrifty father had not seen fit to furnish me any money to +throw away in the follies of the town. He had calculated closely +what I should need to take me to Monsieur, with a little margin for +accidents; so that, after paying Maître Jacques, I had hardly +two pieces to jingle together.</p> +<p>For three years I had browsed my fill in the duke's library; I +could write a decent letter both in my own tongue and in Italian, +thanks to Father Francesco, Monsieur's Florentine confessor, and +handle a sword none so badly, thanks to Monsieur; and I felt that +it should not be hard to pick up a livelihood. But how to start +about it I had no notion, and finally I made up my mind to go and +consult him whom I now called my one friend in Paris, Jacques the +innkeeper.</p> +<p>'Twas easier said than done. I had strayed out of the friendly +Rue St. Denis into a network of dark and narrow ways that might +have been laid out by a wily old stag with the dogs hot on him, so +did they twist and turn and double on themselves. I could make my +way only at a snail's pace, asking new guidance at every corner. +Noon was long past when at length I came on laggard feet around the +corner by the Amour de Dieu.</p> +<p>Yet was it not fatigue that weighted my feet, but pride. Though +I had resolved to seek out Maître Jacques, still 'twas a +hateful thing to enter as suppliant where I had been the patron. I +had paid for my breakfast like a lord, but I should have to beg for +my dinner. I had bragged of Monsieur's fondness, and I should have +to tell how I had been flung under the coach-wheels. My pace +slackened to a stop. I could not bring myself to enter the door. I +tried to think how to better my story, so to tell it that it should +redound to my credit. But my invention stuck in my pate.</p> +<p>As I stood striving to summon up a jaunty demeanour, I found +myself gazing straight at the shuttered house, and of a sudden my +thoughts shifted back to my vision.</p> +<p>Those murdered Huguenots, dead and gone ere I was born, had +appeared to me as plain as the men I passed in the street. Though I +had beheld them but the space of a lightning-flash, I could call up +their faces like those of my comrades. One, the nearest me, was +small, pale, with pinched, sharp face, somewhat rat-like. The +second man was conspicuously big and burly, black-haired +and-bearded. The third and youngest—all three were +young—stood with his hand on Blackbeard's shoulder. He, too, +was tall, but slenderly built, with clear-cut visage and fair hair +gleaming in the glare. One moment I saw them, every feature plain; +the next they had vanished like a dream.</p> +<p>It was an unholy thing, no doubt, yet it held me with a shuddery +fascination. Was it indeed a portent, this rising of heretics from +their unblessed graves? And why had it been shown to me, true son +of the Church? Had any one else ever seen what I had seen? +Maître Jacques had hinted at further terrors, and said no one +dared enter the place. Well, grant me but the opportunity, and I +would dare.</p> +<p>Thus was hatched in my brain the notion of forcing an entrance +into that banned house. I was an idle boy, foot-loose and free to +do whatever mad mischief presented itself. Here was the house just +across the street.</p> +<p>Neglected as it was, it remained the most pretentious edifice in +the row, being large and flaunting a half-defaced coat of arms over +the door. Such a house might well boast two entrances. I hoped it +did, for there was no use in trying to batter down this door with +the eye of the Rue Coupejarrets upon me. I turned along the side +street, and after exploring several muck-heaped alleys found one +that led me into a small square court bounded on three sides by a +tall house with shuttered windows.</p> +<p>Fortune was favouring me. But how to gain entrance? The two +doors were both firmly fastened. The windows on the ground floor +were small, high, and iron-shuttered. Above, one or two shutters +swung half open, but I could not climb the smooth wall. Yet I did +not despair; I was not without experience of shutters. I selected +one closed not quite tight, leaving a crack for my knife-blade. I +found the hook inside, got my dagger under it, and at length drove +it up. The shutter creaked shrilly open.</p> +<p>A few good blows knocked in the casement. I followed.</p> +<p>I found myself in a small room bare of everything but dust. From +this, once a porter's room, I fancied, I passed out into a hallway +dimly lighted from the open window behind me. The hall was large, +paved with black and white marbles; at the end a stately stairway +mounted into mysterious gloom.</p> +<p>My heart jumped into my mouth and I cringed back in terror, a +choked cry rasping my throat. For, as I crossed the hall, peering +into the dimness, I descried, stationed on the lowest stair with +upraised bludgeon, a man.</p> +<p>For a second I stood in helpless startlement, voiceless, +motionless, waiting for him to brain me. Then my half-uttered +scream changed to a quavering laugh, as my eyes, becoming used to +the gloom, discovered my bogy to be but a figure carved in wood, +holding aloft a long since quenched flambeau.</p> +<p>I blushed with shame, yet I cannot say that now I felt no fear. +I thought of the panic-stricken women, the doomed men, who had fled +at the sword's point up these very stairs. The silence seemed to +shriek at me, and I half thought I saw fear-maddened eyes peering +out from the shadowed corners. Yet for all that—nay, because +of that—I would not give up the adventure. I went back into +the little room and carefully closed the shutter, lest some other +meddler should spy my misdeed. Then I set my feet on the stair.</p> +<p>If the half-light before had been full of eery terror, it was +naught to the blackness now. My hand on the rail was damp. Yet I +mounted steadily.</p> +<p>Up one flight I climbed, groped in the hot dark for the foot of +the next flight, and went on. Suddenly, above, I heard a noise. I +came to an instant halt. All was as still as the tomb. I listened; +not a breath broke the silence. It never occurred to me to imagine +a rat in this house of the dead, and the noise shook me. With a +sick feeling about my heart I went on again.</p> +<p>On the next floor it was lighter. Faint outlines of doors and +passages were visible. I could not stand the gloom a moment longer; +I strode into the nearest doorway and across the room to where a +gleam of brightness outlined the window. My shaking fingers found +the hook of the shutter and flung it wide, letting in a burst of +honest sunshine. I leaned out into the free air, and saw below me +the Rue Coupejarrets and the sign of the Amour de Dieu.</p> +<p>The next instant a cloth fell over my face and was twisted +tight; strong arms pulled me back, and a deep voice commanded:</p> +<p>"Close the shutter."</p> +<p>Some one pushed past me and shut it with a clang.</p> +<p>"Devil take you! You'll rouse the quarter," cried my captor, +fiercely, yet not loud. "Go join monsieur." With that he picked me +up in his arms and walked across the room.</p> +<p>The capture had been so quick I had no time for outcry. I fought +my best with him, half strangled as I was by the cloth. I might as +well have struggled against the grip of the Maiden. The man carried +me the length of the house, it seemed; flung me down upon the +floor, and banged a door on me.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> +<h3><i>The three men in the window</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>tore the cloth from my head and sprang up. I was in +pitch-darkness. I dashed against the door to no avail. Feeling the +walls, I discovered myself to be in a small, empty closet. With all +my force I flung myself once more upon the door. It stood firm.</p> +<p>"Dame! but I have got into a pickle," I thought.</p> +<p>They were no ghosts, at all events. Scared as I was, I rejoiced +at that. I could cope with men, but who can cope with the devil? +These might be villains—doubtless were, skulking in this +deserted house,—yet with readiness and pluck I could escape +them.</p> +<p>It was as hot as a furnace in my prison, and as still as the +grave. The men, who seemed by their footsteps to be several, had +gone cautiously down the stairs after caging me. Evidently I had +given them a fine fright, clattering through the house as I had, +and even now they were looking for my accomplices.</p> +<p>It seemed hours before the faintest sound broke the stillness. +If ever you want to squeeze away a man's cheerfulness like water +from a rag, shut him up alone in the dark and silence. He will +thank you to take him out into the daylight and hang him. In token +whereof, my heart welcomed like brothers the men returning.</p> +<p>They came into the room, and I thought they were three in +number. I heard the door shut, and then steps approached my +closet.</p> +<p>"Have a care now, monsieur; he may be armed," spoke the rough +voice of a man without breeding.</p> +<p>"Doubtless he carries a culverin up his sleeve," sneered the +deep tones of my captor.</p> +<p>Some one else laughed, and rejoined, in a clear, quick +voice:</p> +<p>"Natheless, he may have a knife. I will open the door, and do +you look out for him, Gervais."</p> +<p>I had a knife and had it in my hand, ready to charge for +freedom. But the door opened slowly, and Gervais looked out for +me—to the effect that my knife went one way and I another +before I could wink. I reeled against the wall and stayed there, +cursing myself for a fool that I had not trusted to fair words +instead of to my dagger.</p> +<p>"Well done, my brave Gervais!" cried he of the vivid +voice—a tall fair-haired youth, whom I had seen before. So +had I seen the stalwart blackbeard, Gervais. The third man was +older, a common-looking fellow whose face was new to me. All three +were in their shirts on account of the heat; all were plain, even +shabby, in their dress. But the two young men wore swords at their +sides.</p> +<p>The half-opened shutters, overhanging the court, let plenty of +light into the room. It had two straw beds on the floor and a few +old chairs and stools, and a table covered with dishes and broken +food and wine-bottles. More bottles, riding-boots, whips and spurs, +two or three hats and saddle-bags, and various odds and ends of +dress littered the floor and the chairs. Everything was of mean +quality except the bearing of the two young men. A gentleman is a +gentleman even in the Rue Coupejarrets—all the more, maybe, +in the Rue Coupejarrets. These two were gently born.</p> +<p>The low man, with scared face, held off from me. He whose name +was Gervais confronted me with an angry scowl. Yeux-gris +alone—for so I dubbed the third, from his gray eyes, well +open under dark brows—Yeux-gris looked no whit alarmed or +angered; the only emotion to be read in his face was a gay interest +as the blackavised Gervais put me questions.</p> +<p>"How came you here? What are you about?"</p> +<p>"No harm, messieurs," I made haste to protest, ruing my +stupidity with that dagger. "I climbed in at a window for sport. I +thought the house was deserted."</p> +<p>He clutched my shoulder till I could have screamed for pain.</p> +<p>"The truth, now. If you value your life you will tell the +truth."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, it is the truth. I came in idle mischief; that was +the whole of it. I had no notion of breaking in upon you or any +one. They said the house was haunted."</p> +<p>"Who said that?"</p> +<p>"Maître Jacques, at the Amour de Dieu."</p> +<p>He stared at me in surprise.</p> +<p>"What had you been asking about this house?"</p> +<p>Yeux-gris, lounging against the table, struck in:</p> +<p>"I can tell you that myself. He told Jacques he saw us in the +window last night. Did you not?"</p> +<p>"Aye, monsieur. The thunder woke me, and when I looked out I saw +you plain as day. But Maître Jacques said it was a +vision."</p> +<p>"I flattered myself I saw you first and got that shutter closed +very neatly," said Yeux-gris. "Dame! I am not so clever as I +thought. So old Jacques called us ghosts, did he?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur. He told me this house belonged to M. de +Béthune, who was a Huguenot and killed in the massacre."</p> +<p>Yeux-gris burst into joyous laughter.</p> +<p>"He said my house belonged to the Béthunes! Well played, +Jacques! You owe that gallant lie to me, Gervais, and the pains I +took to make him think us Navarre's men. He is heart and soul for +Henri Quatre. Did he say, perchance, that in this very courtyard +Coligny fell?"</p> +<p>"No," said I, seeing that I had been fooled and had had all my +terrors for naught, and feeling much chagrined thereat. "How was I +to know it was a lie? I know naught about Paris. I came up but +yesterday from St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"St. Quentin!" came a cry from the henchman. With a fierce "Be +quiet, fool!" Gervais turned to me and demanded my name.</p> +<p>"Félix Broux."</p> +<p>"Who sent you here?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, no one."</p> +<p>"You lie."</p> +<p>Again he gripped me by the shoulder, gripped till the tears +stood in my eyes.</p> +<p>"No one, monsieur; I swear it."</p> +<p>"You will not speak! I'll make you, by Heaven."</p> +<p>He seized my thumb and wrist to bend one back on the other, +torture with strength such as his. Yeux-gris sprang off the +table.</p> +<p>"Let alone, Gervais! The boy's honest."</p> +<p>"He is a spy."</p> +<p>"He is a fool of a country boy. A spy in hobnailed shoes, +forsooth! No spy ever behaved as he has. I said when you first +seized him he was no spy. I say it again, now I have heard his +story. He saw us by chance, and Maître Jacques's bogy story +spurred him on instead of keeping him off. You are a fool, my +cousin."</p> +<p>"Pardieu! it is you who are the fool," growled Gervais. "You +will bring us to the rope with your cursed easy ways. If he is a +spy it means the whole crew are down upon us."</p> +<p>"What of that?"</p> +<p>"Pardieu! is it nothing?"</p> +<p>Yeux-gris returned with a touch of haughtiness:</p> +<p>"It is nothing. A gentleman may live in his own house."</p> +<p>Gervais looked as if he remembered something. He said much less +boisterously:</p> +<p>"And do you want Monsieur here?"</p> +<p>Yeux-gris flushed red.</p> +<p>"No," he cried. "But you may be easy. He will not trouble +himself to come."</p> +<p>Gervais regarded him silently an instant, as if he thought of +several things he did not say. What he did say was: "You are a pair +of fools, you and the boy. Whatever he came for, he has spied on us +now. He shall not live to carry the tale of us."</p> +<p>"Then you have me to kill as well!"</p> +<p>Gervais turned on him snarling. Yeux-gris laid a hand on his +sword-hilt.</p> +<p>"I will not have an innocent lad hurt. I was not bred a +ruffian," he cried hotly. They glared at each other. Then +Yeux-gris, with a sudden exclamation, "Ah, bah, Gervais!" broke +into laughter.</p> +<p>Now, this merriment was a heart-warming thing to hear. For +Gervais was taking the situation with a seriousness that was as +terrifying as it was stupid. When I looked into his dogged eyes I +could not but think the end of me might be near. But Yeux-gris's +laugh said the very notion was ridiculous; I was innocent of all +harmful intent, and they were gentlemen, not cutthroats.</p> +<p>"Messieurs," I said, "I swear by the blessed saints I am what I +told you. I am no spy, and no one sent me here. Who you are, or +what you do, I know no more than a babe unborn. I belong to no +party and am no man's man. As for why you choose to live in this +empty house, it is not my concern and I care no whit about it. Let +me go, messieurs, and I will swear to keep silence about what I +have seen."</p> +<p>"I am for letting him go," said Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>Gervais looked doubtful, the most encouraging attitude toward me +he had yet assumed. He answered:</p> +<p>"If he had not said the name—"</p> +<p>"Stuff!" interrupted Yeux-gris. "It is a coincidence, no more. +If he were what you think, it is the very last name he would have +said."</p> +<p>This was Greek to me; I had mentioned no names but Maître +Jacques's and my own. And he was their friend.</p> +<p>"Messieurs," I said, "if it is my name that does not please you, +why, I can say for it that if it is not very high-sounding, at +least it is an honest one and has ever been held so down where we +live."</p> +<p>"And that is at St. Quentin," said Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur. My father, Anton Broux, is Master of the Forest +to the Duke of St. Quentin."</p> +<p>He started, and Gervais cried out:</p> +<p>"Voilà! who is the fool now?"</p> +<p>My nerves, which had grown tranquil since Yeux-gris came to my +rescue, quivered anew. The common man started at the very word St. +Quentin, and the masters started when I named the duke. Was it he +whom they had spoken of as Monsieur? Who and what were they? There +was more in this than I had thought at first. It was no longer a +mere question of my liberty. I was all eyes and ears for whatever +information I could gather.</p> +<p>Yeux-gris spoke to me, for the first time gravely:</p> +<p>"This is not a time when folks take pleasure-trips to Paris. +What brought you?"</p> +<p>"I used to be Monsieur's page down at St. Quentin," I answered, +deeming the straight truth best. "When we learned that he was in +Paris, my father sent me up to him. I reached the city last night, +and lay at the Amour de Dieu. This morning I went to the duke's +hôtel, but the guard would not let me in. Then, when Monsieur +drove out I tried to get speech with him, but he would have none of +me."</p> +<p>The bitterness I felt over my rebuff must have been in my voice +and face, for Gervais spoke abruptly:</p> +<p>"And do you hate him for that?"</p> +<p>"Nay," said I, churlishly enough. "It is his to do as he +chooses. But I hate the Comte de Mar for striking me a foul +blow."</p> +<p>"The Comte de Mar!" exclaimed Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"His son."</p> +<p>"He has no son."</p> +<p>"But he has, monsieur. The Comte de—"</p> +<p>"He is dead," said Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"Why, we knew naught—" I was beginning, when Gervais broke +in:</p> +<p>"You say the fellow's honest, when he tells such tales as this! +He saw the Comte de Mar—!"</p> +<p>"I thought it must be he," I protested. "A young man who sat by +Monsieur's side, elegant and proud-looking, with an aquiline +face—"</p> +<p>"That is Lucas, that is his secretary," declared Yeux-gris, as +who should say, "That is his scullion."</p> +<p>Gervais looked at him oddly a moment, then shrugged his +shoulders and demanded of me:</p> +<p>"What next?"</p> +<p>"I came away angry."</p> +<p>"And walked all the way here to risk your life in a haunted +house? Pardieu! too plain a lie."</p> +<p>"Oh, I would have done the like; we none of us fear ghosts in +the daytime," said Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"You may believe him; I am no such fool. He has been caught in +two lies; first the Béthunes, then the Comte de Mar. He is a +clumsy spy; they might have found a better one. Not but what that +touch about ill-treatment at Monsieur's hand was well thought of. +That was Monsieur's suggestion, I warrant, for the boy has talked +like a dolt else."</p> +<p>"I am no liar," I cried hotly. "Ask Jacques whether he did not +tell me about the Béthunes. It is his lie, not mine. I did +not know the Comte de Mar was dead, and this Lucas of yours is +handsome enough for a count. I came here, as I told you, in +curiosity concerning Maître Jacques's story. I had no idea of +seeing you or any living man. It is the truth, monsieur."</p> +<p>"I believe you," Yeux-gris answered. "You have an honest face. +You came into my house uninvited. Well, I forgive it, and invite +you to stay. You shall be my valet."</p> +<p>"He shall be nobody's valet," Gervais cried.</p> +<p>The gray eyes flashed, but their owner rejoined lightly:</p> +<p>"You have a man; surely I should have one, too. And I understand +the services of M. Félix are not engaged."</p> +<p>"Mille tonnerres! you would take this spy—this +sneak—"</p> +<p>"As I would take M. de Paris, if I chose," responded Yeux-gris, +with a cold hauteur that smacked more of a court than of this +shabby room. He added lightly again:</p> +<p>"You think him a spy, I do not. But in any case, he must not +blab of us. Therefore he stays here and brushes my clothes. Marry, +they need it."</p> +<p>Easily, with grace, he had disposed of the matter. But I +said:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I shall do nothing of the kind."</p> +<p>"What!" he cried, as if the clothes-brush itself had risen in +rebellion, "what! you will not."</p> +<p>"No," said I.</p> +<p>"And why not?" he demanded, plainly thinking me demented.</p> +<p>"Because I know you are against the Duke of St. Quentin."</p> +<p>Whatever they had thought me, neither expected that speech.</p> +<p>"I am no spy or sneak," said I. "It is true I came here by +chance; it is true Monsieur turned me off this morning. But I was +born on his land and I am no traitor. I will not be valet or +henchman for either of you, if I die for it."</p> +<p>I was like to die for it. For Gervais whipped out his sword and +sprang for me. I thought I saw Yeux-gris's out, too, when Gervais +struck me over the head with his sword-hilt. The rest was +darkness.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> +<h3><i>Rapiers and a vow.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>came to my senses slowly, to hear loud, angry voices. As I +opened my eyes and stirred, the room reeled from me and all was +blank again. Awhile after, I grew aware of a clashing of steel. I +lay wondering thickly what it was and why it had to be going on +while my head ached so, till at length it dawned on my dull brain +that swords were crossing. I opened my eyes again, then.</p> +<p>They were fighting each other, Yeux-gris and Gervais. The latter +was almost trampling on me, Yeux-gris had pressed him so close to +the wall. Then he forced his way out, and they drove each other +round in a circle till the room seemed to spin once more.</p> +<p>I crawled out of the way and watched them, bewildered, absorbed. +I had more reason to thrill over the contest than the mere +excellence of it,—which was great,—since I was the +cause of the duel, and my very life, belike, hung on its issue.</p> +<p>They were both admirable swordsmen, yet it was clear from the +first where the palm lay. Anything nimbler, lighter, easier than +the sword-play of Yeux-gris I never hope to see in this imperfect +world. The heavier adversary was hot, angry, breathing hard. A +smile hovered over Yeux-gris's lips; already a red disk on +Gervais's shirt showed where his cousin's sword had been and would +soon go again, and deeper. I had forgotten my bruise in my interest +and delight, when, of a sudden, one whom we all had ignored took a +hand in the game. Gervais's lackey started forward and knocked up +Yeux-gris's arm. His sword flew wide, and Gervais slashed his arm +from wrist to elbow.</p> +<p>With a smothered cry, Yeux-gris caught at his wound. Gervais, +ablaze with rage, sprang past him on his creature. The man gaped +with amazement; then, for there was no time for parley, leaped for +the door. It was locked. He turned, and with a look of deathly +terror fell on his knees, crouched up against the door-post. +Gervais lunged. His blade passed clean through the man's shoulders +and pinned him to the door. His head fell heavily forward.</p> +<p>"Have you killed him?" cried Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"By my faith! I meant to," came the answer. Gervais was bending +over the man. With an abrupt laugh he called out: "Killed him, +pardieu! He has come off cheap."</p> +<p>He raised the fellow's limp head, and we saw that the sword had +passed just over his shoulder, piercing the linen, not the flesh. +He had swooned from sheer terror, being in truth not so much as +scratched.</p> +<p>Gervais turned to his cousin.</p> +<p>"I never meant that foul trick. It was no thought of mine. I +would have turned the blade if I could. I will kill Pontou now, if +you say the word."</p> +<p>"Nay," answered the other, faintly; "help me."</p> +<p>The blood was pouring from his arm; he was half swooning. +Gervais and I ran to him and, between us, bathed the cut, bandaged +it with strips torn from a shirt, and made a sling of a scarf. The +wound was long, but not deep, and when we had poured some wine down +his throat he was himself again.</p> +<p>"You will not bear me malice for that poltroon's work, +Étienne?" Gervais asked, more humbly than I ever thought to +hear him speak. "That was a foul cut, but it was no fault of mine. +I am no blackguard; I fight fair. I will kill the knave, if you +like."</p> +<p>"You are ungrateful, Gervais; he saved you when you needed +saving," Yeux-gris laughed. "Faith! let him live. I forgive him. +You will pay me for my hurt by yielding me Félix."</p> +<p>Gervais looked at me. While we had worked side by side over +Yeux-gris he seemed to have forgotten that he was my enemy. But now +all the old suspicion and dislike came into his face again. +However, he answered:</p> +<p>"Aye, you would have been the victor had it not been for Pontou. +You shall do what you like with your boy. I promise you that."</p> +<p>"Now that is well said, Gervais," returned Yeux-gris, rising, +and picking up his sword, which he sheathed. "That is very well +said. For if you did not feel like promising it, why, I should have +to begin over again with my left hand."</p> +<p>"Oh, I give you the boy," Gervais repeated rather sullenly, +turning away to pour himself some wine.</p> +<p>I could not but wonder at Yeux-gris, at his gaiety and his +steadfastness. He had hardly looked grave through the whole affair; +he had fought with a smile on his lips and had taken a cruel wound +with a laugh. Withal, he had been the constant champion of my +innocence, even to drawing his sword on his cousin for me. Now, +with his bloody arm in its sling, he was as debonair and careless +as ever. I had been stupid enough to imagine the big Gervais the +leader of the two, and I found myself mistaken. I dropped on my +knee and kissed my saviour's hand in all gratitude.</p> +<p>"Aha," said Yeux-gris, "what think you now of being my +valet?"</p> +<p>Verily, I was hard pushed.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I owe you much more than I can ever pay. If +you were any man's enemy but my duke's, I would serve you on my +knees. But I was born on the duke's land and I cannot be disloyal. +You may kill me yourself, if you like."</p> +<p>"No," he answered gravely, "that is not my métier."</p> +<p>Gervais laughed.</p> +<p>"Make me that offer, and I accept."</p> +<p>Yeux-gris turned to him with that little hauteur he assumed +occasionally.</p> +<p>"You are helpless, my cousin. You have passed your word."</p> +<p>"Aye. I leave him to you."</p> +<p>His sullen eyes told me it was no new-born tenderness for me +that prompted his surrender. Nor had I, truth to tell, any great +faith in the sacredness of his word. Yet I believed he would let me +be. For it was borne in upon me that, despite his passion and +temper, he had no wish to quarrel with Yeux-gris. Whether at bottom +he loved him or in some way dreaded him, I could not tell; but of +this my fear-sharpened wits were sure: he had no desire to press an +open breach. He was honestly ashamed of his henchman's low deed; +yet even before that his judgment had disliked the quarrel. Else +why had he struck me with the hilt of the sword?</p> +<p>"I leave him to you," he repeated. "Do as you choose. If you +deem his life a precious thing, cherish it. When did you learn a +taste for insolence, Étienne? Time was when you were touchy +on that score."</p> +<p>"Time never was when I did not love courage."</p> +<p>"Oh, it is courage!" With a sneer he turned away.</p> +<p>"Gervais," said Yeux-gris, "have the kindness to unlock the +door."</p> +<p>Gervais wheeled around, his face an angry question.</p> +<p>Yeux-gris answered it with cold politeness:</p> +<p>"That Félix Broux may pass out."</p> +<p>"By Heaven, he shall not!"</p> +<p>"You gave your word you would leave him to me. Did you lie?"</p> +<p>"I do leave him to you!" Gervais thundered. "I would slit his +impudent throat; but since you love him, you may have him to eat +out of your plate and sleep in your bosom. I will put up with it. +But go out of that door till the thing is done, sang dieu! he shall +not!"</p> +<p>"If he goes straight to the duke, what then? He will say he +found us living in my house. What harm? We are no felons. Let him +say it."</p> +<p>"And put Lucas on his guard?" returned Gervais. He was angry, +yet he spoke with evident attempt at restraint. "Put Lucas on the +trail? He is wary as a cat. Let him get wind of us here, and he +will never let us catch him."</p> +<p>"Well," said Yeux-gris, reluctantly, "it is true. And though I +will not have the boy harmed, he shall stay here. I will not put a +spoke in the wheel. We will take no risks till Lucas is shent. The +boy shall be held prisoner. And afterward—"</p> +<p>"I will come myself and let him out," said Gervais, and +laughed.</p> +<p>I glanced at my protector, not liking to think of that moment, +whenever it might be, "afterward." He went up to Gervais.</p> +<p>"My cousin, are we friends or foes? For, faith! you treat me +strangely like a foe."</p> +<p>"We are friends."</p> +<p>"I am your friend, since it is in your cause that I am here. I +have stood at your shoulder like a brother—you cannot deny +it."</p> +<p>"No," Gervais answered; "you stood my friend,—my one +friend in that house,—as I was yours. I stood at your +shoulder in the Montluc affair—you cannot deny that. I have +been your ally, your servant, your messenger to mademoiselle, your +envoy to Mayenne. I have done all in my power to win you your +lady."</p> +<p>A shadow fell over Yeux-gris's open face.</p> +<p>"That task needs a greater power than yours, my Gervais."</p> +<p>He regarded Gervais with a rueful smile, his thoughts of a +sudden as far away from me as if I had never set foot in the Rue +Coupejarrets. He shook his head, sighing, and said, with a hand on +Gervais's shoulder: "It's beyond you, cousin."</p> +<p>Gervais brought him back to the point.</p> +<p>"Well, I've done what I could for you. But you don't help me +when you let loose a spy to warn Lucas."</p> +<p>"He shall not go. You know well, cousin, you will be no gladder +than I when that knave is dead. But I will not have Félix +Broux suffer because he dared speak for the Duke of St. +Quentin."</p> +<p>"As you choose, then. I will not touch a hair of his head if you +keep him from Lucas."</p> +<p>Once more he turned away across the room. My bewilderment was so +great that the words came out of themselves:</p> +<p>"Messieurs, is it Lucas you mean to kill?"</p> +<p>Yeux-gris looked at me, not instantly replying. I cried again to +him:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, is it Lucas or the duke?"</p> +<p>Then Yeux-gris, despite a gesture from Gervais, who would have +told me nothing I might ask, exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Why, Lucas!"</p> +<p>He said it in such honest surprise and with such a steady glance +that the heavy fear that had hung on me dropped from me like a +dead-weight, and suddenly I turned quite dizzy and fell into the +nearest chair.</p> +<p>A dash of water in the face made me look up, to see Yeux-gris +standing wet-handed by me.</p> +<p>"Mon dieu!" he cried, "you were as white as the wall. Do you +love so much this Lucas who struck you?"</p> +<p>"No," I said, rising; "I thought you meant to kill the +duke."</p> +<p>"Did you take us for Leaguers?"</p> +<p>I nodded.</p> +<p>He spoke as if actually he felt it important to set himself +right in my eyes.</p> +<p>"Well, we are none. We are no politicians, but private gentlemen +with a grudge to pay. I care not what the parties do. Whether we +have the Princess Isabelle or Henry the Huguenot, 'tis all one to +me; I am not putting either on the throne. So if you have got it +into your head that we are plotting for the League, why, get it out +again."</p> +<p>"But you are enemies to the Duke of St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>He answered me slowly:</p> +<p>"We do not love him. But we do not plot his death. He goes his +way unharmed by us. We are gentlemen, not bravos."</p> +<p>"And Lucas?"</p> +<p>"Lucas is my cousin's enemy, and, being a great man's man, +skulks behind the bars of the Hôtel st. Quentin and will not +face my cousin's sword. So to reach him takes a little plotting. Do +you believe me?"</p> +<p>I looked into his gray eyes, that had flashed so hotly in my +defence, and I could not but believe him.</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur," I said.</p> +<p>He regarded me curiously.</p> +<p>"The duke's life seems much to you."</p> +<p>"Why, monsieur, I am a Broux."</p> +<p>"And could not be disloyal to save your life?"</p> +<p>"My life! Monsieur, the Broux would not seek to save their souls +if M. le Duc preferred them damned."</p> +<p>I expected he would rebuke me for the outburst, but he did not; +he merely said:</p> +<p>"And Lucas?"</p> +<p>"Oh, Lucas!" I said. "I know nothing of him. He is new with the +duke since my time. I do not owe him anything, save a grudge for +that blow this morning. Mon dieu, monsieur, I am thankful to you +for befriending me. Dying for Monsieur is all in a day's work; we +expect to do that. But, my faith, if I had died just now, it would +have been for Lucas."</p> +<p>At this moment a long groan came from the end of the room. We +turned; the lackey was waking from his swoon, under the +ministration of Gervais. He opened his eyes; their glance was dull +till they fell upon his master. And then at once they looked +venomous.</p> +<p>Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness.</p> +<p>"Get up, hound. It is time to meet Martin."</p> +<p>The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching +the door-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalky +countenance. Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was +the look you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its +chance to bite. Yeux-gris cried out:</p> +<p>"You dare not send that man, Gervais."</p> +<p>"Why not?"</p> +<p>"Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you. +Look at his face."</p> +<p>"He shall swear on the cross!"</p> +<p>"Aye. But you cannot trust the oath of such as he."</p> +<p>"What would you? We must send."</p> +<p>"As you will. But you are mad if you send him."</p> +<p>Gervais pondered a moment, his slower wits taking in the +situation. Then he seized the man by the collar, fairly flung him +across the room into the closet, and bolted the door upon him.</p> +<p>"I will settle with him later. But you are right. We cannot send +him."</p> +<p>Yeux-gris burst into laughter.</p> +<p>"My faith! we could not have more trouble if we were heads of +the League than this little duel of yours is giving us. Why, what +if we are seen? I will go."</p> +<p>Gervais started.</p> +<p>"No; that will not do."</p> +<p>"Eh, bien, then, what will you propose?"</p> +<p>But it was some one else who proposed. I said to Yeux-gris:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, if all your purpose is against Lucas and no other, I +am your man. I will go."</p> +<p>"What, my stubborn-neck, you?"</p> +<p>"Why, monsieur, I owe you a great debt. While I thought you +meant ill to M. le Duc, I could not serve you. But this Lucas is +another pair of sleeves. I owe him no allegiance. Moreover, he +nearly killed me this morning. Therefore I am quite at your +disposal."</p> +<p>"Now, I wonder if you are lying," said Gervais.</p> +<p>"I do not think he is lying," Yeux-gris said. "I trow, Gervais, +we have got our messenger."</p> +<p>"You tell me to beware of Pontou because he hates me, and then +would have me trust this fellow?" Gervais demanded with some +acumen.</p> +<p>I said: "Monsieur, you do not seem to understand how I come to +make this offer."</p> +<p>"To get out of the house with a whole skin."</p> +<p>I had a joy in daring him, being sure of Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I should be glad to leave this house with +my skin whole or broken, so long as I left on my own feet. But you +have mentioned the very reason why I shall not betray you. I do not +love you and I do not love Lucas. Therefore, if you and M. Lucas +are to fight, I ask nothing better than to help the quarrel +on."</p> +<p>He stared at me with an air more of bewilderment than aught +else, but Yeux-gris's ready laughter rang out.</p> +<p>"Bravo, Félix! I am proud of you. That is an idea worthy +of Cæsar! You would set your enemies to exterminate each +other. And I asked you to be my valet!"</p> +<p>"Which do you wish to see slain?" demanded the black +Gervais.</p> +<p>I answered quite truthfully:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I shall be pleased either way."</p> +<p>I know not how he relished the answer, for Yeux-gris cried out +at once:</p> +<p>"Bravo, Félix, you are a paragon! I have not wit enough +to know whether you are as simple as sunshine or as deep as a well, +but I love you."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I answered, as I think, very neatly, "if I am a +well, truth lies at the bottom."</p> +<p>"Well, Gervais?" demanded Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>Gervais bent his lowering brows on his cousin.</p> +<p>"Do you say, trust him?"</p> +<p>"Aye, I would trust him. For never yet did villain turn honest, +nor honest man false, in one short hour. When he was asked to serve +against the duke he showed his stuff. He was no traitor; he was no +coward; he was no liar. I think he is not those now."</p> +<p>Gervais was still doubtful.</p> +<p>"It is a risk. If he betrays—"</p> +<p>"What is life without risks?" cried Yeux-gris. "I thought you +too good a gambler, Gervais, to falter before a risk."</p> +<p>"Well," Gervais consented, "I leave it to you. Do as you +like."</p> +<p>Yeux-gris said at once to me:</p> +<p>"This Lucas, as I told you, is too cowardly to meet my cousin in +open fight. Since he got the challenge he has never stuck his nose +out of doors without two or three of the duke's guard about him. +Therefore we have the right to get at him as we can. We have paid a +man in the house to tell of his movements. He is to fare out +secretly at night on a mission for M. le Duc, with one comrade +only. M. Gervais and I will interrupt that little journey."</p> +<p>"Very good, monsieur. And I?"</p> +<p>"You will meet our spy and learn the hour of the expedition. +Last night, when he told us of the plan, it had not been +decided."</p> +<p>"Then he will be the other man I saw in the window? I shall know +him."</p> +<p>"You have sharp eyes and a sharp brain, youngster. But he will +not know you. Therefore you can say you come from the shuttered +house in the Rue Coupejarrets. You will meet him in the little +alley to the north of the Hôtel St. Quentin. Do you know your +way to the hôtel? Well, then, you are to go down the +passageway between the house and M. de Portreuse's garden—you +cannot mistake it, for on two sides of the house is the street, on +the third the garden, and on the fourth the alleyway. Half-way down +the alley is an arch with a small door. In that arch our man, Louis +Martin, will meet you. Do you understand?"</p> +<p>I repeated the directions.</p> +<p>"You have learned your lesson. You will ask him the +hour—only that."</p> +<p>"And you will take oath not to betray us," commanded +Gervais.</p> +<p>I took out the cross that hung on my rosary. I was ready to +swear. Gervais prompted:</p> +<p>"I swear to go and come straight, and speak no word to any but +Martin."</p> +<p>With all solemnity I swore it on my cross.</p> +<p>"That oath will be kept," said Yeux-gris. He held out a sudden +hand for the cross, which I gave him, wondering.</p> +<p>"I swear that we mean no harm whatsoever to the Duke of St. +Quentin." He kissed the cross and flung the chain back over my +neck.</p> +<p>At last I saw the door unlocked. Yeux-gris even returned to me +my knife.</p> +<p>"Au revoir, messieurs."</p> +<p>Gervais, sullen to the last, vouchsafed no answer, but Yeux-gris +called out cheerily, "Au revoir."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> +<h3><i>A matter of life and death.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-n.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>othing in life can be so sweet as freedom after captivity, +safety after danger. When I gained the open street once more and +breathed the open air, no one molesting or troubling me, I could +have sung with joy. I fairly hugged myself for my cleverness in +getting out of my plight. As for the combat I was furthering, my +only doubt about that was lest the skulking Lucas should not prove +good sword enough to give trouble to M. Gervais. It was very far +from my wish that he should come out of the attempt unscathed.</p> +<p>But as I went along and had more time to ponder the matter, +other doubts forced themselves into my reluctant mind. Put it as I +pleased, the affair smacked too much of secrecy to be quite +savoury. It was curious, to say the least, that an honest encounter +should require so much plotting. Also, Lucas, coward and rascal +though he might be, was Monsieur's man, doing Monsieur's errand, +and for me to mix myself up in a plot against him was scarcely in +keeping with my vaunted loyalty to the house of St. Quentin. My +friend Gervais's quarrel might be just; his manner of procedure, +even, might be just, and yet I have no right to take part in +it.</p> +<p>And yet Monsieur had signified plainly enough that he was no +longer my patron. For my birth's sake I might never work against +him, but I was free to do whatever else I chose. Monsieur himself +had made it necessary for me to take another master, and assuredly +I owed something to Yeux-gris. I had reason to feel confidence in +his honour; surely I might reckon that he would not be in the +affair unless it were honest. Lucas was like enough a scoundrel of +whom Monsieur would be well rid. And lastly and finally and above +all, I was sworn, so there was no use worrying about it. I had +taken oath, and could not draw back.</p> +<p>I hurried along to the rendezvous, only pausing one moment at +the street-corner to buy sausages hot from the brazier, which I +crammed into my mouth as I ran. But after all was there no need of +haste; the little arch, when I panted up to it, was all +deserted.</p> +<p>No better place for a tryst could have been found in the heart +of busy Paris. Only the one door opened into the alley; M. de +Portreuse's high garden wall, forming the other side of the +passage, was unbroken by a gate, and no curious eyes from the house +could look into the deep arch and see the narrow nail-studded door +at the back where I awaited the rat-faced Martin.</p> +<p>I stood there long, first on one foot and then on the other, +fearful every moment lest some one of Monsieur's true men should +come along to demand my business. No one appeared, either foe or +friend, for so long that I began to think Yeux-gris had tricked me +and sent me here on a fool's errand, when, all at once, a low voice +said close to my ear:</p> +<p>"What seek you here?"</p> +<p>I jumped on finding at my side a little, pale, sharp-faced +man—the man of the vision. He had slipped through the door so +suddenly and quietly that I was once more tempted to take him for a +ghost. He eyed me for a bare second; then his eyes dropped before +mine.</p> +<p>"I am come to learn the hour," said I.</p> +<p>"Did you not hear the chimes ring five?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no need for disguise. I am come from the two in the Rue +Coupejarrets. They bade me ask the hour."</p> +<p>He favoured me with another of his shifty glances.</p> +<p>"What hour meant they?"</p> +<p>I said bluntly, in a louder tone:</p> +<p>"The hour when M. Lucas sets out on his secret mission."</p> +<p>"Hush!" he cried. "Hush! Don't say names aloud—his or the +other's."</p> +<p>"Well," I said crossly, "you have kept me waiting already more +time than I care to lose. How much longer before you will tell me +what I came to know?"</p> +<p>He looked at me sharply for another brief instant before his +eyes slunk away from mine.</p> +<p>"You should have a password."</p> +<p>"They gave me none. They told me to say I came from the +shuttered house in the Rue Coupejarrets, and that would be +enough."</p> +<p>"How came you into this business?"</p> +<p>"By a back window."</p> +<p>He gave me another suspicious glance, but making nothing by it, +he rejoined:</p> +<p>"Eh bien, I trust you. I will tell you."</p> +<p>He clutched my arm and drew me to the back of the arch, where +the afternoon shadows were already gathered.</p> +<p>"What have you for me?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Nothing. What should I have?"</p> +<p>"No gold?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"He promised me ten pistoles to-day. He did not give them to +you?"</p> +<p>"I tell you, no."</p> +<p>"You are a thief! You have them!"</p> +<p>He stepped forward menacingly; so did I. He then fell back as +abruptly.</p> +<p>"Nay, it was a jest; I know you are honest. But he promised me +ten pistoles."</p> +<p>"He did not give them to me," I said. "Perhaps he was not so +convinced of my honesty. He will doubtless pay you afterward."</p> +<p>"Afterward!" he retorted in a high key. "By our Lady, he shall +pay me afterward! The gutters will run gold then, will they? +Pardieu! I will see that a good stream flows my way. But one cannot +play to-day with to-morrow's coin. He said I should have ten +pistoles when I let him know the hour."</p> +<p>"I cannot mend that. It lies between you and him. I have not +seen or heard of any money."</p> +<p>Martin edged up close to the door of retreat and waxed +defiant.</p> +<p>"Then all I have to say is, he may go whistle for his news."</p> +<p>Now, had I but thought of it, here was an easy road out of a bad +business. If Martin would not tell the hour of rendezvous, Lucas +was saved, Monsieur's interests not endangered, yet at the same +time I was not forsworn. But touch pitch and be defiled. You cannot +go hand and glove with villains and remain an honest man. I +returned directly:</p> +<p>"As you choose. But M. Gervais carries a long sword."</p> +<p>He started at that and made no instant reply, seeming to be +balancing considerations. Then he gave his decision.</p> +<p>"I will tell you. But your M. Gervais is wrong if he thinks I +can be slighted and robbed of my dues. I know enough to make +trouble for him, and I know where to take my knowledge. He will not +find it easy to shut my mouth afterward, except with good broad +gold pieces."</p> +<p>"Enfin, are you telling me the hour?" I said impatiently. I was +ill at ease; my only wish was to get the errand done and be +gone.</p> +<p>He laid a hand on my shoulder and made me bend to him, and even +then spoke so low I could scarce catch the words.</p> +<p>"They have fixed positively on to-night. They will leave by this +door and take the route I described last night to M. Gervais. They +will start as soon as the streets are quiet, sometime between ten +and eleven. They must allow an hour to reach the gate, and the man +goes off at twelve. In all likelihood they will not set out before +a quarter of eleven; M. le Duc does not care to be recognized."</p> +<p>So they planned to kill Lucas at Monsieur's side? Yeux-gris had +not dared to tell me that. But he had looked me straight in the +face and sworn on the cross no harm was meant to M. le Duc. +Natheless, the thing looked ugly. My heart leaped up at the next +words:</p> +<p>"Also Vigo will go."</p> +<p>"Vigo!"</p> +<p>"Not so loud! You will have the guard on us! Yes, he is to go. +At first Monsieur did not tell even him, he desired to keep this +visit to the king so secret. But this morning he took Vigo into his +confidence, and nothing would serve the man but to go. He watches +over Monsieur like a hen over a chick."</p> +<p>"Then it will be three to three," I said. I thought of Gervais, +Yeux-gris, and Pontou, for of course I would take no part in +it.</p> +<p>"Three to two; Lucas will not fight."</p> +<p>Lucas must be a poltroon, indeed!</p> +<p>"But Vigo and Monsieur—" I began.</p> +<p>"Aye, they are quick enough with their swords. Your side must be +quicker, that's all. If you are sudden enough you can easily kill +the duke before he can draw."</p> +<p>Talk of words like thunderbolts! All the thunder of heaven could +not have whelmed me like those words. Yeux-gris and his oaths! It +<i>was</i> the duke, after all!</p> +<p>I could not speak. I looked I know not how. But it was dusky in +the arch.</p> +<p>"It sounds simple," he went on. "But, three of you as you are, +you will have trouble with Vigo. That is all. I have told you all. +I must get back before I am missed. Good luck to the +enterprise."</p> +<p>Still I stood like a block of wood.</p> +<p>"Tell M. Gervais to remember me," he said, and opening the door, +passed in. I heard him lock and bolt it after him, and his +footsteps hurrying down the passageway.</p> +<p>Then I came to myself and sprang to the door and beat upon it +furiously. But if he heard he was afraid to respond. After a futile +moment that seemed an hour I rushed out of the arch and around to +the great gate.</p> +<p>The grilles were closed as before, but the sentry's face, +luckily, was strange to me.</p> +<p>"Open! open!" I shouted, breathless. "I must see M. le Duc!"</p> +<p>"Who are you?" he demanded, staring.</p> +<p>"My name is Broux. I have news for M. le Duc. Let me in. It is a +matter of life and death."</p> +<p>"Why, I suppose, then, I must let you in," that good fellow +answered, drawing back the bolts. "But you must wait here +till—"</p> +<p>The gate was open. I took base advantage of him by sliding under +his arm and shooting across the court up the steps to the house. +The door stood open, and a couple of lackeys lounged on a bench in +the hall.</p> +<p>"M. le Duc!" I cried. "I must see him."</p> +<p>They jumped up, the picture of bewilderment.</p> +<p>"Who are you? How came you here?" cried the quicker-tongued of +the two.</p> +<p>"The sentry opened for me. Where am I to find M. le Duc? I must +see him! I have news!"</p> +<p>"M. le Duc sees no one to-day," the second lackey announced +pompously.</p> +<p>"But I must see him, I tell you," I repeated. I had completely +lost what little head I ever had; it seemed to me that if I could +not see M. le Duc on the instant I should find him weltering in his +gore. "I must see him," I cried, parrot-like. "It is a matter of +life and death."</p> +<p>"From whom do you come?"</p> +<p>"That's my affair. Enough that I come with news of the highest +moment. You will be sorry if I you do not get me quickly to M. le +Duc."</p> +<p>They looked at each other, somewhat impressed.</p> +<p>"I will go for M. Constant," said the one who had spoken +first.</p> +<p>Constant was Master of the Household; M. le Duc had inherited +him with the estate and kept him in his place for old time's sake. +He was old, fussy, and self-important, and withal no friend to +me.</p> +<p>"I had rather you fetched Vigo," I said.</p> +<p>"Oh, Vigo will not come. He is with Monsieur. If I bring M. +Constant, it is the best I can do for you."</p> +<p>I had recovered myself sufficiently by this time to remember the +nature of lackeys, and gave the messenger the last silver piece I +had in the world. He regarded it contemptuously, but pocketed it +and departed in leisurely fashion up the stairs.</p> +<p>The other was not too grand to cross-examine me.</p> +<p>"What sort of news have you? Do you come from the king?" he +asked in a lowered voice.</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"From M. de Valère?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Then who the devil are you?"</p> +<p>"Félix Broux of St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Ah, St. Quentin," he said, as if he found that rather tame. +"You bring news from there?"</p> +<p>"No, I do not. Think you I shall tell you? This news is for +Monsieur."</p> +<p>"It won't reach Monsieur unless you learn politeness toward the +gentlemen of his household," he retorted.</p> +<p>We were getting into a lively quarrel when Constant appeared on +the stairway—Constant and the lackey who had fetched him, and +two more lackeys, and a page, all of whom had somehow scented that +something was in the wind. They came flocking about us as I +said:</p> +<p>"Ah, M. Constant! You know me, Félix Broux of St. +Quentin. I must see M. le Duc."</p> +<p>Constant's face of surprise at me changed to one of malice. Down +at St. Quentin he had suffered much from us pages, as a slow, +peevish old dotard must. I had played many a prank on him, but I +had not thought he would revenge himself at such time as this. He +looked at me with a spiteful grin, and said to the men:</p> +<p>"He lies. I do not know him. I never saw him."</p> +<p>"Never saw me, Félix Broux!" I cried, completely taken +aback.</p> +<p>"No," maintained Constant. "You are an impostor."</p> +<p>"Impostor! Nonsense!" I cried out. "Constant, you know me as +well as you know yourself. I say I must see the duke; his life is +in danger!"</p> +<p>Constant was paying off old scores with interest.</p> +<p>"An impostor," he yelled shrilly, "or else a madman—or an +assassin."</p> +<p>"That is the truth," said some one, laying a heavy hand on my +shoulder.</p> +<p>I turned; two men of the guard had come up, my friend of just +now and my foe of the morning. It was the latter who held me and +said:</p> +<p>"This is the very rascal who sprang on Monsieur's coach-step in +the morning. M. Lucas threw him off, else he might have stabbed +Monsieur. We were fools enough to let him go free. But this time he +shall not get off so easy."</p> +<p>"I am innocent of all thought of harm," I cried. "I am M. le +Duc's loyal servant. I meant no harm this morning, and I mean none +now. I am here to save Monsieur's life."</p> +<p>"He is here to kill Monsieur; he is an assassin!" screamed +Constant. "Flog him, men; he will own the truth then!"</p> +<p>"I am no assassin!" I shouted, struggling in their grasp. "Let +me go, villains, let me go! I tell you, Monsieur's life is at +stake—Monsieur's very life, I tell you!"</p> +<p>They paid me no heed. Not one of them—save hat lying knave +Constant—knew me as other than the shabby fellow who had +acted suspiciously in the morning. They were dragging me to the +door in spite of my shouts and struggles, when suddenly a ringing +voice spoke from above:</p> +<p>"What is this rumpus? Who talks of Monsieur's life?"</p> +<p>The guards halted dead, and I cried out joyfully:</p> +<p>"Vigo!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I am Vigo," the big man answered, striding down the +stairs. "Who are you?"</p> +<p>I wanted to shout, "Félix Broux, Monsieur's page," but a +sort of nightmare dread came over me lest Vigo, too, should +disclaim me, and my voice stuck in my throat.</p> +<p>"Whoever you are, you will be taught not to make a racket in M. +le Duc's hall. By the saints! it's the boy Félix."</p> +<p>At the friendliness in his voice the guards dropped their hands +from me.</p> +<p>"M. Vigo," I said, "I have news for Monsieur of the gravest +moment. I am come on a matter of life and death. And I am stopped +in the hall by lackeys."</p> +<p>He looked at me sternly.</p> +<p>"This is not one of your fooleries, Félix?"</p> +<p>"No, M. Vigo."</p> +<p>"Come with me."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> +<h3><i>A divided duty.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>hat was Vigo's way. The toughest snarl untangled at his touch. +He had more sense and fewer airs than any other, he saw at once +that I was in earnest; and Constant's voluble protests were as so +much wind. The title does not make the man. Though Constant was +Master of the Household and Vigo only Equery, yet Vigo ruled every +corner of the establishment and every man in it, save only +Monsieur, who ruled him.</p> +<p>He said no word to me as we climbed the broad stair; neither +reproved me for the fracas nor questioned me about my coming. He +would not pry into Monsieur's business; and, save as I concerned +Monsieur, he had no interest in me whatsoever. He led the way +straight into an antechamber, where a page sprang up to bar our +passage.</p> +<p>"No one may enter, M. Vigo, not even you. M. le Duc has ordered +it. Why, Félix! You in Paris!"</p> +<p>"I enter," said Vigo; and, sweeping Marcel aside, he knocked +loudly.</p> +<p>"I came last night," I found time to say under my breath to my +old comrade before the door was opened.</p> +<p>The handsome secretary whom I had taken for the count stood in +the doorway looking askance at us. He knew me at once and +wondered.</p> +<p>"You cannot enter, Vigo. M. le Duc is occupied."</p> +<p>He made to shut the door, but Vigo's foot was over the sill.</p> +<p>"Natheless, I must enter," he answered unabashed and pushed his +way into the room.</p> +<p>"Then you must answer for it," returned the secretary, with a +scowl that sat ill on his delicate face.</p> +<p>"<i>You</i> shall answer for it if it turns out a mare's nest," +said Vigo, in a low, meaning voice to me. But I hardly heard him. I +passed him and Lucas, and flew down the long room to Monsieur.</p> +<p>M. le Duc was seated before a table heaped with papers. He had +been watching the scene at the door in surprise and anger. He +looked at me with a sharp frown, while the deer-hound at his feet +rose on its haunches growling.</p> +<p>"Roland!" I said. The dog sprang up and came to me.</p> +<p>"Félix Broux!" Monsieur exclaimed, with his quick, warm +smile—a smile no man in France could match for radiance.</p> +<p>I had no thought of kneeling, of making obeisance, of waiting +permission to speak.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried, half choked, "there is a plot—a vile +plot to murder you!"</p> +<p>"Where? At St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>"No, Monsieur. Here in Paris. In the streets to-night, when you +go to the king."</p> +<p>Monsieur sprang to his feet, his hand on his sword. Lucas turned +white. Vigo swore. Monsieur cried:</p> +<p>"How, in God's name, know you that?"</p> +<p>"You have been betrayed, Monsieur. Your plan is known. You leave +the house to-night, near a quarter of eleven, to go in secret to +the king. You leave by the little door in the alley—"</p> +<p>"Diable!" breathed Vigo.</p> +<p>"They set on you on your way—three of them—to run +you through before you can draw."</p> +<p>"But, ventre bleu! Monsieur is not alone."</p> +<p>"No; he walks between you and M. Lucas."</p> +<p>Not one of them spoke. They stared at me as if I were something +uncanny. I, a raw country boy, disclosing a perfect knowledge of +their most intimate plans!</p> +<p>"How know you this?" Monsieur demanded of me. But he was not +looking at me. His keen glance went first to Lucas, then to Vigo, +the two men who had shared his confidence. The secretary cried +out:</p> +<p>"You cannot think, Monsieur, that I betrayed you?"</p> +<p>Vigo said nothing. His steady eyes never left Monsieur's +face.</p> +<p>"No," answered Monsieur to Lucas, "I cannot think it." And to +Vigo he said: "I shall accuse you when I accuse myself. +But—none knew this thing save our three selves." And his gaze +went back to Lucas.</p> +<p>"It is not likely to be he," I said, impelled to be just to him +though I did not like him, "for they meant to kill him as +well."</p> +<p>Lucas started, then instantly recovered himself.</p> +<p>"A comprehensive plot, Monsieur," he said, with a smile.</p> +<p>"Then who was it?" cried Monsieur to me. "You know. Speak."</p> +<p>"There is a spy in the house—an eavesdropper," I said, and +then paused.</p> +<p>"Aye?" said Monsieur. "Who?"</p> +<p>Now the answer to this was easy, yet I flinched before it; for I +knew well enough what Monsieur would do. He feared no man, and +waited on no man's advice. And if he was a good lover, he was a +good hater. He would not inform the governor, and await the tardy +course of justice, that would probably accomplish—nothing. +Nor would he consider the troubled times and the danger of his +position, and ignore the affair, as many would have deemed best. He +would not stop to think what the Sixteen might have to say to it. +No; he would call out his guards and slay the plotters in the Rue +Coupejarrets like the wolves they were. It was right he should, +but—I owed my life to Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>"His name, man, his name!" Monsieur was crying.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I returned, flushing hot, "Monsieur—"</p> +<p>"Do you know his name?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur, I know his name, but—"</p> +<p>Monsieur looked at me in surprise and frowning, impatience. +Quickly Lucas struck in:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I have grave doubts of the boy's honesty."</p> +<p>"Doubts!" cried Monsieur, with a sudden laugh. "It is not a case +for doubts. The boy states facts."</p> +<p>He seated himself in his chair, his face growing stern again. +The little action seemed to make him no longer merely my +questioner, but my judge.</p> +<p>"Now, Félix Broux, let us get to the bottom of this."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I began, struggling to put the case clearly, "I +learned of the plot by accident. I did not guess for a long time it +was you who were the victim. When I found out that, I came straight +here to you. Monsieur, there are four men in the plot, and one of +them has stood my friend."</p> +<p>"And my assassin!"</p> +<p>"He is a black-hearted villain!" I acknowledged. "For he swore +no harm was meant to you. He swore it was only a private grudge +against M. Lucas. But when one of them let out the truth I came +straight to you."</p> +<p>"That is likely true," said Vigo, "for he was ready to kill the +men who barred his way."</p> +<p>"You were in a plot to kill my secretary!"</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried.</p> +<p>"You—Félix Broux!"</p> +<p>I curled with shame.</p> +<p>"M. Lucas had struck me," I muttered; "I thought the fight was +fair enough. And they threatened my life."</p> +<p>Monsieur's contemptuous eyes shrivelled me as flame shrivels a +leaf.</p> +<p>"You—a Broux of St. Quentin!"</p> +<p>Lucas, who had watched me close all the while, as they all three +did, said now:</p> +<p>"I believe he is a cheat, Monsieur. There is no plot. He has +learned of your plan through the eavesdropper he speaks of and +thinks to make credit out of a trumped-up tale of murder."</p> +<p>"No," answered Monsieur. "You may think that, Lucas, for he is a +stranger to you. But I know him. He was a fool sometimes, but he +was never dishonest. You used to be fond of me, Félix. What +has happened to make you consort with my enemies?"</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur, I love you. I have always loved you," I cried. "I +am not lying now, nor cheating you. There is a plot. I learned it +and came straight to you, though I was under oath not to betray +them."</p> +<p>"Then, in Heaven's name, Félix," burst out Vigo, "which +side are you on?"</p> +<p>Monsieur began to laugh.</p> +<p>"That is what I should like to know. For, by St. Quentin, I can +make nothing of it."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," insisted Lucas, "whatever he was once, I believe him +a trickster now."</p> +<p>Monsieur bent his keen eyes on me.</p> +<p>"No; he is plainly in earnest. Therefore with patience I look to +get some sense out of this snarl of a story. Something is there we +have not yet fathomed."</p> +<p>"Will Monsieur let me speak?"</p> +<p>"I have done naught but urge you to do so for some time past," +he answered dryly.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you know my father would not let me leave St. Quentin +with you, three months back. But at length he said I should come, +and I reached Paris last night and, since it was late, lodged at an +inn. This morning I came to your gate, but the guard would not let +me enter. I was so mad to see you, Monsieur, that when you drove +out I sprang up on your coach-step—"</p> +<p>"Ah," said Monsieur, a new light breaking in upon him, "that was +you, Félix? I did not know you; I was thinking of other +matters. And Lucas took you for a miscreant. Now I <i>am</i> +sorry."</p> +<p>If I had been a noble he could not have spoken franker apology. +But at once he was stern again. "And because my secretary took you +in all good faith for a possible assassin and struck you to save +me, you turn traitor and take part in a plot to set on him and kill +him! I had believed that of some hired lackey, not of a Broux."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I was wrong—a thousand times wrong. I knew that +as soon as I had sworn. And when I found it was you they meant, I +came to you, oath or no oath."</p> +<p>"There spoke the Broux!" cried Monsieur with his brilliant +smile. "Now you are Félix. Who are my would-be +murderers?"</p> +<p>We had come round in a circle to the place where we had stuck +before, and here we stuck again.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I would tell you all before you could count +ten—tell you their names, their whereabouts, +everything—were it not for one man who stood my friend."</p> +<p>The duke's eyes flashed.</p> +<p>"You call him that—my assassin!"</p> +<p>"He is an assassin," I was forced to answer; "even Monsieur's +assassin—and a perjurer. But—but, Monsieur, he saved my +life from the other, at the risk of his own. How can I pay him back +by betraying him?"</p> +<p>"According to your own account, he betrayed you."</p> +<p>"Aye, he lied to me," I said brokenly. "Yet Monsieur, if it were +your own case and one had saved your life, were he the scum of the +gutter, would you send him to his death?"</p> +<p>"To whom do you owe your first duty?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, to you."</p> +<p>"Then speak."</p> +<p>But I could not do it. Though I knew Yeux-gris for a villain, +yet he had saved my life.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I cannot."</p> +<p>The duke cried out:</p> +<p>"This to me!"</p> +<p>There was a silence. I stood with hanging head, the picture of a +shame-faced knave. Shame so filled me that I could not look up to +meet Monsieur's sentence. But when I had remembered the good hater +in Monsieur, I should have remembered, too, the good lover. +Monsieur had been fond of me at St. Quentin. As I waited for the +lightning to strike, he said with utmost gentleness:</p> +<p>"Félix, let me understand you. In what manner did this +man save your life?"</p> +<p>Now that was like my lord. Though a hot man, he loved fairness +and ever strove to do the just thing, and his patience was the +finer that it was not his nature. His leniency fired me with a +sudden hope.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, there are four of them in the plot. But one cannot be +as vile as the others, since he saved my life. Monsieur, if I tell +you, will you let that one go?"</p> +<p>"I shall do as I see fit," he answered, all the duke. +"Félix, will you speak?"</p> +<p>"If Monsieur will promise to let him go—"</p> +<p>"Insolence, sirrah! I do not bargain with my servants."</p> +<p>His words were like whips. I flinched before his proud anger, +and for the second time stood with hanging head awaiting his +sentence. And again he did what I could not guess. He cried +out:</p> +<p>"Félix, you are blind, besotted, mad. You know not what +you do. I am in constant danger. The city is filled with my +enemies. The Leagues hate me and are ever plotting mischief against +me. Every day their mistrust and hatred grow. I did a bold thing in +coming to Paris, but I had a great end to serve—to pave a way +into the capital for the Catholic king and bring the land to peace. +For that, I live in hourly jeopardy, and risk my life to-night on +foot in the streets. If I am killed, more than my life is lost. The +Church may lose the king, and this dear France of ours be harried +to a desert in the civil wars!"</p> +<p>I had braced myself to bear Monsieur's anger, but this +unlooked-for appeal pierced me through and through. All the love +and loyalty in me—and I had much, though it may not have +seemed so—rose in answer to Monsieur's call. I fell on my +knees before him, choked with sobs.</p> +<p>Monsieur's hand lay on my head as he said quietly:</p> +<p>"Now, Félix, speak."</p> +<p>I answered huskily:</p> +<p>"Would Monsieur have me turn Judas?"</p> +<p>"Judas betrayed his <i>master</i>."</p> +<p>It was my last stand. My last redoubt had fallen. I raised my +head to tell him all.</p> +<p>Maybe it was the tears in my eyes, but as I lifted them to M. le +Duc, I saw—not him, but Yeux-gris—Yeux-gris looking at +me with warm good will, as he had looked when he was saving me from +Gervais. I saw him, I say, plain before my eyes. The next instant +there was nothing but Monsieur's face of rising impatience.</p> +<p>I rose to my feet, and said:</p> +<p>"Kill me, Monsieur; I cannot tell."</p> +<p>"Nom de dieu!" he shouted, springing up.</p> +<p>I shut my eyes and waited. Had he slain me then and there it +were no more than my deserts.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said Vigo, immovably, "shall I go for the boot?"</p> +<p>I opened my eyes then. Monsieur stood quite still, his brow +knotted, his hands clenched as if to keep them off me.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "send for the boot, the thumbscrew, whatever +you please. I deserve it, and I will bear it. Monsieur, it is not +that I will not tell. It is something stronger than I. I +<i>cannot</i>."</p> +<p>He burst into an angry laugh.</p> +<p>"Say you are possessed of a devil, and I will believe it. My +faith! though you are a low-born lad and I Duke of St. Quentin, I +seem to be getting the worst of it."</p> +<p>"There is the boot, Monsieur."</p> +<p>Monsieur laughed again, no less angrily.</p> +<p>"That does not help me, my good Vigo. I cannot torture a +Broux."</p> +<p>"There Monsieur is wrong. The lad has been disloyal and +insolent, if he is a Broux."</p> +<p>"Granted, Vigo," said M. le Duc. But he did not add, "Fetch the +boot."</p> +<p>Vigo went on with steady persistence. "He has not been loyal to +Monsieur and his interests in refusing to tell what he knows. And +if he goes counter to Monsieur's interests he is a traitor, Broux +or no Broux. He has no claim to be treated as other than an enemy. +These are serious times. Monsieur does not well to play with his +dangers. The boy must tell what he knows. Am I to go for the boot, +Monsieur?"</p> +<p>M. le Duc was silent for a moment, while the hot flush that had +sprung to his face died away. Then he answered Vigo:</p> +<p>"Nevertheless, it is owing to Félix that I shall not walk +out to meet my death to-night."</p> +<p>The secretary had stood silent for a long time, fingering +nervously the papers on the table. I had forgotten his presence, +when now he stepped forward and said:</p> +<p>"If I might be permitted a suggestion, Monsieur—"</p> +<p>Monsieur silenced him with a sharp gesture.</p> +<p>"Félix Broux," he said to me, "you have been following a +bad plan. No man can run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. +You are either my loyal servant or my enemy, one thing or the +other. Now I am loath to hurt you. You have seen how I am loath to +hurt you. I give you one more chance to be honest. Go and think it +over. If in half an hour you have decided that you are my true man, +well and good. If not, by St. Quentin, we will see what a flogging +can do!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> +<h3><i>Charles-André-Étienne-Marie.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-u.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>npleased, but unprotesting, Vigo led me out into the anteroom. +Those men who judged by the outside of things and, knowing Vigo's +iron ways, said that he ruled Monsieur, were wrong.</p> +<p>The big equery gave me over to the charge of Marcel and returned +to the inner room. Hardly had the door closed behind him when the +page burst out:</p> +<p>"What is it? What is the coil? What have you done, +Félix?"</p> +<p>Now you can guess I was too sick-hearted for chatter. I had +defied and disobeyed my liege lord; I could never hope for pardon +or any man's respect. They threatened me with flogging; well, let +them flog. They could not make my back any sorer than my conscience +was. For I had not the satisfaction in my trouble of thinking that +I had done right. Monsieur's danger should have been my first +consideration. What was Yeux-gris, perjured scoundrel, in +comparison with M. le Duc? And yet I knew that at the end of the +half-hour I should not tell; at the end of the flogging I should +not tell. I had warned Monsieur; that I would have done had it been +the breaking of a thousand oaths. But give up Yeux-gris? Not if +they tore me limb from limb!</p> +<p>"What is it all about?" cried Marcel, again. "You look as glum +as a Jesuit in Lent. What is the matter with you, +Félix?"</p> +<p>"I have cooked my goose," I said gloomily.</p> +<p>"What have you done?"</p> +<p>"Nothing that I can speak about. But I am out of Monsieur's +books."</p> +<p>"What was old Vigo after when he took you in to Monsieur? I +never saw anything so bold. When Monsieur says he is not to be +disturbed he means it."</p> +<p>I had nothing to tell him, and was silent.</p> +<p>"What is it? Can't you tell an old chum?"</p> +<p>"No; it is Monsieur's private business."</p> +<p>"Well, you are grumpy!" he cried out pettishly. "You must be out +of grace." He seemed to decide that nothing was to be made out of +me just now on this tack, and with unabated persistence tried +another.</p> +<p>"Is it true, Félix, what one of the men said just now, +that you tried to speak with Monsieur this morning when he drove +out?"</p> +<p>"Yes. But Monsieur did not recognize me."</p> +<p>"Like enough," Marcel answered. "He has a way of late of falling +into these absent fits. Monsieur is not the man he was."</p> +<p>"He does look older," I said, "and worn. I trow the risk he is +running—"</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" cried Marcel, with scorn. "Is Monsieur a man to mind +risks? No; it is M. le Comte."</p> +<p>I started like a guilty thing, remembering what Yeux-gris had +told me and I, wrapped in my petty troubles, had forgotten. +Monsieur had lost his only son. And I had chosen this time to defy +him!</p> +<p>"How long ago was it?" I asked in a hushed voice.</p> +<p>"Since M. le Comte left us? It will be three weeks next +Friday."</p> +<p>"How did he die?"</p> +<p>"Die?" echoed Marcel. "You crazy fellow, he is not dead!"</p> +<p>It was my turn to stare.</p> +<p>"Then where is he?"</p> +<p>"It would be money in my pouch if I knew. What made you think +him dead, Félix?"</p> +<p>"A man told me so."</p> +<p>"Pardieu!" he cried in some excitement. "When? Who was it?"</p> +<p>"To-day. I do not know the man's name."</p> +<p>"It seems you know very little. Pardieu! I do not believe M. le +Comte is dead. What else did your man say?"</p> +<p>"Nothing. He only said the Comte de Mar was dead."</p> +<p>"Pshaw! I don't believe it. You believe everything you hear +because you are just from the country. No; if M. le Comte were dead +we should hear of it. Oh, certainly, we should hear."</p> +<p>"But where is he, then? You say he is lost."</p> +<p>"Aye. He has not been seen or heard of since the day they had +the quarrel."</p> +<p>"Who quarrelled?"</p> +<p>"Why, he and Monsieur," answered Marcel, in a lower voice, +pointing to the door of the inner room. "M. le Comte has been his +own master too long to take kindly to a hand over him; that is the +whole of it. He has a quick temper. So has Monsieur."</p> +<p>But I thought of Monsieur's wonderful patience, and I cried:</p> +<p>"Shame!"</p> +<p>"What now?"</p> +<p>"To speak like that of Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Enfin, it is true. He is none the worse for that. But I suppose +if Monsieur had a cloven hoof one must not mention it."</p> +<p>"One would get his head broken."</p> +<p>"Oh, you Broux!" he cried out. "I have not seen you for half a +year. I had forgotten that with you the St. Quentins rank with the +saints."</p> +<p>"You—you are a hired servant. You come to Monsieur as you +might come to anybody. With the Broux it is different," I retorted +angrily. Yet I could not but know in my heart that any hired +servant might have served Monsieur better than I. My boasted +loyalty—what was it but lip-service? I said more humbly: +"Pshaw! it is no great matter. Tell me about the quarrel."</p> +<p>"And so I will, if you're civil. In the first place, there was +the question of M. le Comte's marriage."</p> +<p>"What! is he married?"</p> +<p>"Oh, by no means. Monsieur wouldn't have it. You see, +Félix," Marcel said in a tone deep with importance, "we're +Navarre's men now."</p> +<p>"Of course," said I.</p> +<p>"I suppose you would say 'of course' just like that to Mayenne +himself. You greenhorn! It is as much as our lives are worth to +side openly with Navarre. The League may attack us any day."</p> +<p>"I know," I said uneasily. Every chance word Marcel spoke seemed +to dye my guilt the deeper. "But what has this to do with M. le +Comte's marriage?" I asked him.</p> +<p>"Why, he was more than half a Leaguer. Perhaps he is one now. +Some say he and Monsieur were at daggers drawn about politics; but +I warrant it was about Mlle. de Montluc. They call her the Rose of +Lorraine. She's the Duke of Mayenne's own cousin and housemate. And +we're king's men, so of course it was no match for Monsieur's son. +They say Mayenne himself favoured the marriage, but our duke +wouldn't hear of it. However, the backbone of the trouble was M. de +Grammont."</p> +<p>"And who may he be?"</p> +<p>"He's a cousin of the house. He and M. le Comte are as thick as +thieves. Before we came to Paris they lodged together. So when M. +le Comte came here he brought M. de Grammont. Dare I speak ill of +Monsieur's cousin, Félix? For I would say, at the risk of a +broken head, that he is a sour-faced churl. You cannot deny it. You +never saw him."</p> +<p>"No, nor M. le Comte, either."</p> +<p>"Why, you have seen M. le Comte!"</p> +<p>"Never. The only time he came to St. Quentin I was laid up in +bed with a strained leg. I missed the chase. Don't you +remember?"</p> +<p>"Why, you are right; that was the time you fell out of the +buttery window when you were stealing tarts, and Margot got after +you with the broomstick. I remember very well."</p> +<p>He was for calling up all our old pranks at the château, +but it was little joy to me to think on those fortunate days when I +was Monsieur's favourite. I said:</p> +<p>"Nay, Marcel, you were telling me of M. le Comte and the +quarrel."</p> +<p>"Oh, as for that, it is easy told. You see M. le Comte and this +Grammont took no interest in Monsieur's affairs, and they had very +little to say to him, and he to them. They had plenty of friends in +Paris, Leaguers or not, and they used to go about amusing +themselves. But at last M. de Grammont had such a run of bad luck +at the tables that he not only emptied his own pockets but M. le +Comte's as well. I will say for M. le Comte that he would share his +last sou with any one who asked."</p> +<p>"And so would any St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Oh, you are always piping up for the St. Quentins."</p> +<p>"He should have no need in this house."</p> +<p>We jumped up to find Vigo standing behind us.</p> +<p>"What have you been saying of Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, M. Vigo," stammered the page. "I only said M. le +Comte—"</p> +<p>"You are not to discuss M. le Comte. Do you hear?"</p> +<p>"Yes, M. Vigo."</p> +<p>"Then obey. And you, Félix, I shall have a little +interview with you shortly."</p> +<p>"As you will, M. Vigo," I said hopelessly.</p> +<p>He went off down the corridor, and Marcel turned angrily on +me.</p> +<p>"Mon dieu, Félix, you have got me into a nice scrape with +your eternal chanting of the praises of Monsieur. Like as not I +shall get a beating for it. Vigo never forgets."</p> +<p>"I am sorry," I said. "We should not have been talking of +it."</p> +<p>"No, we should not. Come over here where we can watch both +doors, and I'll tell you the rest before the old lynx gets +back."</p> +<p>We sat down close together, and he proceeded in a low tone to +disobey Vigo.</p> +<p>"Enfin, as I said, the two young gentlemen were quite sans le +sou, for things had come to a point where M. le Duc looked pretty +black at any application for funds—he has other uses for his +gold, you see. One day Monsieur was expecting some one to whom he +was to pay a thousand pistoles, and to have the money handy he put +it in a secret drawer in his cabinet in the room yonder. The man +arrives and is taken to Monsieur's private room. Monsieur gives him +his orders and goes to the cabinet for his pistoles. No pistoles +there!"</p> +<p>Marcel paused dramatically. "And what then?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Well, it appears he had once shown M. le Comte the trick of the +drawer, so he sent for him—not to accuse him, mind you. For +M. le Comte is wild enough, yet Monsieur did not think he would +steal pistoles, nor would he, I will stake my oath. No, Monsieur +merely asked him if he had ever shown any one the drawer, and M. le +Comte answered, 'Only Grammont.'"</p> +<p>And how have you learned all this?"</p> +<p>"Oh, one hears."</p> +<p>"One does, with one's ears to the keyhole."</p> +<p>"It behooves you, Félix, to be civil to your better!"</p> +<p>I made pretence of looking about me.</p> +<p>"Where is he?"</p> +<p>"He sits here. I am page to the Duke of St. Quentin. And +you?"</p> +<p>"Touché!" I admitted bitterly enough. Little Marcel, my +junior, my unquestioning follower in the old days, was now indeed +my better, quite in a position to patronize.</p> +<p>"Continue, if you please, Marcel. Yet, in passing, I should like +to ask you how much you heard our talk in there just now."</p> +<p>"Nothing," he answered candidly. "When they are so far down the +room one cannot hear a word. In the affair of the pistoles they +stood near the cabinet at this end. One could not help but hear. As +for listening at keyholes, I scorn it."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is well to scorn it. People have an unpleasant trick of +opening doors so suddenly."</p> +<p>He laughed cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Old Vigo caught us, certes. Let's see, where was I? Oh, yes, +then Monsieur put on his proud look and said, if it was a case of +no one but his son and his cousin, he preferred to drop the matter. +But M. le Comte got out of him what the trouble was and went off +for Grammont, red as fire. The two together came back to Monsieur +and denied up and down that either of them knew aught of his +pistoles, or had told of the secret to any one. They say it was +easy to see that Monsieur did not believe Grammont, but he did not +give him the lie, and the matter came near dropping there, for M. +le Duc would not accuse a kinsman. But then Lucas gave a new turn +to the affair."</p> +<p>"How long has Lucas been here, Marcel? Who is he?"</p> +<p>"Oh, he's a rascal of a Huguenot. Monsieur picked him up at +Mantes, just before we came to the city. And if he spies on +Monsieur's enemies as well as he does on this household, he must be +a useful man. He has that long nose of his in everything, let me +tell you. Of course he was present when Monsieur missed the +pistoles. So then, quite on his own account, without any orders, he +took two of the men and searched M. de Grammont's room. And in a +locked chest of his which they forced open they found five hundred +of the pistoles in the very box Monsieur had kept them in."</p> +<p>"And then?"</p> +<p>Marcel made a fine gesture.</p> +<p>"And then, pardieu! the storm broke. M. de Grammont raved like a +madman. He said Lucas was the thief and had put half the sum in his +chest to divert suspicion. He said it was a plot to ruin him +contrived between Monsieur and his henchman, Lucas. It is true +enough, certes, that Monsieur never liked him. He threatened +Monsieur's life and Lucas's. He challenged Monsieur, and Monsieur +declined to cross swords with a thief. He challenged Lucas, and +Lucas took the cue from Monsieur. I was not there—on either +side of the door. What I tell you has leaked out bit by bit from +Lucas, for Monsieur keeps his mouth shut. The upshot of the matter +was that Grammont goes at Lucas with a knife, and Monsieur has the +guards pitch my gentleman into the street. Then M. le Comte swore a +big oath that he would go with Grammont. Monsieur told him if he +went in such company it would be forever. M. le Comte swore he +would never come back under his father's roof if M. le Duc crawled +to him on his knees to beg him."</p> +<p>"Ah!" I cried; "and then?"</p> +<p>"Marry, that's all. M. le Comte went straight out of this gate, +without horse or squire. And we have not heard a word of either of +them since."</p> +<p>He paused, and when I made no comment, said, a trifle +aggrieved:</p> +<p>"Eh bien, you take it calmly, but you would not had you been +here. It was an altogether lively affair. It wouldn't surprise me a +whit if some day Monsieur should be attacked as he drives out. He's +not one to forget an injury, this M. Gervais de Grammont."</p> +<p>At the name, intelligence flashed over me, sudden and clear as +last night's lightning-gleam. Yet this thing I seemed to see was so +hideous, so horrible, that my mind recoiled from it.</p> +<p>"Marcel," I stammered, shuddering, "Marcel—"</p> +<p>"Mordieu! what ails you? Is some one walking on your grave?"</p> +<p>"Marcel, how is M. le Comte named?"</p> +<p>"The Comte de Mar? Oh, do you mean his names in baptism? +Charles-André-Étienne-Marie. They call him +Étienne. Why do you ask? What is it?"</p> +<p>It was a certainty, then. Yet I could not bring myself to +believe this horrible thing.</p> +<p>"I have never seen him. How does he look?"</p> +<p>"Oh, not at all like Monsieur. He has fair hair and gray +eyes—que diable!"</p> +<p>For I had flung open Monsieur's door and dashed in.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> +<h3><i>The honour of St. Quentin.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>onsieur was seated at his table, talking in a low tone and +hurriedly to Lucas. They started and stared as I broke in upon +them, and then Monsieur cried out to me:</p> +<p>"Ah, Félix! You have come to your senses."</p> +<p>"I will tell Monsieur all, the whole story."</p> +<p>He tested my honesty with a glance, then looked beyond me at +Marcel, standing agape in the doorway.</p> +<p>"Leave us, Marcel. Go down-stairs. Leave that door open, and +shut the door into the corridor."</p> +<p>Marcel obeyed. Monsieur turned to me with a smile.</p> +<p>"Now, Félix."</p> +<p>I had hardly been able to hold my words back while Marcel was +disposed of.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I knew not, myself, the names of those men. Now I +have found out. They—"</p> +<p>My eyes met the secretary's fixed excitedly upon me and the +words died on my tongue. Even in my rage I had the grace to know +that this was no story to tell Monsieur before another.</p> +<p>"I will tell Monsieur alone."</p> +<p>"You may speak before M. Lucas," he rejoined impatiently.</p> +<p>"No," I persisted. "I must tell Monsieur alone."</p> +<p>He saw in my face that I had strong reasons for asking it, and +said to the secretary:</p> +<p>"You may go, Lucas."</p> +<p>Lucas protested.</p> +<p>"M. le Duc will be wiser not to see him alone. He is not to be +trusted. Perchance, Monsieur, this demand covers an attack on your +life."</p> +<p>The warning nettled my lord. He answered curtly:</p> +<p>"You may go."</p> +<p>"Monsieur—"</p> +<p>"Go!"</p> +<p>Lucas passed out, giving me, as he went, a look of hatred that +startled me. But I did not pay it much heed.</p> +<p>"Well!" exclaimed Monsieur.</p> +<p>But by this time I had bethought myself what a story it was I +had to tell a father of his son. I could not blurt it out in two +words. I stood silent, not knowing how to start.</p> +<p>"Félix! Beware how much longer you abuse my +patience!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I began, "the spy in the house is named Martin."</p> +<p>"Ah!" cried Monsieur. "So it is Louis Martin. How he +knew—But go on. The others—"</p> +<p>"I lay the night in the Rue Coupejarrets, not far from the St. +Denis gate," I said, still beating about the bush, "at the sign of +the Amour de Dieu. Opposite is a closed house, shuttered with iron +from garret to cellar. You can enter from a court behind. It is +here that they plot."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="098.jpg"></a> <a href="images/098.jpg"><img src= +"images/098.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"WITH A CRY MONSIEUR SPRANG TOWARD ME."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>Monsieur's brows drew together, as if he were trying to recall +something half remembered, half forgotten.</p> +<p>"But the men," he cried, "the men!"</p> +<p>"They are three. One a low fellow named Pontou."</p> +<p>"Pontou? The name is nothing to me. The others?" He was leaning +forward eagerly. I knew of what he was thinking—the quickest +way to reach the Rue Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>"There are two others, Monsieur," I said slowly. "Young +men—noble."</p> +<p>I looked at him. But no light whatever had broken in upon +him.</p> +<p>"Their names, lad!"</p> +<p>Then, seeing him unsuspecting, the fury in my heart surged up +and covered every other feeling. I burst out:</p> +<p>"Gervais de Grammont and the Comte de Mar."</p> +<p>He looked me in the face, and he knew I was telling the truth. +Unexpected as it was, hideous as it was, yet he knew I was telling +the truth.</p> +<p>I had seen cowards turn pale, but never the colour washed from a +brave man's face. The sight made my fingers itch to strangle that +gray-eyed cheat.</p> +<p>With a cry Monsieur sprang toward me.</p> +<p>"You lie, you cur!"</p> +<p>"No, Monsieur," I gasped; "it is the truth."</p> +<p>He let me go then, and laid his hand on the collar of the dog, +who had sprung to his aid. But Monsieur had got a hurt from which +the dumb beast's loyalty could not defend him. He stood with bowed +head, a man stricken to the heart's core. Full of wrath as I was, +the tears came to my eyes for Monsieur.</p> +<p>He recovered himself.</p> +<p>"It is some damnable mistake! You have been tricked!"</p> +<p>My rage blazed up again.</p> +<p>"No! They tricked me once. Not again! Not this time. I knew not +who they were till now, when I talked with Marcel. The two things +fitted."</p> +<p>"Then it is your guess! You dare to say—"</p> +<p>"No, I know!" I interrupted rudely, too excited to remember +respect. "Shall I tell what these men were like? I had never seen +M. le Comte nor M. de Grammont before. One was broad-shouldered and +heavy, with a black beard and a black scowl, whom the other called +Gervais. The younger was called Étienne, tall and slender, +with gray eyes and fair hair. And like Monsieur!" I cried, suddenly +aware of it. "Mordieu, how he is like, though he is light! In face, +in voice, in manner! He speaks like Monsieur. He has Monsieur's +laugh. I was blind not to see it. I believe that was why I loved +him so much."</p> +<p>"It was he whom you would not betray?"</p> +<p>"Aye. That was before I knew."</p> +<p>Thinking of the trust I had given him, my wrath boiled up again. +Monsieur took me by the shoulder and looked at me as if he would +look through me to the naked soul.</p> +<p>"How do I know that you are not lying?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur does know it."</p> +<p>"Yes," he answered after a moment. "Alas! yes, I know it."</p> +<p>He stood looking at me, with the dreariest face I ever +saw—the face of a man whose son has sought to murder him. +Looking back on it now, I wonder that I ever went to Monsieur with +that story. I wonder why I did not bury the shame and disgrace of +it in my own heart, at whatever cost keep it from Monsieur. But the +thought never entered my head then. I was so full of black rage +against Yeux-gris—him most of all, because he had won me +so—that I could feel nothing else. I knew that I pitied +Monsieur, yet I hardly felt it.</p> +<p>"Tell me everything—how you met them—all. Else I +shall not believe a word of your devilish rigmarole," Monsieur +cried out.</p> +<p>I told him the whole shameful story, every word, from my +lightning vision to my gossip with Marcel in the antechamber, he +listening in hopeless silence. At length I finished. It seemed +hours since he had spoken. At last he said, "Then it is true." The +grayness of his face drew the cry from me:</p> +<p>"The villain! the black-hearted villain!"</p> +<p>"Take care, Félix, he is my son!"</p> +<p>I got hold of my cross and tore it off, breaking the chain.</p> +<p>"See, Monsieur. That is the cross on which he swore the plot was +not against you. He swore it, and Gervais de Grammont laughed! I +swore, too, never to betray them! Two perjuries!"</p> +<p>I flung the cross on the floor and stamped on it, splintering +it.</p> +<p>"Profaner!" cried Monsieur.</p> +<p>"It is no sacrilege!" I retorted. "That is no holy thing since +he has touched it. He has made it vile—scoundrel, assassin, +parricide!"</p> +<p>Monsieur struck the words from my lips.</p> +<p>"It is true," I muttered.</p> +<p>"Were it ten times true, you have no right to say it."</p> +<p>"No, I have none," I answered, shamed. I might not speak ill of +a St. Quentin, though he were the devil's own. But my rage came +uppermost again.</p> +<p>"I can bring Monsieur to the house in twenty minutes. Vigo and a +handful of men can take them prisoners before they suspect aught +amiss. They are only three—he and Grammont and the +lackey."</p> +<p>But Monsieur shook his head.</p> +<p>"I cannot do that."</p> +<p>"Why not, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Can I take my own son prisoner?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur need not go," said I, wondering. In his place I would +have gone and killed Yeux-gris with my own hands. "Vigo and I and +two more can do it. Vigo and I alone, if Monsieur would not shame +him before the men." I guessed at what he was thinking.</p> +<p>"Not even you and Vigo," he answered. "Think you I would arrest +my son like a common felon—shame him like that?"</p> +<p>"He has shamed himself!" I cried. I cared not whether I had a +right to say it. "He has forgotten his honour."</p> +<p>"Aye. But I have remembered mine."</p> +<p>"Monsieur! Monsieur cannot mean to let him go scot-free?"</p> +<p>But his eyes told me that he did mean it.</p> +<p>"Then," I said in more and more amazement, "Monsieur forgives +him?"</p> +<p>His face set sternly.</p> +<p>"No," he answered. "No, Félix. He has placed himself +beyond my forgiveness."</p> +<p>"Then we will go there alone, we two, and kill him! Kill the +three!"</p> +<p>He laughed. But not a man in France felt less mirthful.</p> +<p>"You would have me kill my son?"</p> +<p>"He would have killed you."</p> +<p>"That makes no difference."</p> +<p>I looked at him, groping after the thoughts that swayed him, and +catching at them dimly. I knew them for the principles of a proud +and honour-ruled man, but there was no room for them in my angry +heart.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried, "will you let three villains go unpunished +for the sake of one?" It was what I had meant to do, awhile back, +but the case was changed now.</p> +<p>"Of two: Gervais de Grammont is also of my blood."</p> +<p>"Monsieur would spare him as well—him, the +ringleader!"</p> +<p>"He is my cousin."</p> +<p>"He forgets it."</p> +<p>"But I do not."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, will you have no vengeance?"</p> +<p>Monsieur looked at me.</p> +<p>"When you are a man, Félix Broux, you will know that +there are other things in this world besides vengeance. You will +know that some injuries cannot be avenged. You will know that a +gentleman cannot use the same weapons that blackguards use to +him."</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried. "Monsieur is indeed a nobleman!" But I +was furious with him for it.</p> +<p>He turned abruptly and paced down the room. The dog, which had +been standing at his side, stayed still, looking from him to me +with puzzled, troubled eyes. He knew quite well something was +wrong, and vented his feelings in a long, dismal whine. Monsieur +spoke to him; Roland bounded up to him and licked his hand. They +walked up and down together, comforting each other.</p> +<p>"At least," I cried in desperation, "Monsieur has the spy."</p> +<p>He laughed. Only a man in utter despair could have laughed then +as he did.</p> +<p>"Even the spy to wreak vengeance on consoles you somewhat, +Félix? But does it seem to you fair that a tool should be +punished when the leaders go free?"</p> +<p>"No," said I; "but it is the common way."</p> +<p>"That is a true word," he said, turning away again.</p> +<p>I waited till he faced me once more.</p> +<p>"Monsieur will not suffer the spy to go free?"</p> +<p>"No, Félix. He shall be punished lest he betray +again."</p> +<p>He passed me in his dreary walk. Half a dozen times he passed by +me, a broken-hearted man, striving to collect his courage to take +up his life once more. But I thought he would never get over the +blow. A husband may forget his wife's treachery, and a mother will +forgive her child's, but a father can neither forget nor forgive +the crime of the son who bears his name.</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur, you are noble, and I love you!" I cried from the +depths of my heart, and knelt to kiss his hand.</p> +<p>Monsieur laid that kind hand on my shoulder.</p> +<p>"You shall serve me. Go now and send Vigo here. I must be +looking to the country's business."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> +<h3><i>Lucas and "Le Gaucher."</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>cursed myself for a fool that I had carried the tale to +Monsieur. It should have been my business to keep a still tongue +and go kill Yeux-gris myself. For this last it was not yet too +late.</p> +<p>Marcel was hanging about in the corridor, and to him I gave the +word for Vigo. I tore away from his eager questionings and hurried +to the gate.</p> +<p>In the morning I had not been able to get in, and now I could no +more get out. By Vigo's orders, no man might leave the house.</p> +<p>Vigo was after the spy, of course. Monsieur knew the traitor +now; he would inform Vigo, and the gates would be open for honest +men. But that might take time and I could not wait five minutes. I +had the audacity to cry to the guards:</p> +<p>"M. le Duc will let me pass out. I refer you to M. le Duc."</p> +<p>The men were impressed. They had a respect for me, since I had +been closeted with Monsieur. Yet they dared not disobey Vigo for +their lives. In this dilemma the poor sentry, fearful of getting +into trouble whatever he did, sent up an envoy to ask Monsieur. I +was frightened then. I had uttered my speech in sheer bravado, and +was very doubtful as to how he would answer my impudence. But he +was utterly careless, I trow, what I did, for presently the word +came down that I might pass out.</p> +<p>The sun was setting as I hastened along the streets. I must +reach the Rue Coupejarrets before dark, else there was no hope for +me. A man in his senses would have known there was no hope anyway. +Who but a madman would think of venturing back, forsworn, to those +three villains, for the killing of one? It would be a miracle if +aught resulted but failure and death. Yet I felt no jot of fear as +I plunged into the mesh of crooked streets in the Coupejarrets +quarter—only ardour to reach my goal. When, on turning a +corner, I came upon a group of idlers choking the narrow ruelle, I +said to myself that a dozen Parisians in the way could no more stop +me than they could stop a charge of horse. All heels and elbows, I +pushed into them. But, to my abasement, promptly was I seized upon +by a burly porter and bidden, with a cuff, to mind my manners. Then +I discovered the occasion of the crowd to be a little procession of +choristers out of a neighbouring church—St. Jean of the Spire +it was, though I knew then no name for it. The boys were singing, +the watchers quiet, bareheaded. They sang as if there were nothing +in the world but piety and love. The last level rays of the sun +crowned them with radiant aureoles, painted their white robes with +glory. I shut my eyes, dazzled; it was as if I beheld a heavenly +host. When I opened them again the folk at my side were kneeling as +the cross came by. I knelt, too, but the holy sign spoke to me only +of the crucifix I had trampled on, of Yeux-gris and his lies. I +prayed to the good God to let me kill Yeux-gris, prayed, kneeling +there on the cobbles, with a fervour I had never reached before. +When I rose I ran on at redoubled speed, never doubting that a just +God would strengthen my hand, would make my cause his.</p> +<p>I entered the little court. The shutter was fastened, as before, +but I had my dagger, and could again free the bolt. I could creep +up-stairs and mayhap stab Yeux-gris before they were aware of my +coming. But that was not my purpose. I was no bravo to strike in +the back, but the instrument of a righteous vengeance. He must know +why he died.</p> +<p>One to three, I had no chance. But if I knocked openly it was +likely that Yeux-gris, being my patron, would be the one to come +down to me. Then there was the opportunity, man to man. If it were +Grammont or the lackey, I would boldly declare that I would give my +news to none but Yeux-gris. In pursuance of this plan I was +pounding vigorously on the door when a voice behind me cried out +blithely:</p> +<p>"So you are back at last, Félix Broux"</p> +<p>At the first word I wheeled around. In the court entrance stood +Yeux-gris, smiling and debonair. He had laid aside his sword, and +held on his left arm a basket containing a loaf of bread, a roast +capon, and some bottles, for all the world like an honest prentice +doing his master's errand.</p> +<p>"Yes, I am back!" I shouted. "Back to kill you, parricide!"</p> +<p>He had a knife in his belt; the fight was even. I was upon him, +my dagger raised to strike. He made no motion to draw, and I +remembered in a flash he could not: his right arm was powerless. He +sprang back, flinging up his burdened left as a shield, and my +blade buried itself in the side of the basket.</p> +<p>As I stabbed I heard feet thundering down the stairs within. I +jerked my knife from the wicker and turned to face this new enemy. +"Grammont," I thought, and that my end had come.</p> +<p>The door flew open and, shoulder to shoulder like brothers, out +rushed Grammont and—Lucas!</p> +<p>My fear was drowned in amaze. I forgot to run and stood staring +in sheer, blank bewilderment. Crying "Damned traitor!" Gervais, +with drawn sword, charged at me.</p> +<p>I had only the little dagger. I owe my life to Yeux-gris's quick +wits and no less quick fingers. Dropping the basket, he snatched a +bottle from it and hurled it at Gervais.</p> +<p>"Ware, Grammont!" shouted Lucas, springing forward. But the +missile flew too quickly. It struck Grammont square on the +forehead, and he went down like a slaughtered ox.</p> +<p>We looked, not at him, but at Lucas—Lucas, the duke's +deferential servant, the coward and skulker, Grammont's hatred, +standing here by Grammont's side, glaring at us over his naked +sword.</p> +<p>I saw in one glance that Yeux-gris was no less astounded than I, +and from that instant, though the inwardness of the matter was +still a riddle to me, my heart acquitted him of all dishonesty, of +all complicity. His was not the face of a parricide.</p> +<p>"Lucas!" he cried, in a dearth of words. "<i>Lucas!</i>"</p> +<p>I was staring at Lucas in thick bewilderment. The man was +transformed from the one I knew. At M. le Duc's he had been pale, +nervous, and shaken—senselessly and contemptibly scared, as I +thought, since he was warned of the danger and need not face it. +But now he was another man. I can think only of those lanterns I +have seen, set with coloured glass. They look dull enough all day, +but when the taper within is lighted shine like jewels. So Lucas +now. His face, so keen and handsome of feature, was brilliant, his +eyes sparkling, his figure instinct with defiance. A smile crossed +his face.</p> +<p>"Aye," he answered evenly, "it is Lucas."</p> +<p>M. le Comte appeared to be in a state of stupor. He could not +for a space find his tongue to demand:</p> +<p>"How, in the name of Heaven, come you here?"</p> +<p>"To fight Grammont," Lucas answered at once.</p> +<p>"A lie!" I shouted. "You're Grammont's friend. You came here to +warn him off. It's your plot!"</p> +<p>"Félix! The plot?" Yeux-gris cried.</p> +<p>"The plot's to murder Monsieur. Martin let it out. I thought it +was you and Grammont. But it's Lucas and Grammont!"</p> +<p>Lucas hesitated. Even now he debated whether he could not lie +out of it. Then he burst into laughter.</p> +<p>"It seems the cat's out of the bag. Aye, M. le Comte de Mar, I +came to warn Grammont off. The duke will be here straightway. How +will you like to swing for parricide?"</p> +<p>Yeux-gris stared at him, neither in fear nor in fury, but in +utter stupefaction.</p> +<p>"But Gervais? He plotted with you? But he hates you!"</p> +<p>We gaped at Lucas like yokels at a conjurer. He made us no +answer but looked from one to the other of us with the alertness of +an angry viper. We were two, but without swords. I knew he was +thinking how easiest to end us both.</p> +<p>M. le Comte cried: "You! You come from Navarre's camp, from M. +de Rosny!"</p> +<p>"Aye. I have outwitted more than one man."</p> +<p>"Mordieu! I was right to hate you!"</p> +<p>Lucas laughed. Yeux-gris blazed out:</p> +<p>"Traitor and thief! You stole the money. I said that from the +first. You drove us from the house. How you and +Grammont—"</p> +<p>"Came together? Very simple," Lucas answered with easy +insolence. "Grammont did not love Monsieur, your honoured father. +It was child's play to make an assignation with him and to lament +the part forced on me by Monsieur. Grammont was ready enough to +scent a scheme of M. le Duc's to ruin him. He had said as much to +Monsieur, as you may deign to remember."</p> +<p>"Aye," said M. le Comte, still like a puzzled child, "he was +angry with my father. But afterward he changed his mind. He knew it +was you, and only you."</p> +<p>Lucas broke again into derisive laughter.</p> +<p>"M. de Grammont is as dull a dolt as ever I met, yet clever +enough to gull you. He thought you must suspect. I dreaded +it—needlessly. You wise St. Quentins! You cannot see what +goes on under your very nose."</p> +<p>M. le Comte sprang forward, scarlet. Lucas flourished the +sword.</p> +<p>"The boy there caught at a glance what you had not found out in +a fortnight. He gets to the duke and blocks my game—for +to-day. But if they sent him ahead to hold us till their men came +up, they were fools, too. I'll have the duke yet, and I'll have you +now."</p> +<p>He rushed at the unarmed Yeux-gris. The latter darted at +Grammont's fallen sword, seized it, was on guard, all in the second +before Lucas reached him. He might have been in a fortnight's +trance, but he was awake at last.</p> +<p>I trembled for him, then took heart again, as he parried thrust +after thrust and pressed Lucas hard. I had never seen a man fight +with his left arm before; I had not realized it could be done, +being myself helpless with that hand. But as I watched this combat +I speedily perceived how dangerous is a left-handed adversary. In +later years I was to understand better, when M. le Comte had become +known the length of the land by the title "Le Gaucher." But at this +time he was in the habit, like the rest of the world, of fencing +with his right hand; his dexterity with the other he rated only as +a pretty accomplishment to surprise the crowd. He used his left +hand scarcely as well as Lucas the right; yet, the thrust sinister +being in itself a strength, they were not badly matched. I stood +watching with all my eyes, when of a sudden I felt a grasp on my +ankle and the next instant was thrown heavily to the pavement.</p> +<p>Grammont had come to life and taken prompt part in the fray.</p> +<p>I fell close to him, and instantly he let go my leg and wound +his arms around me. I tried to rise and could not, and we rolled +about together in the wine and blood and broken glass. All the +while I heard the sword-blades clashing. Yeux-gris, God be thanked! +seemed to be holding his own.</p> +<p>Fighting Gervais was like fighting two men. Slowly but steadily +he pressed me down and held me. I struggled for dear life—and +could not push him back an inch.</p> +<p>I still held my knife but my arms were pinned down. Gervais +raised himself a little to get a better clutch, and his fingers +closed on my throat. One grip, and life seemed flowing from me. My +arm was free now if I could but lift it. If I could not, nevermore +should I lift it on this sunny earth. I did lift it, and drove the +dagger deep into him.</p> +<p>I could not take aim; I could not tell where the knife struck. A +gasp showed he was hit; then he clinched my throat once more. Sight +went from me, and hearing. "It is no use," I thought, and then +thought went, too.</p> +<p>But once again the saints were kind to me. The blackness passed, +and I wondered what had happened that I was spared. Then I saw +Grammont clutching with both hands at the dagger-hilt. After all, +the blow had gone home. I had struck him in the left side under the +arm. Three good inches of steel were in him.</p> +<p>He had turned over on his side, half off me. I scrambled out +from under him. To my surprise, Yeux-gris and Lucas were still +engaged. I had thought it hours since Grammont pulled me down.</p> +<p>As I rose, Yeux-gris turned his head toward me. Only for a +second, but in that second Lucas pinked his shoulder. I dashed +between them; they lowered their points.</p> +<p>"First blood for me!" cried Lucas. "That serves for to-day, M. +le Comte. I regret that I cannot wait to kill you, but that will +come. It is necessary that I go before M. le Duc arrives. Clear the +way."</p> +<p>M. le Comte stood his ground, barring the alley. They glared at +each other motionless.</p> +<p>Grammont had raised himself to his knees and was trying +painfully to get on his feet.</p> +<p>"A hand, Lucas," he gasped.</p> +<p>Lucas gave him a startled glance but neither went nor spoke to +him.</p> +<p>"I am not much hurt," said Grammont, huskily. Holding by the +wall, he clambered up on his feet. He swayed, reeled forward, and +clutched Lucas's arm.</p> +<p>"Lucas, Lucas, help me! Draw out the knife. I cannot. I shall be +myself when the knife is out. Lucas, for God's sake!"</p> +<p>"You will die when the knife is out," said Lucas, wrenching +himself free. He turned again to M. le Comte, and his eyes gleamed +as he saw the blood trickling down his sleeve and the sword tremble +in his hand.</p> +<p>"Come on, then," he cried to Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>But I sprang forward and seized the sword from M. le Comte's +hand.</p> +<p>"On guard!" I shouted, and we went to work.</p> +<p>I could handle a sword as well as the next one. M. le Duc had +taught me in his idle days at St. Quentin. It served me well now, +and him, too.</p> +<p>The light was fading in the narrow court. Our blades shone white +in the twilight as the weapons clashed in and out. I saw, without +looking, Grammont leaning against the wall, his gory face ashen, +and Yeux-gris watching me with all his soul, now and then shouting +a word of advice.</p> +<p>I had had good training, and I fought for all there was in me. +Yet I was a boy not come to my full strength, and Lucas was more +than my match. He drove me back farther and farther toward the +house-wall. Of a sudden I slipped in a smear of blood ('tis no +lying excuse, I did slip) and lost my guard. He ran his blade into +my shoulder, as he had done with Yeux-gris.</p> +<p>He would likely have finished me had not a cry from Grammont +shaken him.</p> +<p>"The duke!"</p> +<p>In truth, a deepening noise of hoofs and shouts came down the +alley from the street.</p> +<p>Lucas looked at me, who had regained my guard and stood, little +hurt, between him and M. le Comte. He could not push past me into +the house and so through to the other street. He made for the +alley, crying out:</p> +<p>"Au revoir, messieurs! We shall meet again."</p> +<p>Grammont seized him.</p> +<p>"Help me, Lucas, for the love of Christ! Don't leave me, +Lucas!"</p> +<p>Lucas beat him off with the sword.</p> +<p>"Every man for himself!" he cried, and sprang down the +alley.</p> +<p>"It is not the duke," I said to Yeux-gris. "It is most likely +the watch." I paled at the thought, for the watch was the League's, +and Lucas by all signs the League's tool. It might go hard with us +if captured. "Go through the house, M. le Comte," I cried. "Quick, +if you love your life! I'll keep them at the alley's mouth as long +as I can."</p> +<p>Not waiting for his answer, I rushed down the passage. At the +end of it I ran against Lucas, who, in his turn, had bowled into +Vigo.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> +<h3><i>Vigo.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>knew of old that it was easier to catch a weasel asleep than +Vigo absent where he was needed; yet I did not expect to meet him +in the alley. Monsieur, then, had changed his mind.</p> +<p>"Well caught!" cried Vigo, winding his arms round Lucas, who was +struggling furiously for liberty. "Here, Maurice, Jules, I have +number one. Ah, you young sinner! with your crew again? I thought +as much. Tie the knots hard, boys. Better be quiet, you snake; you +can't get away."</p> +<p>Lucas seemed to make up his mind to this, for he quieted down +directly.</p> +<p>"So the game is up," he said pleasantly. "I had hoped to be gone +before you arrived, dear Vigo."</p> +<p>We had both been deprived promptly of our swords and Lucas's +wrists were roped together, but my only bond was Vigo's hand on my +arm.</p> +<p>"Where are the others?" he demanded. "No tricks, now."</p> +<p>"Here," I said, and led the way down the passage. Maurice and +Jules, with their prisoner, pressed after us, and half a dozen of +the duke's guard after them. The rest stayed without to mind the +horses and keep off the gathering crowd.</p> +<p>One of the men had a torch which lighted the red pavement. Vigo +saw this first.</p> +<p>"Morbleu! is it a shambles?"</p> +<p>"That is wine," I said.</p> +<p>"They spilled wine for effect, they spilled so little blood!" +Thus Lucas, speaking with as cool devilry as if he still commanded +the situation. Vigo could not know what he meant but he asked no +questions; instead, bade Lucas hold his tongue.</p> +<p>"I am dumb," Lucas rejoined, with a mock meekness more insolent +than insolence. But we paid it no heed for M. le Comte came forward +out of the shadows. He held his head well up but his face was white +above his crimsoned doublet.</p> +<p>"M. Étienne! Are you hurt?" shouted Vigo.</p> +<p>"No, but he is." M. le Comte stepped aside to show us Grammont +leaning against the wall.</p> +<p>"Ah!" cried Vigo, triumphantly. He and two of the men rushed at +Gervais.</p> +<p>"You would not take me so easily but for a cursed knife in my +back," Grammont muttered thickly. "For the love of Heaven, Vigo, +draw it out."</p> +<p>With amazement Vigo perceived the knife.</p> +<p>"Who did it?"</p> +<p>"I."</p> +<p>"You, Félix? In the back?" Vigo looked at me as if to +demand again which side I was on.</p> +<p>"He lay on me, throttling me," I explained. "I stabbed any way I +could."</p> +<p>"I trow you are a dead man," Vigo told Grammont. "Natheless, +here comes the knife."</p> +<p>It came, with a great cry from the victim. He fell back against +Vigo's man, clapping his hand to his side.</p> +<p>"I am done for," he gasped faintly.</p> +<p>"That is well," said Vigo, carefully wiping off the knife.</p> +<p>"Yon is the scoundrel," Grammont gasped, pointing to Lucas.</p> +<p>"He will die a worse death than you," said Vigo.</p> +<p>Grammont looked from the one to the other of us, the sullen rage +in his face fading to a puzzled helplessness. He said +fretfully:</p> +<p>"Which—which is Étienne?"</p> +<p>He could no longer see us plain. M. le Comte came forward +silently. Grammont struggled for breath in a way pitiable to see. I +put my arm about him and helped the guardsman to hold him +straighter. He reached out his hand and caught at M. le Comte's +sleeve.</p> +<p>"Étienne—Étienne—pardon. It was wrong +toward you—but I never had the pistoles. He called me +thief—the duke. I beseech—your—pardon."</p> +<p>M. le Comte was silent.</p> +<p>"It was all Lucas—Lucas did it," Grammont muttered with +stiffening lips. "I am sorry for—it. I am dying—I +cannot die—without a chance. Say +you—for—give—"</p> +<p>Still M. le Comte held back, silent. Treachery was no less +treachery though Grammont was dying. All the more that they were +cousins, bedfellows, was the injury great to forgive. M. le Comte +said nothing.</p> +<p>How Grammont found the strength only God knows, who haply in his +goodness gave him a last chance of mercy. Suddenly he straightened +his sinking body, started from our hold, and tottered toward his +cousin, both hands outstretched in appeal.</p> +<p>M. le Comte's face was set like a flint. The dying man faltered +forward. Then M. Étienne, never changing his countenance, +slowly, half reluctantly, like a man in a dream, held out his +hand.</p> +<p>But the old comrades, estranged by traitory, were never to clasp +again. As he reached M. le Comte, Grammont fell at his feet.</p> +<p>"He was a strong man," said Vigo. He turned Grammont's face up +and added the word, "Dead." Vigo adored the Duke of St. Quentin. +Otherwise he had no emotions.</p> +<p>But I was not case-hardened. And I—I myself—had +slain this man, who had died slowly and in great pain. Vigo's voice +sounded to me far off as he said bluntly:</p> +<p>"M. le Comte, I make you my prisoner."</p> +<p>"No, by Heaven!" cried M. Étienne, in a vibrating voice +that brought me back to reality; "no, Vigo! I am no murderer. +Things may look black against me but I am innocent. You have one +villain at your feet and one a prisoner, but I am not a third! I am +a St. Quentin; I do not plot against my father. I was to aid +Grammont to set on Lucas, who would not answer a challenge. I have +been tricked. Gervais asked my forgiveness—you heard him. +Their dupe, yes—accomplice I was not. Never have I lifted my +hand against my father, nor would I, whatever came. That I swear. +Never have I laid eyes on Lucas since I left Monsieur's presence, +till now when he came out of that door side by side with Grammont. +Whatever the plot, I knew naught of it. I am a St. Quentin—no +parricide!"</p> +<p>The ringing voice ceased and M. le Comte stood silent, with +haggard eyes on Vigo. Had he been prisoner at the bar of judgment +he could not have waited in greater anxiety. For Vigo, the yeoman +and servant, never minced words to any man nor swerved from the +stark truth.</p> +<p>I burned to seize Vigo's arm, to spur him on to speech. Of +course he believed M. Étienne; how dared he make his master +wait for the assurance? On his knees he should be, imploring M. le +Comte's pardon.</p> +<p>But no thought of humbling himself troubled Vigo. Nor did he +pronounce judgment, but merely said:</p> +<p>"M. le Comte will go home with me now. To-morrow he can tell his +story to my master."</p> +<p>"I will tell it before this hour is out!"</p> +<p>"No. M. le Duc has left Paris. But it matters not, M. +Étienne. Monsieur suspects nothing against you. Félix +kept your name from him. And by the time I had screwed it out of +Martin, Monsieur was gone."</p> +<p>"Gone out of Paris?" M. Étienne echoed blankly. To his +eagerness it was as if M. le Duc were out of France.</p> +<p>"Aye. He meant to go to-night—Monsieur, Lucas, and I. But +when Monsieur learned of this plot, he swore he'd go in open day. +'If the League must kill me,' says he, 'they can do it in daylight, +with all Paris watching.' That's Monsieur!"</p> +<p>At this I understood how Vigo came to be in the Rue +Coupejarrets. Monsieur, in his distress and anxiety to be gone from +that unhappy house, had forgotten the spy. Left to his own devices, +the equery, struck with suspicion at Lucas's absence, laid instant +hands on Martin the clerk, with whom Lucas, disliked in the +household, had had some intimacy. It had not occurred to Vigo that +M. le Comte, if guilty, should be spared. At once he had sounded +boots and saddles.</p> +<p>"I will return with you, Vigo," M. le Comte said. "Does the +meanest lackey in my father's house call me parricide, I must meet +the charge. My father and I have differed but if we are no longer +friends we are still noblemen. I could never plot his murder, nor +could he for one moment believe it of me."</p> +<p>I, guilty wretch, quailed. To take a flogging were easier than +to confess to him the truth. But I conceived I must.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I told M. le Duc you were guilty. I went +back a second time and told him."</p> +<p>"And he?" cried M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur, he did believe it."</p> +<p>"Morbleu! that cannot be true," Vigo cried, "for when I saw him +he gave no sign."</p> +<p>"It is true. But he would not have M. le Comte touched. He said +he could not move in the matter; he could not punish his own +kin."</p> +<p>M. le Comte's face blazed as he cried out:</p> +<p>"Vastly magnanimous! I thank him not. I'll none of his mercy. I +expected his faith."</p> +<p>"You had no claim to it, M. le Comte."</p> +<p>"Vigo!" cried the young noble, "you are insolent, sirrah!"</p> +<p>"I cry monsieur's pardon."</p> +<p>He was quite respectful and quite unabashed. He had meant no +insolence. But M. Étienne had dared criticise the duke and +that Vigo did not allow.</p> +<p>M. Étienne glared at him in speechless wrath. It would +have liked him well to bring this contumelious varlet to his knees. +But how? It was a byword that Vigo minded no man's ire but the +duke's. The King of France could not dash him.</p> +<p>Vigo went on:</p> +<p>"It seems I have exceeded my duty, monsieur, in coming here. Yet +it turns out for the best, since Lucas is caught and M. de Grammont +dead and you cleared of suspicion."</p> +<p>"What!" Yeux-gris cried. "What! you call me cleared!"</p> +<p>Vigo looked at him in surprise.</p> +<p>"You said you were innocent, M. le Comte."</p> +<p>M. le Comte stared, without a word to answer. The equery, all +unaware of having said anything unexpected, turned to the guardsman +Maurice:</p> +<p>"Well, is Lucas trussed? Have you searched him?"</p> +<p>Maurice displayed a poniard and a handful of small coins for +sole booty, but Jules made haste to announce: "He has something +else, though—a paper sewed up in his doublet. Shall I rip it +out, M. Vigo?"</p> +<p>With Lucas's own knife the grinning Jules slashed his doublet +from throat to thigh, to extract a folded paper the size of your +palm. Vigo pondered the superscription slowly, not much at home +with the work of a quill, save those that winged arrows. M. +Étienne, coming forward, with a sharp exclamation snatched +the packet.</p> +<p>"How came you by my letter?" he demanded of Lucas.</p> +<p>"M. le Comte was pleased to consign it for delivery to +Martin."</p> +<p>"What purpose had you with it?"</p> +<p>"Rest assured, dear monsieur, I had a purpose."</p> +<p>The questions were stormily vehement, the answers so gentle as +to be fairly caressing. It was waste of time and dignity to parley +with the scoundrel till one could back one's queries with the boot. +But M. Étienne's passion knew no waiting. Thrusting the +letter into his breast ere I, who had edged up to him, could catch +a glimpse of its address, he cried upon Lucas:</p> +<p>"Speak! You were ready enough to jeer at me for a dupe. Tell me +what you would do with your dupe. You dared not open the plot to +me—you did me the honour to know I would not kill my father. +Then why use me blindfold? An awkward game, Lucas."</p> +<p>Lucas disagreed as politely as if exchanging pleasantries in a +salon.</p> +<p>"A dexterous game, M. le Comte. Your best friends deemed you +guilty. What would your enemies have said?"</p> +<p>"Ah-h," breathed M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"It dawns on you, monsieur? You are marvellous thick-witted, yet +surely you must perceive. We had a dozen fellows ready to swear +that your hand killed Monsieur."</p> +<p>"You would kill me for my father's murder?"</p> +<p>"Ma foi, no!" cried Lucas, airily. "Never in the world! We +should have let you live, in the knowledge that whenever you +displeased us we could send you to the gallows."</p> +<p>M. le Comte, silent, stared at him with wild eyes, like one who +looks into the open roof of hell. Lucas fell to laughing.</p> +<p>"What! hang you and let our cousin Valère succeed? Mon +dieu, no! M. de Valère is a man!"</p> +<p>With a blow the guardsman struck the words and the laughter from +his lips. But I, who no more than Lucas knew how to hold my tongue, +thought I saw a better way to punish this brazen knave. I cried +out:</p> +<p>"You are the dupe, Lucas! Aye, and coward to boot, fleeing here +from—nothing. I knew naught against you—you saw that. +To slip out and warn Martin before Vigo got a chance at +him—that was all you had to do. Yet you never thought of that +but rushed away here, leaving Martin to betray you. Had you stuck +to your post you had been now on the road to St. Denis, instead of +the road to the Grève! Fool! fool! fool!"</p> +<p>He winced. He had not been ashamed to betray his benefactor, to +bite the hand that fed him, to desert a wounded comrade; but he was +ashamed to confront his own blunder. I had the satisfaction of +pricking, not his conscience, for he had none, but his pride.</p> +<p>"I had to warn Grammont off," he retorted. "Could I believe St. +Quentin such a lack-wit as to forgive these two because they were +his kin? You did better than you knew when you shut the door on me. +You tracked me, you marplot, you sneak! How came you into the +coil?"</p> +<p>"By God's grace," M. le Comte answered. He laid a hand on my +shoulder and leaned there heavily. Lucas grinned.</p> +<p>"Ah, waxing pious, is he? The prodigal prepares to return."</p> +<p>M. Étienne's hand clinched on my shoulder. Vigo commanded +a gag for Lucas, saying, with the only touch of anger I ever knew +him to show:</p> +<p>"He shall hang when the king comes in. And now to horse, lads, +and out of the quarter; we have wasted too much time palavering. +King Henry is not in Paris yet. We shall do well not to rouse +Belin, though we can make him trouble if he troubles us. Come, +monsieur. Men, guard your prisoner. I misjudge if he is not cropful +of the devil still."</p> +<p>He did not look it. His figure was drooping; his face purple and +contorted, for one of the troopers had crammed his scarf into the +man's mouth, half strangling him. As he was led past us, with a +sudden frantic effort, fit to dislocate his jaw, he disgorged the +gag to cry out wildly:</p> +<p>"Oh, M. l'Écuyer, have mercy! Have pity upon me! For +Christ's sake, pity!"</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="128.jpg"></a> <a href="images/128.jpg"><img src= +"images/128.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"IN A FLASH HE WAS OUT OF THEIR GRASP, FLYING DOWN THE +ALLEY."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>His bravado had broken down at last. He tried to fling himself +at Vigo's feet. The guards relaxed their hold to see him +grovel.</p> +<p>That was what he had hoped for. In a flash he was out of their +grasp, flying down the alley.</p> +<p>"To Vigo! Vigo is attacked," we heard him shout.</p> +<p>It was so quick, we stood dumfounded. And then we dashed after, +pell-mell, tumbling over one another in our stampede. In the alley +we ran against three or four of the guard answering Lucas's cry. We +lost precious seconds disentangling ourselves and shouting that it +was a ruse and our prisoner escaped. When they comprehended, we all +rushed together out of the passage, emerging among frightened +horses and a great press of excited men.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> +<h3><i>The Comte de Mar.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/quote-w.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>hich way went he?"</p> +<p>"The man who just came out?"</p> +<p>"This way!"</p> +<p>"No, yonder!"</p> +<p>"Nay, I saw him not."</p> +<p>"A man with bound hands, you say?"</p> +<p>"Here!"</p> +<p>"Down that way!"</p> +<p>"A man in black, was he? Here he is!"</p> +<p>"Fool, no; he went that way!"</p> +<p>M. Étienne, Vigo, I, and the guardsmen rushed hither and +thither into the ever-thickening crowd, shouting after Lucas and +exchanging rapid questions with every one we passed. But from the +very first the search was hopeless. It was dark by this time and a +mass of people blocked the street, surging this way and that, some +eagerly joining in the chase, others, from ready sympathy with any +rogue, doing their best to hinder and confuse us. There was no way +to tell how he had gone. A needle in a haystack is easy found +compared with him who loses himself in a Paris crowd by night.</p> +<p>M. Étienne plunged into the first opening he saw, +elbowing his way manfully. I followed in his wake, his tall bright +head making as good an oriflamme as the king's plume at Ivry, but +when at length we came out far down the street we had seen no trace +of Lucas.</p> +<p>"He is gone," said M. le Comte.</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur. If it were day they might find him, but not +now."</p> +<p>"No. Even Vigo will not find him. He is worsted for once. He has +let slip the shrewdest knave in France. Well, he is gone," he +repeated after a minute. "It cannot be mended by me. He is off, and +so am I."</p> +<p>"Whither, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"That is my concern."</p> +<p>"But monsieur will see M. le Duc?"</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>"But, monsieur—"</p> +<p>He broke in on me fiercely.</p> +<p>"Think you that I—I, smirched and sullied, reeking with +plots of murder—am likely to betake myself to the noblest +gentleman in France?"</p> +<p>"He will welcome M. le Comte."</p> +<p>"Nay; he believed me guilty."</p> +<p>"But, monsieur—"</p> +<p>"You may not say 'but' to me."</p> +<p>"Pardon, monsieur. Am I to tell Vigo monsieur is gone?"</p> +<p>"Yes, tell him." His lip quivered; he struggled hard for +steadiness. "You will go to M. le Duc, Félix, and rise in +his favour, for it was you saved his life. Then tell him this from +me—that some day, when I have made me worthy to enter his +presence, then will I go to him and beg his forgiveness on my +knees. And now farewell."</p> +<p>He slipped away into the darkness.</p> +<p>I stood hesitating for a moment. Then I followed my lord.</p> +<p>He slackened his pace as he heard footsteps overtake him, and +where a beam of light shone out from an open door he wheeled about, +thinking me a footpad.</p> +<p>"You, Félix?"</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur; I go with M. le Comte."</p> +<p>"I have not permitted you."</p> +<p>"Then must I go in despite. Monsieur is wounded; I cannot leave +him to go unsquired."</p> +<p>"There are lackeys to hire. I bade you seek M. le Duc."</p> +<p>"Is not monsieur a thought unreasonable? I cannot be in two +places at once. Monsieur can send a letter. The duke has Vigo and a +household. I go with M. le Comte."</p> +<p>"Oh," he cried, "you are a faithful servant! We are ridden to +death by our faithful servants, we St. Quentins. Myself, I prefer +fleas!" He added, growing angrier, "Will you leave me?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur," said I.</p> +<p>He glowered at me and I think he had some notion of chasing me +away with his sword. But since his dignity could not so stoop, he +growled:</p> +<p>"Come, then, if you choose to come unasked and most +unwelcome!"</p> +<p>With this he walked on a yard ahead of me, never turning his +head nor saying a word, I following meekly, wondering whither, and +devoutly hoping it might be to supper. Presently I observed that we +were in a better quarter of the town, and before long we came to a +broad, well-lighted inn, whence proceeded a merry chatter and +rattle of dice. M. Étienne with accustomed feet turned into +the court at the side, and seizing upon a drawer who was crossing +from door to door despatched him for the landlord. Mine host came, +fat and smiling, unworried by the hard times, greeted Yeux-gris +with acclaim as "this dear M. le Comte," wondered at his long +absence and bloody shirt, and granted with all alacrity his three +demands of a supper, a surgeon, and a bed. I stood back, ill at +ease, aching at the mention of supper, and wondering whether I were +to be driven off like an obtrusive puppy. But when M. le Comte, +without glancing at me, said to the drawer, "Take care of my +serving-man," I knew my stomach was safe.</p> +<p>That was the most I thought of then, I do confess, for, except +for my sausage, I had not tasted food since morning. The barber +came and bandaged M. le Comte and put him straight to bed, and I +was left free to fall on the ample victuals set before me, and was +so comfortable and happy that the Rue Coupejarrets seemed like an +evil dream. Since that day I have been an easy mark for beggars if +they could but manage to look starved.</p> +<p>Presently came a servant to say that my bed was spread in M. le +Comte's room, and up-stairs ran I with an utterly happy heart, for +I saw by this token that I was forgiven. Indeed, no sooner had I +got fairly inside the door than my master raised himself on his +sound elbow and called out:</p> +<p>"Ah, Félix, do you bear me malice for an ungrateful +churl?"</p> +<p>"I bear malice?" I cried, flushing. "Monsieur is mocking me. I +know monsieur cannot love me, since I attempted his life. Yet my +wish is to be allowed to serve him so faithfully that he can forget +it."</p> +<p>"Nay," he said; "I have forgotten it. And it was freely forgiven +from the moment I saw Lucas at my cousin's side."</p> +<p>"For the second time," I said, "monsieur saved my life." And I +dropped on my knees beside the bed to kiss his hand. But he +snatched it away from me and flung his arm around my neck and +kissed my cheek.</p> +<p>"Félix," he cried, "but for you my hands would be red +with my father's blood. You rescued him from death and me from +worse. If I have any shreds of honour left 'tis you have saved them +to me."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I stammered, "I did naught. I am your servant till I +die."</p> +<p>"You deserve a better master. What am I? Lucas's puppet! Lucas's +fool!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, it was not Lucas alone. It was a plot. You know what +he said—"</p> +<p>"Aye," he cried with bitter vehemence. "I shall remember for +some time what he said. They would not kill me to make my cousin +Valère duke! He was a man. But I—nom de dieu, I was +not worth the killing."</p> +<p>"It is the League's scheming, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Oh, that does not need the saying. Secretaries don't plot +against dukedoms on their own account. Some high man is behind +Lucas—I dare swear his Grace of Mayenne himself. It is no +secret now where Monsieur stands. Yet the king's party grows so +strong and the mob so cheers Monsieur, the League dare not strike +openly. So they put a spy in the house to choose time and way. And +the spy would not stab, for he saw he could make me do his work for +him. He saw I needed but a push to come to open breach with my +father. He gave the push. Oh, he could make me pull his chestnuts +from the fire well enough, burning my hands so that I could never +strike a free blow again. I was to be their slave, their thrall +forever!"</p> +<p>"Never that, monsieur; never that!"</p> +<p>"I am not so sure," he cried. "Had it not been for the advent of +a stray boy from Picardie, I trow Lucas would have put his purpose +through. I was blindfolded; I saw nothing. I knew my cousin Gervais +to be morose and cruel; yet I had done him no harm; I had always +stood his friend. I thought him shamefully used; I let myself be +turned out of my father's house to champion him. I had no more +notion he was plotting my ruin than a child playing with his dolls. +I was their doll, mordieu! their toy, their crazy fool on a chain. +But life is not over yet. To-morrow I go to pledge my sword to +Henry of Navarre."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, if he comes to the faith—"</p> +<p>"Mordieu! faith is not all. Were he a pagan of the wilderness he +were better than these Leaguers. He fights honestly and bravely and +generously. He could have had the city before now, save that he +will not starve us. He looks the other way, and the +provision-trains come in. But the Leaguers, with all their +regiments, dare not openly strike down one man,—one man who +has come all alone into their country,—they put a spy into +his house to eat his bread and betray him; they stir up his own kin +to slay him, that it may not be called the League's work. And they +are most Catholic and noble gentlemen! Nay, I am done with these +pious plotters who would redden my hands with my father's blood and +make me outcast and despised of all men. I have spent my playtime +with the League; I will go work with Henry of Navarre!"</p> +<p>I caught his fire.</p> +<p>"By St. Quentin," I cried, "we will beat these Leaguers +yet!"</p> +<p>He laughed, yet his eyes burned with determination.</p> +<p>"By St. Quentin, shall we! You and I, Félix, you and I +alone will overturn the whole League! We will show them what we are +made of. They think lightly of me. Why not? I never took part with +my father. I lazed about in these gay Paris houses, bent on my +pleasure, too shallow a fop even to take sides in the fight for a +kingdom. What should they see in me but an empty-headed roisterer, +frittering away his life in follies? But they will find I am +something more. Well, enter there!"</p> +<p>He dropped back among the pillows, striving to look careless, as +Maître Menard, the landlord, opened the door and stood +shuffling on the threshold.</p> +<p>"Does M. le Comte sleep?" he asked me deferentially, though I +think he could not but have heard M. Étienne's tirading +half-way down the passage.</p> +<p>"Not yet," I answered. "What is it?"</p> +<p>"Why, a man came with a billet for M. le Comte and insisted it +be sent in. I told him Monsieur was not to be disturbed; he had +been wounded and was sleeping; I said it was not sense to wake him +for a letter that would keep till morning. But he would have it +'twas of instant import, and so—"</p> +<p>"Oh, he is not asleep," I declared, eagerly ushering the +maître in, my mind leaping to the conclusion, for no reason +save my ardent wish, that Vigo had discovered our whereabouts.</p> +<p>"I dared not deny him further," added Maître Menard. "He +wore the liveries of M. de Mayenne."</p> +<p>"Of Mayenne," I echoed, thinking of what M. Étienne had +said. "Pardieu, it may be Lucas himself!" And snatching up my +master's sword I dashed out of the door and was in the cabaret in +three steps.</p> +<p>The room contained some score of men, but I, peering about by +the uncertain candle-light, could find no one who in any wise +resembled Lucas. A young gamester seated near the door, whom my +sudden entrance had jostled, rose, demanding in the name of his +outraged dignity to cross swords with me. On any other day I had +deemed it impossible to say him nay, but now with a real vengeance, +a quarrel à outrance on my hands, he seemed of no +consequence at all. I brushed him aside as I demanded M. de +Mayenne's man. They said he was gone. I ran out into the dark court +and the darker street.</p> +<p>A tapster, lounging in the courtyard, had seen my man pass out, +and he opined with much reason that I should not catch him. Yet I +ran a hundred yards up street and a hundred yards down street, +shouting on the name of Lucas, calling him coward and skulker, +bidding him come forth and fight me. The whole neighbourhood became +aware than I wanted one Lucas to fight: lights twinkled in windows; +men, women, and children poured out of doors. But Lucas, if it were +he, had for the second time vanished soft-footed into the +night.</p> +<p>I returned with drooping tail to M. Étienne. He was +alone, sitting up in bed awaiting me, his cheeks scarlet, his eyes +blazing.</p> +<p>"He is gone," I panted. "I looked everywhere, but he was gone. +Oh, if I caught Lucas—"</p> +<p>"You little fool!" he exclaimed. "This was not Lucas. Had you +waited long enough to hear your name called, I had told you. This +is no errand of Lucas but a very different matter."</p> +<p>He sat a moment, thinking, still with that glitter of excitement +in his eyes. The next instant he threw off the bedclothes and +started to rise.</p> +<p>"Get my clothes, Félix. I must go to the Hôtel de +Lorraine."</p> +<p>But I flung myself upon him, pushing him back into bed and +dragging the cover over him by main force.</p> +<p>"You can go nowhere, M. Étienne; it is madness. The +surgeon said you must lie here for three days. You will get a fever +in your wounds; you shall not go."</p> +<p>"Get off me, 'od rot you; you're smothering me," he gasped. +Cautiously I relaxed my grip, still holding him down. He appealed: +"Félix, I must go. So long as there is a spark of life left +in me, I have no choice but to go."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you said you were done with the Leaguers—with +M. de Mayenne."</p> +<p>"Aye, so I did," he cried. "But this—but this is +Lorance."</p> +<p>Then, at my look of mystification, he suddenly opened his hand +and tossed me the letter he had held close in his palm.</p> +<p>I read:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>M. de Mar appears to consider himself of very little +consequence, or of very great, since he is absent a whole month +from the Hôtel de Lorraine. Does he think he is not missed? +Or is he so sure of his standing that he fears no supplanting? In +either case he is wrong. He is missed but he will not be missed +forever. He may, if he will, be forgiven; or he may, if he will, be +forgotten. If he would escape oblivion, let him come to-night, at +the eleventh hour, to lay his apologies at the feet of</i></p> +<p>LORANCE DE MONTLUC.</p> +</div> +<p>"And she—"</p> +<p>"Is cousin and ward to the Duke of Mayenne. Yes, and my heart's +desire."</p> +<p>"Monsieur—"</p> +<p>"Aye, you begin to see it now," he cried vehemently. "You see +why I have stuck to Paris these three years, why I could not follow +my father into exile. It was more than a handful of pistoles caused +the breach with Monsieur; more than a quarrel over Gervais de +Grammont. That was the spark kindled the powder, but the train was +laid."</p> +<p>"Then you, monsieur, were a Leaguer?"</p> +<p>"Nay, I was not!" he cried. "To my credit,—or my shame, as +you choose,—I was not. I was neither one nor the other, +neither fish nor flesh. My father thought me a Leaguer, but I was +not. I was not disloyal, in deed at least, to the house that bore +me. Monsieur reviled me for a skulker, a fainéant; nom de +diable, he might have remembered his own three years of +idleness!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur held out for his religion—"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle is my religion," he cried, and then laughed, not +merrily.</p> +<p>"Pardieu! for all my pains I have not won her. I have skulked +and evaded and temporized—for nothing. I would not join the +League and break my father's heart; would not stand out against it +and lose Lorance. I have been trying these three years to please +both the goat and the cabbage—with the usual ending. I have +pleased nobody. I am out of Mayenne's books: he made me overtures +and I refused him. I am out of my father's books: he thinks me a +traitor and parricide. And I am out of mademoiselle's: she despises +me for a laggard. Had I gone in with Mayenne I had won her. Had I +gone with Monsieur I was sure of a command in King Henry's army. +But I, wanting both, get neither. Between two stools, I fall +miserably to the ground. I am but a dawdler, a do-nothing, the butt +and laughing-stock of all brave men.</p> +<p>"But I am done with shilly-shally!" he added, catching his +breath. "For once I shall do something. Mlle. de Montluc has given +me a last chance. She has sent for me, and I go. If I fall dead on +her threshold, I at least die looking at her."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, monsieur," I cried in despair, "you will not die +looking at her, for you will die out here in the street, and that +will profit neither you nor her, but only Lucas and his crew."</p> +<p>"That is as may be. At least I make the attempt. A month back I +sent her a letter. I found it to-night in Lucas's doublet. She +thinks me careless of her. I must go."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you are mad," I cried. "You have said yourself +Mayenne is likely to be behind Lucas. If you go you do but walk +into the enemies' very jaws. It is a trap, a lure."</p> +<p>"Félix, beware what you say!" he interrupted with +quick-blazing ire. "I do not permit such words to be spoken in +connection with Mlle. de Montluc."</p> +<p>"But, monsieur—"</p> +<p>"Silence!" he commanded in a voice as sharp as crack of +pistolet. The St. Quentins had ever the most abundant faith in +those they loved. I remembered how Monsieur in just such a blaze of +resentment had forbidden me to speak ill of his son. And I +remembered, too, that Monsieur's faith had been justified and that +my accusations were lies. Natheless, I liked not the look of this +affair, and I attempted further warnings.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, in my opinion—"</p> +<p>"You are not here to hold opinions, Félix, but your +tongue."</p> +<p>I did, at that, and stood back from the bed to let him do as it +liked him. He rose and went over to the chair where his clothes +lay, only to drop into it half swooning. I ran to the ewer and +dashed half the water in it into his face.</p> +<p>"Peste, you need not drown me!" he cried testily. "I am well; it +was but a moment's dizziness." He got up again at once, but was +forced to seize my shoulder to keep from falling.</p> +<p>"It was that damnable potion he made me drink," he muttered. "I +am all well else; I am not weak. Curse the room; it reels about +like a ship at sea."</p> +<p>I put my arm about him and led him back to bed; nor did he argue +about it but lay back with his eyes shut, so white against the +white bed-linen I thought him fainted for sure. But before I could +drench him again he raised his lids.</p> +<p>"Félix, will you go get a shutter? For I see clearly that +I shall reach Mlle. de Montluc this night in no other way."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I can go. I can tell your mistress you +cannot walk across this room to-night. I can do my best for you, M. +Étienne."</p> +<p>"My faith! I think I must e'en let you try. But what to bid you +say to her—pardieu! I scarce know what I could say to her +myself."</p> +<p>"I can tell her how sorely you are hurt—how you would +come, but cannot."</p> +<p>"And make her believe it," he cried eagerly. "Do not let her +think it a flimsy excuse. And yet I do think she will believe you," +he added, with half a laugh. "There is something very +trust-compelling about you, Félix. And assure her of my +lifelong, never-failing service."</p> +<p>"But I thought monsieur was going to take service with Henry of +Navarre."</p> +<p>"I was!" he cried. "I am! Oh, Félix, was ever a poor +wight so harried and torn betwixt two as I? Whom Jupiter would +destroy he first makes mad. I shall be gibbering in a cage before I +have done with it."</p> +<p>"Monsieur will be gibbering in his bed unless he sleeps soon. I +go now, monsieur."</p> +<p>"And good luck to you! Félix, I offer you no reward for +this midnight journey into the house of our enemies. For recompense +you will see her."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> +<h3><i>Mademoiselle.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>went to find Maître Menard, to urge upon him that some one +should stay with M. Étienne while I was gone, lest he +swooned or became light-headed. But the surgeon himself was +present, having returned from bandaging up some common skull to see +how his noble patient rested. He promised that he would stay the +night with M. le Comte; so, eased of that care, I set out for the +Hôtel de Lorraine, one of the inn-servants with a flambeau +coming along to guide and guard me. M. Étienne was a +favourite in this inn of Maître Menard's; they did not stop +to ask whether he had money in his purse before falling over one +another in their eagerness to serve him. It is my opinion that one +gets more out of the world by dint of fair words than by a long +purse or a long sword.</p> +<p>We had not gone a block from the inn before I turned to the +right-about, to the impatience of my escort.</p> +<p>"Nay, Jean, I must go back," I said. "I will only delay a +moment, but see Maître Menard I must."</p> +<p>He was still in the cabaret where the crowd was thinning.</p> +<p>"Now what brings you back?"</p> +<p>"This, maître," said I, drawing him into a corner. "M. le +Comte has been in a fracas to-night, as you perchance may have +divined. His arch-enemy gave us the slip. And I am not easy for +monsieur while this Lucas is at large. He has the devil's own +cunning and malice; he might track him here to the Three Lanterns. +Therefore, maître, I beg you to admit no one to M. le +Comte—no one on any business whatsoever. Not if he comes from +the Duke of Mayenne himself."</p> +<p>"I won't admit the Sixteen themselves," the maître +declared.</p> +<p>"There is one man you may admit," I conceded. "Vigo, M. de St. +Quentin's equery. You will know him for the biggest man in +France."</p> +<p>"Good. And this other; what is he like?"</p> +<p>"He is young," I said, "not above four or five and twenty. Tall +and slim,—oh, without doubt, a gentleman. He has light-brown +hair and thin, aquiline face. His tongue is unbound, too."</p> +<p>"His tongue shall not get around me," Maître Menard +promised. "The host of the Three Lanterns was not born yesterday +let me tell you."</p> +<p>With this comforting assurance I set out once more on my +expedition with, to tell truth, no very keen enthusiasm for the +business. It was all very well for M. Étienne to declare +grandly that as recompense for my trouble I should see Mlle. de +Montluc. But I was not her lover and I thought I could get along +very comfortably without seeing her. I knew not how to bear myself +before a splendid young noblewoman. When I had dashed across Paris +to slay the traitor in the Rue Coupejarrets I had not been afraid; +but now, going with a love-message to a girl, I was scared.</p> +<p>And there was more than the fear of her bright eyes to give me +pause. I was afraid of Mlle. de Montluc, but more afraid of M. de +Mayenne's cousin. What mocking devil had driven Étienne de +Mar, out of a whole France full of lovely women, to fix his +unturnable desire on this Ligueuse of Mayenne's own brood? Had his +father's friends no daughters, that he must seek a mistress from +the black duke's household? Were there no families of clean hands +and honest speech, that he must ally himself with the treacherous +blood of Lorraine?</p> +<p>I had seen a sample of the League's work to-day, and I liked it +not. If Mayenne were, as Yeux-gris surmised, Lucas's backer, I +marvelled that my master cared to enter his house; I marvelled that +he cared to send his servant there. Yet I went none the less +readily for that; I was here to do his bidding. Nor was I greatly +alarmed for my own skin; I thought myself too small to be worth my +Lord Mayenne's powder. And I had, I do confess, a lively curiosity +to behold the interior of the greatest house in Paris, the very +core and centre of the League. Belike if it had not been for terror +of this young demoiselle I had stepped along cheerfully enough.</p> +<p>Though the hour was late, many people still loitered in the +streets, the clear summer night, and all of them were talking +politics. As Jean and I passed at a rapid pace the groups under the +wine-shop lanterns, we caught always the names of Mayenne and +Navarre. Everywhere they asked the same two questions: Was it true +that Henry was coming into the Church? And if so, what would +Mayenne do next? I perceived that old Maître Jacques of the +Amour de Dieu knew what he was talking about: the people of Paris +were sick to death of the Leagues and their intriguery, galled to +desperation under the yoke of the Sixteen.</p> +<p>Mayenne's fine new hôtel in the Rue St. Antoine was +lighted as for a fête. From its open windows came sounds of +gay laughter and rattling dice. You might have thought them keeping +carnival in the midst of a happy and loyal city. If the +Lieutenant-General found anything to vex him in the present +situation, he did not let the commonalty know it.</p> +<p>The Duke of Mayenne's house, like my duke's, was guarded by +men-at-arms; but his grilles were thrown back while his soldiers +lounged on the stone benches in the archway. Some of them were +talking to a little knot of street idlers who had gathered about +the entrance, while others, with the aid of a torch and a greasy +pack of cards, were playing lansquenet.</p> +<p>I knew no way to do but to ask openly for Mlle. de Montluc, +declaring that I came on behalf of the Comte de Mar.</p> +<p>"That is right; you are to enter," the captain of the guard +replied at once. "But you are not the Comte de Mar yourself? Nay, +no need to ask," he added with a laugh. "A pretty count you would +make."</p> +<p>"I am his servant," I said. "I am charged with a message for +mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"Well, my orders were to admit the count, but I suppose you may +go in. If mademoiselle cannot land her lover it were cruel to deny +her the consolation of a message."</p> +<p>A laugh went up and one of the gamblers looked round to say:</p> +<p>"It has gone hard with mademoiselle lately, sangdieu! Here's the +Comte de Mar has not set foot in the house for a month or more, and +M. Paul for a quarter of a year is vanished off the face of the +earth. It seemed as if she must take the little cheese or nothing. +But now things are looking up with her. M. Paul has walked calmly +in, and here is a messenger at least from the other."</p> +<p>"But M. Paul has walked calmly out again," a third soldier took +up the tale. "He did not stay very long, for all mademoiselle's +graces."</p> +<p>"Then I warrant 'twas mademoiselle sent him off with a flea in +his ear," another cried. "She looks higher than a bastard, even Le +Balafré's own."</p> +<p>"She had better take care how she flouts Paul de Lorraine," came +the retort, but the captain bade me march along. I followed him +into the house, leaving Jean to be edified, no doubt, by a whole +history, false and true, concerning Mlle. de Montluc. We bow down +before the lofty of the earth, we underlings, but behind their +backs there is none with whose names we make so free. And there we +have the advantage of our masters; for they know little of our +private matters while we know everything of theirs.</p> +<p>In the hall the captain turned me over to a lackey who conducted +me through a couple of antechambers to a curtained doorway whence +issued a merry confusion of voices and laughter. He passed in while +I remained to undergo the scrutiny of the pair of flunkies whose +repose we had invaded. But in a moment my guide appeared again, +lifting the curtain for me to enter.</p> +<p>The big room was ablaze with candles set in mirrored sconces +along the walls, set also in silver candelabra on the tables. There +was a crowd of people in the place, a hundred it seemed to my +dazzled eyes; grouped, most of them, about the tables set up and +down, either taking hands themselves at cards or dice or betting on +those who did. Bluff soldiers in breastplate and jack-boots were +not wanting in the throng, but the larger number of the gallants +were brave in silken doublets and spotless ruffs, as became a +noble's drawing-room. And the ladies! mordieu, what am I to say of +them? Tricked out in every gay colour under the sun, agleam with +jewels—eh bien, the ladies of St. Quentin, that I had thought +so fine, were but serving-maids to these.</p> +<p>I stood blinking, dazed by the lights and the crowd and the +chatter, unable in the first moment to note clearly any face in the +congregation of strange countenances. Nor would it have helped me +if I could, for here close about were a dozen fair women, any one +of whom might be Mlle. de Montluc. My heart hammered in my throat. +I knew not whom to address. But a young noble near by, dazzling in +a suit of pink, took the burden on himself.</p> +<p>"I heard Mar's name; yet you are not M. de Mar, I think."</p> +<p>He spoke with a languid but none the less teasing derision. In +truth, I must have resembled a little brown hare suddenly turned +out of a bag in the midst of that gorgeous company.</p> +<p>"No," I stammered; "I am his servant. I seek Mlle. de +Montluc."</p> +<p>"I have wondered what has become of Étienne de Mar this +last month," spoke a second young gentleman, advancing from his +place behind a fair one's chair. He was neither so pretty nor so +fine as the other, but in his short, stocky figure and square face +there was a force which his comrade lacked. He regarded me with a +far keener glance as he asked:</p> +<p>"Peste! he must be in low water if this is the best he can do +for a lackey."</p> +<p>"Perhaps the fellow's errand is to beg an advance from Mlle. de +Montluc," suggested the pink youth.</p> +<p>"Who speaks my name?" a clear voice called; and a lady, laying +down her hand at cards, rose and came toward me.</p> +<p>She was clad in amber satin. She was tall, and she carried +herself with stately grace. Her black hair shadowed a cheek as +purely white and pink as that of any yellow-locked Frisian girl, +while her eyes, under their sooty lashes, shone blue as +corn-flowers.</p> +<p>I began to understand M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Who is it wants me?" she repeated, and catching sight of me +stood regarding me in some surprise, not unfriendly, waiting for me +to explain myself. But before I could find my tongue the man in +pink answered her with his soft drawl:</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, this is a minister plenipotentiary and envoy +extraordinary—most extraordinary—from the court of his +Highness the Comte de Mar."</p> +<p>"Oh, that is it!" she cried with a little laugh, but not, I +think, at my uncouthness, though she looked me over curiously.</p> +<p>"He has not come himself, M. de Mar?"</p> +<p>"It appears not, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>She did not seem vastly disconcerted for all she cried in +doleful tones:</p> +<p>"Alack! alack! I have lost. And Paul is not present to enjoy his +triumph. He wagered me a pair of pearl-broidered gloves that I +could not produce M. de Mar."</p> +<p>"But it is not his fault," I answered her, eagerly. "It is not +M. de Mar's fault, mademoiselle. He has been hurt to-day, and he +could not come. He is in bed of his wounds; he could not walk +across his room. He tried. He bade me lay at mademoiselle's feet +his lifelong services."</p> +<p>"Ah, Lorance!" cried a young demoiselle in a sky-coloured gown, +"methinks you have indeed lost M. de Mar if he sends you no better +messenger of his regrets than this horse-boy."</p> +<p>"I have lost the gloves, that is certain and sad," Mlle. de +Montluc replied, as if the loss of the wager were all her care. "I +am punished for my vanity, mesdames et messieurs. I undertook to +produce my recreant squire and I have failed. Alas!" And she put up +her white hands before her face with a pretty imitation of despair, +save that her eyes sparkled from between her fingers.</p> +<p>By this time the gamesters about us had stopped their play, in a +general interest in the affair. An older lady coming forward with +an air of authority demanded:</p> +<p>"What is this disturbance, Lorance?"</p> +<p>"A wager between me and my cousin Paul, madame," she answered +with instant gravity and respect.</p> +<p>"Paul de Lorraine! Is he here?" the other asked, unpleased, I +thought.</p> +<p>"Yes, madame. He dropped from the skies on us this afternoon. He +is out of the house again now."</p> +<p>"But while he was in the house," quoth she in sky-colour, +"though he did not find time to pay his respects to Mme. la +Duchesse, he had the leisure for considerable conversation with +Mlle. de Montluc."</p> +<p>The other lady, whom I now guessed to be the Duchesse de Mayenne +herself, turned somewhat sharply on her cousin of Montluc.</p> +<p>"I do not yet hear your excuses, mademoiselle, for the +introduction of a stable-boy into my salon."</p> +<p>"I beg you to believe, madame, I am not responsible for it," she +protested. "Paul, when he was here, saw fit to rally me concerning +M. de Mar. Mlle. de Tavanne informed him of the count's defection +and they were pleased to be merry with me over it. I vowed I could +get him back if I wished. The end of the matter was that I wrote a +letter which my cousin promised to have conveyed to M. le Comte's +old lodgings. This is the answer," mademoiselle cried, with a wave +of her hand toward me. "But I did not expect it in this guise, +madame. Blame your lackeys who know not their duties, not me."</p> +<p>"I blame you, mademoiselle," Mme. de Mayenne answered her, +tartly. "I consider my salon no place for intrigues with +horse-boys. If you must hold colloquy with this fellow, take him +whither he belongs—to the stables."</p> +<p>A laugh went up among those who laugh at whatever a duchess +says.</p> +<p>"Come, mesdames, we will resume our play," she added to the +ladies who had followed her on the scene, and turned her back in +lofty disdain on Mlle. de Montluc and her concerns. But though some +of the company obeyed her, a curious circle still surrounded +us.</p> +<p>"Dame! if you must be banished to the stables, we all will go, +mademoiselle," declared the pink gallant. "We all want news of the +vanished Mar."</p> +<p>"Indeed we do. We have missed him sorely. And I dare swear this +messenger's account will prove diverting," lisped the sky-coloured +demoiselle.</p> +<p>I was not enjoying myself. I had given all my hopes of glory to +be out in the street again. I wished Mlle. de Montluc would take me +to the stables—anywhere out of this laughing company. But she +had no such intent.</p> +<p>"I think madame does not mean her sentence," she rejoined. "I +would not for the world frustrate your curiosity, Blanche; nor +yours, M. de Champfleury. Tell us what has befallen your master, +Sir Courier."</p> +<p>"He has been in a duel, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"Whom was he fighting?"</p> +<p>"And for what lady's favour?"</p> +<p>"Is it a pretty Huguenot this time?"</p> +<p>"Does she make him read his Bible?"</p> +<p>"Or did her big brother set on him for a wicked papist?"</p> +<p>The questions chorussed upon me; I saw they were framed to tease +mademoiselle. I answered as best I might:</p> +<p>"He thinks of no lady but Mlle. de Montluc. The fight was over +other matters. I am only told to say M. le Comte regrets most +heartily that his wound prevents his coming, and to assure +mademoiselle that he is too weak and faint to walk across the +floor."</p> +<p>"Then exceed your instructions a little. Tell us what monsieur +has been about these four weeks that he could not take time to +visit us."</p> +<p>I was in a dilemma. I knew she was M. Étienne's chosen +lady and therefore deserving of all fealty from me; yet at the same +time I could not answer her question. It was sheer embarrassment +and no intent of rudeness that caused my short answer:</p> +<p>"About his own concerns, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"The young puppy begins to growl!" exclaimed the thick-set +soldierly fellow who had bespoken me before, whose hostile gaze had +never left my face. "I'll have him flogged, mademoiselle, for this +insolence."</p> +<p>"M. de Brie—" she began at the same moment that I cried +out to her:</p> +<p>"I meant no insolence; I crave mademoiselle's pardon." I added, +in my haste floundering deeper into the mire: "Mademoiselle sees +for herself that I cannot tell about M. le Comte's affairs in this +house."</p> +<p>Brie had me by the collar.</p> +<p>"So that is what has become of Mar!" he cried triumphantly. "I +thought as much. If Mar's affairs are to be a secret from this +house, then, nom de dieu, they are no secret."</p> +<p>He shook me back and forth as if to shake the truth out of me, +till my teeth rattled together; I could not have spoken if I would. +But he cried on, his voice rising with excitement:</p> +<p>"It has been no secret where St. Quentin stands and what he has +been about. He came into Paris, smooth and smiling, his own man, +forsooth—neither ours nor the heretic's! Mordieu! he was +Henry's, fast and sure, save that he was not man enough to say so. +I told Mayenne last month we ought to settle with M. de St. +Quentin; I asked nothing better than to attend to him. But the +general would not, but let him alone, free and unmolested in his +work of stirring up sedition. And Mar, too—"</p> +<p>He stopped in the middle of a word. All the company who had been +pressing around us halted still. I knew that behind me some one had +entered the room.</p> +<p>M. de Brie dragged me back from where we were blocking the +passage. I turned in his grasp to face the newcomer.</p> +<p>He was a tall, stout man, deep-chested, thick-necked, +heavy-jowled. His wavy hair, brushed up from a high forehead, was +lightest brown, while his brows, mustachios, and beard were dark. +His eyes were dark also, his full lips red and smiling. He had the +beauty and presence of all the Guises; it needed not the star on +his breast to tell me that this was Mayenne himself.</p> +<p>He advanced into the room returning the salutes of the company, +but his glance travelling straight to me and my captor.</p> +<p>"What have we here, François?"</p> +<p>"This is a fellow of Étienne de Mar's, M. le Duc," Brie +answered. "He came here with messages for Mlle. de Montluc. I am +getting out of him what Mar has been up to since he disappeared a +month back."</p> +<p>"You are at unnecessary pains, my dear François; I +already know Mar's whereabouts and doings rather better than he +knows them himself."</p> +<p>Brie dropped his hand from my collar, looking by no means at +ease. I perceived that this was the way with Mayenne: you knew what +he said but you did not know what he thought. His somewhat heavy +face varied little; what went on in his mind behind the smiling +mask was matter for anxiety. If he asked pleasantly after your +health, you fancied he might be thinking how well you would grace +the gallows.</p> +<p>M. de Brie said nothing and the duke continued:</p> +<p>"Yes, I have kept watch over him these five weeks. You are late, +François. You little boys are fools; you think because you +do not know a thing I do not know it. Was I cruel to keep my +information from you, ma belle Lorance?"</p> +<p>The attack was absolutely sudden; he had not seemed to observe +her. Mademoiselle coloured and made no instant reply. His voice was +neither loud nor rough; he was smiling upon her.</p> +<p>"Or did you need no information, mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>She met his look unflinching.</p> +<p>"I have not been sighing for tidings of the Comte de Mar, +monsieur."</p> +<p>"Because you have had tidings, mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur, I have had no communication with M. de Mar since +May—until to-night."</p> +<p>"And what has happened to-night?"</p> +<p>"To-night—Paul appeared."</p> +<p>"Paul!" ejaculated the duke, startled momentarily out of his +phlegm. "Paul here?"</p> +<p>"He was, monsieur, an hour ago. He has since gone forth again, I +know not whither or for what."</p> +<p>Mayenne ruminated over this, pulling off his gloves slowly.</p> +<p>"Well? What has this to do with Mar?"</p> +<p>She had no choice, though in evident fear of his displeasure, +but to go through again the tale of the wager and letter. She was +moistening her dry lips as she finished, her eyes on his face wide +with apprehension. But he answered amiably, half absently, as if +the whole affair were a triviality:</p> +<p>"Never mind; I will give you a pair of gloves, Lorance."</p> +<p>He stood smiling upon us as if amused for an idle moment over +our childish games. The colour came back to her cheeks; she made +him a curtsey, laughing lightly.</p> +<p>"Then my grief is indeed cured, monsieur. A new bit of finery is +the best of balms for wounded self-esteem, is it not, Blanche? I +confess I am piqued; I had dared to imagine that my squire might +remember me still after a month of absence. I should have known it +too much to ask of mortal man. Not till the rivers run up-hill will +you keep our memories green for more than a week, messieurs."</p> +<p>"She turns it off well," cried the little demoiselle in blue, +Mlle. Blanche de Tavanne; "you would not guess that she will be +awake the night long, weeping over M. de Mar's defection."</p> +<p>"I!" exclaimed Mlle. de Montluc; "I weep over his recreancy? It +is a far-fetched jest, my Blanche; can you invent no better? The +Comte de Mar—behold him!"</p> +<p>She snatched a card from a tossed-down hand, holding it up aloft +for us all to see. It was by chance the knave of diamonds; the +pictured face with its yellow hair bore, in my fancy at least, a +suggestion of M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Behold M. de Mar—behold his fate!" With a twinkling of +her white fingers she had torn the luckless knave into a dozen +pieces and sent them whirling over her head to fall far and wide +among the company.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="160.jpg"></a> <a href="images/160.jpg"><img src= +"images/160.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"I DO NOT FORGIVE HIS DESPATCHING ME HIS HORSE-BOY."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"Summary measures, mademoiselle!" quoth a grizzled warrior, with +a laugh. "Mordieu! have we your good permission to deal likewise +with the flesh-and-blood Mar, when we go to arrest him for +conspiring against the Holy League?"</p> +<p>But Mlle. de Tavanne's quick tongue robbed him of his +answer.</p> +<p>"Marry, you are severe on him, Lorance. To be sure he does not +come himself, but he sends so gallant a messenger!"</p> +<p>Mademoiselle glanced at me with hard blue eyes.</p> +<p>"That is the greatest insult of all," she said. "I could +forgive—and forget—his absence; but I do not forgive +his despatching me his horse-boy."</p> +<p>Thus far I had choked down my swelling rage at her +faithlessness, her vanity, her despiteful entreatment of my +master's plight. I knew it was sheer madness for me to attempt his +defence before this hostile company; nay, there was no object in +defending him; there was not one here who cared to hear good of +him. But at her last insult to him my blood boiled so hot that I +lost all command of myself, and I burst out:</p> +<p>"If I were a horse-boy,—which I am not,—I were +twenty times too good to be carrying messages hither. You need not +rail at his poverty, mademoiselle; it was you brought him to it. It +was for you he was turned out of his father's house. But for you he +would not now be lying in a garret, penniless and dishonoured. +Whatever ills he suffers, it is you and your false house have +brought them."</p> +<p>Brie had me by the throat. Mayenne interfered without +excitement.</p> +<p>"Don't strangle him, François; I may need him later. Let +him be flogged and locked in the oratory."</p> +<p>He turned away as one bored over a trifling matter. And as the +lackeys dragged me back to the door, I heard Mlle. de Montluc +saying:</p> +<p>"Oh, M. de Latour, what have I done in destroying your knave of +diamonds! Ma foi, you had a quatorze!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> +<h3><i>In the oratory.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/quote-h.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ere, Pierre!" M. de Brie called to the head lackey, "here's a +candidate for a hiding. This is a cub of that fellow Mar's. He +reckoned wrong when he brought his insolence into this house. Lay +on well, boys; make him howl."</p> +<p>Brie would have liked well enough, I fancy, to come along and +see the fun, but he conceived that his duty lay in the salon. +Pierre, the same who had conducted me to Mlle. de Montluc, now led +the way into a long oak-panelled parlour. Opposite the entrance was +a huge chimney carved with the arms of Lorraine; at one end a door +led into a little oratory where tapers burned before the image of +the Virgin; at the other, before the two narrow windows, stood a +long table with writing-materials. Chests and cupboards nearly +filled the walls. I took this to be a sort of council-room of my +Lord Mayenne.</p> +<p>Pierre sent one of his men for a cane and to the other suggested +that he should quench the Virgin's candles.</p> +<p>"For I don't see why this rascal should have the comfort of a +light in there," he said. "As for Madonna Mary, she will not mind; +she has a million others to see by."</p> +<p>I was left alone with him and I promised myself the joy of one +good blow at his face, no matter how deep they flayed me for it. +But as I gathered myself for the rush he spoke to me low and +cautiously:</p> +<p>"Now howl your loudest, lad; and I'll not lay on too hard."</p> +<p>My clinched fist dropped to my side.</p> +<p>"You never did me any harm," he muttered. "Howl till they think +you half killed, and I'll manage."</p> +<p>I gaped at him, not knowing what to make of it. But this is the +way of the world; if there is much cruelty in it, there is much +kindness, too.</p> +<p>"Here's the cane, nom d'un chien!" Pierre exclaimed +boisterously. "Give it here, Jean; there'll not be much of it left +when I get through."</p> +<p>"You'll strip his coat off?" said the second lackey, from the +oratory.</p> +<p>"My faith! no; I should kill him if I did, and the duke wants +him," Pierre retorted. So without more ado the two men tied my +wrists in front of me, and Jean held me by the knot while Pierre +laid on. And he, good fellow, grasping my collar, contrived to pull +my loose jerkin away from my back, so that he dusted it down +without greatly incommoding me. Some hard whacks I did get, but +they were nothing to what a strong man could have given in grim +earnest.</p> +<p>I trust I could have taken a real flogging with as close lips as +anybody, but if my kind succourer wanted howls, howls he should +have. I yelled and cowered and dodged about, to the roaring delight +of Jean and his mate. Indeed, I had drawn a crowd of grinning +varlets to the door before my performance was over. But at length, +when I thought I had done enough for their pleasure and that of the +nobles in the salon, I dropped down on the floor and lay quiet, +with shut eyes.</p> +<p>"He has had his fill, I trow; we must not spoil him for the +master," Pierre said.</p> +<p>"Oh, he'll come to in a minute," another answered. "Why, you +have not even drawn blood, Pierre!" He laid his hand on my back, +whereat I groaned my hollowest.</p> +<p>"It will be many a day before he cares to have his back +touched," laughed Pierre. "Here, men, lend a hand. Pardieu! I +wonder what Our Lady thinks of some of the devotees we bring +her."</p> +<p>As they lifted me he took my hand with an inquiring squeeze; and +I squeezed back, grateful, if ever a boy was. They flung me down on +the oratory floor and left me there a prisoner.</p> +<p>I spent the next hour or so trying to undo the knot of my +handcuff with my teeth; and failing that, to chew the stout rope in +two. I was minded as I worked of Lucas and his bonds, and wondered +whether he had managed to rid himself of their inconvenience. He +went straightway, doubtless, to some confederate who cut them for +him, and even now was planning fresh evil against the St. Quentins. +I remembered his face as he cried to M. le Comte that they should +meet again; and I thought that M. Étienne was likely to have +his hands full with Lucas, without this unlucky tanglement with +Mlle. de Montluc. In the darkness and solitude I called down a +murrain on his folly. Why could he not leave the girl alone? There +were other blue eyes in the world. And it would be hard on humanity +if there were none kindlier.</p> +<p>He had been at it three years, too. For three long years this +girl's fair face had stood between him and his home, between him +and action, between him and happiness. It was a fair face, truly; +yet, in my opinion, neither it nor any maid's was worth such pains. +If she had loved him it had not been worth it, but this girl +spurned and flouted him. Why, in the name of Heaven, could he not +put the jade out of his mind and turn merrily to St. Denis and the +road to glory? When I got back to him and told him how she had +mocked him, hang me but he should, though!</p> +<p>Ah, but when was I to get back to him? That rested not with me +but with my dangerous host, the League's Lieutenant-General, +dark-minded Mayenne. What he wanted with me he had not revealed; +nor was it a pleasant subject for speculation. He meant me, of +course, to tell him all I knew of the St. Quentins; well, that was +soon done; belike he understood more than I of the day's work. But +after he had questioned me, what?</p> +<p>Would he consider, with his servant Pierre, that I had never +done him any harm? Or would he—I wondered, if they flung me +out stark into some alley's gutter, whether M. le Comte would +search for me and claim my carcass? Or would he, too, have fallen +by the blades of the League?</p> +<p>I was shuddering as I waited there in the darkness. Never, not +even this morning in the closet of the Rue Coupejarrets, had I been +in such mortal dread. I had walked out of that closet to find M. +Étienne; but I was not likely to happen on succour here. +Pierre, for all his kind heart, could not save me from the Duke of +Mayenne.</p> +<p>Then, when my hope was at its nadir, I remembered who was with +me in the little room. I groped my way to Our Lady's feet and +prayed her to save me, and if she might not, then to stand by me +during the hard moment of dying and receive my seeking soul. +Comforted now and deeming I could pass, if it came to that, with a +steady face, I laid me down, my head on the prie-dieu cushion, and +presently went to sleep.</p> +<p>I was waked by a light in my face, and, all a-quiver, sprang up +to meet my doom. But it was not the duke or any of his hirelings +who bent over me, candle in hand; it was Mlle. de Montluc.</p> +<p>"Oh, my boy, my poor boy!" she cried pitifully, "I could not +save you the flogging; on my honour, I could not. It would have +availed you nothing had I pleaded for you on my bended knees."</p> +<p>With bewilderment I observed that the tears were brimming over +her lashes and splashing down into the candle-flame. I stared, too +confused for speech, while she, putting down the shaking +candlestick on the altar, as she crossed herself, covered her face +with her hands, sobbing.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," I stammered, "it is not worth mademoiselle's +tears! The man, Pierre, he told me to scream, so they would think +he was half flaying me. But in truth he did not strike very hard. +He did not hurt so much."</p> +<p>She struggled to check the rising tempest of her tears, and +presently dropped her hands and looked at me earnestly from out her +shining wet eyes. "Is that true? Are you not flayed?" And to make +sure, she laid her hand delicately on my back.</p> +<p>"They have whacked your coat to ribbons, but, thank St. +Généviève, they have not brought the blood. I +saw a man flogged once—" she shut her eyes, shuddering, and +her mouth quivered anew. "But I am not much hurt, mademoiselle," I +answered her.</p> +<p>She took out her film of a handkerchief to wipe her wet cheeks, +her hand still trembling. I could think of nothing but to +repeat:</p> +<p>"I am not in the least hurt, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"Ah, but if they have spared you the flogging to take your +life!" she breathed.</p> +<p>It was not a heartening suggestion. To my astonishment, suddenly +I found myself, frightened victim, striving to comfort this +noblewoman for my death.</p> +<p>"Nay, I am not afraid. Since mademoiselle weeps over me, I can +die happily."</p> +<p>She sprang toward me as if to protect me with her body from some +menacing thrust.</p> +<p>"They shall not kill you!" she cried, her eyes flashing blue +fire. "They shall not! Mon dieu! is Lorance de Montluc so feeble a +thing that she cannot save a serving-boy?"</p> +<p>She fell back a pace, pressing her hands to her temples as if to +stifle their throbbing.</p> +<p>"It was my fault," she cried—"it was all my fault. It was +my vanity and silliness brought you to this. I should never have +written that letter—a three years' child would have known +better. But I had not seen M. de Mar for five weeks—I did not +know, what I readily guess now, that he had taken sides against us. +M. de Lorraine played on my pique."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," I said, "the worst has not followed, since M. +Étienne did not come himself."</p> +<p>"You are glad for that?"</p> +<p>"Why, of course, mademoiselle. Was it not a trap for him?"</p> +<p>She caught her breath as if in pain.</p> +<p>"I knew that as soon as I saw that my cousin Mayenne was not +angry. When I told what I had done and he smiled at me and said I +should have my gloves, why, then I thought my heart would stop +beating. I saw what I had accomplished—mon dieu, I was sick +with repentance of it!"</p> +<p>I had to tell her I had not thought it.</p> +<p>"No," she answered; "I had got you into this by my foolishness; +I must needs try to get you out by my wits. Brie, the one who took +you by the throat—there has been bad blood between him and +your lord this twelvemonth; only last May M. le Comte ran him +through the wrist. Had I interfered for you," she said, colouring a +little, "M. de Brie would have inferred interest in the master from +that in the man, and he had seen to your beating himself."</p> +<p>It suddenly dawned on me that this M. de Brie was the "little +cheese" of guard-room gossip. And I thought that the gentleman +would hardly display so much venom against M. Étienne unless +he were a serious obstacle to his hopes. Nor would mademoiselle be +here at midnight, weeping over a serving-lad, if she cared nothing +for the master. If she had not worn her heart on her sleeve before +the laughing salon, mayhap she would show it to me.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," I cried, "when the billet was brought him M. +Étienne rose from his bed at once to come. But he was faint +from fatigue and loss of blood; he could not walk across the room. +But he bade me try to make mademoiselle believe his absence was no +fault of his. He wrote her a month ago; he found to-day the letter +was never delivered."</p> +<p>"Is he hurt dangerously?"</p> +<p>"No," I admitted reluctantly; "no, I think not. He was wounded +in the right forearm, and again pinked in the shoulder; but he will +recover."</p> +<p>"You said," she went on, the tears standing in her eyes, "that +he was penniless. I have not much, but what I have is freely +his."</p> +<p>She advanced upon me holding out her silken purse which she had +taken from her bosom; but I retreated.</p> +<p>"No, no, mademoiselle," I cried, ashamed of my hot words; "we +are not penniless—or if we are, we get on very well sans le +sou. They do everything for monsieur at the Trois Lanternes, and he +has only to return to the Hôtel St. Quentin to get all the +gold pieces he can spend. Oh, no; we are in no want, mademoiselle. +I was angry when I said it; I did not mean it. I cry mademoiselle's +pardon."</p> +<p>She looked at me a little hesitatingly.</p> +<p>"You are telling me true?"</p> +<p>"Why, yes, mademoiselle; if my monsieur needed money, indeed, +indeed, I would not refuse it."</p> +<p>"Then if you cannot take it for him, you can take it for +yourself. It will be strange if in all Paris you cannot find +something you like as a token from me." With her own white fingers +she slipped some tinkling coins into my pouch, and cut short my +thanks with the little wailing cry:</p> +<p>"Oh, your poor, bound hands! I have my poniard in my dress. I +could free them in a second. But if they knew I had been here with +you they never will let you go."</p> +<p>"If mademoiselle is running into danger staying here, I pray her +to go back to bed. M. Étienne did not send me hither to +bring her grief and trouble."</p> +<p>"Who are you?" she asked me abruptly. "You have never been here +before on monsieur's errands?"</p> +<p>"No, mademoiselle; I came up only yesterday from Picardie. I +belong on the St. Quentin estate. My name is Félix +Broux."</p> +<p>"Alack, you have chosen a bad time to visit Paris!"</p> +<p>"I came up to see life," I said, "and mordieu! I am seeing +it."</p> +<p>"I pray God you may not see death, too," she answered +soberly.</p> +<p>She stood looking at me helplessly.</p> +<p>"I am in my lord's black books," she said slowly, as if to +herself; "but I might weep François de Brie's rough heart to +softness. Then it is a question whether he could turn Mayenne. I +wish I knew whether the duke himself or only Paul de Lorraine has +planned this move to-night. That is," she added, blushing, but +speaking out candidly, "whether they attack M. de Mar as the +League's enemy or as my lover."</p> +<p>"This M. Paul de Lorraine," said I, speaking as respectfully as +I knew how, but eager to find out all I could for M. +Étienne—"this M. de Lorraine is mademoiselle's lover, +too?"</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders, neither assenting nor denying. "We +are all pawns in the game for M. de Mayenne to push about as he +chooses. For a time M. de Mar was high in his favour. Then my +cousin Paul came back after a two years' disappearance, and +straightway he was up and M. de Mar was down. And then Paul +vanished again as suddenly as he had come, and it became the turn +of M. de Brie. Now to-night Paul walked in as suddenly as he had +left and at once played on me to write that unlucky letter. And +what it bodes for <i>him</i> I know not."</p> +<p>She spoke with amazing frankness; yet, much as she had told me, +the fact of her telling it told me even more. I saw that she was as +lonely in this great house as I had been at St. Quentin. She would +have talked delightedly to M. le Comte's dog.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," I said, "I would like well to tell you what has +been happening to my M. Étienne this last month, if you are +not afraid to stay long enough to hear it."</p> +<p>"Oh, every one is asleep long ago; it is past two o'clock. Yes, +you may tell me if you wish."</p> +<p>She sat down on a praying-cushion, motioning me to the other, +and I began my tale. At first she listened with a little air of +languor, as if the whole were of slight consequence and she really +did not care at all what M. le Comte had been about these five +weeks. But as I got into the affair of the Rue Coupejarrets she +forgot her indifference and leaned forward with burning cheeks, +hanging on my words with eager questions. And when I told her how +Lucas had evaded us in the darkness, she cried:</p> +<p>"Blessed Virgin! M. de Mar has enough to contend with in this +Lucas, without Paul de Lorraine, and Brie, and the Duke of Mayenne +himself."</p> +<p>I was silent, being of her opinion. Presently she asked +reluctantly:</p> +<p>"Does your master think this Lucas a tool of M. de +Mayenne's?"</p> +<p>"Yes, mademoiselle. He says secretaries do not plot against +dukedoms for their own pleasure."</p> +<p>"Asassination was not wont to be my cousin Mayenne's way," she +said with an accent of confidence that rang as false as a +counterfeit coin. I saw well enough that mademoiselle did fear, at +least, Mayenne's guilt. I thought I might tell her a little +more.</p> +<p>"M. le Comte told me that since his father's coming to Paris M. +de Mayenne made him offers to join the League, and he refused them. +So then M. de Mayenne, seeing himself losing the whole house of St. +Quentin, invented this."</p> +<p>"But it failed. Thank God, it failed! And now he will leave +Paris. He will—he must!"</p> +<p>"He did mean to seek Navarre's camp to-morrow," I answered; +"but—"</p> +<p>"But what?"</p> +<p>"But then the letter came."</p> +<p>"But that makes no difference! He must go for all that. The time +is over for trimming. He must stand on one side or the other. I am +a Ligueuse born and bred, and I tell him to go to King Henry. It is +his father's side; it is his side. He cannot stay in Paris another +day."</p> +<p>"I do not think he will go, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"But he must!" she cried with vehemence. "Paris is not safe for +him. If he cannot stand for his wound, he must go. I will send him +a letter myself to tell him he must."</p> +<p>"Then he will never go."</p> +<p>"Félix!"</p> +<p>"He will not. He was going because he thought his lady flouted +him; when he finds she does not—well, if he budges a step out +of Paris, I do not know him. When he thought himself +despised—"</p> +<p>"And why did I turn his suit into laughter in the salon if I did +not mean that I despised him? I did it for you to tell him how I +made a mock of him, that he might hate me and keep away from +me."</p> +<p>"Oh," I said, "mademoiselle is beyond me; I cannot keep up with +her."</p> +<p>"And you believed it! But you must needs spoil all by flaring +out with impudent speech."</p> +<p>"I crave mademoiselle's pardon. I was wrong and insolent. But +she played too well."</p> +<p>"And if it was not play?" she cried, rising. "If I +do—well, I will not say despise him—but care nothing +for him? Will he then go to St. Denis? Then tell him from me that +he has my pity as one cruelly cozened, and my esteem as a one-time +servant of mine, but never my love. Tell him I would willingly save +him alive, for the sake of the love he once bore me. But as for any +answering love in my bosom, I have not one spark. Tell him to go +find a new mistress at St. Denis. He might as well cry for the moon +as seek to win Lorance de Montluc."</p> +<p>"That may be true," I said; "but all the same he will try. Can +mademoiselle suppose he will go out of Paris now, and leave her to +marry Brie and Lorraine?"</p> +<p>"Only one," she protested with the shadow of a smile; and then a +sudden rush of tears blinded her. "I am a very miserable girl," she +said woefully, "for I bring nothing but danger to those that love +me."</p> +<p>I dropped on my knees before her and kissed the hem of her +dress.</p> +<p>"Ah, Félix," she said, "if you really pitied me, you +would get him out of Paris!" And she fell to weeping as if her +heart would break.</p> +<p>I had no skill to comfort her. I bent my head before her, +silent. At length she sobbed out:</p> +<p>"It boots little for us to quarrel over what you shall say to M. +de Mar, when we know not that you will ever speak to him again. And +it was all my fault."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, it was the fault of my hasty tongue."</p> +<p>But she shook her head.</p> +<p>"I maintained that to you, but it was not true. Mayenne had +something in his mind before. A general holds his schemes so dear +and lives so cheap. But I will do my utmost, Félix, lad. It +is not long to daylight now. I will go to François de Brie +and we'll believe I shall prevail."</p> +<p>She took up her candle and said good night to me very gently and +quietly, and gave me her hand to kiss. She opened the +door,—with my fettered wrists I could not do the office for +her,—and on the threshold turned to smile on me, wistfully, +hopefully. In the next second, with a gasp that was half a cry, she +blew out the light and pushed the door shut again.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> +<h3><i>My Lord Mayenne.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>knew she was shutting the door by the click of the latch; in the +next second I made the discovery that she was still on my side of +it. "What—" I was beginning, when she laid her hand over my +mouth. A line of light showed through the crack. She had not quite +closed the door on account of the noise of the latch. She tried +again; again it rattled and she desisted. I heard her fluttered +breathing and I heard something else—a rapid, heavy tread in +the corridor without. Into the council-room came a man carrying a +lighted taper. It was Mayenne.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle, with a whispered "God save us!" sank in a heap at +my feet.</p> +<p>I bent over her to find if she had swooned, when she seized my +hand in a sharp grip that told me plain as words to be quiet.</p> +<p>Mayenne was yawning; he had a rumpled and dishevelled look like +one just roused from sleep. He crossed over to the table, lighted +the three-branched candlestick standing there, and seated himself +with his back to us, pulling about some papers. I hardly dared +glance at him, for fear my eyes should draw his; the crack of our +door seemed to call aloud to him to mark it; but the candle-light +scarcely pierced the shadows of the long room.</p> +<p>More quick footsteps in the corridor. Mayenne hitched his chair +about, sidewise to the table and to us, facing the outer door. A +tall man in black entered, saluting the general from the +threshold.</p> +<p>"So you have come back?" spoke the duke in his even tones. It +was impossible to tell whether the words were a welcome or a +sentence.</p> +<p>"Yes," answered the other, in a voice as noncommittal as +Mayenne's own. He shut the door after him and walked over to the +table.</p> +<p>"And how goes it?"</p> +<p>"Badly."</p> +<p>The newcomer threw his hat aside and sat down without waiting +for an invitation.</p> +<p>"What! Badly, sirrah!" Mayenne exclaimed sharply. "You come to +me with that report?"</p> +<p>"I do, monsieur," answered the other with cool insolence, +leaning back in his chair. The light fell directly on his face and +proved to me what I had guessed at his first word. The duke's night +visitor was Lucas. "Yes," he repeated indifferently, "it has gone +badly. In fact, your game is up."</p> +<p>Mayenne jumped to his feet, bringing his fist down on the +table.</p> +<p>"You tell me this?"</p> +<p>Lucas regarded him with an easy smile.</p> +<p>"Unfortunately, monsieur, I do."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="180.jpg"></a> <a href="images/180.jpg"><img src= +"images/180.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>MLLE. De MONTLUC AND FÉLIX BROUX IN THE ORATORY</b> +<br /></div> +<p>Mayenne turned on him, cursing. Lucas with the quickness of a +cat sprang a yard aside, dagger unsheathed.</p> +<p>"Put up that knife!" shouted Mayenne.</p> +<p>"When you put up yours, monsieur."</p> +<p>"I have drawn none!"</p> +<p>"In your sleeve, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Liar!" cried Mayenne.</p> +<p>I know not who was lying, for I could not tell whether the blade +that flashed now in the duke's hand came from his sleeve or from +his belt. But if he had not drawn before he had drawn now and +rushed at Lucas. He dodged and they circled round each other, wary +as two matched cocks. Lucas was strictly on the defensive; Mayenne, +the less agile by reason of his weight, could make no chance to +strike. He drew off presently.</p> +<p>"I'll have your neck wrung for this," he panted.</p> +<p>"For what, monsieur?" asked Lucas, imperturbably. "For defending +myself?"</p> +<p>Mayenne let the charge go by default.</p> +<p>"For coming to me with the tale of your failures. Nom de dieu, +do I employ you to fail?"</p> +<p>"We are none of us gods, monsieur. You yourself lost Ivry."</p> +<p>Mayenne backed over to his chair and seated himself, laying his +knife on the table in front of him. His face smoothed out to good +humour—no mean tribute to his power of self-control. For the +written words can convey no notion of the maddening insolence of +Lucas's bearing—an insolence so studied that it almost seemed +unconscious and was thereby well-nigh impossible to silence.</p> +<p>"Sit down," bade the duke, "and tell me."</p> +<p>Lucas, standing at the foot of the table, observed:</p> +<p>"They turned you out of your bed, monsieur, to see me. It was +unnecessary severity. My tale will keep till morning."</p> +<p>"By Heaven, it shall not!" Mayenne shouted. "Beware how much +further you dare anger me, you Satan's cub!"</p> +<p>He was fingering the dagger again as if he longed to plunge it +into Lucas's gullet, and I rather marvelled that he did not, or +summon his guard to do it. For I could well understand how +infuriating was Lucas. He carried himself with an air of easy +equality insufferable to the first noble in the land. Mayenne's +chosen rôle was the unmoved, the inscrutable, but Lucas beat +him at his own game and drove him out into the open of passion and +violence. It was a miracle to me that the man lived—unless, +indeed, he were a prince in disguise.</p> +<p>"Satan's cub!" Lucas repeated, laughing. "Our late king had +called me that, pardieu! But I knew not you acknowledged Satan in +the family."</p> +<p>"I ordered Antoine to wake me if you returned in the night," +Mayenne went on gruffly. "When I heard you had been here I knew +something was wrong—unless the thing were done."</p> +<p>"It is not done. The whole plot is ruined."</p> +<p>"Nom de dieu! If it is by your bungling—"</p> +<p>"It was not by my bungling," Lucas answered with the first touch +of heat he had shown. "It was fate—and that fool +Grammont."</p> +<p>"Explain then, and quickly, or it will be the worse for +you."</p> +<p>Lucas sat down, the table between them.</p> +<p>"Look here," he said abruptly, leaning forward over the board. +"Have you Mar's boy?"</p> +<p>"What boy?"</p> +<p>"A young Picard from the St. Quentin estate, whom the devil +prompted to come up to town to-day. Mar sent him here to-night with +a love-message to Lorance."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Mayenne, slowly, "if it is a question of +mademoiselle's love-affairs, it may be put off till to-morrow. It +is plain to the very lackeys that you are jealous of Mar. But at +present we are discussing l'affaire St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"It is all one," Lucas answered quickly. "You know what is to be +the reward of my success."</p> +<p>"I thought you told me you had failed."</p> +<p>Lucas's hand moved instinctively to his belt; then he thought +better of it and laid both hands, empty, on the table.</p> +<p>"Our plot has failed; but that does not mean that St. Quentin is +immortal."</p> +<p>"You may be very sure of one thing, my friend," the duke +observed. "I shall never give Lorance de Montluc to a white-livered +flincher."</p> +<p>"The Duke of St. Quentin is not immortal," Lucas repeated. "I +have missed him once, but I shall get him in spite of all."</p> +<p>"I am not sure about Lorance even then," said Mayenne, +reflectively. "François de Brie is agitating himself about +that young mistress. And he has not made any failures—as +yet."</p> +<p>Lucas sprang to his feet.</p> +<p>"You swore to me I should have her."</p> +<p>"Permit me to remind you again that you have not brought me the +price."</p> +<p>"I will bring you the price."</p> +<p>"E'en then," spoke Mayenne, with the smile of the cat standing +over the mouse—"e'en then I might change my mind."</p> +<p>"Then," said Lucas, roundly, "there will be more than one dead +duke in France."</p> +<p>Mayenne looked up at him as unmoved as if it were not in the +power of mortal man to make him lose his temper. In stirring him to +draw dagger, Lucas had achieved an extraordinary triumph. Yet I +somehow thought that the man who had shown hot anger was the real +man; the man who sat there quiet was the party leader.</p> +<p>He said now, evenly:</p> +<p>"That is a silly way to talk to me, Paul."</p> +<p>"It is the truth for once," Lucas made sullen answer.</p> +<p>So long as he could prick and irritate Mayenne he preserved an +air of unshakable composure; but when Mayenne recovered patience +and himself began to prick, Lucas's guard broke down. His voice +rose a key, as it had done when I called him fool; and he burst out +violently:</p> +<p>"Mort de dieu! monsieur, what am I doing your dirty work for? +For love of my affectionate uncle?"</p> +<p>"It might well be for that. I have been your affectionate uncle, +as you say."</p> +<p>"My affectionate uncle, you say? My hirer, my suborner! I was a +Protestant; I was bred up by the Huguenot Lucases when my father +cast off my mother and me to starve. I had no love for the League +or the Lorraines. I was fighting in Navarre's ranks when I was made +prisoner at Ivry."</p> +<p>"You were spying for Navarre. It was before the fight we caught +you. You had been hanged and quartered in that gray dawn had I not +recognized you, after twelve years, as my brother's son. I cut the +rope from you and embraced you for your father's sake. You rode +forth a cornet in my army, instead of dying like a felon on the +gallows."</p> +<p>"You had your ends to serve," Lucas muttered.</p> +<p>"I took you into my household," Mayenne went on. "I let you wear +the name of Lorraine. I did not deny you the hand of my cousin and +ward, Lorance de Montluc."</p> +<p>"Deny me! No, you did not. Neither did you grant it me, but put +me off with lying promises. You thought then you could win back the +faltering house of St. Quentin by a marriage between your cousin +and the Comte de Mar. Afterward, when my brother Charles dashed +into Paris, and the people clamoured for his marriage with the +Infanta, you conceived the scheme of forcing Lorance on him. But it +would not do, and again you promised her to me if I could get you +certain information from the royalist army. I returned in the guise +of an escaped prisoner to Henry's camp to steal you secrets; and +the moment my back was turned you listened to proposals from Mar +again."</p> +<p>"Mar is not in the race now. You need not speak of him, nor of +your brother Charles, either."</p> +<p>"No; I can well understand that my brother's is not a pleasant +name in your ears," Lucas agreed. "You acknowledged one King +Charles X; you would like well to see another Charles X, but it is +not Charles of Guise you mean."</p> +<p>"I have no desire to be King of France," Mayenne began +angrily.</p> +<p>"Have you not? That is well, for you will never feel the crown +on your brows, good uncle! You are ground between the Spanish +hammer and the Béarnais anvil; there will soon be nothing +left of you but powder."</p> +<p>"Nom de dieu, Paul—" Mayenne cried, half rising; but +Lucas, leaning forward on the table, riveting him with his keen +eyes, went on:</p> +<p>"Do not mistake me, monsieur uncle. I think you in bad case, but +I am ready to sink or swim with you. So long as the hand of Lorance +is in your bestowing I am your faithful servant. I have not +hesitated to risk the gallows to serve you. Last March I made my +way here, disguised, to tell you of the king's coming change of +faith and of St. Quentin's certain defection. I demanded then my +price, my marriage with mademoiselle. But you put me off again. You +sent me back to Mantes to kill you St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Aye. And you have been about it these four months, and you have +not killed him."</p> +<p>Lucas reddened with ire.</p> +<p>"I am no Jacques Clément to stab and be massacred. You +cannot buy such a service of me, M. de Mayenne. If I do bravo's +work for you I choose my own time and way. I brought the duke to +Paris, delivered him up to you to deal with as it liked you. But +you with your army at your back were afraid to kill him. You +flinched and waited. You dared not shoulder the onus of his death. +Then I, to help you out of your strait, planned to make his own +son's the hand that should do the deed; to kill the duke and ruin +his heir; to put not only St. Quentin but Mar out of your +way—"</p> +<p>"Let us be accurate, Paul," Mayenne said. "Mar was not in my +way; he was of no consequence to me. You mean, put him out of your +way."</p> +<p>"He was in your way, too. Since he would not join the Cause he +was a hindrance to it. You had as much to gain as I by his +ruin."</p> +<p>"Something—not as much. I did not want him killed—I +preferred him to Valère."</p> +<p>"Nor did I want him killed; so our views jibed well."</p> +<p>"Why not, then? Did you prefer him as your wife's lover to some +other who might appear?"</p> +<p>"I do not intend that my wife shall have lovers," Lucas +answered.</p> +<p>Mayenne broke into laughter.</p> +<p>"Nom d'un chien, where will you keep her? In the Bastille? +Lorance and no lovers! Ho, ho!"</p> +<p>"I mean none whom she favours."</p> +<p>"Then why do you leave Mar alive? She adores the fellow," +Mayenne said. I had no idea whether he really thought it or only +said it to annoy Lucas. At any rate it had its effect. Lucas's +brows were knotted; he spoke with an effort, like a man under +stress of physical pain.</p> +<p>"I know she loves him now, and she would love him dead; but she +would not love him a parricide."</p> +<p>"Is that your creed? Pardieu! you don't know women. The blacker +the villain the more they adore him."</p> +<p>"I know it is true, monsieur," Lucas said smoothly, "that you +have had successes."</p> +<p>Mayenne started forward with half an oath, changing to a +laugh.</p> +<p>"So it is not enough for you to possess the fair body of +Lorance; you must also have her love?"</p> +<p>"She will love me," Lucas answered uneasily. "She must."</p> +<p>"It is not worth your fret," Mayenne declared. "If she did, how +long would it last? <i>Souvent femme varie</i>—that is the +only fixed fact about her. If Lorance loves Mar to-day, she will +love some one else to-morrow, and some one else still the day after +to-morrow. It is not worth while disturbing yourself about it."</p> +<p>"She will not love any one else," Lucas said hoarsely.</p> +<p>Mayenne laughed.</p> +<p>"You are very young, Paul."</p> +<p>"She shall not love any one else! By the throne of heaven, she +shall not!"</p> +<p>Mayenne went on laughing. If Lucas had for the moment teased him +out of his equanimity, the duke had paid back the score a +hundredfold. Lucas's face was seared with his passions as with the +torture-iron; he clinched his hands together, breathing hard. On my +side of the door I heard a sharp little sound in the darkness; +mademoiselle had gritted her teeth.</p> +<p>"It is a little early to sweat over the matter," Mayenne said, +"since mademoiselle is not your wife nor ever likely to become +so."</p> +<p>"You refuse her to me?" Lucas cried, livid. I thought he would +leap over the table at one bound on Mayenne. It occurred to the +duke to take up his dagger.</p> +<p>"I promise her to you when you kill me St. Quentin. And you have +not killed me St. Quentin but instead come airily to tell me the +scheme—my scheme—is wrecked. Pardieu! it was never my +scheme. I never advocated stolen pistoles and suborned witnesses +and angered nephews and deceived sons and the rest of your cumbrous +machinery. I would have had you stab him as he bent over his +papers, and walk out of the house before they discovered him. But +you had not the pluck for that; you must needs plot and replot to +make some one else do your work. Now, after months of intriguing +and waiting, you come to me to tell me you have failed. Morbleu! is +there any reason why I should not have you kicked into the gutter, +as no true son of the valourous Le Balafré?"</p> +<p>Lucas's hand went to his belt again; he made one step as if to +come around the table. Mayenne's angry eye was on him but he did +not move; and Lucas made no more steps. Controlling himself with an +effort, he said:</p> +<p>"It was not my fault, monsieur. No man could have laboured +harder or planned better than I. I have been diligent, I have been +clever. I have made my worst enemy my willing tool—I have +made Monsieur's own son my cat's-paw. I have left no end loose, no +contingency unprovided for—and I am ruined by a freak of +fate."</p> +<p>"I never knew a failure yet but what the fault was fate's," +Mayenne returned.</p> +<p>"Call it accident, then, call it the devil, call it what you +like!" Lucas cried. "I still maintain it was not my fault. Listen, +monsieur."</p> +<p>He sat down again and began his story, striving as he talked to +reconquer something of his old coolness.</p> +<p>"The thing was ruined by the advent of this boy, Mar's lackey I +spoke of. You said he had not been here?"</p> +<p>"You may go to Lorance with that question," Mayenne answered; "I +have something else to attend to than the intrigues of my wife's +maids."</p> +<p>"He started hither; I thought some one would have the sense to +keep him. Mordieu! I will find from Lorance whether she saw +him."</p> +<p>He fell silent, gnawing his lip; I could see that his thought +had travelled away from the plot to the sore subject of +mademoiselle's affections.</p> +<p>"Well," said Mayenne, sharply, "what about your boy?"</p> +<p>It was a moment before Lucas answered. When he did he spoke low +and hurriedly, so that I could scarce catch the words. I knew it +was no fear of listeners that kept his voice down—they had +shouted at each other as if there was no one within a mile. I +guessed that Lucas, for all his bravado, took little pride in his +tale, nor felt happy about its reception. I could catch names now +and then, Monsieur's, M. Étienne's, Grammont's, but the hero +of the tale was myself.</p> +<p>"You let him to the duke?" Mayenne cried presently.</p> +<p>At the harsh censure of his voice, Lucas's rang out with the old +defiance:</p> +<p>"With Vigo at his back I did. Sangdieu! you have yet to make the +acquaintance of St. Quentin's equery. A regiment of your +lansquenets couldn't keep him out."</p> +<p>"Does he never take wine?" Mayenne asked, lifting his hand with +shut fingers over the table and then opening them.</p> +<p>"That is easy to say, monsieur, sitting here in your own +hôtel stuffed with your soldiers. But it was not so easy to +do, alone in my enemy's house, when at the least suspicion of me +they had broken me on the wheel."</p> +<p>"That is the rub!" Mayenne cried violently. "That is the trouble +with all of you. You think more of the safety of your own skins +than of accomplishing your work. Mordieu! where should I be +to-day—where would the Cause be—if my first care was my +own peril?"</p> +<p>"Then that is where we differ, uncle," Lucas answered with a +cold sneer. "You are, it is well known, a patriot, toiling for the +Church and the King of Spain, with never a thought for the welfare +of Charles of Lorraine, Lord of Mayenne. But I, Paul of Lorraine, +your humble nephew, lord of my brain and hands, freely admit that I +am toiling for no one but the aforesaid Paul of Lorraine. I should +find it most inconvenient to get on without a head on my shoulders, +and I shall do my best to keep it there."</p> +<p>"You need not tell me that; I know it well enough," Mayenne +answered. "You are each for himself, none for me. At the same time, +Paul, you will do well to remember that your interest is to forward +my interest."</p> +<p>"To the full, monsieur. And I shall kill you St. Quentin yet. +You need not call me coward; I am working for a dearer stake than +any man in your ranks."</p> +<p>"Well," Mayenne rejoined, "get on with your tale."</p> +<p>Lucas went on, Mayenne listening quietly, with no further word +of blame. He moved not so much as an eyelid till Lucas told of M. +le Duc's departure, when he flung himself forward in his chair with +a sharp oath.</p> +<p>"What! by daylight?"</p> +<p>"Aye. He was afraid, after this discovery, of being set on at +night."</p> +<p>"He went out in broad day?"</p> +<p>"So Vigo said. I saw him not," Lucas answered with something of +his old nonchalance.</p> +<p>"Mille tonnerres du diable!" Mayenne shouted. "If this is true, +if he got out in broad day, I'll have the head of the traitor that +let him. I'll nail it over his own gate."</p> +<p>"It is not worth your fret, monsieur," Lucas said lightly. "If +you did, how long would it avail? <i>Souvent homme trahie</i>; that +is the only fixed fact about him. If they pass St. Quentin to-day, +they will pass some one else to-morrow, and some one else still the +day after."</p> +<p>Mayenne looked at him, half angry, half startled into some +deeper emotion at this deft twisting of his own words.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Souvent homme trahie,<br /> +Mal habile qui s'y fie,"</p> +</div> +<p>he repeated musingly. He might have been saying over the motto +of the house of Lorraine. For the Guises believed in no man's good +faith, as no man believed in theirs.</p> +<p>"<i>Souvent homme trahie</i>," Mayenne said again, as if in the +words he recognized a bitter verity. "And that is as true as King +Francis's version. I suppose you will be the next, Paul."</p> +<p>"When I give up hope of Lorance," Lucas said bluntly.</p> +<p>I caught myself suddenly pitying the two of them: Mayenne, +because, for all his power and splendour and rank next to a king's +and ability second to none, he dared trust no man—not the son +of his body, not his brother. He had made his own hell and dwelt in +it, and there was no need to wish him any ill. And Lucas, perjured +traitor, was farther from the goal of his desire than if we had +slain him in the Rue Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>"What next? It appears you escaped the redoubted Vigo," Mayenne +went on in his every-day tone; and the vision faded, and I saw him +once more as the greatest noble and greatest scoundrel in France, +and feared and hated him, and Lucas too, as the betrayer of my dear +lord Étienne.</p> +<p>"Trust me for that."</p> +<p>"Then came you here?"</p> +<p>"Not at once. I tracked Mar and this Broux to Mar's old lodgings +at the Three Lanterns. When I had dogged them to the door I came +here and worked upon Lorance to write Mar a letter commanding his +presence. For I thought that the night was yet young and to-morrow +he might be out of my reach. Well, it appears he had not the +courage to come but he sent the boy. I was not sorry. I thought I +could settle him more quietly at the inn. The boy went back once +and almost ran into me in the court, but he did not see me. I +entered and asked for lodgings; but the fat old fool of a host put +me through the catechism like an inquisitor, and finally declared +the inn was full. I said I would take a garret; but it was no use. +Out I must trudge. I did, and paid two men to get into a brawl in +front of the house, that the inn people might run out to look. But +instead they locked the gate and put up the shutters in the +cabaret."</p> +<p>Mayenne burst out laughing.</p> +<p>"It was not your night, Paul."</p> +<p>"No," said Lucas, shortly.</p> +<p>"And what then? It did not take you till three o'clock to be put +out of the inn."</p> +<p>"No," Lucas answered; "I spoke to you of the varlet Pontou with +whom Grammont had quarrelled. He had shut him up in a closet of the +house in the Rue Coupejarrets. After the fight in the court we all +went our ways, forgetting him. So I paid the house a visit; I was +afraid some one else might find him and he might tell tales."</p> +<p>"And will he tell tales?"</p> +<p>"No," said Lucas, "he will tell no tales."</p> +<p>"How about your spy in the Hôtel St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>"Martin, the clerk? Oh, I warned him off before I left," Lucas +said easily. "He will lie perdu till we want him again. And +Grammont, you see, is dead too. There is no direct witness to the +thing but the boy Broux."</p> +<p>"That's as good as to say there is none," Mayenne answered; "for +I have the boy."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> +<h3><i>Mayenne's ward.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-l.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ucas sprang up.</p> +<p>"You have him? Where?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I have him," Mayenne answered with his tantalizing +slowness.</p> +<p>"Alive?"</p> +<p>"I suppose so. He had his flogging but I told them I was not +done with him. I thought we might have a use for him. He is in the +oratory there."</p> +<p>"Diable! Listening?" cried Lucas, as if a quick doubt of +Mayenne's good faith to him struck his mind.</p> +<p>"Certainly not," Mayenne answered. "The door is bolted; he might +be in the street for all he can hear. The wall was built for +that."</p> +<p>"What will you do with him, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"We'll have him out," said Mayenne. Lucas, needing no second +bidding, hastened down the room.</p> +<p>All this while mademoiselle, on the floor at my feet, had +neither stirred nor whispered, as rigid as the statued Virgin +herself. But now she rose and for one moment laid her hand on my +shoulder with an encouraging pat; the next she flung the door wide +just as Lucas reached the threshold.</p> +<p>He recoiled as from a ghost.</p> +<p>"Lorance!" he gasped, "Lorance!"</p> +<p>"Nom de dieu!" came Mayenne's shout from the back of the room. +"What! Lorance!"</p> +<p>He caught up the candelabrum and strode over to us.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle stepped out into the council-room, I hanging back +on the other side of the sill. She was as white as linen, but she +lifted her head proudly. She had not the courage that knows no +fear, but she had the courage that rises to the need. Crouching on +the oratory floor she had been in a panic lest they find her. But +in the moment of discovery she faced them unflinching.</p> +<p>"You spying here, Lorance!" Mayenne stormed at her.</p> +<p>"I did not come here to spy, monsieur," she answered. "I was +here first, as you see. Your presence was as unlooked for by me as +mine by you."</p> +<p>His next accusation brought the blood in scarlet flags to her +pale cheeks; she made him no answer but burned him with her +indignant eyes.</p> +<p>"Mordieu, monsieur!" Lucas cried. "This is Mlle. de +Montluc."</p> +<p>"Then why did you come?" demanded Mayenne.</p> +<p>"Because I had done harm to the lad and was sorry," she said. +"You defend me now, Paul, but you did not hesitate to make a tool +of me in your cowardly schemes."</p> +<p>"It was kindly meant, mademoiselle," Lucas retorted. "Since I +shall kill M. le Comte de Mar in any case, I thought it would +pleasure you to have a word with him first."</p> +<p>I think it did not need the look she gave him to make him regret +the speech. This Lucas was an extraordinary compound of shrewdness +and recklessness, one separating from the other like oil and +vinegar in a sloven's salad. He could plan and toil and wait, to an +end, with skill and fortitude and patience; but he could not govern +his own gusty tempers.</p> +<p>"You have been crying, Lorance," Mayenne said in a softer +tone.</p> +<p>"For my sins, monsieur," she answered quickly. "I am grieved +most bitterly to have been the means of bringing this lad into +danger. Since Paul cozened me into doing what I did not understand, +and since this is not the man you wanted but only his servant, will +you not let him go free?"</p> +<p>"Why, my pretty Lorance, I did not mean to harm him," Mayenne +protested, smiling. "I had him flogged for his insolence to you; I +thought you would thank me for it."</p> +<p>"I am never glad over a flogging, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Then why not speak? A word from you and it had stopped."</p> +<p>She flushed red for very shame.</p> +<p>"I was afraid—I knew you vexed with me," she faltered. +"Oh, I have done ill!" She turned to me, silently imploring +forgiveness. There was no need to ask.</p> +<p>"Then you will let him go, monsieur? Alack that I did not speak +before! Thank you, my cousin!"</p> +<p>"Of what did you suspect me? The boy was whipped for a bit of +impertinence to you; I had no cause against him."</p> +<p>My heart leaped up; at the same time I scorned myself for a +craven that I had been overcome by groundless terror.</p> +<p>"Then I have been a goose so to disturb myself," mademoiselle +laughed out in relief. "You do well to rebuke me, cousin. I shall +never meddle in your affairs again."</p> +<p>"That will be wise of you," Mayenne returned. "For I did mean to +let the boy go. But since you have opened his door and let him hear +what he should not, I have no choice but to silence him."</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" she gasped, cowering as from a blow.</p> +<p>"Aye," he said quietly. "I would have let him go. But you have +made it impossible."</p> +<p>Never have I seen so piteous a sight as her face of misery. Had +my hands been free, Mayenne had been startled to find a knife in +his heart.</p> +<p>"Never mind, mademoiselle," I cried to her. "You came and wept +over me, and that is worth dying for."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she cried, recovering herself after the first +instant of consternation, "you are degrading the greatest noble in +the land! You, the head of the house of Lorraine, the chief of the +League, the commander of the allied armies, debase yourself in +stooping to take vengeance on a stable-boy."</p> +<p>"It is no question of vengeance; it is a question of safety," he +answered impatiently. Yet I marvelled that he answered at all, +since absolute power is not obliged to give an account of +itself.</p> +<p>"Is your estate then so tottering that a stable-boy can overturn +it? In that case be advised. Go hang yourself, monsieur, while +there is yet time."</p> +<p>He flushed with anger, and this time he offered no +justification. He advanced on the girl with outstretched hand.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, it is not my habit to take advice from the +damsels of my household. Nor do I admit them to my council-room. +Permit me then to conduct you to the staircase."</p> +<p>She retreated toward the threshold where I stood, still covering +me as with a shield.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you are very cruel to me."</p> +<p>"Your hand, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>She did not yield it to him but held out both hands, clasped in +appeal.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you have always been my loving kinsman. I have always +tried to do your pleasure. I thought you meant harm to the boy +because he was a servant to M. de Mar, and I knew that M. de St. +Quentin, at least, had gone over to the other side. I did not know +what you would do with him, and I could not rest in my bed because +it was through me he came here. Monsieur, if I was foolish and +frightened and indiscreet, do not punish the lad for my +wrong-doing."</p> +<p>Mayenne was still holding out his hand for her.</p> +<p>"I wish you sweet dreams, my cousin Lorance."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she cried, shrinking back till she stood against the +door-jamb, "will you not let the boy go?"</p> +<p>"How will you look to-morrow," he said with his unchanged smile, +"if you lose all your sleep to-night, my pretty Lorance?"</p> +<p>"A reproach to you," she answered quickly. "You will mark my +white cheeks and my red eyes, and you will say, 'Now, there is my +little cousin Lorance, my good ally Montluc's daughter, and I have +made her cry her eyes blind over my cruelty. Her father, dying, +gave her to me to guard and cherish, and I have made her miserable. +I am sorry. I wish I had not done it.'"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," the duke repeated, "will you get to your +bed?"</p> +<p>She did not stir, but, fixing him with her brilliant eyes, went +on as if thinking aloud.</p> +<p>"I remember when I was a tiny maid of five or six, and you and +your brother Guise (whom God rest!) would come to our house. You +would ask my father to send for me as you sat over your wine, and I +would run in to kiss you and be fed comfits from your pockets. I +thought you the handsomest and gallantest gentleman in France, as +indeed you were."</p> +<p>"You were the prettiest little creature ever was," Mayenne said +abruptly.</p> +<p>"And my little heart was bursting with love and admiration of +you," she returned. "When I first could lisp, I learned to pray for +my cousin Henri and my cousin Charles. I have never forgotten them +one night in all these years. 'God receive and bless the soul of +Henri de Guise; God guard and prosper Charles de Mayenne.' But you +make it hard for me to ask it for my cousin Charles."</p> +<p>"This is a great coil over a horse-boy," Mayenne said +curtly.</p> +<p>"Life is as dear to a horse-boy as to M. le Duc de Mayenne."</p> +<p>"I tell you I did not mean to kill the boy," Mayenne said. "With +the door shut he could hear nothing. I meant to question him and +let him go. But you have seen fit to meddle in what is no maid's +business, mademoiselle. You have unlocked the door and let him +listen to my concerns. Dead men, mademoiselle, tell no tales."</p> +<p>"M. de Mayenne," she said, "I cannot see that you need trouble +for the tales of boys—you, the lord of half France. But if +you must needs fear his tongue, why, even then you should set him +free. He is but a serving-boy sent here with a message. It is +wanton murder to take his life; it is like killing a child."</p> +<p>"He is not so harmless as you would lead one to suppose, +mademoiselle," the duke retorted. "Since you have been +eavesdropping, you have heard how he upset your cousin Paul's +arrangements."</p> +<p>"For that you should be thankful to him, monsieur. He has saved +you the stain of a cowardly crime."</p> +<p>"Mordieu!" Mayenne exclaimed, "who foully murdered my +brother?"</p> +<p>"The Valois."</p> +<p>"And his henchman, St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Not so," she cried. "He was here in Paris when it happened. He +was revolted at the deed."</p> +<p>"Did they teach you that at the convent?"</p> +<p>"No, but it is true. M. de St. Quentin warned my cousin Henri +not to go to Blois."</p> +<p>"Pardieu, you think them angels, these St. Quentins."</p> +<p>"I think them brave and honest gentlemen, as I think you, Cousin +Charles."</p> +<p>"That sounds ill on the lips that have but now called me villain +and murderer," Mayenne returned.</p> +<p>"I have not called you that, monsieur; I said you had been saved +from the guilt of murder, and I knew one day you would be +glad."</p> +<p>He kept silence, eying her in a puzzled way. After a moment she +went on:</p> +<p>"Cousin Charles, it is our lot to live in such days of blood and +turmoil that we know not any other way to do but injure and kill. I +think you are more harassed and troubled than any man in France. +You have Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots and half the provinces +to fight in the field, and your own League to combat at home. You +must make favour with each of a dozen quarrelling factions, must +strive and strive to placate and loyalize them all. The leaders +work each for his own end, each against the others and against you; +and the truth is not in one of them, and their pledges are ropes of +straw. They intrigue and rebel and betray till you know not which +way to turn, and you curse the day that made you head of the +League."</p> +<p>"I do curse the day Henri was killed," Mayenne said soberly. +"And that is true, Lorance. But I am head of the League, and I must +do my all to lead it to success."</p> +<p>"But not by the path of shame!" she cried quickly. "Success +never yet lay that way. Henri de Valois slew our Henri, and see how +God dealt with him!"</p> +<p>He looked at her fixedly; I think he heeded her words less than +her shining, earnest eyes. And he said at last:</p> +<p>"Well, you shall have your boy, Lorance."</p> +<p>"Ah, monsieur!"</p> +<p>With tears dimming the brightness of those sweet eyes she +dropped on her knees before him, kissing his hand.</p> +<p>Lucas, since his one unlucky outburst, had said never a word but +stood looking on with a ruefulness of visage that it warmed the +cockles of my heart to see.</p> +<p>Certes, he was in no very pleasant corner, this dear M. Paul. +His mistress had heard his own lips describe his plot against the +St. Quentins; there was no possibility of lying himself clear of +it. Out of his own mouth he was convicted of spycraft, treachery, +and cowardly murder. And in the Hôtel de Lorraine, as in the +Hôtel de St. Quentin, his betrayal had come about through me. +I was unwitting agent in both cases; but that did not make him love +me the more. Could eyes slay, I had fallen of the glance he shot me +over mademoiselle's bowed head; but when she rose he said to +her:</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, the boy is as much my prisoner as M. le Duc's, +since I got him here. But I, too, freely give him up to you."</p> +<p>She swept him a curtsey, silently, without looking at him. He +made an eager pace nearer her.</p> +<p>"Lorance," he cried in a low, rapid voice, "I see I am out of +your graces. Now, by Our Lady, what's life worth to me if you will +not take me back again? I admit I have tried to ruin the Comte de +Mar. Is that any marvel, since he is my rival with you? Last March, +when I was hiding here and watched from my window the gay M. de Mar +come airily in, day after day, to see and make love to you, was it +any marvel that I swore to bring his proud head to the dust?"</p> +<p>Now she turned to him and met his gaze squarely.</p> +<p>"The means you employed was the marvel," she said. "If you did +not approve of his visits, you had only to tell him so. He had been +ready to defend to you his right to make them. But you never showed +him your face; of course, had you, you could not have become his +father's housemate and Judas. Oh, I blush to know that the same +blood runs in your veins and mine!"</p> +<p>"You speak hard words, mademoiselle," Lucas returned, keeping +his temper with a stern effort. "You forget that we live in France +in war-time, and not in the kingdom of heaven. I was toiling for +more than my own revenges. I was working at your cousin Mayenne's +commands, to aid our holy cause, for the preservation of the +Catholic Church and the Catholic kingdom of France."</p> +<p>"Your conversion is sudden, then; only an hour ago you were +working for nothing and no one but Paul de Lorraine."</p> +<p>"Come, come, Lorance," Mayenne interposed, his caution setting +him ever on the side of compromise. "Paul is no worse than the rest +of us. He hates his enemies, and so do we all; he works against +them to the best of his power, and so do we all. They are Kingsmen, +we are Leaguers; they fight for their side, and we fight for ours. +If we plot against them, they plot against us; we murder lest we be +murdered. We cannot scruple over our means. Nom de dieu, +mademoiselle, what do you expect? Civil war is not a +dancing-school."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle is right," Lucas said humbly, refusing any +defence. "We have been using cowardly means, weapons unworthy of +Christian gentlemen. And I, at least, cannot plead M. le Duc's +excuse that I was blinded in my zeal for the Cause. For I know and +you know there is but one cause with me. I went to kill St. Quentin +because I was promised you for it, as I would have gone to kill the +Pope himself. This is my excuse; I did it to win you. There is no +crime in God's calendar I would not commit for that."</p> +<p>He had possessed himself of her hand and was bending over her, +burning her with his hot eyes. Mass of lies as the man was, in this +last sentence I knew he spoke the truth.</p> +<p>She strove to free herself from him with none of the flattered +pride in his declaration which he had perhaps looked for. Instead, +she eyed him with positive fear, as if she saw no way of escape +from his rampant desire.</p> +<p>"I wish rather you would practise a little virtue to win me," +she said.</p> +<p>"So I will if you ask it," he returned, unabashed. "Lorance, I +love you so there is no depth to which I could not stoop to gain +you; there is no height to which I cannot rise. There is no shame +so bitter, no danger so awful, that I would not face it for you. +Nor is there any sacrifice I will not make to gain your good will. +I hate M. de Mar above any living man because you have smiled on +him; but I will let him go for your sake. I swear to you before the +figure of Our Blessed Lady there that I will drop all enmity to +Étienne de Mar. From this time forward I will neither move +against him nor cause others to move against him in any shape or +manner, so help me God!"</p> +<p>He dropped her hand to kiss the cross of his sword. She +retreated from him, her face very pale, her breast heaving.</p> +<p>"You make it hard for me to know when you are speaking the +truth," she said.</p> +<p>"May the lightning strike me if I am lying!" Lucas cried. "May +my tongue rot at the root if ever I lie to you, Lorance!"</p> +<p>"Then I am very grateful and glad," she said gravely, and again +curtsied to him.</p> +<p>"Yes, I give you my word for that, too, Lorance," Mayenne added. +"I have no quarrel with young Mar. His father has stirred up more +trouble for me than any dozen of Huguenots; I have my score to +settle with St. Quentin. But I have no quarrel with the son. I will +not molest him."</p> +<p>"Grand'merci, monsieur," she said, sweeping him another of her +graceful obeisances.</p> +<p>"Understand me, mademoiselle," Mayenne went on. "I pardon him, +but not that he may be anything to you. That time is past. The St. +Quentins are Navarre's men now, and our enemies. For your sake I +will let Mar alone; but if he come near you again, I will crush him +as I would a buzzing fly."</p> +<p>"That I understand, monsieur," she answered in a low tone. +"While I live under your roof, I shall not be treacherous to you. I +am a Ligueuse and he is a Kingsman, and there can be nothing +between us. There shall be nothing, monsieur. I do not swear it, as +Paul needs, because I have never lied to you."</p> +<p>She did not once look at Lucas, yet I think she saw him wince +under her stab. The Duke of Mayenne was right; not even Mlle. de +Montluc loved her enemies.</p> +<p>"You are a good girl, Lorance," Mayenne said.</p> +<p>"Will you let the boy go now, Cousin Charles?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, I will let your boy go," he made answer. "But if I do this +for you, I shall expect you henceforth to do my bidding."</p> +<p>"You have called me a good girl, cousin."</p> +<p>"Aye, so you are. And there is small need to look so +Friday-faced about it. If I have denied you one lover, I will give +you another just as good."</p> +<p>"Am I Friday-faced?" she said, summoning up a smile. "Then my +looks belie me. For since you free this poor boy whom I was like to +have ruined I take a grateful and happy heart to bed."</p> +<p>"Aye, and you must stay happy. Pardieu, what does it matter +whether your husband have yellow hair or brown? My brother Henri +was for getting himself into a monastery because he could not have +his Margot. Yet in less than a year he is as merry as a fiddler +with the Duchesse Katharine."</p> +<p>"You have made me happy, to-night at least, monsieur," she +answered gently, if not merrily.</p> +<p>"It is the most foolish act of my life," Mayenne answered. "But +it is for you, Lorance. If ill comes to me by it, yours is the +credit."</p> +<p>"You can swear him to silence, monsieur," she cried quickly.</p> +<p>"What use? He would not keep silence."</p> +<p>"He will if I ask it," she returned, flinging me a look of +bright confidence that made the blood dance in my veins. But +Mayenne laughed.</p> +<p>"When you have lived in the world as long as I have, you will +not so flatter yourself, Lorance."</p> +<p>Thus it happened that I was not bound to silence concerning what +I had seen and heard in the house of Lorraine.</p> +<p>Mayenne took out his dagger.</p> +<p>"What I do I do thoroughly. I said I'd set you free. Free you +shall be."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle sprang forward with pleading hand.</p> +<p>"Let me cut the cords, Cousin Charles."</p> +<p>He recoiled a bare second, the habit of a lifetime prompting him +against the putting of a weapon in any one's hand. Then, ashamed of +the suspicion, which indeed was not of her, he yielded the knife +and she cut my bonds. She looked straight into my eyes, with a +glance earnest, beseeching, loving; I could not begin to read all +she meant by it. The next moment she was making her deep curtsey +before the duke.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I shall never cease to love you for this. And now I +thank you for your long patience, and bid you good night."</p> +<p>With a bare inclination of the head to Lucas, she turned to go. +But Mayenne bade her pause.</p> +<p>"Do I get but a curtsey for my courtesy? No warmer thanks, +Lorance?"</p> +<p>He held out his arms to her, and she let him kiss both her +cheeks.</p> +<p>"I will conduct you to the staircase, mademoiselle," he said, +and taking her hand with stately politeness led her from the room. +The light seemed to go from it with the gleam of her yellow +gown.</p> +<p>"Lorance!" Lucas cried to her, but she never turned her head. He +stood glowering, grinding his teeth together, his glib tongue +finding for once no way to better his sorry case. He was the +picture of trickery rewarded; I could not repress a grin at him. +Marking which, he burst out at me, vehemently, yet in a low tone, +for Mayenne had not closed the door:</p> +<p>"You think I am bested, do you, you devil's brat? Let him laugh +that wins; I shall have her yet."</p> +<p>"I will tell M. le Comte so," I answered with all the impudence +I could muster.</p> +<p>"By Heaven, you will tell him nothing," he cried. "You will +never see daylight again."</p> +<p>"I have Mayenne's word," I began, but his retort was to draw +dagger. I deemed it time to stop parleying, and I did what the best +of soldiers must do sometimes: I ran. I bounded into the oratory, +flinging the door to after me. He was upon it before I could get it +shut, and the heavy oak was swung this way and that between us, +till it seemed as if we must tear it off the hinges. I contrived +not to let him push it open wide enough to enter; meantime, as I +was unarmed, I thought it no shame to shriek for succour. I heard +an answering cry and hurrying footsteps. Then Lucas took his weight +from the door so suddenly that mine banged it shut. The next minute +it flew open again, mademoiselle, frightened and panting, on the +threshold.</p> +<p>A tall soldier with a musket stood at her back; at one side +Lucas lounged by the cabinet where the duke had set down the light. +His right hand he held behind his back, while with his left he +poked his dagger into the candle-flame.</p> +<p>Mayenne, red and puffing, hurried into the room.</p> +<p>"What is the pother?" he demanded. "What devilment now, +Paul?"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle's protégé is nervous," Lucas +answered with a fine sneer. "When I drew out my knife to get the +thief from the candle he screamed to wake the dead and took +sanctuary in the oratory."</p> +<p>I had given him the lie then and there, but as I emerged from +the darkness Mayenne commanded:</p> +<p>"Take him out to the street, d'Auvray."</p> +<p>The tall musketeer, saluting, motioned me to precede him. For a +moment I hesitated, burning to defend my valour before +mademoiselle. Then, reflecting how much harm my hasty tongue had +previously done me, and that the path to freedom was now open +before me, I said nothing. Nor had I need. For as I turned she +flashed over to Lucas and said straight in his face:</p> +<p>"When you marry me, Paul de Lorraine, you will marry a dead +wife."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> +<h3><i>"I'll win my lady!"</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-l.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ucas's prophecy came to grief within five minutes of the making. +For when the musketeer unbarred the house door for me, the first +thing I saw was the morning sun.</p> +<p>My spirits danced at sight of him, as he himself might dance on +Easter day. Within the close, candle-lit room I had had no thought +but that it was still black midnight; and now at one step I passed +from the gloomy house into the heartening sunshine of a new clean +day. I ran along as joyously as if I had left the last of my +troubles behind me, forgotten in some dark corner of the +Hôtel de Lorraine. Always my heart lifts when, after hours +within walls, I find myself in the open again. I am afraid in +houses, but out of doors I have no fear of harm from any man or any +thing.</p> +<p>Though Sir Sun was risen this half-hour, and at home we should +all have been about our business, these lazy Paris folk were still +snoring. They liked well to turn night into day and lie long abed +of a morning. Although here a shopkeeper took down shutters, and +there a brisk servant-lass swept the door-step, yet I walked +through a sleeping city, quiet as our St. Quentin woods, save that +here my footsteps echoed in the emptiness. At length, with the +knack I have, whatever my stupidities, of finding my way in a +strange place, I arrived before the courtyard of the Trois +Lanternes. The big wooden doors were indeed shut, but when I had +pounded lustily awhile a young tapster, half clad and cross as a +bear, opened to me. I vouchsafed him scant apology, but, dropping +on a heap of hay under a shed in the court, passed straightway into +dreamless slumber.</p> +<p>When I awoke my good friend the sun was looking down at me from +near his zenith, and my first happy thought was that I was just in +time for dinner. Then I discovered that I had been prodded out of +my rest by the pitchfork of a hostler.</p> +<p>"Sorry to disturb monsieur, but the horses must be fed."</p> +<p>"Oh, I am obliged to you," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I must go +up to M. le Comte."</p> +<p>"He has been himself to look at you, and gave orders you were +not to be disturbed. But that was last week. Dame! you slept like a +sabot."</p> +<p>It did not take me long to brush the straw off me, wash my face +at the trough, and present myself before monsieur. He was dressed +and sitting at table in his bedchamber, while a drawer served him +with dinner.</p> +<p>"You are out of bed, monsieur," I cried.</p> +<p>"But yes," he answered, springing up, "I am as well as ever I +was. Félix, what has happened to you?"</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="216.jpg"></a> <a href="images/216.jpg"><img src= +"images/216.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"SORRY TO DISTURB MONSIEUR, BUT THE HORSES MUST BE +FED."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>I glanced at the serving-man; M. Étienne ordered him at +once from the room.</p> +<p>"Now tell me quickly," he cried, as I faltered, tongue-tied from +very richness of matter. "Mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"Ah, mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. "Mademoiselle is—" I +paused in a dearth of words worthy of her.</p> +<p>"She is, she is!" he agreed, laughing. "Oh, go on, you little +slow-poke! You saw her? And she said—"</p> +<p>He was near to laying hands on me, to hurry my tale.</p> +<p>"I saw her and Mayenne and Lucas and ever so many things," I +told him. "And they had me flogged, and mademoiselle loves +you."</p> +<p>"She does!" he cried, flushing. "Félix, does she? You +cannot know."</p> +<p>"But I do know it," I answered, not very lucidly. "You see, she +wouldn't have wept so much, just over me."</p> +<p>"Did she weep? Lorance?" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"They flogged me," I said. "They didn't hurt me much. But she +came down in the night with a candle and cried over me."</p> +<p>"And what said she? Now I am sorry they beat you. Who did that? +Mayenne? What said she, Félix?"</p> +<p>"And then," I went on, not heeding his questions in sudden +remembrance of my crowning news, "Mayenne and Lucas came in. And +here is something you do not know, monsieur. Lucas is Paul de +Lorraine, Henri de Guise's son."</p> +<p>"Mille tonnerres du ciel! But he is a Huguenot, a +Rochelais!"</p> +<p>"Yes, but he is a son of Henri le Balafré. His mother was +Rochelaise, I think. He was a spy for Navarre and captured at Ivry. +They were going to hang him when Mayenne, worse luck, recognized +him for a nephew. Since then he has been spying for them. Because +Mayenne promised him Mlle. de Montluc in marriage."</p> +<p>He stared at me with dropped jaw, absolutely too startled to +swear.</p> +<p>"He has not got her yet!" I cried. "Mayenne told him he should +have her when he had killed St. Quentin. And St. Quentin is +alive."</p> +<p>"Great God!" said M. Étienne, only half aloud, dropping +down on the arm of his chair, overcome to realize the issue that +had hung on a paltry handful of pistoles. Then, recovering, himself +a little, he cried:</p> +<p>"But she—mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"You need give yourself no uneasiness there," I said. +"Mademoiselle hates him."</p> +<p>"Does she know—"</p> +<p>"I think she understands quite well what Lucas is," I made +answer. "Monsieur, I must tell you everything that happened from +the beginning, or I shall never make it clear to you."</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, go on," he cried.</p> +<p>He sat down at table again, with the intention of eating his +dinner as I talked, but precious few mouthfuls he took. At every +word I spoke he got deeper into the interest of my tale. I never +talked so much in my life, me, as I did those few days. I was +always relating a history, to Monsieur, to mademoiselle, to M. +Étienne, to—well, you shall know.</p> +<p>I had finished at length, and he burst out at me:</p> +<p>"You little scamp, you have all the luck! I never saw such a +boy! Well do they call you Félix! Mordieu, here I lie lapped +in bed like a baby, while you go forth knight-erranting. I must lie +here with old Galen for all company, while you bandy words with the +Generalissimo himself! And make faces at Lucas, and kiss the hands +of mademoiselle! But I'll stand it no longer. I'm done with lying +abed and letting you have all the fun. No; to-day I shall take part +myself."</p> +<p>"But monsieur's arm—"</p> +<p>"Pshaw, it is well!" he cried. "It is a scratch—it is +nothing. Pardieu, it takes more than that to put a St. Quentin out +of the reckoning. To-day is no time for sloth; I must act."</p> +<p>"Monsieur—" I began, but he broke in on me:</p> +<p>"Nom de dieu, Félix, are we to sit idle while +mademoiselle is carried off by that beast Lucas?"</p> +<p>"Of course not," I said. "I was only trying to ask what monsieur +meant to do."</p> +<p>"To take the moon in my teeth," he cried.</p> +<p>"Yes, monsieur, but how?"</p> +<p>"Ah, if I knew!"</p> +<p>He stared at me as if he would read the answer in my face, but +he found it as blank as the wall. He flung away and made a turn +down the room, and came back to seize me by the arm.</p> +<p>"How are we to do it, Félix?" he demanded.</p> +<p>But I could only shrug my shoulders and answer:</p> +<p>"Sais pas."</p> +<p>He paced the floor once more, and presently faced me again with +the declaration:</p> +<p>"Lucas shall have her only over my dead body."</p> +<p>"He will only have her own dead body," I said.</p> +<p>He turned away abruptly and stood at the window, looking out +with unseeing eyes. "Lorance—Lorance," he murmured to +himself. I think he did not know he spoke aloud.</p> +<p>"If I could get word to her—" he went on presently. "But I +can't send you again. Should I write a letter—But letters are +mischievous. They fall into the wrong hands, and then where are +we?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I suggested, "if I could get a letter into the hands +of Pierre, that lackey who befriended me—" But he shook his +head.</p> +<p>"They know you about the place. It were safer to despatch one of +these inn-men—if any had the sense to go rein in hand. Hang +me if I don't think I'll go myself!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "Lucas swore by all things sacred that he +would never molest you more. Therefore you will do well to keep out +of his way."</p> +<p>"My faith, Félix," he laughed, "you take a black view of +mankind."</p> +<p>"Not of mankind, M. Étienne. Only of Lucas. Not of +Monsieur, or you, or Vigo."</p> +<p>"And of Mayenne?"</p> +<p>"I don't make out Mayenne," I answered. "I thought he was the +worst of the crew. But he let me go. He said he would, and he +did."</p> +<p>"Think you he meant to let you go from the first?"</p> +<p>"Who knows?" I said, shrugging. "Lucas is always lying. But +Mayenne—sometimes he lies and sometimes not. He's base, and +then again he's kind. You can't make out Mayenne."</p> +<p>"He does not mean you shall," M. Étienne returned. "Yet +the key is not buried. He is made up, like all the rest of us, of +good and bad."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "if there is any bad in the St. Quentins I, +for one, do not know it."</p> +<p>"Ah, Félix," he cried, "you may believe that till +doomsday—you will—of Monsieur."</p> +<p>His face clouded a little, and he fell silent. I knew that, +besides his thoughts of his lady, came other thoughts of his +father. He sat gravely silent. But of last night's bitter distress +he showed no trace. Last night he had not been able to take his +eyes from the miserable past; but to-day he saw the future. A +future not altogether flowery, perhaps, but one which, however it +turned out, should not repeat the old mistakes and shames.</p> +<p>"Félix," he said at length, "I see nothing for it but to +eat my pride."</p> +<p>I kept still in the happy hope that I should hear just what I +longed to; he went on:</p> +<p>"I swore then that I would never darken his doors again; I was +mad with anger; so was he. He said if I went with Gervais I went +forever."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, if you repent your hot words, so does he."</p> +<p>"I must e'en give him the chance. If he do repent them, it were +churlish to deny him the opportunity to tell me so. If he still +maintain them, it were cowardly to shrink from hearing it. No, +whatever Monsieur replies, I must go tell him I repent."</p> +<p>I came forward to kiss his hand, I was so pleased.</p> +<p>"Oh, you look very smiling over it," he cried. "Think you I like +sneaking back home again like a whipped hound to his kennel?"</p> +<p>"But," I protested, indignant, "monsieur is not a whipped +hound."</p> +<p>"Well, a prodigal son, as Lucas named me yesterday. It is the +same thing."</p> +<p>"I have heard M. l'Abbé read the story of the prodigal +son," I said. "And he was a vaurien, if you like—no more +monsieur's sort than Lucas himself. But it says that when his +father saw him coming a long way off, he ran out to meet him and +fell on his neck."</p> +<p>M. Étienne looked not altogether convinced.</p> +<p>"Well, however it turns out, it must be gone through with. It is +only decent to go to Monsieur. But even at that, I think I should +not go if it were not for mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"You will beg his aid, monsieur?"</p> +<p>"I will beg his advice at least. For how you and I are to carry +off mademoiselle under Mayenne's hand—well, I confess for the +nonce that beats me."</p> +<p>"We must do it, monsieur," I cried.</p> +<p>"Aye, and we will! Come, Félix, you may put your knife in +my dish. We must eat and be off. The meats have got cold and the +wine warm, but never mind."</p> +<p>I did not mind, but was indeed thankful to get any dinner at +all. Once resolved on the move, he was in a fever to be off; it was +not long before we were in the streets, bound for the Hôtel +St. Quentin. He said no more of Monsieur as we walked, but plied me +with questions about Mlle. de Montluc—not only as to every +word she said, but as to every turn of her head and flicker of her +eyelids; and he called me a dull oaf when I could not answer. But +as we entered the Quartier Marais he fell silent, more Friday-faced +than ever his lady looked. He had his fair allowance of pride, this +M. Étienne; he found his own words no palatable meal.</p> +<p>However, when we came within a dozen paces of the gate he +dropped, as one drops a cloak, all signs of gloom or discomposure, +and approached the entrance with the easy swagger of the gay young +gallant who had lived there. As if returning from a morning stroll +he called to the sentry:</p> +<p>"Holà, squinting Charlot! Open now!"</p> +<p>"Morbleu, M. le Comte!" the fellow exclaimed, running to draw +the bolts. "Well, this is a sight for sore eyes, anyway."</p> +<p>M. Étienne laughed out in pleasure. It put heart into +him, I could see, that his first greeting should be thus +friendly.</p> +<p>"Vigo didn't know what had become of you, monsieur," Chariot +volunteered. "The old man wasn't in the best of tempers last night, +after Lucas got away and you gave us the slip, too. He called us +all blockheads and cursed idiots. Things were lively for a time, +nom d'un chien!"</p> +<p>"Eh bien, I am found," M. Étienne returned. "In time +we'll get Lucas, too. Is Monsieur back?"</p> +<p>"No, M. Étienne, not yet."</p> +<p>I think he was half sorry, half glad.</p> +<p>"Where's Vigo?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Somewhere about. I'll find him for monsieur."</p> +<p>"No, stay at your post. I'll find him."</p> +<p>He went straight across the court and in at the door he had +sworn never again to darken. Humility and repentance might have +brought him there, but it was the hand of mademoiselle drew him +over the threshold without a falter.</p> +<p>Alone in the hall was my little friend Marcel, throwing dice +against himself to while the time away. He sprang up at sight of +us, agleam with excitement.</p> +<p>"Well, Marcel," my master said, "and where is M. +l'Écuyer?"</p> +<p>"I think in the stables, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Bid him come to me in the small cabinet."</p> +<p>He turned with accustomed feet into the room at the end of the +hall where Vigo kept the rolls of the guard. I, knowing it to be my +duty to keep close at hand lest I be wanted, followed. Soon Marcel +came flying back to say Vigo was on his way. M. Étienne +thanked him, and he hung about, longing to pump me, and, in my +lord's presence, not quite daring, till I took him by the shoulders +and turned him out. I hate curiosity.</p> +<p>M. Étienne stood behind the table, looking his +haughtiest. He was unsure of a welcome from the contumacious Vigo; +I read in his eyes a stern determination to set this insolent +servant in his place.</p> +<p>The big man entered, saluted, came straight over to his young +lord's side, no whit hesitating, and said, as heartily as if there +had never been a hard word between them:</p> +<p>"M. Étienne, I had liefer see you stand here than the +king himself."</p> +<p>M. Étienne displayed the funniest face of bafflement. He +had been prepared to lash rudeness or sullenness, to accept, de +haut en bas, shamed contrition. But this easy cordiality took the +wind out of his sails. He stared, and then flushed, and then +laughed. And then he held out his hand, saying simply:</p> +<p>"Thank you, Vigo."</p> +<p>Vigo bent over to kiss it in cheerful ignorance of how that hand +had itched to box his ears.</p> +<p>"What became of you last night, M. Étienne?" he +inquired.</p> +<p>"I was hunting Lucas. When does Monsieur return, Vigo?"</p> +<p>"He thought he might be back to-day. But he could not tell."</p> +<p>"Have you sent to tell him about me?" he asked, colouring.</p> +<p>"No, I couldn't do that," Vigo said. "You see, it is quite on +the cards that the Spanish gang may come hither to clean us out. I +want every man I have if they do."</p> +<p>"I understand that," M. Étienne said, "but—"</p> +<p>"So long as you are innocent a day or two matters not," Vigo +pronounced. "He will presently turn up here or send word that he +will not return till the king comes in. But since you are +impatient, M. le Comte, you can go to him at St. Denis. If +<i>he</i> can get through the gates <i>you</i> can."</p> +<p>"Aye, but I have business in Paris. I mean to join King Henry, +Vigo. There's glory going begging out there at St. Denis. It would +like me well to bear away my share. But—"</p> +<p>He broke off, to begin again abruptly:</p> +<p>"Ah, Vigo, that still tongue of yours! You knew, then, that +there was more cause of trouble between my father and me than the +pistoles?"</p> +<p>"I knew he suspected you of a kindness for the League, monsieur. +But you are cured of that."</p> +<p>"There you are wrong. For I never had it, and I am not cured of +it. If I hung around the Hôtel de Lorraine, it was not for +politics; it was for petticoats."</p> +<p>Vigo made no answer, but the corners of his grim mouth +twitched.</p> +<p>"That's no news, either? Well, then, since you know so much, you +may as well know more. Step up, Félix, and tell your +tale."</p> +<p>I did as I was bid, M. Étienne now and then taking the +words out of my mouth in his eagerness, Vigo listening to us both +with grave attention. I had for the second time in my career the +pleasure of startling him out of his iron composure when I told him +the true name and condition of Lucas. But at the end of the +adventure all the comment he made was:</p> +<p>"A fool for luck."</p> +<p>"Well," said M. Étienne, impatiently, "is that all you +have to say? What are we to do about it?"</p> +<p>"Do? Why, nothing."</p> +<p>"Nothing?" he cried, with his hand on his sword. "Nothing? And +let that scoundrel have her?"</p> +<p>"That is M. de Mayenne's affair," Vigo said. "We can't help +it."</p> +<p>"I will help it!" M. Étienne declared. "Mordieu! Am I to +let that traitor, that spy, that soul of dirt, marry Mlle. de +Montluc?"</p> +<p>"What Mayenne wishes he'll have," Vigo said. "Some day you will +surely get a chance to fight Lucas, monsieur."</p> +<p>"And meantime he is to enjoy her?"</p> +<p>"It is a pity," Vigo admitted. "But there is Mayenne. Can we +storm the Hôtel de Lorraine? No one can drink up the +sea."</p> +<p>"One could if he wanted to as much as I want mademoiselle," my +lord declared.</p> +<p>But Vigo shook his head.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," he said gravely, "monsieur, you have a great chance. +You have a sword and a good cause to draw it in. What more should a +man ask in the world than that? Your father has been without it +these three years, and for want of it he has eaten his heart out. +You have been without it, and you have got yourself into all sorts +of mischief. But now all that is coming straight. King Henry is +turning Catholic, so that a man may follow him without offence to +God. He is a good fellow and a first-rate general. He's just out +there, at St. Denis. There's your place, M. Étienne."</p> +<p>"Not to-day, Vigo."</p> +<p>"Yes, M. Étienne, to-day. Be advised, monsieur," Vigo +said with his steady persistence. "There is nothing to gain by +staying here to drink up the sea. Mayenne will no more give your +lady to you now than he would give her to Félix. And you can +no more carry her off than could Félix. Mayenne will have +you killed and flung into the Seine, as easy as eat breakfast."</p> +<p>"And you bid me grudge my life? Strange counsel from you, +Vigo."</p> +<p>"No, monsieur, but I bid you not throw it away. We all hope to +die afield, but we have a preference how and where. If you fell +fighting for Navarre, I should be sorry; Monsieur would grieve +deep. But we should say it was well; we grudged not your life to +the country and the king. While, if you fall in this fool +affair—"</p> +<p>"I fall for my lady," M. Étienne finished. "The bravest +captain of them all does no better than that."</p> +<p>"M. Étienne, she is no wife for you. You cannot get her. +And if you could 'twere pity. She is a Ligueuse, and you from now +on are a staunch Kingsman. Give her up, monsieur. You have had this +maggot in your brain this four years. Once for all, get it out. Go +to St. Denis; take your troop among Biron's horse. That is the +place for you. You will marry a maid of honour and die a marshal of +France."</p> +<p>M. Étienne laid his arm around Vigo's shoulder with a +smile.</p> +<p>"Good old Vigo! Vigo, tell me this; if you saw a marshal's baton +waiting you in the field, and at home your dearest friend were +alone and in peril, would you go off after glory?"</p> +<p>"Aye, if 'twas a hopeless business to stay, certes I would +go."</p> +<p>"Oh, tell that in Bedlam!" M. Étienne cried. "You would +do nothing of the sort. Was it to win glory you stayed three years +in that hole, St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>"I had no choice, monsieur. My master was there."</p> +<p>"And my mistress is here! You may save your breath, Vigo; I know +what I shall do. The eloquence of monk Christin wouldn't change +me."</p> +<p>"What is your purpose, M. Étienne?" Vigo asked.</p> +<p>Indeed, there was a vagueness about his scheme as revealed to +us.</p> +<p>"It is quite simple. I purpose to get speech with mademoiselle +if I can contrive it, and I think I can. I purpose to smuggle her +out of the Hôtel de Lorraine—such feats have been +accomplished before and may be again. Then I shall bring her here +and hold her against all comers."</p> +<p>"No," Vigo said, "no, monsieur. You may not do that."</p> +<p>"Ventre bleu, Vigo!" his young lord cried.</p> +<p>"No," said Vigo. "I can't have her here, and Mayenne's army +after her."</p> +<p>"Coward!" shouted M. Étienne.</p> +<p>I thought Vigo would take us both by the scruff of our necks and +throw us out of the place. But he answered undisturbed:</p> +<p>"No, that is not the reason, monsieur. If M. le Duc told me to +hold this house against the armies of France and Spain, I'd hold it +till the last man of us was dead. But I am here in his absence to +guard his hôtel, his moneys, and his papers. I don't call it +guarding to throw a firebrand among them. Bringing Mayenne's niece +here would be worse than that."</p> +<p>"Monsieur would never hesitate! Monsieur is no chicken-heart!" +M. Étienne cried. "If he were here, he'd say, 'We'll defend +the lady if every stone in this house is pulled from its +fellow!'"</p> +<p>A twinkle came into Vigo's eyes.</p> +<p>"I think that is likely true," he said. "Monsieur opposed the +marriage as long as Mayenne desired it; but now that Mayenne +forbids it, stealing the demoiselle is another pair of +sleeves."</p> +<p>"Well, then," cried M. Étienne, all good humour in a +moment, "what more do you want? We'll divert ourselves pouring +pitch out of the windows on Mayenne's ruffians."</p> +<p>"No, M. Étienne, it can't be done. If M. le Duc were here +and gave the command to receive her, that would be one thing. No +one would obey with a readier heart than I. Mordieu, monsieur, I +have no objection to succouring a damsel in distress; I have been +in the business before now."</p> +<p>"Then why not now? Death of my life, Vigo! When I know, and you +know, Monsieur would approve."</p> +<p>"I don't know it, monsieur," Vigo said. "I only think it. And I +cannot move by my own guesswork. I am in charge of the house till +Monsieur returns. I purpose to do nothing to jeopard it. But I +interfere in no way with your liberty to proceed as you +please."</p> +<p>"I should think not, forsooth!" M. Étienne blazed out +furiously.</p> +<p>"I could," rejoined Vigo, with his maddening tranquillity. "I +could order the guard—and they would obey—to lock you +up in your chamber. I believe Monsieur would thank me for it. But I +don't do it. I leave you free to act as it likes you."</p> +<p>My lord was white with ire.</p> +<p>"Who is master here, you or I?"</p> +<p>"Neither of us, M. le Comte. But Monsieur, leaving, put the keys +in my hand, and I am head of the house till he returns. You are +very angry, M. Étienne, but my shoulders are broad enough to +bear it. Your madness will get no countenance from me."</p> +<p>"Hang you for an obstinate pig!" M. Étienne cried.</p> +<p>Vigo said no more. He had made plain his position; he had naught +to add or retract. Yeux-gris's face cleared. After all, there was +no use being angry with Vigo; one might as well make fists at the +flow of the Seine.</p> +<p>"Very well." M. Étienne swallowed his wrath. "It is +understood that I get no aid from you. Then I have nobody in the +world with me save Félix here. But for all that I'll win my +lady!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> +<h3><i>To the Bastille.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-b.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ut Vigo proved better than his word. If he would give us no +countenance, he gave freely good broad gold pieces. He himself +suggested M. Étienne's need of the sinews of war, not in the +least embarrassed or offended because he knew M. le Comte to be +angry with him. He was no feather ruffled, serene in the +consciousness that he was absolutely in the right. His position was +impregnable; neither persuasion, ridicule, nor abuse moved him one +whit. He had but a single purpose in life; he was born to forward +the interests of the Duke of St. Quentin. He would forward them, if +need were, over our bleeding corpses.</p> +<p>On top of all his disobedience and disrespect he was most +amiable to M. Étienne, treating him with a calm assumption +of friendliness that would have maddened a saint. Yet it was not +hypocrisy; he liked his young lord, as we all did. He would not let +him imperil Monsieur, but aside from that he wished him every good +fortune in the world.</p> +<p>M. Étienne argued no more. He was wroth and sore over +Vigo's attitude, but he said little. He accepted the advance of +money—"Of course Monsieur would say, What coin is his is +yours," Vigo explained—and despatched me to settle his score +at the Three Lanterns.</p> +<p>I set out on my errand rather down in the mouth. We had +accomplished nothing by our return to the hôtel. Nay, rather +had we lost, for we were both of us, I thought, disheartened by the +cold water flung on our ambitions. I took the liberty of doubting +whether perfect loyalty to Monsieur included thwarting and +disobeying his heir. It was all very well for Monsieur to spoil +Vigo and let him speak his mind as became not his station, for Vigo +never disobeyed <i>him</i>, but stood by him in all things. But I +imagined that, were M. Étienne master, Vigo, for all his +years of service, would be packed off the premises in short +order.</p> +<p>I walked along in a brown study, wondering how M. Étienne +did purpose to rescue mademoiselle. His scheme, so far as +vouchsafed to me, was somewhat in the air. I could only hope he had +more in his mind than he had let me know. It seemed to me a pity +not to be doing something in the matter, and though I had no +particular liking for Hôtel de Lorraine hospitality, I had +very willingly been bound thither at this moment to try to get a +letter to mademoiselle. But he would not send me.</p> +<p>"No," he had said, "it won't do. Think of something better, +Félix."</p> +<p>But I could not, and so was taking my dull way to the inn of the +Trois Lanternes.</p> +<p>The city wore a sleepy afternoon look. It was very hot, and few +cared to be stirring. I saw nothing worth my notice until, only a +stone's throw from the Three Lanterns, I came upon a big black +coach standing at the door of a rival auberge, L'Oie d'Or. It +aroused my interest at once, for a travelling-coach was a rare +sight in the beleaguered city. As my master had said, this was not +a time of pleasure-trips to Paris. I readily imagined that the +owner of this chariot came on weighty business indeed. He might be +an ambassador from Spain, a legate from Rome.</p> +<p>I paused by the group of street urchins who were stroking the +horses and clambering on the back of the coach, to wonder whether +it would be worth while to wait and see the dignitary come out. I +was just going to ask the coachman a question or two concerning his +journey, when he began to snap his whip about the bare legs of the +little whelps. The street was so narrow that he could hardly +chastise them without danger to me, so it seemed best to saunter +off. The screaming urchins stopped just out of the reach of his +lash and set to pelting mud at him with a right good will, but I +was too old for that game. I reflected that I was charged with +business for my master, and that it was nothing to me what envoys +might come to Mayenne. I went on into the Three Lanterns.</p> +<p>The cabaret was absolutely deserted; one might have walked all +about and carried off what he pleased, as from the sleeping palace +in the tale. "This is a pretty way to keep an inn," I thought. +"Where have all the lazy rascals got to?" Then I heard a confused +murmur of voices and shuffle of feet from the back, and I went +through into the passage where the staircase was.</p> +<p>Here were gathered, in a huddle, like scared sheep, some dozen +of the serving-folk, men and maids, the lasses most of them in +tears, the men looking scarce less terrified. Their gaze was fixed +on the closed door of Maître Menard's little counting-room, +whence issued the shrill cry:</p> +<p>"Spare me, noble gentlemen! Spare a poor innkeeper! I swear I +know nothing of his whereabouts."</p> +<p>As my footsteps sounded on the threshold, one and all spun round +to look at me in fresh dread.</p> +<p>"Mon dieu, it is his lackey!" a chambermaid cried. In the next +second a little wiry dame, her eyes blazing with fury, darted out +of the group and seized me by the arm with a grip of her nails that +made me think a panther had got me.</p> +<p>"So here you are," she screamed. I declare I thought she was +going to bite me. "Oh-h-h, you and your fine master, that come here +and devour our substance and never pay one sou, but bring ruin to +the house! Now, go you straight in there and let them squeeze your +throat awhile, and see how you like it yourself!"</p> +<p>She swept me across the passage like a whirlwind, opened the +door, shoved me in, and banged it after me before I could collect +my senses.</p> +<p>The room was small; it was very well filled up by a bureau, a +strong box, a table, two chairs, three soldiers, one innkeeper, and +myself.</p> +<p>The bureau stood by the window, with Maître Menard's +account-books on it. Opposite was the table, with a captain of +dragoons on it. Of his two men, one took the middle of the room, +amusing himself with the windpipe of Maître Menard; the other +was posted at the door. I was shot out of Mme. Menard's grasp into +his, and I found his the gentler of the two.</p> +<p>"I say I know not where he went," Maître Menard was +gasping, black in the face from the dragoon's attentions. "He did +not tell—I have no notion. Ah—" The breath failed him +utterly, but his eyes, bloodshot and bulging, rolled toward me.</p> +<p>"What now?" the captain cried, springing to his feet. "Who are +you?"</p> +<p>He wore under his breastplate what I took to be the uniform of +the city guards. I had seen the like on the officer of the gate the +night I entered Paris. He was a young man of a decidedly bourgeois +appearance, as if he were not much, outside of his uniform.</p> +<p>"My name is Félix Broux," I said. "I came to pay a +bill—"</p> +<p>"His servant," Maître Menard contrived to murmur, the +dragoon allowing him a breath.</p> +<p>"Oh, you are the Comte de Mar's servant, are you? Where have you +left your master?"</p> +<p>"What do you want of him?" I asked in turn.</p> +<p>"Never you mind. I want him."</p> +<p>"But Mayenne said he should not be touched," I cried. "The Duke +of Mayenne said himself he should not be touched."</p> +<p>"I know nothing about that," he returned, a trifle more civilly +than he had spoken. "I have naught to do with the Duke of Mayenne. +If he is friends with your master, M. de Mar may not stay behind +bars very long. But I have the governor's warrant for his +arrest."</p> +<p>"On what charge?"</p> +<p>"A trifle. Merely murder."</p> +<p>"<i>Murder?</i>"</p> +<p>"Yes, the murder of a lackey, one Pontou."</p> +<p>"But that is ridiculous!" I cried. "M. le Comte did +not—"</p> +<p>I came to a halt, not knowing what to say. "Lucas—Paul de +Lorraine killed him," was on the tip of my tongue, but I choked it +down. To fling wild accusations against a great man's man were no +wisdom. By accident I had given the officer the impression that we +were friends of Mayenne. I should do ill to imperil the delusion. +"M. le Comte—" I began again, and again stopped. I meant to +say that monsieur had never left the inn last night; he could have +had no hand in the crime. Then I bethought me that I had better not +know the hour of the murder. "M. le Comte is a very grand +gentleman; he would not murder a lackey," I got out at last.</p> +<p>"You can tell that to the judges," the captain rejoined.</p> +<p>At this I felt ice sliding down my spine. To be arrested as a +witness was the last thing I desired.</p> +<p>"I know nothing whatever about it," I cried. "He seemed to me a +very fine gentleman. But you can't always tell about these nobles. +The Comte de Mar, I've only known him twenty-four hours. Until he +engaged me as lackey, yesterday afternoon, I had never laid eyes on +him. I know not what he has been about. He engaged me yesterday to +carry a message for him to the Hôtel St. Quentin. I came into +Paris but night before last, and put up at the Amour de Dieu in the +Rue Coupejarrets. Yesterday he employed me to run his errands, and +last night brought me here with him. But I had never seen him till +this time yesterday. I know nothing about him save that he seemed a +very free-handed, easy master."</p> +<p>To a nice ear I might have seemed a little too voluble, but the +captain only laughed at my patent fright.</p> +<p>"Oh, you need not look so whey-faced; I have no warrant for your +arrest. I dare say you are as great a rogue as he, but the order +says nothing about you. Don't swoon away; you are in no peril."</p> +<p>I was stung to be thought such a craven, but I pocketed the +insult, and merely answered:</p> +<p>"I assure you, monsieur, I know naught of the matter." Yesterday +I would have blurted out to him the whole truth; decidedly my +experiences were teaching me something.</p> +<p>"Come now, I can't fool about here all day," he said +impatiently. "Tell me where that precious master of yours is now. +And be quicker about it than this old mule."</p> +<p>Maître Menard, then, had told them nothing—staunch +old loyalist. He knew perfectly that M. le Comte had gone home, and +they had throttled him, and yet he had not told. Well, he should +not lose by it.</p> +<p>"Monsieur is about the streets somewhere. On my life, I know not +where. But I know he will be back here to supper."</p> +<p>"Oh, you don't know, don't you? Then perhaps Gaspard can quicken +your memory."</p> +<p>At the word the soldier who had attended to Maître Menard +came over to me and taught me how it feels to be hanged. I said to +myself that if I had talked like a dastard I was not one, and every +time he let me speak I gasped, "I don't know." The room was black +to me, and the sea roared in my ears, and I wondered whether I had +done well to tell the lie. For had I said that my master was in the +Hôtel St Quentin, still those fellows would have found it no +easy job to take him. Vigo might not be ready to defend Mlle. de +Montluc, but he would defend Monsieur's heir to the last gasp. Yet +I would not yield before the choking Maître Menard had +withstood, and I stuck to my lie.</p> +<p>Then I bethought me, while the room reeled about me and my head +seemed like to burst, that perchance if they should keep me here a +captive for M. le Comte's arrival he might really follow to see +what had become of me. I turned sick with the fear of it, and +resolved on the truth. But Gaspard's last gullet-gripe had robbed +me of the power to speak. I could only pant and choke. As I +struggled painfully for wind, the door was flung open before a tall +young man in black. Through the haze that hung before my vision I +saw the soldier seize him as he crossed the threshold. Through the +noise of waters I heard the captain's cry of triumph.</p> +<p>"Oh, M. Étienne!" I gasped, in agony that my pain had +been for nothing. Now all was lost. Then the blur lifted, and my +amazed eyes beheld not my master, but—Lucas!</p> +<p>"How now, sirrah?" he cried to the dragoon. "Hands off me, +knaves!" For the second soldier had seized his other arm.</p> +<p>"I regret to inconvenience monsieur," the captain answered, "but +he is wanted at the Bastille."</p> +<p>"Wanted? I?" Lucas cried, fear flashing into his eyes.</p> +<p>He felt an instant's terror, I deem, lest Mayenne had betrayed +him. Quick as he was, he did not see that he had been taken for +another man.</p> +<p>"You, monsieur. You are wanted for the murder of your man, +Pontou."</p> +<p>He grew white, looking instinctively at me, remembering where I +had been at three o'clock this morning.</p> +<p>"It is a lie! He left my service a month back and I have never +seen him since."</p> +<p>"Tell that to the judges," the captain said, as he had said to +me. "I am not trying you. The handcuffs, men."</p> +<p>One of them produced a pair. Lucas struggled frantically in his +captors' grasp. He dragged them from one end of the room to the +other, calling down all the curses of Heaven upon them; but they +snapped the handcuffs on for all that.</p> +<p>"If this is Mayenne's work—" he panted.</p> +<p>The officer caught nothing but the name Mayenne.</p> +<p>"The boy said you were a friend to his Grace, monsieur, but +orders are orders. I have the warrant for your arrest from M. de +Belin."</p> +<p>"At whose instigation?"</p> +<p>"How should I know'? I am a soldier of the guard. I have naught +to do with it but to arrest you."</p> +<p>"Let me see the warrant."</p> +<p>"I am not obliged to. But I will, though. It may quiet your +bluster."</p> +<p>He took out the warrant and held it at a safe distance before +Lucas's eyes. A great light broke in on that personage.</p> +<p>"Mille tonnerres! I am not the Comte de Mar!"</p> +<p>"Oh, you say that now, do you? Pity you had not thought of it +sooner."</p> +<p>"But I am not the Comte de Mar! I am Paul de Lorraine, nephew to +my Lord Mayenne."</p> +<p>"Why don't you say straight out that you're the Duc de +Guise?"</p> +<p>"I am not the Due de Guise," Lucas returned with dignity. He +must have been cursing himself that he had not given his name +sooner. "But I am his brother."</p> +<p>"You take me for a fool."</p> +<p>"Aye, who shall hang for his folly!"</p> +<p>"You must think me a fool," the captain repeated. "The Duke of +Guise's eldest brother is but seventeen—"</p> +<p>"I did not say I was legitimate."</p> +<p>"Oh, you did not say that? You did not know, then, that I could +reel off the ages of every Lorraine of them all. No, M. de Mar, I +am not so simple as you think. You will come along with me to the +Bastille."</p> +<p>"Blockhead! I'll have you broken on the wheel for this," Lucas +stormed. "I am no more Count of Mar than I am King of Spain. Speak +up, you old turnspit," he shouted to Maître Menard. "Am I +he?"</p> +<p>Poor Maître Menard had dropped down on his iron box, too +limp and sick to know what was going on. He only stared +helplessly.</p> +<p>"Speak, rascal," Lucas cried. "Am I Comte de Mar?"</p> +<p>"No," the maître answered in low, faltering tones. He was +at the last point of pain and fear. "No, monsieur officer, it is as +he says. He is not the Comte de Mar."</p> +<p>"Who is he, then?"</p> +<p>"I know not," the maître stammered. "He came here last +night. But it is as he says—he is not the Comte de Mar."</p> +<p>"Take care, mine host," the officer returned; "you're +lying."</p> +<p>I could not wonder at him; if I had not been in a position to +know otherwise, I had thought myself the maître was +lying.</p> +<p>"If you had spoken at first I might have believed you," the +captain said, bestowing a kick on him. "Get out of here, old ass, +before I cram your lie down your throat. And clear your people away +from this door. I'll not walk through a mob. Send every man Jack +about his business, or it will be the worse for him. And every +woman Jill, too."</p> +<p>"M. le Capitaine," Maître Menard quavered, rising +unsteadily to his feet, "you make a mistake. On my sacred word, you +mistake; this is not—"</p> +<p>"Get out!" cried the captain, helping him along with his boot. +Maître Menard fell rather than walked out of the door.</p> +<p>A gray hue came over Lucas's face. His first fright had given +way to fury at perceiving himself the victim of a mistake, but now +alarm was born in his eyes again. Was it, after all, a mistake? +This obstinate disbelief in his assertion, this ordering away of +all who could swear to his identity—was it not rather a plot +for his ruin? He swallowed hard once or twice, fear gripping his +throat harder than ever the dragoon's fingers had gripped mine. +Certainly he was not the Comte de Mar; but then he was the man who +had killed Pontou.</p> +<p>"If this is a plot against me, say so!" he cried. "If you have +orders to arrest me, do so. But arrest me by the name of Paul de +Lorraine, not of Étienne de Mar."</p> +<p>"The name of Étienne de Mar will do," the captain +returned; "we have no fancy for aliases at the Bastille."</p> +<p>"It is a plot!" Lucas cried.</p> +<p>"It is a warrant; that is all I know about it"</p> +<p>"But I am not Comte de Mar," Lucas repeated.</p> +<p>His uneasy conscience had numbed his wits. In his dread of a +plot he had done little to dissipate an error. But now he pulled +himself together; error or intention, he would act as if he knew it +must be error.</p> +<p>"My captain, you have made a mistake likely to cost you your +shoulder-straps. I tell you I am not Mar; the landlord, who knows +him well, tells you I am not Mar. Ask those who know M. de Mar; ask +these inn people. They will one and all tell you I am not he. Ask +that boy there; even he dares not say to my face that I am."</p> +<p>His eyes met mine, and I could see that, even in the moment of +challenging me, he repented. He believed that I would give the lie. +But the dragoon who was bending over him, relieving him of his +sword-belt, spared me the necessity.</p> +<p>"Captain, you need give yourself no uneasiness; this is the +Comte right enough. I live in the Quartier Marais, and I have seen +this gentleman a score of times riding with M. de St. Quentin."</p> +<p>Lucas, at this unexpected testimony, looked so taken aback that +the captain burst out laughing.</p> +<p>"Yes, my dear monsieur, it is a little hard for M. de Mayenne's +nephew—you are a nephew, are you not?—to explain how he +comes to ride with the Duc de St. Quentin."</p> +<p>It was awkward to explain. Lucas, knowing well that there was no +future for him who betrayed the Generalissimo's secrets, cried out +angrily:</p> +<p>"He lies! I never rode out with M. de St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Oh, come now. Really you waste a great deal of breath," the +captain said. "I regret the cruel necessity of arresting you, M. de +Mar; but there is nothing gained by blustering about it. I usually +know what I am about."</p> +<p>"You do not know! Nom de dieu, you do not know. Félix +Broux, speak up there. If you have told him behind my back that I +am Étienne de Mar, I defy you to say it to my face."</p> +<p>"I know nothing about it, messieurs." I repeated my little +refrain. "Monsieur captain, remember, if you please, I never saw +him till yesterday; he may be Paul de Lorraine for all I know. But +he did not call himself that yesterday."</p> +<p>"You hell-hound!" Lucas cried.</p> +<p>"Go tell Louis to drive up to the cabaret door, Gaspard," bade +the captain.</p> +<p>Lucas gazed at him as if to tear out of him the truth of the +matter. I think he was still a prey to suspicion of a plot in this, +and it paralyzed his tongue. He so reeked with intrigue that he +smelled one wherever he went. He was much too clever to believe +that this arresting officer was simply thick-witted.</p> +<p>"I say no more," he cried. "You may spare yourself your lies, +the whole crew of you. I go as your prisoner, but I go as Paul of +Lorraine, son of Henry, Duke of Guise."</p> +<p>He said it with a certain superbness; but the young captain, +bourgeois of the bourgeois, did not mean to let himself be put down +by any sprig of the noblesse.</p> +<p>"Certainly, if it is any comfort to you," he retorted. "But you +are very dull, monsieur, not to be aware that your identity is +known perfectly to others besides your lackey here and my man. I +did not come to arrest you without a minute description of you from +M. de Belin himself."</p> +<p>"Ventre bleu!" Lucas shouted. "I wrote the description. I myself +lodged information against Mar. I came here to make sure you took +him. Carry me before Belin; he will know me."</p> +<p>I trembled lest the officer could not but see that the man spoke +truth. But I had no need to fear; there is a combination of +stupidity and vanity which nothing can move.</p> +<p>"I have no orders to take you to M. de Belin," he returned +calmly. "So you wrote the description, did you? Perhaps you will +deny that it fits you?"</p> +<p>He read from the paper:</p> +<p>"'Charles-André-Étienne-Marie de St. Quentin, +Comte de Mar. Age, three-and-twenty; figure, tall and slender; was +dressed yesterday in black with a plain falling-band; carries his +right arm in a sling—"</p> +<p>"Is my arm in a sling?" Lucas demanded.</p> +<p>"No, in a handcuff," the captain laughed, at the same moment +that his dragoon exclaimed, "His right wrist is bandaged, +though."</p> +<p>"That is nothing! It is a mere scratch. I did it myself last +night by accident," Lucas shouted, striving with his hampered left +hand to pull the folds apart to show it. But he could not, and fell +silent, wide-eyed, like one who sees the net of fate drawing in +about him. The captain went on reading from his little paper:</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="248.jpg"></a> <a href="images/248.jpg"><img src= +"images/248.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"HE WAS DEPOSITED IN THE BIG BLACK COACH."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"'Fair hair, gray eyes, aquiline nose'—I suppose you will +still tell us, monsieur, that you are not the man?"</p> +<p>"I am not he. The Comte de Mar and I are nothing alike. We are +both young, tall, yes; but that is all. He is slashed all up the +forearm; my wrist is but scratched with a knife-edge. He has yellow +hair; mine is brown. His eyes—"</p> +<p>"It is plain to me, monsieur," the officer interrupted, "that +the description fits you in every particular." And so it did.</p> +<p>I, who had heard M. Étienne described twenty times, had +yesterday mistaken Lucas for him; the same items served for both. +It was the more remarkable because they actually looked no more +alike than chalk and cheese. Lucas had set down his catalogue +without a thought that he was drawing his own picture. If ever +hunter was caught in his own gin, Lucas was!</p> +<p>"You lie!" he cried furiously. "You know I am not Mar. You lie, +the whole pack of you!"</p> +<p>"Gag him, Ravelle," the captain commanded with an angry +flush.</p> +<p>"I demand to be taken before M. de Belin!" Lucas shouted.</p> +<p>The next moment the soldier had twisted a handkerchief about his +mouth.</p> +<p>"Ready?" the captain asked of Gaspard, who had come back just in +time to aid in the throttling. "Move on, then."</p> +<p>He led the way out, the two dragoons following with their +prisoner. And this time Lucas's fertile wits failed him. He did not +slip from his captors' fingers between the room and the street. He +was deposited in the big black coach that had aroused my wonder. +Louis cracked his whip and off they rumbled.</p> +<p>I laughed all the way back to the Hôtel St. Quentin.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> +<h3><i>To the Hôtel de Lorraine.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>found M. Étienne sitting on the steps before the house. +He had doffed his rusty black for a suit of azure and silver; his +sword and poniard were heavy with silver chasings. His blue hat, +its white plume pinned in a silver buckle, lay on the stone beside +him. He had discarded his sling and was engaged in tuning a +lute.</p> +<p>Evidently he was struck by some change in my appearance; for he +asked at once:</p> +<p>"What has happened, Félix?"</p> +<p>"Such a lark!" I cried.</p> +<p>"What! did old Menard share the crowns with you for your +trouble?"</p> +<p>"No; he pocketed them all. That was not it."</p> +<p>I was so choked with laughter as to make it hard work to explain +what was it, while his first bewilderment changed to an amazed +interest, which in its turn gave way, not to delight, but to +distress.</p> +<p>"Mordieu!" he cried, starting up, his face ablaze, "if I +resemble that dirt—"</p> +<p>"As chalk and cheese," I said. "No one seeing you both could +possibly mistake you for two of the same race. But there was +nothing in his catalogue that did not fit him. It mentioned, to be +sure, the right arm in a sling; his was not, but he had his wrist +bandaged. I think he cut himself last night when he was after me +and I flung the door in his face, for afterward he held his hand +behind his back. At any rate, there was the bandage; that was +enough to satisfy the captain."</p> +<p>"And they took him off?"</p> +<p>"Truly. They gagged him because he protested so much, and lugged +him off."</p> +<p>"To the Bastille?" he demanded, as if he could scarcely realize +the event.</p> +<p>"To the Bastille. In a big travelling-coach, between the officer +and his men. He may be there by this time."</p> +<p>He looked at me as if he were still not quite able to believe +the thing.</p> +<p>"It is true, monsieur. If I were inventing it I could not invent +anything better; but it is true."</p> +<p>"Certes, you could not invent anything better! Nor anything half +so good. If ever there was a case of the biter bit—" he broke +off, laughing.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you know not half how funny it was. Had you seen +their faces—the more Lucas swore he was not Comte de Mar, the +more the officer was sure he was."</p> +<p>"Félix, you have all the luck. I said this morning you +should go about no more without me. Then I send you off on a stupid +errand, and see what you get into!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I put it to you: Had you been there, how could Lucas +have been arrested for Comte de Mar?"</p> +<p>"He won't stay arrested long—more's the pity."</p> +<p>"No," I said regretfully; "but they may keep him overnight."</p> +<p>"Aye, he may be out of mischief overnight. I am happy to say +that my face is not known at the Bastille."</p> +<p>"Nor his, I take it. I thought from what I heard last night that +he had never been in Paris save for a while in the spring, when he +lay perdu. At the Bastille they may know nothing of the existence +of a Paul de Lorraine. But, monsieur, if Mayenne has broken his +word already, if they are arresting you on this trumped-up charge, +you must get out of the gates to-night."</p> +<p>"Impossible," he answered, smiling; "I have an engagement in +Paris."</p> +<p>"But monsieur may not keep it. He must go to St. Denis."</p> +<p>"I must go nowhere but to the Hôtel Lorraine."</p> +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> +<p>"Why, look you, Félix; it is the safest spot for me in +all Paris; it is the last place where they will look for me. +Besides, now that they think me behind bars, they will not be +looking for me at all. I shall be as safe as the hottest Leaguer in +the camp."</p> +<p>"But in the hôtel-"</p> +<p>"Be comforted; I shall not enter the hôtel. There is a +limit to my madness. No; I shall go softly around to a window in +the side street under which I have often stood in the old days. She +used to contrive to be in her chamber after supper."</p> +<p>"But, monsieur, how long is it since you were there last?"</p> +<p>"I think it must be two months. I had little heart for it after +my father—So, you see, no one will be on the lookout for me +to-night."</p> +<p>"Neither will mademoiselle," I made my point.</p> +<p>"I hope she may," he answered. "She will know I must see her +to-night. And I think she will be at the window."</p> +<p>The reasoning seemed satisfactory to him. And I thought one wet +blanket in the house was enough.</p> +<p>"Very well, monsieur. I am ready for anything you propose."</p> +<p>"Then I propose supper."</p> +<p>Afterward we played shovel-board, I risking the pistoles +mademoiselle had given me. I won five more, for he paid little heed +to what he was about, but was ever fidgeting over to the window to +see if it was dark enough to start. At length, when it was still +between dog and wolf, he announced that he would delay no +longer.</p> +<p>"Very well, monsieur," I said with all alacrity.</p> +<p>"But you are not to come!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> +<p>"Certainly not. I must go alone to-night."</p> +<p>"But, monsieur, you will need me. You will need some one to +watch the street while you speak with mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"I can have no listener to-night," he replied immovably.</p> +<p>"But I will not listen, monsieur! I shall stand out of ear-shot. +But you must have some one to give you warning should the guard set +on you."</p> +<p>"I can manage my own affairs," he retorted haughtily; "I desire +neither your advice nor your company."</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" I cried, almost in tears.</p> +<p>"Enough!" he bade sharply. "Go send me Vigo."</p> +<p>I went like one in whose face the doors of heaven had shut.</p> +<p>Vigo came at once from the guard-room at my summons. It was on +my tongue to tell him of M. le Comte's mad resolve to fare forth +alone; to beg him to stop it. But I remembered how blameworthy I +myself had held the equery for interfering with M. Étienne, +and I made up my mind that no word of cavil at my lord should ever +pass my lips. I lagged across the court at Vigo's heels, +silent.</p> +<p>M. Étienne was standing in the doorway.</p> +<p>"Vigo," he said, without a change of countenance, "get +Félix a rapier, which he can use prettily enough. I cannot +take him out to-night unarmed."</p> +<p>Vigo hesitated a moment, saluted, and went.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried out, "you meant all the time to take +me!"</p> +<p>He gazed down on my heated visage and laughed and laughed.</p> +<p>"Félix," he gasped, "you had your sport over there at the +inn. But I have seen nothing this summer as funny as <i>your</i> +face."</p> +<p>Vigo came back with a sword and baldric for me, and a +horse-pistol besides, but M. Étienne would not let me have +it.</p> +<p>"Circumstances are such, Vigo, that I want no noisy +weapons."</p> +<p>The equery regarded him with a troubled countenance.</p> +<p>"I wish I knew, monsieur, whether I do right to let you go."</p> +<p>"We will not discuss that, an it please you."</p> +<p>"I do not, monsieur. I have no right to curtail M. le Comte's +liberties. But I let you go with a heavy heart."</p> +<p>He looked after us with foreboding eyes as we went out of the +great gate, alone, with not so much as a linkboy. But if his heart +was heavy, our hearts were light. We paced along as merrily as +though to a feast. M. Étienne hung his lute over his neck +and strummed it; and whenever we passed under a window whence +leaned a pretty head, he sang snatches of love-songs. We were alone +in the dark streets of a hostile city, bound for the house of a +mighty foe; and one of us was wounded and one a tyro. Yet we +laughed as we went; for there was Lucas languishing in prison, and +here were we, free as air, steering our course for mademoiselle's +window. One of us was in love, and the other wore a sword for the +first time, and all the power of Mayenne daunted us not.</p> +<p>We came at length within bow-shot of the Hôtel de +Lorraine, where M. Étienne was willing to abate somewhat his +swagger. We left the Rue St. Antoine, creeping around behind the +house through a narrow and twisting alley—it was pitch-black, +but he knew the way well—into a little street dim-lighted +from the windows of the houses upon it. It was only a few rods +long, running from the open square in front of the hôtel to +the network of unpaved alleys behind. On the farther side stood a +row of high-gabled houses, their doors opening directly on the +pavement; on this side was but one big pile, the Hôtel de +Lorraine. The wall was broken by few windows, most of them dark; +this was not the gay side of the house. The overhanging turret on +the low second story, under which M. Étienne halted, was as +dark as the rest, nor, though the casement was open wide, could we +tell whether any one was in the room. We could hear nothing but the +breeze crackling in the silken curtains.</p> +<p>"Take your station at the corner there," he bade, "and shout if +they seem to be coming for us. But I think we shall not be +molested. My fingers are so stiff they will hardly recognize my +hand on the strings."</p> +<p>I went to my post, and he began singing, scarce loud enough for +any but his lady above to mark him:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Fairest blossom ever grew<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Once she loosened from her +breast.</span><br /> +This I say, her eyes are blue.<br /> +<br /> +From her breast the rose she drew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dole for me, her servant +blest,</span><br /> +Fairest blossom ever grew.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The music paused, and I turned from my watch of the shadowy +figures crossing the square, in instant alarm lest something was +wrong. But whatever startled him ceased, for in a moment he went on +again, and as he sang his voice rang fuller:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Of my love the guerdon true,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis my bosom's only +guest.</span><br /> +This I say, her eyes are blue.<br /> +<br /> +Still to me 'tis bright of hue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As when first my kisses +prest</span><br /> +Fairest blossom ever grew.<br /> +<br /> +Sweeter than when gathered new<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Twas the sign her love +confest.</span><br /> +This I say, her eyes are blue.</i></p> +</div> +<p>He stopped again and stood gazing up into the window, but +whether he saw something or heard something I could not tell. +Apparently he was not sure himself, for presently, a little +tremulous, he added the four verses:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Askest thou of me a clue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To that lady I love +best?</span><br /> +Fairest blossom ever grew!<br /> +This I say, her eyes are blue.</i></p> +</div> +<p>He doffed his hat, pushing back the hair from his brow, and +waited, eager, hopeful. There was a little stir in the room that +one thought was not the wind.</p> +<p>I had come unconsciously half-way up the street to him in the +ardour of my interest; but now I was startled back to my duty by +the sound of men running round the corner behind me. One glance was +enough; two abreast, swords in hand, they were charging us. I ran +before them, drawing blade as I went and shouting to M. +Étienne. But even as I called an answering shout came from +the alley; two men of the Spanish guards shot out of the darkness +and at us.</p> +<p>M. Étienne, with his extraordinary quickness, had got the +lute off his neck, and now, for want of a better use of it, flung +it at the head of his nearest assailant, who received it full in +the face, stopped, hesitated a moment, and ran back the way he had +come. But three foes remained, with the whole Hôtel de +Lorraine behind them.</p> +<p>We put our backs to the wall and set to. The remaining Spaniard +engaged me; M. Étienne, protected somewhat in the embrasure +of a doorway, held at bay with his good left arm a pair of +attackers. These were in the dress of gentlemen, and wore masks as +if their cheeks blushed (well they might) for the deeds of their +hands.</p> +<p>A broad window in the Hôtel de Lorraine was flung open; a +man leaned far out with a torch. The bright glare in our faces +bewildered our gloom-accustomed eyes; I could not see what I was +about, and rammed my point against my Spaniard's hilt, snapping my +blade.</p> +<p>The sudden impact sent him stumbling back a pace, and M. +Étienne, who, with the quick eye of the born fencer, saw +everything, cried to me, "Here!"</p> +<p>I darted back into the doorway beside him. His two assailants +finding that they gained nothing by their joint attack, but rather +hampered each other, one dropped back to watch his comrade, the +cleverer swordsman. This was decidedly a man of talent, but he was +shorter in the arm than my master and had the disadvantage of +standing on the ground, whereas M. Étienne was up one step. +He could not force home any of his shrewd-planned thrusts; nor +could he drive M. Étienne out of his coign to where in the +open the two could make short work of him. The rapiers clashed and +parted and twisted about each other and flew apart again; and then +before I could see who was touched the attacker fell to his knees, +with M. Étienne's sword in his breast.</p> +<p>M. Étienne wrenched the blade out; the wounded man sank +backward, his mask-string breaking. He was the one whom I had +thought him—François de Brie.</p> +<p>M. Étienne was ready for the second gentleman, but +neither he nor the soldier attacked. The torch-bearer in the +window, with a shout, waved his arm toward the square. A mob of +armed men hurled itself around the corner, a pikeman with lowered +point in the van.</p> +<p>This was not combat; it was butchery. M. Étienne, with a +little moan, lifted his eyes for the first time from his assailant +to the turret window. In the same instant I felt the door behind us +give. Throwing my whole weight upon it, I seized M. Étienne +and pulled him over the threshold. Some one inside slammed the door +to, just as the Spaniard hurled himself against it.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> +<h3><i>"On guard, monsieur."</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-w.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>e found ourselves in a narrow panelled passageway, lighted by a +flickering oil-lamp pendent from a bracket. Confronting us was our +preserver—a little old lady in black velvet, leaning back in +chuckling triumph against the shot bolts.</p> +<p>She was very small and very old. Her figure was bent and +shrunken, a pitiful little bag of bones in a rich dress; her hair +was as white as her ruff; her skin as yellow and dry as parchment, +furrowed with a thousand wrinkles; but her black eyes sparkled like +a girl's.</p> +<p>"I did not mean to let my nightingale's throat be slit," she +cried in a shrill voice quavering like a young child's. "I have +listened to your singing many a night, monsieur; I was glad +to-night to find the nightingale back again. When I saw that crew +rush at you, I said I would save you if only you would put your +back to my door. Monsieur, you are a young man of +intelligence."</p> +<p>"I am a young man of amazing good fortune, madame," M. +Étienne replied, with his handsomest bow, sheathing his wet +blade. "I owe you a debt of gratitude which is ill repaid in the +base coin of bringing trouble to this house."</p> +<p>"Not at all—not at all!" she protested with animation. "No +one is likely to molest this house. It is the dwelling of M. +Ferou."</p> +<p>"Of the Sixteen?"</p> +<p>"Of the Sixteen," she nodded, her shrewd face agleam with +mischief. "In truth, if my son were within, you were little likely +to find harbourage here. But, as it is, he and his wife are supping +with his Grace of Lyons. And the servants are one and all gone to +mass, leaving madame grand'mère to shift for herself. No, +no, my good friends; you may knock till you drop, but you won't get +in."</p> +<p>The attacking party was indeed hammering energetically on the +door, shouting to us to open, to deny them at our peril. The eyes +of the old lady glittered with new delight at every rap.</p> +<p>"I fancy they will think twice before they batter down M. +Ferou's door! Ma foi! I fancy they are a little mystified at +finding you sanctuaried in this house. Was it not my Lord Mayenne's +jackal, François de Brie?"</p> +<p>"Yes; and Marc Latour."</p> +<p>"I thought I knew them," she cried in evident pride at her +sharpness. "It was dark, and they were masked, and my eyes are old, +but I knew them! And which of the ladies is it?"</p> +<p>He could do no less than answer his saviour.</p> +<p>"Ah, well," she said, with a little sigh, "I too once—but +that is a long time ago." Then her eyes twinkled again; I trow she +was not much given to sighing. "That is a long time ago," she +repeated briskly, "and now they think I am too old to do aught but +tell my beads and wait for death. But I like to have a hand in the +game."</p> +<p>"I will come to take a hand with you any time, madame," M. +Étienne assured her. "I like the way you play."</p> +<p>She broke into shrill, delighted laughter.</p> +<p>"I'll warrant you do! And I don't mean to do the thing by +halves. No; I shall save you, hide and hair. Be so kind, my lad, as +to lift the lantern from the hook."</p> +<p>I did as she bade me, and we followed her down the passage like +spaniels. She was so entirely equal to the situation that we made +no protests and asked no questions. At the end of the hall she +paused, opening neither the door on the right nor the door on the +left, but, passing her hand up one of the panels of the wainscot, +suddenly she flung it wide.</p> +<p>"You are not so small as I," she chuckled, "yet I think you can +make shift to get through. You, monsieur lantern-bearer, go +first."</p> +<p>I doubled myself up and scrambled through. The old lady, +gathering her petticoats daintily, followed me without difficulty, +but M. Étienne was put to some trouble to bow his tall head +low enough. We stood at the top of a flight of stone steps +descending into blackness. The old lady unhesitatingly tripped down +before us.</p> +<p>At the foot of the stairs was a vaulted stone passageway, +slippery with lichen, the dampness hanging in beads on the wall. +Turning two corners, we brought up at a narrow, nail-studded +door.</p> +<p>"Here I bid you farewell," quoth the little old lady. "You have +only to walk on till you get to the end. At the steps, pull the +rope once and wait. When he opens to you, say, 'For the Cause,' and +draw a crown with your finger in the air."</p> +<p>"Madame," M. Étienne cried, "I hope the day may come when +I shall make you suitable acknowledgements. My name—"</p> +<p>"I prefer not to know it," she interrupted, glancing up at him. +"I will call you M. Yeux-gris; that is enough. As for +acknowledgments—pooh! I am overpaid in the sport it has +been."</p> +<p>"But, madame, when monsieur your son discovers—"</p> +<p>"Mon dieu! I am not afraid of my son or of any other woman's +son!" she cried, with cackling laughter. And I warrant she was +not.</p> +<p>"Madame," M. Étienne said, "I trust we shall meet again +when I shall have time to tell you what I think of you." He dropped +on his knees before her, kissing both her hands.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, of course you are grateful," she said, somewhat bored +apparently by his demonstration. "Naturally one does not like to +die at your age. I wish you a pleasant journey, M. Yeux-gris, and +you too, you fresh-faced boy. Give me back my lantern and fare you +well."</p> +<p>"You will let us see you safe back in your hall."</p> +<p>"I will do nothing of the sort! I am not so decrepit, thank you, +that I cannot get up my own stairs. No, no; no more gallantries, +but get on your way! Begone with you! I must be back in my chamber +working my altar-cloth when my daughter-in-law comes home."</p> +<p>Crowing her elfin laugh, she pulled the door open and fairly +hustled us through.</p> +<p>"Good-by—you are fine boys"; and she slammed the door upon +us. We were in absolute darkness. As we took our first breath of +the dank, foul air, we heard bolts snap into place.</p> +<p>"Well, since we cannot go back, let us go forward," said M. +Étienne, cheerfully. "I am glad she has bolted the door; it +is to throw them off the scent should they track us."</p> +<p>I knew very well that he was not at all glad; that the same +thought which chilled my blood had come to him. This little beldam, +with her beady eyes and her laughter, was the wicked witch of our +childhood days; she had shut us up in a charnel-house to die.</p> +<p>I heard him tapping the pavement before him with his scabbard, +using it as a blind man's staff. And so we advanced through the +fetid gloom, the passage being only wide enough to let us walk +shoulder to shoulder. There was a whirring of wings about us, and a +squeaking; once something swooped square into my face, knocking a +cry of terror from me, and a laugh from him.</p> +<p>"What was it? a bat? Cheer up, Félix; they don't bite." +But I would not go on till I had made sure, as well as I could +without seeing, that the cursed thing was not clinging on me +somewhere.</p> +<p>We walked on then in silence, the stone walls vibrant with our +tread. We went on till it seemed we had traversed the width of +Paris; and I wondered who were sleeping and feasting and scheming +and loving over our heads. M. Étienne said at length:</p> +<p>"Mordieu! I hope this snake-hole does not empty us out into the +Seine." But I thought that as long as it emptied us out somewhere, +I should not greatly mind the Seine.</p> +<p>At this very moment M. Étienne clutched my arm, jerking +me to a halt. I bounded backward, trying in the blackness to +discern a precipice yawning at my feet. "Look!" he cried in a low, +tense voice. I perceived, far before us in the gloom, a point of +light, which, as we watched it, grew bigger and bigger, till it +became an approaching lantern.</p> +<p>"This is like to be awkward," murmured M. Étienne.</p> +<p>The man carrying the light came on with firm, heavy tread; +naturally he did not see us as soon as we saw him. I thought him +alone, but it was hard to tell in this dark, echoy place.</p> +<p>He might easily have approached within touch of my sad clothing +without becoming aware of me, but M. Étienne's azure and +white caught the lantern rays a rod away. The newcomer stopped +short, holding up the light between us and his face. We could make +nothing of him, save that he was a large man, soberly clad.</p> +<p>"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice ringing out loud and steady. +"Is it you, Ferou?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne hooked his scabbard in place, and went forward +into the clear circle of light.</p> +<p>"No, M. de Mayenne; it is Étienne de Mar."</p> +<p>"Ventre bleu!" Mayenne ejaculated, changing his lantern with +comical alacrity to his left hand, and whipping out his sword. My +master's came bare, too, at that. They confronted each other in +silence, till Mayenne's ever-increasing astonishment forced the cry +from him:</p> +<p>"How the devil come you here?"</p> +<p>"Evidently by way of M. Ferou's house," M. Étienne +answered. Mayenne still stared in thick amazement; after a moment +my master added: "I must in justice say that M. Ferou is not aware +that I am using this passage; he is, with madame his wife, supping +with the Archbishop of Lyons."</p> +<p>M. Étienne leaned his shoulder against the wall, smiling +pleasantly, and waiting for the duke to make the next move. Mayenne +kept a nonplussed silence. The situation was indeed somewhat +awkward. He could not come forward without encountering an agile +opponent, whose exceeding skill with the sword was probably known +to him. He could not turn tail, had his dignity allowed the course, +without exposing himself to be spitted. He was in the predicament +of the goat on the bridge. Yet was he gaping at us less in fear, I +think, than in bewilderment. This Ferou, as I learned later, was +one of his right-hand men, years-long supporter. Mayenne had as +soon expected to meet a lion in the tunnel as to meet a foe. He +cried out again upon us, with an instinctive certainty that a great +prince's question must be answered:</p> +<p>"How came you here?"</p> +<p>"I don't ask," said M. Étienne, "how it happens that M. +le Duc is walking through this rat-hole. Nor do I feel disposed to +make any explanation to him."</p> +<p>"Very well, then," said Mayenne; "our swords, if you are ready, +will make adequate explanation."</p> +<p>"Now, that is gallant of you," returned M. Étienne, "as +it is evident that the closeness of these walls will inconvenience +your Grace more than it will me."</p> +<p>The walls of the passage were roughly laid. Mayenne perched his +lantern on a projecting stone.</p> +<p>"On guard, sir," he answered.</p> +<p>The silence was profound. Mayenne had no companion following +him. He was alone with his sword. He was not now head of the state, +but only a man with a sword, standing opposite another man with a +sword. Nor was he in the pink of form. Though he gave the effect, +from his clear colour and proud bearing, perhaps also from his +masterful energy, of tremendous force and strength, his body was in +truth but a poor machine, his great corpulence making him clumsy +and scant of breath. He must have known, as he eyed his supple +antagonist, what the end would be. Yet he merely said:</p> +<p>"On guard, monsieur."</p> +<p>M. Étienne did not raise his weapon. I retreated a pace, +that I might not be in the way of his jump, should Mayenne spring +on him. M. Étienne said slowly:</p> +<p>"M. de Mayenne, this encounter was none of my contriving. Nor +have I any wish to cross swords with you. Family quarrels are to be +deprecated. Since I still intend to become your cousin, I must +respectfully beg to be released from the obligation of fighting +you."</p> +<p>A man knowing himself overmatched cannot refuse combat. He may, +even as Mayenne had done, think himself compelled to offer it. But +if he insists on forcing battle with a reluctant adversary, he must +be a hothead indeed. And Mayenne was no hothead. He stood hesitant, +feeling that he was made ridiculous in accepting the clemency and +should be still more ridiculous to refuse it. He half lifted his +sword, only to lower it again, till at last his good sense came to +his relief in a laugh.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar, it appears that, after all, some explanations are +necessary. You think that in declining to fight you put me in your +debt. Possibly you are right. But if you expect that in gratitude I +shall hand over Lorance de Montluc, you were never more mistaken. +Never, while I live, shall she marry into the king's camp. Now, +monsieur, that we understand each other, I abide by your decision +whether we fight or not."</p> +<p>For answer, M. Étienne put up his blade. The Duke of +Mayenne, saluting with his, did the like. "Mar," he said, "you +stood off from us, like a coquetting girl, for three years. At +length, last May, you refused point-blank to join us. I do not +often ask a man twice, but I ask you. Will you join the League +to-night, and marry Lorance to-morrow?"</p> +<p>No man could have spoken with a franker grace. I believe then, I +believe now, he meant it. M. Étienne believed he meant +it.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," he answered, "I have shilly-shallied long; but I am +planted squarely at last with my father on the king's side. You put +your interesting nephew into my father's house to kill him; I shall +not sign myself with the League."</p> +<p>"In that case," returned Mayenne, "perhaps we might each +continue on his way."</p> +<p>"With all my heart, monsieur."</p> +<p>Each drew back against the wall to let the other pass, with a +wary eye for daggers. Then M. Étienne, laughing a little, +but watching Mayenne like a lynx, started to go by. The duke, +seeing the look, suddenly raised his hands over his head, holding +them there while both of us squeezed past him.</p> +<p>"Cousin Charles," said M. Étienne, "I see that when I +have married Lorance you and I shall get on capitally. Till then, +God have you ever in guard."</p> +<p>"I thank you, monsieur. You make me immortal."</p> +<p>"I have no need to make you witty. M. de Mayenne, when you have +submitted to the king, as you will one of these days, I shall have +as delightful a kinsman as heart of man could wish. You and I will +yet drink a loving-cup together. Till that happy hour, I am your +good enemy. Fare you well, monsieur."</p> +<p>He bowed; the duke, half laughing despite a considerable ire, +returned the obeisance with all pomp. M. Étienne took me by +the arm and departed. Mayenne stood still for a space; then we +heard his retreating footsteps, and the glimmer of his light slowly +faded away.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="272.jpg"></a> <a href="images/272.jpg"><img src= +"images/272.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"WE CLIMBED OUT INTO A SILK-MERCER'S SHOP."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"It wasn't necessary to tell him the door is bolted," M. +Étienne muttered.</p> +<p>We hurried along now without precaution, knowing that the floor +which had supported Mayenne would support us. The consequence was +that we stumbled abruptly against a step, and fell with a force +like to break our kneecaps. I picked myself up at once, and ran +headlong up the stairs, to hit my crown on the ceiling and reel +back on M. Étienne, sweeping him off his feet, so that we +rolled in a struggling heap on the stones of the passage. And for +the minute the place was no longer dark; I saw more lightning than +even flashed in the Rue Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>"Are you hurt, Félix?" cried M. Étienne, the first +to disentangle himself.</p> +<p>"No," I said, groaning; "but I banged my head. She did not say +it was a trap-door."</p> +<p>We ascended the stairs a second time—this time most +cautiously on our hands and knees. Above us, at the end, we could +feel, with upleaping of spirit, a wooden ceiling.</p> +<p>"Ah, I have the cord!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>The next instant we heard a faint but most comforting tinkle +somewhere above us. Before we had time to wonder whether any marked +it but us, we heard steps overhead, and a noise as of a chest being +pulled about, and then the trap lifted. We climbed out into a +silk-mercer's shop.</p> +<p>"Faith, my man," said M. Étienne to the little bourgeois +who had opened to us, "I am glad to see you appear so +promptly."</p> +<p>He looked at us, somewhat troubled or alarmed.</p> +<p>"You must have met—" he suggested with hesitancy.</p> +<p>"Yes," said M. Étienne; "but he did not object. We are, +of course, of the initiated."</p> +<p>"Of course, of course," the little fellow assented, with a funny +assumption of knowing all about it. "Not every one has the secret +of the passage. Well, I can call myself a lucky man. 'Tis mighty +few mercers have a duke in their shop as often as I."</p> +<p>We looked curiously about us. The shop was low and dim, with +piles of stuff in rolls on the shelves, and other stuffs lying +loose on the counter before us, as if the man had just been +measuring them—gorgeous brocades and satins. Above us, a bell +on the rafter still quivered.</p> +<p>"Yes, that is the bell of the trap," the proprietor said, +following our glance. "Customers do not know where it rings from. +And if I am not at liberty to open, I drop my brass yardstick on +the floor—But they told you that, doubtless, monsieur?" he +added, regarding M. Étienne again a little uneasily.</p> +<p>"They told me something else I had near forgotten," M. +Étienne answered, and, drawing a crown in the air, gave the +password, "For the Cause."</p> +<p>"For the King," the shopkeeper made instant rejoinder, drawing +in the air in his turn a letter C and the numeral X.</p> +<p>M. Étienne laid a gold piece on the counter, and if the +shopkeeper had felt any doubts of this well-dressed gallant who +wore no hat, they vanished in its radiance.</p> +<p>"And now, my friend, let us out into the street and forget our +faces."</p> +<p>The man took up his candle to light us to the door.</p> +<p>"Perhaps it would not trouble monsieur to say a word for me over +there?" he suggested, pointing in the direction of the tunnel. "M. +le Duc has every confidence in me. Still, it would do no harm if +monsieur should mention how quickly I let him out."</p> +<p>"When I see him, I will surely mention it," M. Étienne +promised him. "Continue to be vigilant to-night, my friend. There +is another man to come."</p> +<p>Followed by the little bourgeois's thanks and adieus, we walked +out into the sweet open air. As soon as his door was shut again, we +took to our heels, nor stopped running till we had put half a dozen +streets between us and the mouth of the tunnel. Then we walked +along in breathless silence.</p> +<p>Presently M. Étienne cried out:</p> +<p>"Death of my life! Had I fought there in the burrow, I should +have changed the history of France!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> +<h3><i>A chance encounter.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>he street before us was as orderly as the aisle of Notre Dame. +Few way-farers passed us; those there were talked together as +placidly as if love-trysts and mêlées existed not, and +tunnels and countersigns were but the smoke of a dream. It was a +street of shops, all shuttered, while, above, the burghers' +families went respectably to bed.</p> +<p>"This is the Rue de la Ferronnerie," my master said, pausing a +moment to take his bearings. "See, under the lantern, the sign of +the Pierced Heart. The little shop is in the Rue de la Soierie. We +are close by the Halles—we must have come half a mile +underground. Well, we'll swing about in a circle to get home. For +this night I've had enough of the Hôtel de Lorraine."</p> +<p>And I. But I held my tongue about it, as became me.</p> +<p>"They were wider awake than I thought—those Lorrainers. +Pardieu! Féix, you and I came closer quarters with death +than is entirely amusing."</p> +<p>"If that door had not opened-" I shuddered.</p> +<p>"A new saint in the calendar—la Sainte Ferou! But what a +madcap of a saint, then! My faith, she must have led them a dance +when Francis I was king!</p> +<p>"Natheless it galls me," he went on, half to himself, "to know +that I was lost by my own folly, saved by pure chance. I underrated +the enemy—worst mistake in the book of strategy. I came near +flinging away two lives and making a most unsightly mess under a +lady's window."</p> +<p>"Monsieur made somewhat of a mess as it was."</p> +<p>"Aye. I would I knew whether I killed Brie. We'll go round in +the morning and find out."</p> +<p>"I am thankful that monsieur does not mean to go to-night."</p> +<p>"Not to-night, Félix; I've had enough. No; we'll get home +without passing near the Hôtel de Lorraine, if we go outside +the walls to do it. To-night I draw my sword no more."</p> +<p>To this day I have no quite clear idea of how we went. A strange +city at night—Paris of all cities—is a labyrinth. I +know that after a time we came out in some meadows along the +river-bank, traversed them, and plunged once more into narrow, +high-walled streets. It was very late, and lights were few. We had +started in clear starlight, but now a rack of clouds hid even their +pale shine.</p> +<p>"The snake-hole over again," said M. Étienne. "But we are +almost at our own gates."</p> +<p>But, as in the snake-hole, came light. Turning a sharp corner, +we ran straight into a gentleman and his porte-flambeau, swinging +along at as smart a pace as we.</p> +<p>"A thousand pardons," M. Étienne cried to his +encounterer, the possessor of years and gravity but of no great +size, whom he had almost knocked down. "I heard you, but knew not +you were so close. We were speeding to get home."</p> +<p>The personage was also of a portliness, and the collision had +knocked the wind out of him. He leaned panting against the wall. As +he scanned M. Étienne's open countenance and princely dress +his alarm vanished.</p> +<p>"It is unseemly to go about on a night like this without a +lantern," he said with asperity. "The municipality should forbid +it. I shall certainly bring the matter up at the next sitting."</p> +<p>"Monsieur is a member of the Parliament?" M. Étienne +asked with immense respect.</p> +<p>"I have that honour, monsieur," the little man replied, +delighted to impress us, as he himself was impressed, by the sense +of his importance.</p> +<p>"Oh," said M. Étienne, with increasing solemnity, +"perhaps monsieur had a hand in a certain decree of the 28th +June?"</p> +<p>The little man began to look uneasy.</p> +<p>"There was, as monsieur says, a measure passed that day," he +stammered.</p> +<p>"A rebellious and contumacious decree," M. Étienne +rejoined, "most offensive to the general-duke." Whereupon he +fingered his sword.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," the little deputy cried, "we meant no offence to his +Grace, or to any true Frenchman. We but desire peace after all +these years of blood. We were informed that his Grace was angry; +yet we believed that even he will come to see the matter in a +different light—"</p> +<p>"You have acted in a manner insulting to his Grace of Mayenne," +M. Étienne repeated inexorably, and he glanced up the street +and down the street to make sure the coast was clear. The wretched +little deputy's teeth chattered.</p> +<p>The linkman had retreated to the other side of the way, where he +seemed on the point of fleeing, leaving his master to his fate. I +thought it would be a shame if the badgered deputy had to stumble +home in the dark, so I growled out to the fellow:</p> +<p>"Stir one step at your peril!"</p> +<p>I was afraid he would drop the flambeau and run, but he did not; +he only sank back against the wall, eyeing my sword with exceeding +deference. He knew not that there was but a foot of blade in the +scabbard.</p> +<p>The burgher looked up the street and down the street, after M. +Étienne's example, but there was no help to be seen or +heard. He turned to his tormentor with the valour of a mouse at +bay.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, beware what you do. I am Pierre Marceau!"</p> +<p>"Oh, you are Pierre Marceau? And can M. Pierre Marceau explain +how he happened to be faring forth from his dwelling at this unholy +hour?"</p> +<p>"I am not faring forth; I am faring home. I—we had a +little con—that is, not to say a conference, but merely a +little discussion on matters of no importance—"</p> +<p>"I have the pleasure," interrupted M. Étienne, sternly, +"of knowing where M. Marceau lives. M. Marceau's errand in this +direction is not accounted for."</p> +<p>"But I was going home—on my sacred honour I was! Ask +Jacques, else. But as we went down the Rue de l'Évêque +we saw two men in front of us. As they reached the wall by M. de +Mirabeau's garden a gang of footpads fell on them. The two drew +blades and defended themselves, but the ruffians were a +dozen—a score. We ran for our lives."</p> +<p>M. Étienne wheeled round to me.</p> +<p>"Félix, here is work for us. As I was saying, M. Marceau, +your decree is most offensive to the general-duke, and therefore, +since he is my particular enemy, most pleasing to me. A beautiful +night, is it not, sir? I wish you a delightful walk home."</p> +<p>He seized me by the hand, and we dashed up the street.</p> +<p>At the corner the noise of a fray came faintly but plainly to +our ears. M. le Comte without hesitation plunged down a lane in the +direction of the sound.</p> +<p>"I said I wanted no more fighting to-night, but two against a +mob! We know how it feels."</p> +<p>The clash of steel on steel grew ever louder, and as we wheeled +around a jutting garden wall we came full upon the combatants.</p> +<p>"A rescue, a rescue!" cried M. Étienne. "Shout, +Félix! Montjoie St. Denis! A rescue, a rescue!"</p> +<p>We charged down the street, drawing our swords and shouting at +the top of our lungs.</p> +<p>It was too dark to see much save a mass of struggling figures, +with every now and then, as the steel hit, a point of light +flashing out, to fade and appear again like a brilliant glow-worm. +We could scarce tell which were the attackers, which the two +comrades we had come to save.</p> +<p>But if we could not make them out, neither could they us. We +shouted as boldly as if we had been a company, and in the clatter +of their heels on the stones they could not count our feet. They +knew not how many followers the darkness held. The group parted. +Two men remained in hot combat close under the left wall. Across +the way one sturdy fighter held off two, while a sixth man, crying +on his mates to follow, fled down the lane.</p> +<p>M. Étienne knew now what he was about, and at once took +sides with the solitary fencer. The combat being made equal, I +started in pursuit of the flying figure. I had run but a few yards, +however, when I tripped and fell prostrate over the body of a man. +I was up in a moment, feeling him to find out if he were dead; my +hands over his heart dipped into a pool of something wet and warm +like new milk. I wiped them on his sleeve as best I could, and +hastily groped about for his sword. He did not need it now, and I +did.</p> +<p>When I rose with it my quarry was swallowed up in the shadows. +M. Étienne, whose light clothing made a distinguishable spot +in the gloom, had driven his opponent, or his opponent had driven +him, some rods up the lane the way we had come. I stood perplexed, +not knowing where to busy myself. M. Étienne's side I could +not reach past the two duels; and of the four men near me, I could +by no means tell, as they circled about and about, which were my +chosen allies. They were all sombrely clad, their faces blurred in +the darkness. When one made a clever pass, I knew not whether to +rejoice or despair. But at length I picked out one who fenced, +though valiantly enough, yet with greater effort than the rest; and +I deemed that this had been the hardest pressed of all and must +certainly be one of the attacked and the one most deserving of +succour. He was plainly losing ground. I darted to his side just as +his foe ran him through the arm.</p> +<p>The assailant pulled his blade free and darted back against the +wall to face the two of us. But the sword of the wounded man fell +from his loose fingers.</p> +<p>"I'm out of it," he cried to me; "I go for aid." And as his late +combatant sprang forward to engage me, I heard him running off, +stumbling where I had.</p> +<p>There had been little light toward the last in the court of the +house in the Rue Coupejarrets, and less under the windows of the +Hôtel de Lorraine; but here was none at all, I had to use my +sword solely by the feel of his against it, and I underwent +chilling qualms lest presently, without in the least knowing how it +got there, I should find his point sticking out of my back. I could +hardly believe he was not hitting me; I began to prickle in half a +dozen places, and knew not whether the stings were real or +imaginary. But one was not imaginary; my shoulder which Lucas had +pinked and the doctor bandaged was throbbing painfully. I fancied +that in my earlier combat the wound had opened again and that I was +bleeding to death; and the fear shook me. I lunged wildly, and I +had been sent to my account in short order had not at this moment +one of the other pair near us, as it afterward appeared, driven his +weapon square through his vis-à-vis's breast.</p> +<p>"I am done for. Run who can!" he cried as he fell. The sword +snapped in two against the paving-stones; he rolled over and lay +still, his face in the dirt.</p> +<p>My encounterer, with a shout to his single remaining comrade, +made off down the lane. On my part, I was very willing to let him +depart in peace.</p> +<p>The clash of swords up the lane had ceased at the stricken man's +cry, and out of the gloom came the sound of footfalls fainter and +fainter. I deemed that the battle was over.</p> +<p>The champion came toward me, three white patches visible for his +face and hands; the rest of him but darkness moving in darkness. He +held a sword rifled from the enemy, and advanced on me +hesitatingly, not sure whether friend or foe remained to him. I +felt that an explanation was due from me, but in my ignorance as to +who he was and who his foes were, and why they had been fighting +him and why we had been fighting them, I stood for a moment +confused. It is hard to open conversation with a shadow.</p> +<p>He spoke first, in a voice husky from his exertion:</p> +<p>"Who are you?"</p> +<p>"A friend," I said. "My master and I saw two men fighting +four—we came to help the weaker side. Your friend was hurt, +but he got away safe to fetch aid."</p> +<p>The unknown made a rapid step toward me, crying, +"What—"</p> +<p>But at the word M. Étienne emerged from the shadows.</p> +<p>"Who lives?" he called out. "You, Félix?"</p> +<p>"Not hurt, monsieur. And you?"</p> +<p>"Not a scratch. Nor did I scratch my man. Permit me to +congratulate you, monsieur l'inconnu, on our coming up when we +did."</p> +<p>The unknown said one word:</p> +<p>"Étienne!"</p> +<p>I sprang forward with the impulse to throw my arms about him, in +the pure rapture of recognizing his voice. This struggler, whom we +had rushed in, blindfold, to save, was Monsieur! If we had been +content to mind our own business, had sheered away like the +deputy—it turned me faint to think how long we had delayed +with old Marceau, we were so nearly too late. I wanted to seize +Monsieur, to convince myself that he was all safe, to feel him +quick and warm.</p> +<p>I made one pace and stopped; for I remembered what ghastly shape +stood between me and Monsieur—that horrible lying story.</p> +<p>"Dieu!" gasped M. Étienne, "Monsieur!"</p> +<p>For a moment we all kept silence, motionless; then Monsieur +flung his sword over the wall.</p> +<p>"Do your will, Étienne."</p> +<p>His son darted forward with a cry.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, Monsieur, I am not your assassin! I came to your aid +not dreaming who you were; but, had I known, I would have fought a +hundred times the harder. I never plotted against you. On the +honour of a St. Quentin I swear it."</p> +<p>Monsieur said naught, and we could not see his face; could not +know whether he believed or rejected, softened or condemned.</p> +<p>M. Étienne, catching at his breath, went on:</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I know it is hard to credit. I have been a bad son to +you, unloving, rebellious, insolent. We quarrelled; I spoke bitter +words. But I am no ruffian. I am a St. Quentin. Had you had me +whipped from the house, still would I never have raised hand +against you. I knew nothing of the plot. Félix told you I +was in it—small blame to him. But he was wrong. I knew naught +of it."</p> +<p>Had he been content to rest his case here, I think Monsieur +could not but have believed his innocence on his bare word. The +stones in the pavement must have known that he was uttering truth. +But he in his eagerness paused for no answer, but went on to stun +Monsieur with statements new and amazing to his ear.</p> +<p>"My cousin Grammont—who is dead—was in the plot, and +his lackey Pontou, and Martin the clerk; but the contriver was +Lucas."</p> +<p>"Lucas?"</p> +<p>"Lucas," continued M. Étienne. "Or, to give him his true +title, Paul de Lorraine, son of Henri de Guise."</p> +<p>"But that is impossible" Monsieur cried, stupefied.</p> +<p>"It is impossible, but it is true. He is a +Lorraine—Mayenne's nephew, and for years Mayenne's spy. He +came to you to kill you—for that object pure and simple. Last +spring, before he came to you, he was here in Paris with Mayenne, +making terms for your murder. He is no Huguenot, no Kingsman. He is +Mayenne's henchman, son to Guise himself."</p> +<p>"And how long have you known this?" asked Monsieur.</p> +<p>"Since this morning." Then, as the import of the question struck +him, he fell back with a groan. "Ah, Monsieur, if you can ask that, +I have no more to say. It is useless." He turned away into the +darkness.</p> +<p>That they should part thus was too miserable to be endured. I +was sure Monsieur's question was no accusation, but the groping of +bewilderment.</p> +<p>"M. Étienne, stop!" I commanded. "Monsieur, it is the +truth. Indeed it is the truth. He is innocent, and Lucas <i>is</i> +a Guise. Monsieur, you must listen to me. M. Étienne, you +must wait. I stirred up the whole trouble with my story to you, +Monsieur, and I take it back. I believed I was telling the truth. I +was wrong. When I left you, I went straight back to the Rue +Coupejarrets to kill your son—your murderer, I thought. And +there I found Grammont and Lucas side by side. We thought them +sworn foes: they were hand in glove. They came at me to end me +because I had told, and M. Étienne saved me. Lucas mocked +him to his face because he had been tricked; Lucas bragged that it +was his own scheme—that M. Étienne was his dupe. Vigo +will tell you. Vigo heard him. His scheme was to saddle M. +Étienne with your murder. He was tricked. He believed what +he told me—that the thing was a duel between Lucas and +Grammont. You must believe it, Monsieur!"</p> +<p>M. Étienne, who had actually obeyed me,—me, his +lackey,—turned to his father once again.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, if you cannot believe me, believe Félix. You +believed him when he took away my good name. Believe him now when +he restores it."</p> +<p>"Nay," Monsieur cried; "I believe thee, Étienne."</p> +<p>And he took his son in his arms.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> +<h3><i>The signet of the king.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>lready a wan light was revealing the round tops of the +plum-trees in M. de Mirabeau's garden, the high gray wall, and the +narrow alleyway beneath it. And the two vague shapes by me were no +longer vague shapes, but were turning moment by moment, as if +coming out of an enchantment, into their true forms. It really was +Monsieur in the flesh, with a wet glint in his eyes as he kissed +his boy.</p> +<p>Neither thought of me, and it was none of my concern what they +said to each other. I went a rod or two down the lane, round a +curve in the wall, and watched the bands of light streaking the +eastern sky, in utter content. Never before had the world seemed to +me so good a place. Since this misery had come right, I knew all +the rest would; I should yet dance at M. Étienne's +wedding.</p> +<p>I leaned my head back against the wall, and had shut my eyes to +consider the matter more quietly, when I heard my name.</p> +<p>"Félix! Félix! Where is the boy got to?"</p> +<p>The sun was clean up over the horizon, and as I blinked and +wondered how he had contrived the feat so quickly, my two messieurs +came hand in hand round the corner to me, the level rays glittering +on Monsieur's burnished breastplate, on M. Étienne's bright +head, and on both their shining faces. Now that for the first time +I saw them together, I found them, despite the dark hair and the +yellow, the brown eyes and the gray, wonderfully alike. There was +the same carriage, the same cock of the head, the same smile. If I +had not known before, I knew now, the instant I looked at them, +that the quarrel was over. Save as it gave them a deeper love of +each other, it might never have been.</p> +<p>I sprang up, and Monsieur, my duke, embraced me.</p> +<p>"Lucky we came up the lane when we did, eh, Félix?" M. +Étienne said. "But, Monsieur, I have not asked you yet what +madness sent you traversing this back passage at two in the +morning."</p> +<p>"I might ask you that, Étienne."</p> +<p>The young man hesitated a bare moment before he answered:</p> +<p>"I am just come from serenading Mlle. de Montluc."</p> +<p>A shade fell over Monsieur's radiance. At his look, M. +Étienne cried out:</p> +<p>"I've told you I'm no Leaguer! Mayenne offered me mademoiselle +if I would come over. I refused. Last night he sent me word that he +would kill me as a common nuisance if I sought to see her. That was +why I tried."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried, curiosity mastering me, "was she in the +window?"</p> +<p>He shook his head, his eyes on his father' face.</p> +<p>"Étienne," Monsieur said slowly, "can't you see that +Mlle. de Montluc is not for you?"</p> +<p>"I shall never see it, Monsieur. The first article in my creed +says she is for me. And I'll have her yet, for all Mayenne."</p> +<p>"Then, mordieu, we'll steal her together!"</p> +<p>"You! You'll help me?"</p> +<p>"Why, dear son," Monsieur explained, "it broke my heart to think +of you in the League. I could not bear that my son should help a +Spaniard to the throne of France, or a Lorrainer either. But if it +is a question of stealing the lady—well, I never prosed about +prudence yet, thank God!"</p> +<p>M. Étienne, wet-eyed, laughing, hugged Monsieur.</p> +<p>"By St. Quentin, we'll get you your lady! I hated the marriage +while I thought it would make you a Leaguer. I could not see you +sacrifice your honour to a girl's bright eyes. But your +life—that is different."</p> +<p>"My life is a little thing."</p> +<p>"No," Monsieur said; "it is a good deal—one's life. But +one is not to guard one's life at the cost of all that makes life +sweet."</p> +<p>"Ah, you know how I love her!"</p> +<p>"They call me a fool," Monsieur went on musingly, "because I +risk my life in wild errands. But, mordieu! I am the wise man. For +they who think ever of safety, and crouch and scheme and shuffle to +procure it, why, look you, they destroy their own ends. For, when +all is done, they have never really lived. And that is why they +hate death so, these worthies. While I, who have never cringed to +fear, I live like a king. I go my ways without any man's leave; and +if death comes to me a little sooner for that, I am a poor creature +if I do not meet him smiling. If I may live as I please, I am +content to die when I must."</p> +<p>"Aye," said M. Étienne, "and if we live as we do not +please, still we must die presently. Therefore do I purpose never +to give over striving after my lady."</p> +<p>"Oh, we'll win her by noon. But first we'll sleep. There's +Félix yawning his head off. Come, come."</p> +<p>We set off along the alley, the St. Quentins arm in arm, I at +their heels. Monsieur looked over his shoulder with a sudden +anxiety.</p> +<p>"Félix, you said Huguet had run for aid?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur; Vigo should have been here before now," I +answered, remembering Vigo's promptitude yesterday.</p> +<p>"Every one was asleep; he has been hammering this half-hour to +get in," M. Étienne said easily.</p> +<p>But Monsieur asked of me:</p> +<p>"Was he much hurt, Félix?"</p> +<p>"No; I am sure not, Monsieur. He was run through the arm; I am +sure he was not hurt otherwise."</p> +<p>We came to where the two slain men lay across the way. M. +Étienne exclaimed:</p> +<p>"If you do not hold your life dear, you sell it dear, Monsieur! +How many of the rascals were there?"</p> +<p>"It was hard to tell in the dark. Five, I think."</p> +<p>"Now, Monsieur, how came you to be in this place in the +dark?"</p> +<p>"Why, what to do, Étienne? I came in at the gate just +after midnight. I could not leave St. Denis earlier, and night is +my time to enter Paris. The inns were shut—"</p> +<p>"But some friend near the gate? Tarigny would have sheltered +you."</p> +<p>"Aye, and got into trouble for it, had it leaked out to the +Sixteen."</p> +<p>"Tarigny is no craven."</p> +<p>"But neither am I," said Monsieur, smiling.</p> +<p>"Oh, I give you up! Go your ways. But I will not come to save +you next time."</p> +<p>"No, lad; you will be at my side hereafter."</p> +<p>M. Étienne laughed and said no more.</p> +<p>"But in truth," Monsieur added, "I did not expect waylaying. If +these fellows watched by the gate, they hid cleverly. I never saw a +finger-tip of them till they sprang upon us by the corner here, +when we were almost home."</p> +<p>M. Étienne bent over and turned face up the man whom +Monsieur had run through the heart. He was an ugly enough fellow, +one eye entirely closed by a great scar that ran from his forehead +nearly to his grizzled mustache.</p> +<p>"This is Bernet le Borgne," he said. "Have you encountered him +before, Monsieur? He was a soldier under Guise once, they say, but +he has done naught but hang about Paris taverns this many a year. +We used to wonder how he lived; we knew he did somebody's dirty +work. Clisson employed him once, so I know something of him. With +his one eye he could fence better than most folks with two. My +congratulations to you, Monsieur."</p> +<p>But Monsieur, not heeding, was bending over the other man.</p> +<p>"Your acquaintance is wider than mine. Do you know this +one?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne shook his head over this other man, who lay +face up, staring with wide dark eyes into the sky. His hair curled +in little rings about his forehead, and his cheeks were smooth; he +looked no older than I.</p> +<p>"He dashed at me the first of all," Monsieur said in a low +voice. "I ran him through before the others came up. Mordieu! I am +glad it was dark. A boy like that!"</p> +<p>"He had good mettle to run up first," M. Étienne said. +"And it is no disgrace to fall to your sword, Monsieur. Come, let +us go."</p> +<p>But Monsieur looked back again at the dead lad, and then at his +son and at me, and came with us heavy of countenance.</p> +<p>On the stones before us lay a trail of blood-drops.</p> +<p>"Now, that is where Huguet ran with his wounded arm," I said to +M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Aye, and if we did not know the way home we could find it by +this red track."</p> +<p>But the trail did not reach the door; for when we turned into +the little street where the arch is, where I had waited for Martin, +as we turned the familiar corner under the walls of the house +itself, we came suddenly on the body of a man. Monsieur ran forward +with a cry, for it was the squire Huguet.</p> +<p>He wore a leather jerkin lined with steel rings, mail as stout +as any forged. Some one had stabbed once and again at the coat +without avail, and had then torn it open and stabbed his +defenceless breast. Though we had killed two of their men, they had +rained blows enough on this man of ours to kill twenty.</p> +<p>Monsieur knelt on the ground beside him, but he was quite +cold.</p> +<p>"The man who fled when we charged them must have lurked about," +I said. "Huguet's sword-arm was useless; he could not defend +himself."</p> +<p>"Or else he fainted from his wound, he bled so," M. +Étienne answered. "And one of those who fled last came upon +him helpless and did this."</p> +<p>"Why didn't I follow him instead of sitting down, a John +o'dreams?" I cried. "But I was thinking of you and Monsieur; I +forgot Huguet."</p> +<p>"I forgot him, too," Monsieur sorrowed. "Shame to me; he would +not have forgotten me."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," his son said, "it was no negligence of yours. You +could have saved him only by following when he ran. And that was +impossible."</p> +<p>"In sight of the door," Monsieur said sadly. "In sight of his +own door."</p> +<p>We held silent. Monsieur got soberly to his feet.</p> +<p>"I never lost a better man."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried, "he asks no better epitaph. If you will say +that of me when I die, I shall not have lived in vain."</p> +<p>He smiled at the outburst, but I did not care; if he would only +smile, I was content it should be at me.</p> +<p>"Nay, Félix," he said. "I hope it will not be I who +compose your epitaph. Come, we must get to the house and send after +poor Huguet."</p> +<p>"Félix and I will carry him," M. Étienne said, and +we lifted him between us—no easy task, for he was a heavy +fellow. But it was little enough to do for him.</p> +<p>We bore him along slowly, Monsieur striding ahead. But of a +sudden he turned back to us, laying quick fingers on the poor torn +breast.</p> +<p>"What is it, Monsieur?" cried his son.</p> +<p>"My papers."</p> +<p>We set him down, and the three of us examined him from top to +toe, stripping off his steel coat, pulling apart his blood-clotted +linen, prying into his very boots. But no papers revealed +themselves.</p> +<p>"What were they, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>A drawn look had come over Monsieur's face.</p> +<p>"Papers which the king gave me, and which I, fool and traitor, +have lost."</p> +<p>I ran back to the spot where we had found Huguet; there was his +hat on the ground, but no papers. I followed up the red trail to +its beginning, looking behind every stone, every bunch of grass; +but no papers. In my desperation I even pulled about the dead man, +lest the packet had been covered, falling from Huguet in the fray. +The two gentlemen joined me in the search, and we went over every +inch of the ground, but to no purpose.</p> +<p>"I thought them safer with Huguet than with me," Monsieur +groaned. "I knew we ran the risk of ambush. Myself would be the +object of attack; I bade Huguet, were we waylaid, to run with the +papers."</p> +<p>"And of course he would not."</p> +<p>"He should; it was my command. He stayed and saved my life +perhaps, and lost me what is dearer than life—my honour."</p> +<p>"He could not leave you to be killed, Monsieur; that were asking +the impossible."</p> +<p>"Aye, but I am saved at the ruin of a hundred others!" Monsieur +cried. "The papers contained certain lists of names of Mayenne's +officers pledged to support the king if he turn Catholic. I had +them for Lemaître. But at this date, in Mayenne's hands, they +spell the men's destruction. Huguet should have known that if I +told him to desert me, I meant it."</p> +<p>M. Étienne ventured no word, understanding well enough +that in such bitter moments no consolation consoles. M. le Duc +added after a moment:</p> +<p>"Mordieu! I am ashamed of myself. I might be better occupied +than in blaming the dead—the brave and faithful dead. Belike +he could not run, they set on us so suddenly. When he could, he did +go, and he went to his death. They were my charge, the papers. I +had no right to put the responsibility on any other. I should have +kept them myself. I should have gone to Tarigny. I should never +have ventured myself through these black lanes. Fool! traitorous +fool!"</p> +<p>"Nay, Monsieur, the mischance might have befallen any one."</p> +<p>"It would not have befallen Villeroi! It would not have befallen +Rosny!" Monsieur exclaimed bitterly. "It befalls me because I am a +lack-wit who rushes into affairs for which he is not fit. I can +handle a sword, but I have no business to meddle in +statecraft."</p> +<p>"Then have those wiseheads out at St. Denis no business to +employ you," M. Étienne said. "He is not unknown to fame, +this Duke of St. Quentin; everybody knows how he goes about things. +Monsieur, they gave you the papers because no one else would carry +them into Paris. They knew you had no fear in you; and it is +because of that that the papers are lacking. But take heart, +Monsieur. We'll get them back."</p> +<p>"When? How?"</p> +<p>"Soon," M. Étienne answered, "and easily, if you will +tell me what they are like. Are they open?"</p> +<p>"I fear by now they may be. There are three sheets of names, and +a fourth sheet, a letter—all in cipher."</p> +<p>"Ah, but in that case—"</p> +<p>Monsieur cut short his son's jubilation.</p> +<p>"But—Lucas."</p> +<p>"Of course—I forgot him. He knows your ciphers, then?"</p> +<p>"Dolt that I was, he knows everything."</p> +<p>"Then must we lay hands on the papers before they reach Mayenne, +and all is saved," M. Étienne declared cheerfully. "These +fellows can't read a cipher. If the packet be not open, +Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"It was a span long, and half as wide; for all address, the +letters <i>St. Q.</i> in the corner. It was tied with red cord and +bore the seal of a flying falcon, and the motto, <i>Je +reviendrai</i>."</p> +<p>"What! the king's seal? That's serious. Expect, then, Monsieur, +to see the papers in an hour's time."</p> +<p>"Étienne, Étienne," Monsieur cried, "are you +mad?"</p> +<p>"No madder than is proper for a St. Quentin. It's simple enough. +I told you I recognized that worthy back there for one Bernet, who +lodged at an inn I wot of over beyond the markets. Do we betake +ourselves thither, we may easily fall in with some comrades of his +bosom who have not the misfortune to be lying dead in a back lane, +who will know something of your loss. Bernet's sort are no bigots; +while they work for the League, they will lend a kindly ear to the +chink of Kingsmen's florins."</p> +<p>"Ah," cried Monsieur, "then let us go." But M. Étienne +laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.</p> +<p>"Not you. I. They will kill you in the Halles just as cheerfully +as in the Quartier Marais. This is my affair."</p> +<p>He looked at Monsieur with kindling eyes, seeing his chance to +prove his devotion. The duke yielded to his eagerness.</p> +<p>"But," M. Étienne added generously, "you may have the +honour of paying the piper."</p> +<p>"I give you carte blanche, my son. Étienne, if you put +that packet into my hand, it is more than if you brought the +sceptre of France."</p> +<p>"Then go practise, Monsieur, at feeling more than king."</p> +<p>He embraced his father, and we turned off down the street.</p> +<p>The sun was well up by this time, and the city rousing to the +labours of the day. Half was I glad of the lateness of the hour, +for we ran no risk now of cutthroats; and half was I sorry, for it +behooves not a man supposed to be in the Bastille to show himself +too liberally to the broad eye of the streets. Every time—and +it was often—that we approached a person who to my nervous +imagination looked official, I shook in my shoes. The way seemed +fairly to bristle with soldiers, officers, judges; for aught I +knew, members of the Sixteen, Governor Belin himself. It was a +great surprise to me when at length we arrived without let or +hindrance before the door of a mean little drinking-place, our +goal.</p> +<p>We went in, and M. Étienne ordered wine, much to my +satisfaction. My stomach was beginning to remind me that I had +given it nothing for twelve hours or so, while I had worked my legs +hard.</p> +<p>"Does M. Bernet lodge with you?" my master asked of the +landlord. We were his only patrons at the moment.</p> +<p>"M. Bernet? Him with the eye out?"</p> +<p>"The same."</p> +<p>"Why, no, monsieur. I don't let lodgings. The building is not +mine. I but rent the ground floor for my purposes."</p> +<p>"But M. Bernet lodges in the house, then?"</p> +<p>"No, he doesn't. He lodges round the corner, in the court off +the Rue Clichet."</p> +<p>"But he comes here often?"</p> +<p>"Oh, aye. Every morning for his glass. And most evenings, +too."</p> +<p>M. Étienne laid down the drink-money, and something +more.</p> +<p>"Sometimes he has a friend with him, eh?"</p> +<p>The man laughed.</p> +<p>"No, monsieur; he comes in here alone. Many's the time I'll +standing in my door when he'll go by with some gallant, and he +never chances to see me or my shop. While if he's alone it's 'Good +morning, Jean. Anything in the casks to-day?' He can no more get by +my door than he'll get by Death's when the time comes."</p> +<p>"No," agreed M. Étienne; "we all stop there, soon or +late. Those friends of M. Bernet, then—there is none you +could put a name to?"</p> +<p>"Why, no, monsieur, more's the pity. He has none lives in this +quarter. M. Bernet's in low water, you understand, monsieur. If he +lives here, it is because he can't help it. But he goes elsewhere +for his friends."</p> +<p>"Then you can tell us, my man, where he lodges?"</p> +<p>"Aye, that can I," mine host answered, bustling out from behind +the bar, eager in the interest of the pleasant-spoken, open-handed +gallant. "Just round the corner of the Rue Clichet, in the court. +The first house on the left, that is his. I would go with monsieur, +only I cannot leave the shop alone, and the wife not back from +market. But monsieur cannot miss it. The first house in the court. +Thank you, monsieur. Au revoir, monsieur."</p> +<p>In the doorway of the first house on the left in the little +court stood an old man with a wooden leg, sweeping heaps of refuse +out of the passage.</p> +<p>"It appears that every one on this stair lacks something," M. +Étienne murmured to me. "It is the livery of the house. Can +you tell me, friend, where I may find M. Bernet?"</p> +<p>The concierge regarded us without cordiality, while by no means +ceasing his endeavours to cover our shoes with his sweepings.</p> +<p>"Third story back," he said.</p> +<p>"Does M. Bernet lodge alone?"</p> +<p>"One of him's enough," the old fellow growled, whacking out his +dirty broom on the door-post, powdering us with dust. M. +Étienne, coughing, pursued his inquiries:</p> +<p>"Ah, I understood he shared his lodgings with a comrade. He has +a friend, then, in the building?"</p> +<p>"Aye, I suppose so," the old chap grinned, "when monsieur walks +in."</p> +<p>"But he has another friend besides me, has he not?" M. +Étienne persisted. "One who, if he does not live here, comes +often to see M. Bernet?"</p> +<p>"You seem to know all about it. Better see Bernet himself, +instead of chattering here all day."</p> +<p>"Good advice, and I'll take it," said M. Étienne, lightly +setting foot on the stair, muttering to himself as he mounted, "and +come back to break your head, mon vieillard."</p> +<p>We went up the three flights and along the passage to the door +at the back, whereon M. Étienne pounded loudly. I could not +see his reason, and heartily I wished he would not. It seemed to me +a creepy thing to be knocking on a man's door when we knew very +well he would never open it again. We knocked as if we fully +thought him within, when all the while we knew he was lying a stone +on the stones under M. de Mirabeau's garden wall. Perhaps by this +time he had been found; perhaps one of the marquis's liveried +lackeys, or a passing idler, or a woman with a market-basket had +come upon him; perhaps even now he was being borne away on a plank +to be identified. And here were we, knocking, knocking, as if we +innocently expected him to open to us. I had a chill dread that +suddenly he would open to us. The door would swing wide and show +him pale and bloody, with the broken sword in his heart. At the +real creaking of a hinge I could scarce swallow a cry.</p> +<p>It was not Bernet's door, but the door at the front which +opened, letting a stream of sunlight into the dark passage. In the +doorway stood a woman, with two bare-legged babies clinging to her +skirts.</p> +<p>"Madame," M. Étienne addressed her, with the courtesy due +to a duchess, "I have been knocking at M. Bernet's door without +result. Perhaps you could give me some hint as to his +whereabouts?"</p> +<p>"Ah, I am sorry. I know nothing to tell monsieur," she cried +regretfully, impressed, as the concierge had not been, by his look +and manner. "But this I can say: he went out last night, and I do +not believe he has been in since. He went out about nine—or +it may have been later than that. Because I did not put the +children to bed till after dark; they enjoy running about in the +cool of the evening as much as anybody else, the little dears. And +they were cross last night, the day was so hot, and I was a long +time hushing them to sleep. Yes, it must have been after ten, +because they were asleep, and the man stumbling on the stairs woke +Pierre. And he cried for an hour. Didn't you, my angel?"</p> +<p>She picked one of the brats up in her arms to display him to us. +M. Étienne asked:</p> +<p>"What man?"</p> +<p>"Why, the one that came for him. The one he went out with."</p> +<p>"And what sort of person was this?"</p> +<p>"Nay, how was I to see? Would I be out walking the common +passage with a child to hush? I was rocking the cradle."</p> +<p>"But who does come here to visit M. Bernet?"</p> +<p>"I've never seen any one, monsieur. I've never laid eyes on M. +Bernet but twice. I keep in my apartment. And besides, we have only +been here a week."</p> +<p>"I thank you, madame," M. Étienne said, turning to the +stairs.</p> +<p>She ran out to the rail, babies and all.</p> +<p>"But I could take a message for him, monsieur. I will make a +point of seeing him when he comes in."</p> +<p>"I will not burden you, madame," M. Étienne answered from +the story below. But she was loath to stop talking, and hung over +the railing to call:</p> +<p>"Beware of your footing, monsieur. Those second-floor people are +not so tidy as they might be; one stumbles over all sorts of their +rubbish out in the public way."</p> +<p>The door in front of us opened with a startling suddenness, and +a big, brawny wench bounced out to demand of us:</p> +<p>"What is that she says? What are you saying of us, you +slut?"</p> +<p>We had no mind to be mixed in the quarrel. We fled for our lives +down the stair.</p> +<p>The old carl, though his sweeping was done, leaned on his broom +on the outer step.</p> +<p>"So you didn't find M. Bernet at home? I could have told you as +much had you been civil enough to ask."</p> +<p>I would have kicked the old curmudgeon, but M. Étienne +drew two gold pieces from his pouch.</p> +<p>"Perchance if I ask you civilly, you will tell me with whom M. +Bernet went out last night?"</p> +<p>"Who says he went out with anybody?"</p> +<p>"I do," and M. Étienne made a motion to return the coins +to their place.</p> +<p>"Since you know so much, it's strange you don't know a little +more," the old chap growled. "Well, Lord knows if it is really his, +but he goes by the name of Peyrot."</p> +<p>"And where does he lodge?"</p> +<p>"How should I know? I have trouble enough keeping track of my +own lodgers, without bothering my head about other people's."</p> +<p>"Now rack your brains, my friend, over this fellow," M. +Étienne said patiently, with a persuasive chink of his +pouch. "Recollect now; you have been sent to this monsieur with a +message."</p> +<p>"Well, Rue des Tournelles, sign of the Gilded Shears," the old +carl spat out at last.</p> +<p>"You are sure?"</p> +<p>"Hang me else."</p> +<p>"If you are lying to me, I will come back and beat you to a +jelly with your own broom."</p> +<p>"It's the truth, monsieur," he said, with some proper show of +respect at last. "Peyrot, at the Gilded Shears, Rue des Tournelles. +You may beat me to a jelly if I lie."</p> +<p>"It would do you good in any event," M. Étienne told him, +but flinging him his pistoles, nevertheless. The old fellow swooped +upon them, gathered them up, and was behind the closed door all in +one movement. But as we walked away, he opened a little wicket in +the upper panel, and stuck out his ugly head to yell after us:</p> +<p>"If M. Bernet's not at home yet, neither will his friend be. +I've told you what will profit you none."</p> +<p>"You mistake, Sir Gargoyle," M. Étienne called over his +shoulder. "Your information is entirely to my needs."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> +<h3><i>The Chevalier of the Tournelles.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>t was a long walk to the Rue des Tournelles, which lay in our +own quarter, not a dozen streets from the Hôtel St. Quentin +itself. We found the Gilded Shears hung before a tailor's shop in +the cellar of a tall, cramped structure, only one window wide. Its +narrow door was inhospitably shut, but at our summons the concierge +appeared to inform us that M. Peyrot did truly live here and, +moreover, was at home, having arrived but half an hour earlier than +we. He would go up and find out whether monsieur could see us.</p> +<p>But M. Étienne thought that formality unnecessary, and +was able, at small expense, to convince the concierge of it. We +went alone up the stairs and crept very quietly along the passage +toward the door of M. Peyrot. But our shoes made some noise on the +flags; had he been listening, he might have heard us as easily as +we heard him. Peyrot had not yet gone to bed after the night's +exertion; a certain clatter and gurgle convinced us that he was +refreshing himself with supper, or breakfast, before reposing.</p> +<p>M. Étienne stood still, his hand on the door-knob, eager, +hesitating. Here was the man; were the papers here? If they were, +should we secure them? A single false step, a single wrong word, +might foil us.</p> +<p>The sound of a chair pushed back came from within, and a young +man's quick, firm step passed across to the far side of the room. +We heard a box shut and locked. M. Étienne nipped my arm; we +thought we knew what went in. Then came steps again and a loud +yawn, and presently two whacks on the floor. We knew as well as if +we could see that Peyrot had thrown his boots across the room. Next +a clash and jangle of metal, that meant his sword-belt with its +accoutrements flung on the table. M. Étienne, with the rapid +murmur, "If I look at you, nab him," turned the door-handle.</p> +<p>But M. Peyrot had prepared against surprise by the simple +expedient of locking his door. He heard us, too, for he stopped in +the very middle of a prolonged yawn and held himself absolutely +still. M. Étienne called out softly:</p> +<p>"Peyrot!"</p> +<p>"Who is it?"</p> +<p>"I want to speak with you about something important."</p> +<p>"Who are you, then?"</p> +<p>"I'll tell you when you let me in."</p> +<p>"I'll let you in when you tell me."</p> +<p>"My name's Martin. I'm a friend of Bernet. I want to speak to +you quietly about a matter of importance."</p> +<p>"A friend of Bernet. Hmm! Well, friend of Bernet, it appears to +me you speak very well through the door."</p> +<p>"I want to speak with you about the affair of to-night."</p> +<p>"What affair?"</p> +<p>"To-night's affair."</p> +<p>"To-night? I go to a supper-party at St. Germain. What have you +to say about that?"</p> +<p>"Last night, then," M. Étienne amended, with rising +temper. "If you want me to shout it out on your stairs, the St. +Quentin affair."</p> +<p>"Now, what may you mean by that?" called the voice from within. +If Peyrot was startled by the name, he carried it off well.</p> +<p>"You know what I mean. Shall I take the house into our +confidence?"</p> +<p>"The house knows as much of your meaning as I. See here, friend +of Bernet, if you are that gentleman's mate, perhaps you have a +password about you."</p> +<p>"Aye," said M. Étienne, readily. "This is it: twenty +pistoles."</p> +<p>No answer came immediately; I could guess Peyrot puzzled. +Presently he called to us:</p> +<p>"By the bones of St. Anne, I don't believe a word you've been +saying. But I'll have you in and see what you look like."</p> +<p>We heard him getting into his boots again and buckling on his +baldric. Then we listened to the turning of a key; a lid was raised +and banged down again, and the lock refastened. It was the box once +more. M. Étienne and I looked at each other.</p> +<p>At length Peyrot opened the door and surveyed us.</p> +<p>"What, two friends of Bernet, ventre bleu!" But he allowed us to +enter.</p> +<p>He drew back before us with a flourishing bow, his hand resting +lightly on his belt, in which was stuck a brace of pistols. Any +idea of doing violence on the person of M. Peyrot we dismissed for +the present.</p> +<p>Our eyes travelled from his pistols over the rest of him. He was +small, lean, and wiry, with dark, sharp face and deep-set twinkling +eyes. One moment's glance gave us to know that Peyrot was no +fool.</p> +<p>My lord closed the door after him and went straight to the +point.</p> +<p>"M. Peyrot, you were engaged last night in an attack on the Duke +of St. Quentin. You did not succeed in slaying him, but you did +kill his man, and you took from him a packet. I come to buy +it."</p> +<p>He looked at us a little dazed, not understanding, I deem, how +we knew this. Certes, it had been too dark in the lane for his face +to be seen, and he had doubtless made sure that he was not followed +home. He said directly:</p> +<p>"You are the Comte de Mar."</p> +<p>"Even so, M. Peyrot. I did not care to have the whole stair know +it, but to you I have no hesitation in confiding that I am M. de +Mar."</p> +<p>M. Peyrot swept a bow till his head almost touched the +floor.</p> +<p>"My poor apartment is honoured."</p> +<p>As he louted low, I made a spring forward; I thought to pin him +before he could rise. But he was up with the lightness of a bird +from the bough and standing three yards away from me, where I +crouched on the spring like a foiled cat. He grinned at me in open +enjoyment.</p> +<p>"Monsieur desired?" he asked sympathetically.</p> +<p>"No, it is I who desire," said M. Étienne, clearing +himself a place to sit on the corner of the table. "I desire that +packet, monsieur. You know this little expedition of yours to-night +was something of a failure. When you report to the general-duke, he +will not be in the best of humours. He does not like failures, the +general; he will not incline to reward you dear. While I am in the +very best humour in the world."</p> +<p>He smiled to prove it. Nor do I think his complaisance +altogether feigned. The temper of our host amused him.</p> +<p>As for friend Peyrot, he still looked dazed. I thought it was +because he had not yet made up his mind what line to take; but had +I viewed him with neutral eyes I might easily have deemed his +bewilderment genuine.</p> +<p>"Perhaps we should get on better if I could understand what +monsieur is driving at?" he suggested. "Monsieur's remarks about +his noble father and the general-duke are interesting, but humble +Jean Peyrot, who does not move in court circles, is at a loss to +translate them. In other words, I have no notion what you are +talking about."</p> +<p>"Oh, come," M. Étienne cried, "no shuffling, Peyrot. We +know as well as you where you were before dawn."</p> +<p>"Before dawn? Marry, I was sleeping the sleep of the +virtuous."</p> +<p>M. Étienne slipped across the room as quickly as Peyrot's +self might have done, lifted up a heavy curtain hanging before an +alcove, and disclosed the bed folded smooth, the pillow +undisturbed. He turned with a triumphant grin on the owner, who +showed all his teeth pleasantly in answer, no whit abashed.</p> +<p>"For all you are a count, monsieur, you have the worst manners +ever came inside these walls."</p> +<p>M. le Comte, with no attempt at mending them, went on a tour +about the room, examining with sniffing interest all its furniture, +even to the dishes and tankards on the table. Peyrot, leaning +against the wall by the window, regarded him steadily, with +impassive face. At length M. Étienne walked over to the +chest by the chimneypiece and deliberately put his hand on the +key.</p> +<p>Instantly Peyrot's voice rang out, "Stop!" M. Étienne, +turning, looked into his pistol-barrel.</p> +<p>My lord stood exactly as he was, bent over the chest, his +fingers on the key, looking over his shoulder at the bravo with +raised, protesting eyebrows and laughing mouth. But though he +laughed, he stood still.</p> +<p>"If you make a movement I do not like, M. de Mar, I will shoot +you as I would a rat. Your side is down and mine is up; I have no +fear to kill you. It will be painful to me, but if necessary I +shall do it."</p> +<p>M. Étienne sat down on the chest and smiled more amiably +than ever.</p> +<p>"Why—have I never known you before, Peyrot?"</p> +<p>"One moment, monsieur." The nose of the pistol pointed around to +me. "Go over there to the door, you."</p> +<p>I retreated, covered by the shining muzzle, to a spot that +pleased him.</p> +<p>"Now are we more comfortable," Peyrot observed, pulling a chair +over against the wall and seating him, the pistol on his knee. +"Monsieur was saying?"</p> +<p>Monsieur crossed his legs, as if of all seats in the world he +liked his present one the best. He had brought none of the airs of +the noble into this business, realizing shrewdly that they would +but hamper him, as lace ruffles hamper a duellist. Peyrot, treeless +adventurer, living by his sharp sword and sharp wits, reverenced a +count no more than a hod-carrier. His occasional mocking deference +was more insulting than outright rudeness; but M. Étienne +bore it unruffled. Possibly he schooled himself so to bear it, but +I think rather that he felt so easily secure on the height of his +gentlehood that Peyrot's impudence merely tickled him.</p> +<p>"I was wondering," he answered pleasantly, "how long you have +dwelt in this town and I not known it. You are from Guienne, +methinks."</p> +<p>"Carcassonne way," the other said indifferently. Then memory +bringing a deep twinkle to his eye, he added: "What think you, +monsieur? I was left a week-old babe on the monastery step; was +reared up in holiness within its sacred walls; chorister at ten, +novice at eighteen, full-fledged friar, fasting, praying, and +singing misereres, exhorting dying saints and living sinners, at +twenty."</p> +<p>"A very pretty brotherhood, you for sample."</p> +<p>"Nay, I am none. Else I might have stayed. But one night I took +leg-bail, lived in the woods till my hair grew, and struck out for +Paris. And never regretted it, neither."</p> +<p>He leaned his head back, his eyes fixed contemplatively on the +ceiling, and burst into song, in voice as melodious as a +lark's:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Piety and Grace and Gloom,<br /> +For such like guests I have no room!<br /> +Piety and Gloom and Grace,<br /> +I bang my door shut in your face!<br /> +Gloom and Grace and Piety,<br /> +I set my dog on such as ye!</i></p> +</div> +<p>Finishing his stave, he continued to beat time with his heel on +the floor and to gaze upon the ceiling. But I think we could not +have twitched a finger without his noting it. M. Étienne +rose and leaned across the table toward him.</p> +<p>"M. Peyrot has made his fortune in Paris? Monsieur rolls in +wealth, of course?"</p> +<p>Peyrot shrugged his shoulders, his eyes leaving the ceiling and +making a mocking pilgrimage of the room, resting finally on his own +rusty clothing.</p> +<p>"Do I look it?" he answered.</p> +<p>"Oh," said M. Étienne, slowly, as one who digests an +entirely new idea, "I supposed monsieur must be as rich as a +Lombard, he is so cold on the subject of turning an honest +penny."</p> +<p>Peyrot's roving eye condescended to meet his visitor's.</p> +<p>"Say on," he permitted lazily.</p> +<p>"I offer twenty pistoles for a packet, seal unbroken, taken at +dawn from the person of M. de St. Quentin's squire."</p> +<p>"Now you are talking sensibly," the scamp said, as if M. +Étienne had been the shuffler. "That is a fair offer and +demands a fair answer. Moreover, such zeal as you display deserves +success. I will look about a bit this morning among my friends and +see if I can get wind of your packet. I will meet you at +dinner-time at the inn of the Bonne Femme."</p> +<p>"Dinner-time is far hence. You forget, M. Peyrot, that you are +risen earlier than usual. I will go out and sit on the stair for +five minutes while you consult your friends."</p> +<p>Peyrot grinned cheerfully.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar doesn't seem able to get it through his head that I +know nothing whatever of this affair."</p> +<p>"No, I certainly don't get that through my head."</p> +<p>Peyrot regarded him with an air ill-used yet compassionate, such +as he might in his monkish days have employed toward one who could +not be convinced, for instance, of the efficacy of prayer.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar," quoth he, plaintively, in pity half for himself so +misunderstood, half for his interlocutor so wilfully blind, "I do +solemnly assure you, once and for all, that I know nothing of this +affair of yours. Till you so asserted, I had no knowledge that +Monsieur, your honoured father, had been set on, and deeply am I +pained to hear it. These be evil days when such things can happen. +As for your packet, I learn of it only through your word, having no +more to do with this deplorable business than a babe unborn."</p> +<p>I declare I was almost shaken, almost thought we had wronged +him. But M. Étienne gauged him otherwise.</p> +<p>"Your words please me," he began.</p> +<p>"The contemplation of virtue," the rascal droned with down-drawn +lips, in pulpit tone, "is always uplifting to the spirit."</p> +<p>"You have boasted," M. Étienne went on, "that your side +was up and mine down. Did you not reflect that soon my side may be +up and yours down, you would hardly be at such pains to deny that +you ever bared blade against the Duke of St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"I have made my declaration in the presence of two witnesses, +far too honourable to falsify, that I know nothing of the attack on +the duke," Peyrot repeated with apparent satisfaction. "But of +course it is possible that by scouring Paris I might get on the +scent of your packet. Twenty pistoles, though. That is not +much."</p> +<p>M. Étienne stood silent, drumming tattoos on the table, +not pleased with the turn of the matter, not seeing how to better +it. Had we been sure of our suspicions, we would have charged him, +pistol or no pistol, trusting that our quickness would prevent his +shooting, or that the powder would miss fire, or that the ball +would fly wide, or that we should be hit in no vital part; +trusting, in short, that God was with us and would in some fashion +save us. But we could not be sure that the packet was with Peyrot. +What we had heard him lock in the chest might have been these very +pistols that he had afterward taken out again. Three men had fled +from M. de Mirabeau's alley; we had no means of knowing whether +this Peyrot were he who ran as we came up, he whom I had +encountered, or he who had engaged M. Étienne. And did we +know, that would not tell us which of the three had stabbed and +plundered Huguet. Peyrot might have the packet, or he might know +who had it, or he might be in honest ignorance of its existence. If +he had it, it were a crying shame to pay out honest money for what +we might take by force; to buy your own goods from a thief were a +sin. But supposing he had it not? If we could seize upon him, +disarm him, bind him, threaten him, beat him, rack him, would +he—granted he knew—reveal its whereabouts? Writ large +in his face was every manner of roguery, but not one iota of +cowardice. He might very well hold us baffled, hour on hour, while +the papers went to Mayenne. Even should he tell, we had the +business to begin again from the very beginning, with some other +knave mayhap worse than this.</p> +<p>Plainly the game was in Peyrot's hands; we could play only to +his lead.</p> +<p>"If you will put the packet into my hands, seal unbroken, this +day at eleven, I engage to meet you with twenty pistoles," M. +Étienne said.</p> +<p>"Twenty pistoles were a fair price for the packet. But monsieur +forgets the wear and tear on my conscience incurred for him. I must +be reimbursed for that."</p> +<p>"Conscience, quotha!"</p> +<p>"Certainly, monsieur. I am in my way as honest a man as you in +yours. I have never been false to the hand that fed me. If, +therefore, I divert to you a certain packet which of rights goes +elsewhere, my sin must be made worth my while. My conscience will +sting me sorely, but with the aid of a glass and a lass I may +contrive to forget the pain.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Mirth, my love, and Folly dear,<br /> +Baggages, you're welcome here!</i></p> +</div> +<p>I fix the injury to my conscience at thirty pistoles, M. le +Comte. Fifty in all will bring the packet to your hand."</p> +<p>It had been a pleasure to M. le Comte to fling a tankard in the +fellow's face. But the steadfast determination to win the papers +for Monsieur, and, possibly, respect for Peyrot's weapon, withheld +him.</p> +<p>"Very well, then. In the cabaret of the Bonne Femme, at eleven. +You may do as you like about appearing; I shall be there with my +fifty pistoles."</p> +<p>"What guaranty have I that you will deal fairly with me?"</p> +<p>"The word of a St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Sufficient, of course."</p> +<p>The scamp rose with a bow.</p> +<p>"Well, I have not the word of a gentleman to offer you, but I +give you the opinion of Jean Peyrot, sometime Father Ambrosius, +that he and the packet will be there. This has been a delightful +call, monsieur, and I am loath to let you go. But it is time I was +free to look for that packet."</p> +<p>M. Étienne's eyes went over to the chest.</p> +<p>"I wish you all success in your arduous search."</p> +<p>"It is like to be, in truth, a long and weary search," Peyrot +sighed. "My ignorance of the perpetrators of the outrage makes my +task difficult indeed. But rest assured, monsieur, that I shall +question every man in Paris, if need be. I shall leave no stone +unturned."</p> +<p>M. Étienne still pensively regarded the chest.</p> +<p>"If you leave no key unturned, 'twill be more to the +purpose."</p> +<p>"You appear yet to nurse the belief that I have the packet. But +as a matter of fact, monsieur, I have not."</p> +<p>I studied his grave face, and could not for the life of me make +out whether he were lying. M. Étienne said merely:</p> +<p>"Come, Félix."</p> +<p>"You'll drink a glass before you go?" Peyrot cried hospitably, +running to fill a goblet muddy with his last pouring. But M. +Étienne drew back.</p> +<p>"Well, I don't blame you. I wouldn't drink it myself if I were a +count," Peyrot said, setting the draught to his own lips. "After +this noon I shall drink it no more all summer. I shall live like a +king.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Kiss me, Folly; hug me, Mirth:<br /> +Life without you's nothing worth!</i></p> +</div> +<p>Monsieur, can I lend you a hat?"</p> +<p>I had already opened the door and was holding it for my master +to pass, when Peyrot picked up from the floor and held out to him a +battered and dirty toque, with its draggled feather hanging +forlornly over the side. Chafed as he was, M. Étienne could +not deny a laugh to the rascal's impudence.</p> +<p>"I cannot rob monsieur," he said.</p> +<p>"M. le Comte need have no scruple. I shall buy me better out of +his fifty pistoles."</p> +<p>But M. Étienne was out in the passage, I following, +banging the door after me. We went down the stair in time to +Peyrot's lusty carolling:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Mirth I'll keep, though riches fly,<br /> +While Folly's sure to linger by!</i></p> +</div> +<p>"Think you we'll get the packet?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Aye. I think he wants his fifty pistoles. Mordieu! it's galling +to let this dog set the terms."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I cried, "perhaps he'll not stir out at once. I'll +run home for Vigo and his men, and we'll make the rascal +disgorge."</p> +<p>"Now are you more zealous than honest, boy."</p> +<p>I was silent, abashed, and he added:</p> +<p>"I had not been afraid to try conclusions with him, pistols or +not, were I sure that he had the packet. I believe he has, yet +there is the chance that, after all, in this one particular he +speaks truth. I cannot take any chances; I must get those papers +for Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Yes, we could not have done otherwise, M. Étienne. But, +monsieur, will you dare go to this inn? M. le Comte is a man in +jeopardy; he may not keep rendezvous of the enemy's choosing."</p> +<p>"I might not keep one of Lucas's choosing. Though," he added, +with a smile, "natheless, I think I should. But it is not likely +this fellow knows of the warrant against me. Paris is a big place; +news does not travel all over town as quickly as at St. Quentin. I +think friend Peyrot has more to gain by playing fair than playing +false, and appointing the cabaret of the Bonne Femme has a very +open, pleasing sound. Did he mean to brain me he would scarce have +set that place."</p> +<p>"It was not Peyrot alone I meant. But monsieur is so well known. +In the streets, or at the dinner-hour, some one may see you who +knows Mayenne is after you."</p> +<p>"Oh, of that I must take my chance," he made answer, no whit +troubled by the warning. "I go home now for the ransom, and I will +e'en be at the pains to doff this gear for something darker."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I pleaded, "why not stay at home to get your dues of +sleep? Vigo will bring the gold; he and I will put the matter +through."</p> +<p>"I ask not your advice," he cried haughtily; then with instant +softening: "Nay, this is my affair, Félix. I have taken it +upon myself to recover Monsieur his papers. I must carry it through +myself to the very omega."</p> +<p>I said no more, partly because it would have done no good, +partly because, in spite of the strange word, I understood how he +felt.</p> +<p>"Perhaps you should go home and sleep," he suggested +tenderly.</p> +<p>"Nay," cried I. "I had a cat-nap in the lane; I'm game to see it +through."</p> +<p>"Then," he commanded, "you may stay here-abouts and watch that +door. For I have some curiosity to know whether he will need to +fare forth after the treasure. If he do as I guess, he will spend +the next hours as you counsel me, making up arrears of sleep, and +you'll not see him till a quarter or so before eleven. But whenever +he comes out, follow him. Keep your safe distance and dog him if +you can."</p> +<p>"And if I lose him?"</p> +<p>"Come back home. Station yourself now where he won't notice you. +That arch there should serve."</p> +<p>We had been standing at the street corner, sheltered by a +balcony over our heads from the view of Peyrot's window.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I said, "I do wish you would bring Vigo back with +you."</p> +<p>"Félix," he laughed, "you are the worst courtier I ever +saw."</p> +<p>I crossed the street as he told me, glancing up at the third +story of the house of the Gilded Shears. No watcher was visible. +From the archway, which was entrance to a court of tall houses, I +could well command Peyrot's door, myself in deep shadow M. +Étienne nodded to me and walked off whistling, staring full +in the face every one he met.</p> +<p>I would fain have occupied myself as we guessed the knave Peyrot +to be doing, and shut mine aching eyes in sleep. But I was sternly +determined to be faithful to my trust, and though for my greater +comfort—cold enough comfort it was—I sat me down on the +paving-stones, yet I kept my eyelids propped open, my eyes on +Peyrot's door. I was helped in carrying out my virtuous resolve by +the fact that the court was populous and my carcass in the entrance +much in the way of the busy passers-by, so that full half of them +swore at me, and the half of that half kicked me. The hard part was +that I could not fight them because of keeping my eyes on Peyrot's +door.</p> +<p>He delayed so long and so long that I feared with shamed +misgiving I must have let him slip, when at length, on the very +stroke of eleven, he sauntered forth. He was yawning prodigiously, +but set off past my lair at a smart pace. I followed at goodly +distance, but never once did he glance around. He led the way +straight to the sign of the Bonne Femme.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="324.jpg"></a> <a href="images/324.jpg"><img src= +"images/324.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>AT THE "BONNE FEMME."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>I entered two minutes after him, passing from the cabaret, where +my men were not, to the dining-hall, where, to my relief, they +were. At two huge fireplaces savoury soups bubbled, juicy rabbits +simmered, fat capons roasted; the smell brought the tears to my +eyes. A concourse of people was about: gentles and burghers seated +at table, or passing in and out; waiters running back and forth +from the fires, drawers from the cabaret. I paused to scan the +throng, jostled by one and another, before I descried my master and +my knave. M. Étienne, the prompter at the rendezvous, had, +like a philosopher, ordered dinner, but he had deserted it now and +stood with Peyrot, their backs to the company, their elbows on the +deep window-ledge, their heads close together. I came up suddenly +to Peyrot's side, making him jump.</p> +<p>"Oh, it's you, my little gentleman!" he exclaimed, smiling to +show all his firm teeth, as white and even as a court beauty's. He +looked in the best of humours, as was not wonderful, considering +that he was engaged in fastening up in the breast of his doublet +something hard and lumpy. M. Étienne held up a packet for me +to see, before Peyrot's shielding body; it was tied with red cord +and sealed with a spread falcon over the tiny letters, <i>Je +reviendrai</i>. In the corner was written very small, <i>St. Q.</i> +Smiling, he put it into the breast of his doublet.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," my scamp said to him with close lips that the room +might not hear, "you are a gentleman. If there ever comes a day +when You-know-who is down and you are up, I shall be pleased to +serve you as well as I have served him."</p> +<p>"I hanker not for such service as you have given him," M. +Étienne answered. Peyrot's eyes twinkled brighter than +ever.</p> +<p>"I have said it. I will serve you as vigourously as I have +served him. Bear me in mind, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Come, Félix," was all my lord's answer.</p> +<p>Peyrot sprang forward to detain us.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, will you not dine with me? Both of you, I beg. I will +have every wine the cellar affords."</p> +<p>"No," said M. Étienne, carelessly, not deigning to anger; +"but there is my dinner for you, an you like. I have paid for it, +but I have other business than to eat it."</p> +<p>Bidding a waiter serve M. Peyrot, he walked from the room +without other glance at him. A slight shade fell over the reckless, +scampish face; he was a moment vexed that we scorned him. Merely +vexed, I think; shamed not at all; he knew not the feel of it. Even +in the brief space I watched him, as I passed to the door, his +visage cleared, and he sat him down contentedly to finish M. +Étienne's veal broth.</p> +<p>My lord paced along rapidly and gladly, on fire to be before +Monsieur with the packet. But one little cloud, transient as +Peyrot's, passed across his lightsome countenance.</p> +<p>"I would that knave were of my rank," he said. "I had not left +him without slapping a glove in his face."</p> +<p>That Peyrot had come off scot-free put me out of patience, too, +but I regretted the gold we had given him more than the wounds we +had not. The money, on the contrary, troubled M. Étienne no +whit; what he had never toiled for he parted with lightly.</p> +<p>We came to our gates and went straightway up the stairs to +Monsieur's cabinet. He sprang to meet us at the door, snatching the +packet from his son's eager hand.</p> +<p>"Well done, Étienne, my champion! An you brought me the +crown of France I were not so pleased!"</p> +<p>The flush of joy at generous praise of good work kindled on M. +Étienne's cheek; it were hard to say which of the two +messieurs beamed the more delightedly on the other.</p> +<p>"My son, you have brought me back my honour," spoke Monsieur, +more quietly, the exuberance of his delight abating, but leaving +him none the less happy. "If you had sinned against me—which +I do not admit, dear lad—it were more than made up for +now."</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur, I have often asked myself of late what I was born +for. Now I know it was for this morning."</p> +<p>"For this and many more mornings, Étienne," Monsieur made +gay answer, laying a hand on his son's shoulder. "Courage, comrade. +We'll have our lady yet."</p> +<p>He smiled at him hearteningly and turned away to his +writing-table. For all his sympathy, he was, as was natural, more +interested in his papers than in Mlle. de Montluc.</p> +<p>"I'll get this off my hands at once," he went on, with the +effect of talking to himself rather than to us. "It shall go +straight off to Lemaître. You'd better go to bed, both of +you. My faith, you've made a night of it!"</p> +<p>"Won't you take me for your messenger, Monsieur? You need a +trusty one."</p> +<p>"A kindly offer, Étienne. But you have earned your rest. +And you, true as you are, are yet not the only staunch servant I +have, God be thanked. Gilles will take this straight from my hand +to Lemaître's."</p> +<p>He had inclosed the packet in a clean wrapper, but now, a +thought striking him, he took it out again.</p> +<p>"I'd best break off the royal seal, lest it be spied among the +president's papers. I'll scratch out my initial, too. The cipher +tells nothing."</p> +<p>"He is not likely to leave it about, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"No, but this time we'll provide for every chance. We'll take +all the precautions ingenuity can devise or patience execute."</p> +<p>He crushed the seal in his fingers, and took the knife-point to +scrape the wax away. It slipped and severed the cords. Of its own +accord the stiff paper of the flap unfolded.</p> +<p>"The cipher seems as determined to show itself to me again as if +I were in danger of forgetting it," Monsieur said idly. "The truth +is—"</p> +<p>He stopped in the middle of a word, snatching up the packet, +slapping it wide open, tearing it sheet from sheet. Each was +absolutely blank!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> +<h3><i>The Florentines.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>. Étienne, forgetting his manners, snatched the papers +from his father's hand, turning them about and about, not able to +believe his senses. A man hurled over a cliff, plunging in one +moment from flowery lawns into a turbulent sea, might feel as he +did.</p> +<p>"But the seal!" he stammered.</p> +<p>"The seal was genuine," Monsieur answered, startled as he. "How +your fellow could have the king's signet—"</p> +<p>"See," M. Étienne cried, scratching at the fragments. +"This is it. Dunce that I am not to have guessed it! Look, there is +a layer of paper embedded in the wax. Look, he cut the seal out, +smeared hot wax on the false packet, pressed in the seal, and +curled the new wax over the edge. It was cleverly done; the seal is +but little thicker, little larger than before. It did not look +tampered with. Would you have suspected it, Monsieur?" he demanded +piteously.</p> +<p>"I had no thought of it. But this Peyrot—it may not yet be +too late—"</p> +<p>"I will go back," M. Étienne cried, darting to the door. +But Monsieur laid forcible hands on him.</p> +<p>"Not you, Étienne. You were hurt yesterday; you have not +closed your eyes for twenty-four hours. I don't want a dead son. I +blame you not for the failure; not another man of us all would have +come so near success."</p> +<p>"Dolt! I should have known he could not deal honestly," M. +Étienne cried. "I should have known he would trick me. But I +did not think to doubt the crest. I should have opened it there in +the inn, but it was Lemaître's sealed packet. However, Peyrot +sat down to my dinner: I can be back before he has finished his +three kinds of wine."</p> +<p>"Stop, Étienne," Monsieur commanded. "I forbid you. You +are gray with fatigue. Vigo shall go."</p> +<p>M. Étienne turned on him in fiery protest; then the blaze +in his eyes flickered out, and he made obedient salute.</p> +<p>"So be it. Let him go. I am no use; I bungle everything I touch. +But he may accomplish something."</p> +<p>He flung himself down on the bench in the corner, burying his +face in his hands, weary, chagrined, disheartened. A statue-maker +might have copied him for a figure of Defeat.</p> +<p>"Go find Vigo," Monsieur bade me, "and then get you to bed."</p> +<p>I obeyed both orders with all alacrity.</p> +<p>I too smarted, but mine was the private's disappointment, not +the general's who had planned the campaign. The credit of the +rescue was none of mine; no more was the blame of failure. I need +not rack myself with questioning, Had I in this or that done +differently, should I not have triumphed? I had done only what I +was told. Yet I was part of the expedition; I could not but share +the grief. If I did not wet my pillow with my tears, it was because +I could not keep awake long enough. Whatever my sorrows, speedily +they slipped from me.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>I roused with a start from deep, dreamless sleep, and then +wondered whether, after all, I had waked. Here, to be sure, was +Marcel's bed, on which I had lain down; there was the high +gable-window, through which the westering sun now poured. There was +the wardrobe open, with Marcel's Sunday suit hanging on the peg; +here were the two stools, the little image of the Virgin on the +wall. But here was also something else, so out of place in the +chamber of a page that I pinched myself to make sure it was real. +At my elbow on the pallet lay a box of some fine foreign wood, +beautifully grained by God and polished by grateful man. It was +about as large as my lord's despatch-box, bound at the edges with +shining brass and having long brass hinges wrought in a design of +leaves and flowers. Beside the box were set three shallow trays, +lined with blue velvet, and filled full of goldsmith's +work-glittering chains, linked or twisted, bracelets in the form of +yellow snakes with green eyes, buckles with ivory teeth, +glove-clasps thick with pearls, ear-rings and finger-rings with +precious stones.</p> +<p>I stared bedazzled from the display to him who stood as showman. +This was a handsome lad, seemingly no older than I, though taller, +with a shock of black hair, rough and curly, and dark, smooth face, +very boyish and pleasant. He was dressed well, in bourgeois +fashion; yet there was about him and his apparel something, I could +not tell what, unfamiliar, different from us others.</p> +<p>He, meeting my eye, smiled in the friendliest way, like a child, +and said, in Italian:</p> +<p>"Good day to you, my little gentleman."</p> +<p>I had still the uncertain feeling that I must be in a dream, for +why should an Italian jeweller be displaying his treasures to me, a +penniless page? But the dream was amusing; I was in no haste to +wake.</p> +<p>I knew my Italian well enough, for Monsieur's confessor, the +Father Francesco, who had followed him into exile, was Florentine; +and as he always spoke his own tongue to Monsieur, and I was always +at the duke's heels, I picked up a deal of it. After Monsieur's +going, the father, already a victim, poor man, to the +falling-sickness, of which he died, stayed behind with us, and I +found a pricking pleasure in talking with him in the speech he +loved, of Monsieur's Roman journey, of his exploits in the war of +the Three Henrys. Therefore the words came easily to my lips to +answer this lad from over the Alps:</p> +<p>"I give you good day, friend."</p> +<p>He looked somewhat surprised and more than pleased, breaking at +once into voluble speech:</p> +<p>"The best of greetings to you, young sir. Now, what can I sell +you this fine day? I have not been half a week in this big city of +yours, yet already I have but one boxful of trinkets left. They are +noble, open-handed customers, these gallants of Paris. I have not +to show them my wares twice, I can tell you. They know what key +will unlock their fair mistresses' hearts. And now, what can I sell +you, my little gentleman, to buy your sweetheart's kisses?"</p> +<p>"Nay, I have no sweetheart," I said, "and if I had, she would +not wear these gauds."</p> +<p>"She would if she could get them, then," he retorted. "Now, let +me give you a bit of advice, my friend, for I see you are but +young: buy this gold chain of me, or this ring with this little +dove on it,—see, how cunningly wrought,—and you'll not +lack long for a sweetheart."</p> +<p>His words huffed me a bit, for he spoke as if he were vastly my +senior.</p> +<p>"I want no sweetheart," I returned with dignity, "to be bought +with gold."</p> +<p>"Nay," he cried quickly, "but when your own valour and prowess +have inflamed her with passion, you should be willing to reward her +devotion and set at rest her suspense by a suitable gift."</p> +<p>I looked at him uneasily, for I had a suspicion that he might be +making fun of me. But his countenance was as guileless as a +kitten's.</p> +<p>"Well, I tell you again I have no sweetheart and I want no +sweetheart," I said; "I have no time to bother with girls."</p> +<p>At once he abandoned the subject, seeing that he was making +naught by it.</p> +<p>"The messer is very much occupied?" he asked with exceeding +deference. "The messer has no leisure for trifling in boudoirs; he +is occupied with great matters? Oh, that can I well believe, and I +cry the messer's pardon. For when the mind is taken up with affairs +of state, it is distasteful to listen even for a moment to light +talk of maids and jewels."</p> +<p>Again I eyed him challengingly; but he, with face utterly +unconscious, was sorting over his treasures. I made up my mind his +queer talk was but the outlandish way of a foreigner. He looked at +me again, serious and respectful.</p> +<p>"The messer must often be engaged in great risks, in perilous +encounters. Is it not so? Then he will do well to carry ever over +his heart the sacred image of our Lord."</p> +<p>He held up to my inspection a silver rosary from which depended +a crucifix of ivory, the sad image of the dying Christ carved upon +it. Even in Monsieur's chapel, even in the church at St. Quentin, +was nothing so masterfully wrought as this figurine to be held in +the palm of the hand. The tears started in my eyes to look at it, +and I crossed myself in reverence. I bethought me how I had +trampled on my crucifix; the stranger all unwittingly had struck a +bull's-eye. I had committed grave offence against God, but perhaps +if, putting gewgaws aside, I should give my all for this cross, he +would call the account even. I knew nothing of the value of a +carving such as this, but I remembered I was not moneyless, and I +said, albeit somewhat shyly:</p> +<p>"I cannot take the rosary. But I should like well the crucifix. +But then, I have only ten pistoles."</p> +<p>"Ten pistoles!" he repeated contemptuously. "Corpo di Bacco! The +workmanship alone is worth twenty." Then, viewing my fallen visage, +he added: "However, I have received fair treatment in this house, +beshrew me but I have! I have made good sales to your young count. +What sort of master is he, this M. le Comte de Mar?"</p> +<p>"Oh, there's nobody like him," I answered, "except, of course, +M. le Duc."</p> +<p>"Ah, then you have two masters?" he inquired curiously, yet with +a certain careless air. It struck me suddenly, overwhelmingly, that +he was a spy, come here under the guise of an honest tradesman. But +he should gain nothing from me.</p> +<p>"This is the house of the Duke of St. Quentin," I said. "Surely +you could not come in at the gate without discovering that?"</p> +<p>"He is a very grand seigneur, then, this duke?"</p> +<p>"Assuredly," I replied cautiously.</p> +<p>"More of a man than the Comte de Mar?"</p> +<p>I would have told him to mind his own business, had it not been +for my hopes of the crucifix. If he planned to sell it to me cheap, +thereby hoping to gain information, marry, I saw no reason why I +should not buy it at his price—and withhold the information. +So I made civil answer:</p> +<p>"They are both as gallant gentlemen as any living. About this +cross, now—"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes," he answered at once, accepting with +willingness—well feigned, I thought—the change of +topic. "You can give me ten pistoles, say you? 'Tis making you a +present of the treasure. Yet, since I have received good treatment +at the hands of your master, I will e'en give it to you. You shall +have your cross."</p> +<p>With suspicions now at point of certainty, I drew out my pouch +from under my pillow, and counted into his hand the ten pieces +which were my store. My rosary I drew out likewise; I had broken it +when I shattered the cross, but one of the inn-maids had tied it +together for me with a thread, and it served very well. The Italian +unhooked the delicate carving from the silver chain and hung it on +my wooden one, which I threw over my neck, vastly pleased with my +new possession. Marcel's Virgin was a botch compared with it. I +remembered that mademoiselle, who had given me half my wealth, the +half that won me the rest, had bidden me buy something in the marts +of Paris; and I told myself with pride that she could not fail to +hold me high did she know how, passing by all vanities, I had spent +my whole store for a holy image. Few boys of my age would be +capable of the like. Certes, I had done piously, and should now +take a further pious joy, my purchase safe on my neck, in thwarting +the wiles of this serpent. I would play with him awhile, tease and +baffle him, before handing him over in triumph to Vigo.</p> +<p>Sure enough, he began as I had expected:</p> +<p>"This M. de Mar down-stairs, he is a very good master, I +suppose?"</p> +<p>"Yes," I said, without enthusiasm.</p> +<p>"He has always treated you well?"</p> +<p>I bethought myself of the trick I had played successfully with +the officer of the burgess guard.</p> +<p>"Why, yes, I suppose so. I have only known him two days."</p> +<p>"But you have known him well? You have seen much of him?" he +demanded with ill-concealed eagerness.</p> +<p>"But not so very much," I made tepid answer. "I have not been +with him all the time of these two days. I have seen really very +little of him."</p> +<p>"And you know not whether or no he be a good master?"</p> +<p>"Oh, pretty good. So-so."</p> +<p>He sprang forward to deal me a stinging box on the ear.</p> +<p>I was out of bed at one bound, scattering the trinkets in a +golden rain and rushing for him. He retreated before me. It was to +save his jewels, but I, fool that I was, thought it pure fear of +me. I dashed at him, all headlong confidence; the next I knew he +had somehow twisted his foot between mine, and tripped me before I +could grapple. Never was wight more confounded to find himself on +the floor.</p> +<p>I was starting up again unhurt when I saw something that made me +to forget my purpose. I sat still where I was, with dropped jaw and +bulging eyes. For his hair, that had been black, was golden.</p> +<p>"Ventre bleu!" I said.</p> +<p>"And so you know not you little villain, whether you have a good +master or not?"</p> +<p>"But how was I to dream it was monsieur?" I cried, confounded. +"I knew there was something queer about him—about you, I +mean—about the person I took you for, that is. I knew there +was something wrong about you—that is to say, I mean, I +thought there was; I mean I knew he wasn't what he seemed—you +were not. And Peyrot fooled us, and I didn't want to be fooled +again."</p> +<p>"Then I am a good master?" he demanded truculently, advancing +upon me.</p> +<p>I put up my hands to my ears.</p> +<p>"The best, monsieur. And monsieur wrestled well, too."</p> +<p>"I can't prove that by you, Félix," he retorted, and +laughed in my nettled face. "Well, if you've not trampled on my +jewels, I forgive your contumacy."</p> +<p>If I had, my bare toes had done them no harm. I crawled about +the floor, gathering them all up and putting them on the bed, where +I presently sat down myself to stare at him, trying to realize him +for M. le Comte. He had seated himself, too, and was dusting his +trampled wig and clapping it on again.</p> +<p>He had shaved off his mustaches and the tuft on his chin, and +the whole look of him was changed. A year had gone for every stroke +of the razor; he seemed such a boy, so particularly guileless! He +had stained his face so well that it looked for all the world as +though the Southern sun had done it for him; his eyebrows and, +lashes were dark by nature. His wig came much lower over his +forehead than did his own hair, and altered the upper part of his +face as much as the shaving of the lower. Only his eyes were the +same. He had had his back to the window at first, and I had not +noted them; but now that he had turned, his eyes gleamed so light +as to be fairly startling in his dark face—like stars in a +stormy sky.</p> +<p>"Well, then, how do you like me?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur confounds me. It's witchery. I cannot get used to +him."</p> +<p>"That's as I would have it," he returned, coming over to the +bedside to arrange his treasures. "For if I look new to you, I +think I may look so to the Hôtel de Lorraine."</p> +<p>"Monsieur goes to the Hôtel de Lorraine as a jeweller?" I +cried, enlightened.</p> +<p>"Aye. And if the ladies do not crowd about me—" he broke +off with a gesture, and put his trays back in his box.</p> +<p>"Well, I wondered, monsieur. I wondered if we were going to sell +ornaments to Peyrot."</p> +<p>He locked the box and proceeded solemnly and thoroughly to damn +Peyrot. He cursed him waking, cursed him sleeping; cursed him +eating, cursed him drinking; cursed him walking, riding, sitting; +cursed him summer, cursed him winter; cursed him young, cursed him +old; living, dying, and dead. I inferred that the packet had not +been recovered.</p> +<p>"No, pardieu! Vigo went straight on horseback to the Bonne +Femme, but Peyrot had vanished. So he galloped round to the Rue +Tournelles, whither he had sent two of our men before him, but the +bird was flown. He had been home half an hour before,—he left +the inn just after us,—had paid his arrears of rent, +surrendered his key, and taken away his chest, with all his worldly +goods in it, on the shoulders of two porters, bound for parts +unknown. Gilles is scouring Paris for him. Mordieu, I wish him +luck!"</p> +<p>His face betokened little hope of Gilles. We both kept chagrined +silence.</p> +<p>"And we thought him sleeping!" presently cried he.</p> +<p>"Well," he added, rising, "that milk's spilt; no use crying over +it. Plan a better venture; that's the only course. Monsieur is gone +back to St. Denis to report to the king. Marry, he makes as little +of these gates as if he were a tennis-ball and they the net. Time +was when he thought he must plan and prepare, and know the captain +of the watch, and go masked at midnight. He has got bravely over +that now; he bounces in and out as easily as kiss my hand. I pray +he may not try it once too often."</p> +<p>"Mayenne dare not touch him."</p> +<p>"What Mayenne may dare is not good betting. Monsieur thinks he +dares not. Monsieur has come through so many perils of late, he is +happily convinced he bears a charmed life. Félix, do you +come with me to the Hôtel de Lorraine?"</p> +<p>"Ah, monsieur!" I cried, bethinking myself that I had forgotten +to dress.</p> +<p>"Nay, you need not don these clothes," he interposed, with a +look of wickedness which I could not interpret. "Wait; I'm back +anon."</p> +<p>He darted out of the room, to return speedily with an armful of +apparel, which he threw on the bed.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I gasped in horror, "it's woman's gear!"</p> +<p>"Verily."</p> +<p>"Monsieur! you cannot mean me to wear this!"</p> +<p>"I mean it precisely."</p> +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> +<p>"Why, look you, Félix," he laughed, "how else am I to +take you? You were at pains to make yourself conspicuous in M. de +Mayenne's salon; they will recognize you as quickly as me."</p> +<p>"Oh, monsieur, put me in a wig, in cap and bells, an you like! I +will be monsieur's clown, anything, only not this!"</p> +<p>"I never heard of a jeweller accompanied by his clown. Nor have +I any party-colour in my armoires. But since I have exerted myself +to borrow this toggery,—and a fine, big lass is the owner, so +I think it will fit,—you must wear it."</p> +<p>I was like to burst with mortification; I stood there in dumb, +agonized appeal.</p> +<p>"Oh, well, then you need not go at all. If you go, you go as +Félicie. But you may stay at home, if it likes you +better."</p> +<p>That settled me. I would have gone in my grave-clothes sooner +than not go at all, and belike he knew it. I began arraying myself +sullenly and clumsily in the murrain petticoats.</p> +<p>There was a full kirtle of gray wool, falling to my ankles, and +a white apron. There was a white blouse with a wide, turned-back +collar, and a scarlet bodice, laced with black cords over a green +tongue. I was soon in such a desperate tangle over these divers +garments, so utterly muddled as to which to put on first, and which +side forward, and which end up, and where and how by the grace of +God to fasten them, that M. Étienne, with roars of laughter, +came unsteadily to my aid. He insisted on stuffing the whole of my +jerkin under my blouse to give my figure the proper curves, and to +make me a waist he drew the lacing-cords till I was like to +suffocate. His mirth had by this time got me to laughing so that +every time he pulled me in, a fit of merriment would jerk the laces +from his fingers before he could tie them. This happened once and +again, and the more it happened the more we laughed and the less he +could dress me. I ached in every rib, and the tears were running +down his cheeks, washing little clean channels in the stain.</p> +<p>"Félix, this will never do," he gasped when at length he +could speak. "Never after a carouse have I been so maudlin. Compose +yourself, for the love of Heaven. Think of something serious; think +of me! Think of Peyrot, think of Mayenne, think of Lucas. Think of +what will happen to us now if Mayenne know us for ourselves."</p> +<p>"Enough, monsieur," I said. "I am sobered."</p> +<p>But even now that I held still we could not draw the last holes +in the bodice-point nearly together.</p> +<p>"Nay, monsieur, I can never wear it like this," I panted, when +he had tied it as tight as he could. "I shall die, or I shall burst +the seams." He had perforce to give me more room; he pulled the +apron higher to cover gaps, and fastened a bunch of keys and a +pocket at my waist. He set a brown wig on my head, nearly covered +by a black mortier, with its wide scarf hanging down my back.</p> +<p>"Hang me, but you make a fine, strapping grisette," he cried, +proud of me as if I were a picture, he the painter. "Félix, +you've no notion how handsome you look. Dame! you defrauded the +world when you contrived to be born a boy."</p> +<p>"I thank my stars I was born a boy," I declared. "I wouldn't get +into this toggery for any one else on earth. I tell monsieur that, +flat."</p> +<p>"You must change your shoes," he cried eagerly. "Your hobnails +spoil all."</p> +<p>I put one of his gossip's shoes on the floor beside my foot.</p> +<p>"Now, monsieur, I ask you, how am I to get into that?"</p> +<p>"Shall I fetch you Vigo's?" he grinned.</p> +<p>"No, Constant's," I said instantly, thinking how it would make +him writhe to lend them.</p> +<p>"Constant's best," he promised, disappearing. It was as good as +a play to see my lord running errands for me. Perhaps he forgot, +after a month in the Rue Coupejarrets, that such things as pages +existed; or, more likely, he did not care to take the household +into his confidence. He was back soon, with a pair of scarlet hose, +and shoes of red morocco, the gayest affairs you ever saw. Also he +brought a hand-mirror, for me to look on my beauty.</p> +<p>"Nay, monsieur," I said with a sulk that started anew his +laughter. "I'll not take it; I want not to see myself. But monsieur +will do well to examine his own countenance."</p> +<p>"Pardieu! I should say so," he cried. "I must e'en go repair +myself; and you, Félix,—Félicie,—must be +fed."</p> +<p>I was in truth as hollow as a drum, yet I cried out that I had +rather starve than venture into the kitchen.</p> +<p>"You flatter yourself," he retorted. "You'd not be known. Old +Jumel will give you the pick of the larder for a kiss," he roared +in my sullen face, and added, relenting: "Well, then, I will send +one of the lackeys up with a salver. The lazy beggars have naught +else to do."</p> +<p>I bolted the door after him, and when the man brought my tray, +bade him set it down outside. He informed me through the panels +that he would go drown himself before he would be content to lie +slugabed the livelong day while his betters waited on him. I +trembled for fear in his virtuous scorn he should take his fardel +away again. But he had had his orders. When, after listening to his +footsteps descending the stairs, I reached out a cautious arm, the +tray was on the floor. The generous meat and wine put new heart +into me; by the time my lord returned I was eager for the +enterprise.</p> +<p>"Have you finished?" he demanded. "Faith, I see you have. Then +let us start; it grows late. The shadows, like good Mussulmans, are +stretching to the east. I must catch the ladies in their chambers +before supper. Come, we'll take the box between us."</p> +<p>"Why, monsieur, I carry that on my shoulders."</p> +<p>"What, my lass, on your dainty shoulders? Nay, 'twould make the +townsfolk stare."</p> +<p>I gnawed my lip in silence; he exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Now, never have I seen a maid fresh from the convent blush so +prettily. I'd give my right hand to walk you out past the +guard-room."</p> +<p>I shrank as a snail when you touch its horns. He cried:</p> +<p>"Marry, but I will, though!"</p> +<p>Now I, unlike Sir Snail, had no snug little fortress to take +refuge in; I might writhe, but I could not defend myself.</p> +<p>"As you will, monsieur," I said, setting my teeth hard.</p> +<p>"Nay, I dare not. Those fellows would follow us laughing to the +doors of Lorraine House itself. I've told none of this prank; I +have even contrived to send all the lackeys out of doors on fools' +errands. We'll sneak out like thieves by the postern. Come, tread +your wariest."</p> +<p>On tiptoe, with the caution of malefactors, we crept from stair +to stair, giggling under our breath like the callow lad and saucy +lass we looked to be. We won in safety to the postern, and came out +to face the terrible eye of the world.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> +<h3><i>A double masquerade.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/quote-f.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>élix, we are speaking in our own tongue. It is such +lapses as these bring men to the gallows. Italian from this word, +my girl."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I have no notion how to bear myself, what to say," I +answered uneasily.</p> +<p>"Say as little as you can. For, I confess, your voice and your +hands give me pause; otherwise I would take you anywhere for a +lass. Your part must be the shy maiden. My faith, you look the +rôle; your cheeks are poppies! You will follow docile at my +heels while I tell lies for two. I have the hope that the ladies +will heed me and my jewels more than you."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, could we not go safelier at night?"</p> +<p>"I have thought of that. But at night the household gathers in +the salon; we should run the gantlet of a hundred looks and +tongues. While now, if we have luck, we may win to mademoiselle's +own chamber—" He broke off abruptly, and walked along in a +day-dream.</p> +<p>"Well," he resumed presently, coming back to the needs of the +moment, "let us know our names and station. I am Giovanni Rossini, +son of the famous goldsmith of Florence; you, Giulietta, my sister. +We came to Paris in the legate's train, trade being dull at home, +the gentry having fled to the hills for the hot month. Of course +you've never set foot out of France, +Fé—Giulietta?"</p> +<p>"Never out of St. Quentin till I came hither. But Father +Francesco has talked to me much of his city of Florence."</p> +<p>"Good; you can then make shift to answer a question or two if +put to it. Your Italian, I swear, is of excellent quality. You +speak French like the Picard you are, but Italian like a +gentleman—that is to say, like a lady."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," I bemoaned miserably, "I shall never come through it +alive, never in the world. They will know me in the flick of an eye +for a boy; I know they will. Why, the folk we are passing can see +something wrong; they all are staring at me."</p> +<p>"Of course they stare," he answered tranquilly. "I should think +some wrong if they did not. Can your modesty never understand, my +Giulietta, what a pretty lass you are?"</p> +<p>He fell to laughing at my discomfort, and thus, he full of gay +confidence, I full of misgiving, we came before the doors of the +Hôtel de Lorraine.</p> +<p>"Courage," he whispered to me. "Courage will conquer the devil +himself. Put a good face on it and take the plunge." The next +moment he was in the archway, deluging the sentry with his rapid +Italian.</p> +<p>"Nom d'un chien! What's all this? What are you after?" the man +shouted at us, to make us understand the better. "Haven't you a +word of honest French in your head?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne, tapping his box, very brokenly, very +laboriously stammered forth something about jewels for the +ladies.</p> +<p>"Get in with you, then."</p> +<p>We were not slow to obey.</p> +<p>The courtyard was deserted, nor did we see any one in the +windows of the house, against which the afternoon sun struck hotly. +To keep out his unwelcome rays, the house door was pushed almost +shut. We paused a moment on the step, to listen to the voices of +gossiping lackeys within, and then M. Étienne boldly +knocked.</p> +<p>There was a scurrying in the hall, as if half a dozen idlers +were plunging into their doublets and running to their places. Then +my good friend Pierre opened the door. In the row of underlings at +his back I recognized the two who had taken part in my flogging. +The cold sweat broke out upon me lest they in their turn should +know me.</p> +<p>M. Étienne looked from one to another with the childlike +smile of his bare lips, demanding if any here spoke Italian.</p> +<p>"I," answered Pierre himself. "Now, what may your errand +be?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it's soon told," M. Étienne cried volubly, as one +delighted to find himself understood. "I am a jeweller from +Florence; I am selling my wares in your great houses. I have but +just sold a necklace to the Duchesse de Joyeuse; I crave permission +to show my trinkets to the fair ladies here. But take me up to +them, and they'll not make you repent it."</p> +<p>"Go tell madame," Pierre bade one of his men, and turning again +to us gave us kindly permission to set down our burden and +wait.</p> +<p>For incredible good luck, the heavy hangings were drawn over the +sunny windows, making a soft twilight in the room. I sidled over to +a bench in the far corner and was feeling almost safe, when +Pierre—beshrew him!—called attention to me.</p> +<p>"Now, that is a heavy box for a maid to help lug. Do you make +the lasses do porters' work, you Florentines?"</p> +<p>"But I am a stranger here," M. Étienne explained. "Did I +hire a porter, how am I to tell an honest one? Belike he might run +off with all my treasures, and where is poor Giovanni then? +Besides, it were cruel to leave my little sister in our lodging, +not a soul to speak to, the long day through. There is none where +we lodge knows Italian, as you do so like an angel, Sir Master of +the Household."</p> +<p>Now, Pierre was no more maître d'hôtel than I was, +but that did not dampen his pleasure to be called so. He sat down +on the bench by M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"How came you two to be in Paris?" he asked.</p> +<p>My lord proceeded to tell him I know not what glib and +convincing farrago, with every excellence, I made no doubt, of +accent and gesture. But I could not listen; I had affairs of my own +by this time. The lackeys had come up close round me, more +interested in me than in my brother, and the same Jean who had held +me for my beating, who had wanted my coat stripped off me that I +might be whacked to bleed, now said:</p> +<p>"I'll warrant you're hot and tired and thirsty, mademoiselle, +for all you look as fresh as cress. Will you drink a cup of wine if +I fetch it?"</p> +<p>I had kept my eyes on the ground from the first moment of +encounter, in mortal dread to look these men in the face; but now, +gaining courage, I raised my glance and smiled at him bashfully, +and faltered that I did not understand.</p> +<p>He understood the sense, if not the words, of my answer, and +repeated his offer, slowly, loudly. I strove to look as blank as +the wall, and shook my head gently and helplessly, and turned an +inquiring gaze to the others, as if beseeching them to interpret. +One of the fellows clapped Jean on the shoulder with a roar of +laughter.</p> +<p>"A fall, a fall!" he shouted. "Here's the all-conquering Jean +Marchand tripped up for once. He thinks nothing that wears +petticoats can withstand him, but here's a maid that hasn't a word +to throw at him."</p> +<p>"Pshaw! she doesn't understand me," Jean returned, undaunted, +and promptly pointed a finger at my mouth and then raised his fist +to his own, with sucks and gulps. I allowed myself to comprehend +then. I smiled in as coquettish a fashion as I could contrive, and +glanced on the ground, and slowly looked up again and nodded.</p> +<p>The men burst into loud applause.</p> +<p>"Good old Jean! Jean wins. Well played, Jean! Vive Jean!"</p> +<p>Jean, flushed with triumph, ran off on his errand, while I +thought of Margot, the steward's daughter, at home, and tried to +recollect every air and grace I had ever seen her flaunt before us +lads. It was not bad fun, this. I hid my hands under my apron and +spoke not at all, but sighed and smiled and blushed under their +stares like any fine lady. Once in one's life, for one hour, it is +rather amusing to be a girl. But that is quite long enough, say +I.</p> +<p>Jean came again directly with a great silver tankard.</p> +<p>"Burgundy, pardieu!" cried one of his mates, sticking his nose +into the pot as it passed him, "and full! Ciel, you must think your +lass has a head."</p> +<p>"Oh, I shall drink with her," Jean answered.</p> +<p>I put out my hand for the tankard, running the risk of my big +paw's betraying me, resolved that he should not drink with me of +that draught, when of a sudden he leaned over to snatch a kiss. I +dodged him, more frightened than the shyest maid. Though in this +half-light I might perfectly look a girl, I could not believe I +should kiss like one. In a panic, I fled from Jean to my master's +side.</p> +<p>M. Étienne, wheeling about, came near to laughing out in +my face, when he remembered his part and played it with a zeal that +was like to undo us. He sprang to his feet, drawing his dagger.</p> +<p>"Who insults my sister?" he shouted. "Who is the dog does +this!"</p> +<p>They were on him, wrenching the knife from his hand, wrenching +his lame arm at the same time so painfully that he gasped. I was +scared chill; I knew if they mishandled him they would brush the +wig off.</p> +<p>"Mind your manners, sirrah!" Jean cried.</p> +<p>Monsieur's ardour vanished; a gentle, appealing smile spread +over his face.</p> +<p>"I cry your pardon, sir," he said to Jean; then turning to +Pierre, "This messer does not understand me. But tell him, I beg +you, I crave his good pardon. I was but angered for a moment that +any should think to touch my little sister. I meant no harm."</p> +<p>"Nor he," Pierre retorted. "A kiss, forsooth! What do you expect +with a handsome lass like that? If you will take her +about—"</p> +<p>"Madame says the jeweller fellow is to come up," our messenger +announced, returning.</p> +<p>My lord besought Pierre:</p> +<p>"My knife? I may have my knife? By the beard of St. Peter, I +swear to you, I meant no harm with it. I drew it in jest."</p> +<p>Now, this, which was the sole true statement he had made since +our arrival, was the only one Pierre did not quite believe. He took +the knife from Jean, but he hesitated to hand it over to its +owner.</p> +<p>"No," he said; "you were angry enough. I know your Italian +temper. I'm thinking I'll keep this little toy of yours till you +come down."</p> +<p>"Very well, Sir Majordomo," M. Étienne rejoined +indifferently, "so be it you give it to me when I go." He grasped +the handle of the box, and we followed our guide up the stair, my +master offering me the comforting assurance:</p> +<p>"It really matters not in the least, for if we be caught the +dagger's not yet forged can save us."</p> +<p>We were ushered into a large, fair chamber hung with arras, the +carpet under our feet deep and soft as moss. At one side stood the +bed, raised on its dais; opposite were the windows, the +dressing-table between them, covered with scent-bottles and boxes, +brushes and combs, very glittering and grand. Fluttering about the +room were some half-dozen fine dames and demoiselles, brave in +silks and jewels. Among them I was quick to recognize Mme. de +Mayenne, and I thought I knew vaguely one or two other faces as +those I had seen before about her. I started presently to discover +the little Mlle. de Tavanne: that night she had worn sky-colour and +now she wore rose, but there was no mistaking her saucy face.</p> +<p>We set our box on a table, as the duchess bade us, and I helped +M. Étienne to lay out its contents, which done, I retired to +the background, well content to leave the brunt of the business to +him. It was as he prophesied: they paid me no heed whatever. He was +smoothly launched on the third relating of his tale; I trow by this +time he almost believed it himself. Certes, he never faltered, but +rattled on as if he had two tongues, telling in confidential tone +of our father and mother, our little brothers and sisters at home +in Florence; our journey with the legate, his kindness and care of +us (I hoped that dignitary would not walk in just now to pay his +respects to madame la générale); of our arrival in +Paris, and our wonder and delight at the city's grandeur, the like +of which was not to be found in Italy; and, last, but not least, he +had much to say, with an innocent, wide-eyed gravity, in praise of +the ladies of Paris, so beautiful, so witty, so generous! They were +all crowding around him, calling him pretty boy, laughing at his +compliments, handling and exclaiming over his trinkets, trying the +effect of a buckle or a bracelet, preening and cooing like +bright-breasted pigeons about the corn-thrower. It was as pretty a +sight as ever I beheld, but it was not to smile at such that we had +risked our heads. Of Mlle. de Montluc there was no sign.</p> +<p>No one was marking me, and I wondered if I might not slip out +unseen and make my way to mademoiselle's chamber. I knew she lodged +on this story, near the back of the house, in a room overlooking +the little street and having a turret-window. But I was somewhat +doubtful of my skill to find it through the winding corridors of a +great palace. I was more than likely to meet some one who would +question my purpose, and what answer could I make? I scarce dared +say I was seeking mademoiselle. I am not ready at explanations, +like M. le Comte.</p> +<p>Yet here were the golden moments flying and our cause no further +advanced. Should I leave it all to M. Étienne, trusting that +when he had made his sales here he would be permitted to seek out +the other ladies of the house? Or should I strive to aid him? Could +I win in safety to mademoiselle's chamber, what a feat!</p> +<p>It so irked me to be doing nothing that I was on the very point +of gingerly disappearing when one of the ladies, she with the +yellow curls, the prettiest of them all, turned suddenly from the +group, calling clearly:</p> +<p>"Lorance!"</p> +<p>Our hearts stood still—mine did, and I can vouch for +his—as the heavy window-curtain swayed aside and she came +forth.</p> +<p>She came listlessly. Her hair sweeping against her cheek was +ebony on snow, so white she was; while under her blue eyes were +dark rings, like the smears of an inky finger. M. Étienne +let fall the bracelet he was holding, staring at her oblivious of +aught else, his brows knotted in distress, his face afire with love +and sympathy. He made a step forward; I thought him about to catch +her in his arms, when he recollected himself and dropped on his +knees to grope for the fallen trinket.</p> +<p>"You wanted me, madame?" she asked Mme. de Mayenne.</p> +<p>"No," said the duchess, with a tartness of voice she seemed to +reserve for Mlle. de Montluc; "'twas Mme. de Montpensier."</p> +<p>"It was I," the fair-haired beauty answered in the same breath. +"I want you to stop moping over there in the corner. Come look at +these baubles and see if they cannot bring a sparkle to your eye. +Fie, Lorance! The having too many lovers is nothing to cry about. +It is an affliction many and many a lady would give her ears to +undergo."</p> +<p>"Take heart o' grace, Lorance!" cried Mlle. de Tavanne. "If you +go on looking as you look to-day, you'll not long be troubled by +lovers."</p> +<p>She made no answer to either, but stood there passively till it +might be their pleasure to have done with her, with a patient +weariness that it wrung the heart to see.</p> +<p>"Here's a chain would become you vastly, Lorance," Mme. de +Montpensier went on, friendlily enough, in her brisk and careless +voice. "Let me try it on your neck. You can easily coax Paul or +some one to buy it for you."</p> +<p>She fumbled over the clasp. M. Étienne, with a "Permit +me, madame," took it boldly from her hand and hooked it himself +about mademoiselle's neck. He delayed longer than he need over the +fastening of it, looking with burning intentness straight into her +face. She lifted her eyes to his with a quick frown of displeasure, +drawing herself back; then all at once the colour waved across her +face like the dawn flush over a gray sky. She blushed to her very +hair, to her very ruff. Then the red vanished as quickly as it had +come; she clutched at her bosom, on the verge of a swoon.</p> +<p>He threw out his arms to catch her. Instantly she stepped aside, +and, turning with a little unsteady laugh to the lady at whose +elbow she found herself, asked:</p> +<p>"Does it become me, madame?"</p> +<p>The little scene had passed so quickly that it seemed none had +marked it. Mademoiselle had stood a little out of the group, +monsieur with his back to it, and the ladies were busy over the +jewels. She whom mademoiselle had addressed, a big-nosed, +loud-voiced lady, older than any of the others, answered her +bluntly:</p> +<p>"You look a shade too green-faced to-day, mademoiselle, for +anything to become you."</p> +<p>"What can you expect, Mme. de Brie?" Mlle. Blanche promptly +demanded. "Mlle. de Montluc is weary and worn from her vigils at +your son's bedside."</p> +<p>Mme. de Montpensier had the temerity to laugh; but for the rest, +a sort of little groan ran through the company. Mme. de Mayenne +bade sharply, "Peace, Blanche!" Mme. de Brie, red with anger, +flamed out on her and Mlle. de Montluc equally:</p> +<p>"You impudent minxes! 'Tis enough that one of you should bring +my son to his death, without the other making a mock of it."</p> +<p>"He's not dying," began the irrepressible Blanche de Tavanne, +her eyes twinkling with mischief; but whatever naughty answer was +on her tongue, our mademoiselle's deeper voice overbore her:</p> +<p>"I am guiltless of the charge, madame. It was through no wish of +mine that your son, with half the guard at his back, set on one +wounded man."</p> +<p>"I'll warrant it was not," muttered Mlle. Blanche.</p> +<p>"Mar has turned traitor, and deserves nothing so well as to be +spitted in the dark," Mme. de Brie cried out.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle waited an instant, with flashing eyes meeting +madame's. She had spoken hotly before, but now, in the face of the +other's passion, she held herself steady.</p> +<p>"Your charge is as false, madame, as your wish is cruel. Do you +go to vespers and come home to say such things? M. de Mar is no +traitor; he was never pledged to us, and may go over to Navarre +when he will."</p> +<p>It was quietly spoken, but the blue lightning of her eyes was +too much for Mme. de Brie. She opened her mouth to retort, +faltered, dropped her eyes, and finally turned away, yet seething, +to feign interest in the trinkets. It was a rout.</p> +<p>"Then you are the traitor, Lorance," chimed the silvery tones of +Mme. de Montpensier. "It is not denied that M. de Mar has gone over +to the enemy; therefore are you the traitor to have intercourse +with him."</p> +<p>She spoke without heat, without any appearance of ill feeling. +Hers was merely the desire, for the fun of it, to keep the flurry +going. But mademoiselle answered seriously, with the fleetingest +glance at M. le Comte, where he, forgetting he knew no French, +feasted his eyes recklessly on her, pitying, applauding, adoring +her. I went softly around the group to pull his sleeve; we were +lost if any turned to see him.</p> +<p>"Madame," mademoiselle addressed her cousin of Montpensier, +speaking particularly clearly and distinctly, "I mean ever to be +loyal to my house. I came here a penniless orphan to the care of my +kinsman Mayenne; and he has always been to me generous and +loving—"</p> +<p>"If not madame," murmured Mile. Blanche to herself.</p> +<p>"—as I in my turn have been loving and obedient. It was +only two nights ago he told me M. de Mar must be as dead to me. +Since then I have held no intercourse with him. Last night he came +under my window; I was not in my chamber, as you know. I knew +naught of the affair till M. de Brie was brought in bleeding. It +was not by my will M. de Mar came here—it was a misery to me. +I sent him word by his boy that other night to leave Paris; I +implored him to leave Paris. If, instead, he comes here, he racks +my heart. It is no joy to me, no triumph to me, but a bitter +distress, that any honest gentleman should risk his life in a vain +and empty quest. M. de Mar must go his ways, as I must go mine. +Should he ever make attempt to reach me again, and could I speak to +him, I should tell him just what I have said now to you."</p> +<p>I pressed monsieur's hand in the endeavour to bring him back to +sense; he seemed about to cry out on her. But mademoiselle's +earnestness had drawn all eyes.</p> +<p>"Pshaw, Lorance! banish these tragedy airs!" Mme. de Montpensier +rejoined, her lightness little touched. A wounded bird falls by the +rippling water, but the ripples tinkle on. "M. de Mar is not likely +ever to venture here again; he had too warm a welcome last night. +My faith, he may be dead by this time—dead to all as well as +to you. After he vanished into Ferou's house, no one seems to know +what happened. Has Charles told you, my sister?"</p> +<p>"Ferou gave him up, of course," Mme. de Mayenne answered. +"Monsieur has done what seemed to him proper."</p> +<p>"You are darkly mysterious, sister."</p> +<p>Mme. de Mayenne raised her eyebrows and smiled, as one solemnly +pledged to say no more. She could not, indeed, say more, knowing +nothing whatever about it. Our mademoiselle spoke in a low voice, +looking straight before her:</p> +<p>"If Heaven willed that he escaped last night, I pray he may +leave the city. I pray he may never try to see me more. I pray he +may depart instantly—at once."</p> +<p>"I pray your prayers may be answered, so be it we hear no more +of him," Mme. de Montpensier retorted, tired of the subject she +herself had started. "He was never tedious himself, M. de Mar, but +all this solemn prating about him is duller than a sermon." She +raised a dainty hand behind which to yawn audibly. "Come, mesdames, +let us get back to our purchases. Ma foi! it's lucky these jeweller +folk know no French."</p> +<p>M. Étienne was himself again, all smiles and quick +pleasantries. I slipped off to my post in the background, trying to +get out of the eye of Mlle. de Tavanne, who had been staring at me +the last five minutes in a way that made my goose-flesh rise, so +suspicious, so probing, was it. On my retreat she did indeed move +her gaze from me, but only to watch M. le Comte as a hound watches +a thicket. It was a miracle that none had pounced on him before, so +reckless had he been. I perceived with sickening certainty that +Mlle. de Tavanne had guessed something amiss. She fairly bristled +with suspicion, with knowledge. I waited from breathless moment to +moment for announcement. There was nothing to be done; she held us +in the hollow of her hand. We could not flee, we could not fight. +We could do nothing but wait quietly till she spoke, and then +submit quietly to arrest; later, most like, to death.</p> +<p>Minute followed minute, and still she did not speak. Hope flowed +back to me again; perhaps, after all, we might escape. I wondered +how high were the windows from the ground.</p> +<p>As I stole across the room to see, Mlle. de Tavanne detached +herself from the group and glided unnoticed out of the door.</p> +<p>It was thirty feet to the stones below—sure death that +way. But she had given us a respite; something might yet be done. I +seized M. Étienne's arm in a grip that should tell him how +serious was our pass. Remembering, for a marvel, my foreign tongue, +I bespoke him:</p> +<p>"Brother, it grows late. We must go. It will soon be dark. We +must go now—now!"</p> +<p>He turned on me with an impatient frown, but before he could +answer, Mme. de Montpensier cried, with a laugh:</p> +<p>"And do you fear the dark, wench? Marry, you look as if you +could take care of yourself."</p> +<p>"Nay, madame," I protested, "but the box. Come, Giovanni. If we +linger, we may be robbed in the dark streets."</p> +<p>"Why, my sister, where are your manners?" he retorted, striving +to shake me off. "The ladies have not yet dismissed me."</p> +<p>"We shall be robbed of the box," I persisted; "and the night air +is bad for your health, my Nino. If you stay longer you will have +trouble in the throat."</p> +<p>He looked at me hard. I tried to make my eyes tell him that my +fear was no vague one of the streets, that his throat was in peril +here and now. He understood; he cried with merry laughter to Mme. +de Montpensier:</p> +<p>"Pray excuse her lack of manners, duchessa. I know what moves +the maid. I must tell you that in the house where we lodge dwells +also a beautiful young captain—beautiful as the day. It's +little of his time he spends at home, but we have observed that he +comes every evening to array himself grandly for supper at some +one's palace. We count our day lost an we cannot meet him, by +accident, on the stairs."</p> +<p>They all laughed. I, with my cheeks burning like any silly +maid's, set to work to put up our scattered wares. But despair +weighed me down; if we had to remember ceremony we were lost. The +ladies were protesting, declaring they had not made their bargains, +and monsieur was smirking and bowing, as if he had the whole night +before him. Our one chance was to bolt; to charge past the sentry +and flee as from the devil. I pulled monsieur's arm again, and +muttered in his ear:</p> +<p>"She knows us; she's gone to tell. We must run for it."</p> +<p>At this moment there arose from down the corridor piercing +shriek on shriek, the howls of a young child frantic with rage and +terror. At the same time sounded other different cries, wild, +outlandish chattering.</p> +<p>"The baby! It's Toto! Oh, ciel!" Mme. de Mayenne gasped. "Help, +mesdames!" She rushed from the room, Mme. de Montpensier at her +heels, all the rest following after.</p> +<p>All, that is, but one. Mlle. de Montluc started as the rest, but +at the threshold paused to let them pass. She flung the door to +behind them, and ran back to monsieur, her face drawn with terror, +her hand outstretched.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, monsieur!" she panted. "Go! you must go!"</p> +<p>He seized her hand in both of his.</p> +<p>"O Lorance! Lorance!"</p> +<p>She laid her left hand on his for emphasis.</p> +<p>"Go! go! An you love me, go!"</p> +<p>For answer he fell on his knees before her, covering those sweet +hands with kisses.</p> +<p>The door was flung open; Mlle. de Tavanne stood on the +threshold. They started apart, monsieur leaping to his feet, +mademoiselle springing back with choking cry. But it was too late; +she had seen us.</p> +<p>She was rosy with running, her little face brimming over with +mischief. She flitted into the room, crying:</p> +<p>"I knew it! I knew it was M. de Mar! The gray eyes! M. le Duc +has done with him as he thought proper, forsooth! Well, I have done +as I thought proper. I unchained Mme. de Montpensier's monkey and +threw him into the nursery, where he's scared the baby nearly into +spasms. Toto carried the cloth-of-gold coverlet up on top of the +tester, where he's picking it to pieces, the darling! They won't be +back—you're safe for a while, my children. I'll keep watch +for you. Make good use of your time. Kiss her well, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, you are an angel."</p> +<p>"No, she is the angel," Mlle. Blanche laughed back at him. "I'm +but your warder. Have no fear; I'll keep good watch. Here, you in +the petticoats, that were a boy the other night, go to the farther +door. Mme. de Nemours takes her nap in the second room beyond. You +watch that door; I'll watch the corridor. Farewell, my children! +Peste! think you Blanche de Tavanne is so badly off for lovers that +she need grudge you yours, Lorance?"</p> +<p>She danced out of the door, while I ran across to my station, +Mlle. de Montluc standing bewildered, ardent, grateful, half +laughing, half in tears.</p> +<p>"Lorance, Lorance!" M. Étienne murmured tremulously. "She +said I should kiss you—"</p> +<p>I put my fingers in my ears and then took them out again, for if +my ears were sealed, how was I to hear Mme. de Nemours approaching? +But I admit I should have kept my eyes glued to the crack of the +door; that I ever turned them is my shame. I have no business to +know that mademoiselle bowed her face upon her lover's shoulder, +her hand clasping his neck, silent, motionless. He pressed his +cheek against her hair, holding her close; neither had any will to +move or speak. It seemed they were well content to stand so the +rest of their lives.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle was the first to stir; she raised her head and +strove to break away from his locked arms.</p> +<p>"Monsieur! monsieur! This is madness! You must go!"</p> +<p>"Are you sorry I came?" he demanded vibrantly. "Are you sorry, +Lorance?"</p> +<p>His eyes held hers; she threw pretence to the winds.</p> +<p>"No, monsieur; I am glad. For if we never meet again, we have +had this."</p> +<p>"Aye. If I die to-night, I have had to-day."</p> +<p>Their voices were like the rune of the heart of the forest, like +the music of deep streams. I turned away my head ashamed, and +strove to think of nothing but the waking of Mme. de Nemours.</p> +<p>"I thought you dead," she moaned, her voice muffled against his +cheek. "No one would tell me what happened last night. I could not +devise any way of escape for you—"</p> +<p>"There is a tunnel from Ferou's house to the Rue de la Soierie. +His mother—merciful angel—let me through."</p> +<p>"And you were not hurt?"</p> +<p>"Not a scratch, ma mie."</p> +<p>"But the wound before? Félix said—"</p> +<p>"I was put out of combat the night I got it," he explained +earnestly, troubled even now because he had not obeyed her summons. +"I was dizzy; I could not walk."</p> +<p>"But now, monsieur? Does it heal?"</p> +<p>"It is well—almost. 'Twas but a slash on the arm."</p> +<p>"Oh, then have I no anxiety," she murmured, with a smile that +twinkled across her lips and was gone. "I cannot perceive you to be +disabled, monsieur."</p> +<p>"My sweeting!" he laughed out. "If I cannot hold a sword yet, I +can hold my love."</p> +<p>"But you must not, monsieur," she cried, fear, that had slept a +moment, springing on her again. "You must go, and this instant, +while the others are yet away. I knew you, Blanche knew you; some +other will. Oh, go, go, I implore you!"</p> +<p>"If you will come with me."</p> +<p>She made no answer, save to look at him as at a madman.</p> +<p>"Nay, I mean not now, past the sentry. I am not so crazy as +that. But you will slip out, you will find a way, and come to +me."</p> +<p>Silently, sadly, she shook her head. His arms loosened, and she +freed herself from him. But instantly he was close on her +again.</p> +<p>"But you must! you will, you must! Ah, Lorance, my father is won +over. He bids me win you. He has sworn to welcome you; when he sees +you he will be your slave."</p> +<p>"But my cousin Mayenne is not won over."</p> +<p>"Devil fly away with your cousin Mayenne!" M. Étienne +retorted with a vehemence that made me shudder, lest the walls have +ears.</p> +<p>"Ah, you are free to say that, monsieur, but I am not. I am of +his blood, and dwell in his house, and eat at his board."</p> +<p>He was looking at her with a passionate ardour, grasping her +actual words less than their import of refusal.</p> +<p>"Are you afraid?" he cried. "Are you frightened, heart-root of +mine? You need not be, mignonne. You can contrive to slip from the +house—Mlle. de Tavanne will help you. Once in the street, I +will meet you; I will carry you home to hold you against all the +world."</p> +<p>"It is not that," she answered.</p> +<p>"Am I your fear?" he cried quickly. "Ah, Lorance, my Lorance, +you need not. I love you as I love the Queen of Heaven."</p> +<p>"Ah, hush!"</p> +<p>"As I love the Queen of Heaven. I will as soon do sacrilege +toward her as ill to you."</p> +<p>He dropped on his knees before her, kissing the hem of her gown. +She stood looking down on his bowed head with a tenderness that +seemed to infold him as with a mantle.</p> +<p>He raised his eyes to hers, still kneeling at her feet.</p> +<p>"Lorance, will you come with me?"</p> +<p>She was silent a moment, with heaving breast and face +a-quiver.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I am sworn. That night when Félix came, when I +was in deadly terror for him and for you, Étienne, I +promised my lord, an he would lift his hand from you, to obey him +in all things. He bade me never again to hold intercourse with +you—alack, I am already forsworn! But I cannot—"</p> +<p>He leaped to his feet, crying out:</p> +<p>"Lorance, he was the first forsworn! For he did move against +me—"</p> +<p>"He told you—the warning went through +Félix—that if you tried to reach me he would crush you +as a buzzing fly. Oh, monsieur, I implored you to leave Paris! You +are not kind to me, you are cruel, when you venture here."</p> +<p>"You are cruel to me, Lorance."</p> +<p>Sighing, she turned from him, hiding her face in her hands.</p> +<p>"Mayenne has not kept faith with you!" monsieur went on +vehemently. "He has broken his oath. I mean not last night. I had +my warning; the attack was provoked. But yesterday in the +afternoon, before I made the attempt to see you, he sent to arrest +me for the murder of the lackey Pontou."</p> +<p>"Paul's deed!" she cried in white surprise. "He spoke of +it—we heard, Félix and I. What, monsieur! sent to +arrest you? But you are here."</p> +<p>"They missed me. They took by mistake Paul de Lorraine."</p> +<p>"He was not here last night!" she cried. "Mayenne was demanding +him of me."</p> +<p>"Then he slept pleasantly in the Bastille. May he never look on +the outside of its walls again!"</p> +<p>"But he will, he does. He must be free by this time; they cannot +keep Mayenne's nephew in the Bastille. And oh, if he hated you +before, how he will hate you now! Oh, Étienne, if you love +me, go! Go to your own camp, your own side, at St. Denis. There are +you safe. Here in Paris you may not draw a tranquil breath."</p> +<p>"And shall I flee my dangers? Shall I run, in the face of my +peril?"</p> +<p>"Ah, monsieur, perhaps your life is nothing to you. But it is +more to me than tongue can tell."</p> +<p>"My love, my love!" He snatched her into his arms; she held away +from him to look him beseechingly in the face, her little clutching +hands on his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Oh, you will go! you will go!"</p> +<p>"Only if you come with me. Lorance, it is such a little way! +Only to meet me in the next square. We will slip out of the gates +together—leave Paris and all its plots and murders, and at +St. Denis keep our honeymoon."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she said slowly, "I am told that my cousin Mayenne +offered a month ago to give me to you for your name on the roster +of the League. Is that true?"</p> +<p>"It is true. But you cannot think, Lorance, it was for any lack +of love for you. I swear to you—"</p> +<p>"Nay, you need not. I have it by heart that you love me."</p> +<p>"Lorance!"</p> +<p>"But when you could not take me with honour you would not take +me. Your house stands against us; you would not desert your house. +Am I then to be false to mine?"</p> +<p>"A woman belongs to her husband's house."</p> +<p>"Aye, but she does not wed the enemy of her own. Monsieur, you +are full of loyalty; shall I have none? I was born, my father +before me, in the shadow of the house of Lorraine; the Lorraine +princes our kinsmen, our masters, our friends. When I was orphaned +young, and penniless because King Henry's Huguenots had wrenched +our lands away, I came here to my cousin Mayenne, to dwell here in +kindness and love as a daughter of the house. Am I to turn traitor +now?"</p> +<p>"Lorance," he was fiercely beginning, when Mlle. de Tavanne +bounded in.</p> +<p>"On guard!" she hissed at us. "They come!"</p> +<p>She looked behind her into the corridor. Mademoiselle gave her +lips to monsieur in one last kiss, and slipped like water from his +arms. I was at his side, and we busied ourselves over the trinkets, +he with shaking fingers, cheeks burning through the stain.</p> +<p>The ladies streamed into the room, the lovely Mme. de +Montpensier alone conspicuous by her absence. Mme. de Mayenne's +face was hot and angry, and bore marks of tears. Not in this room +only had a combat raged.</p> +<p>"Never shall he come into this house again," madame was crying +vigorously. "I had had him strangled, the vile little beast, an she +had not seized him. I will now, if she ever dares bring him hither +again."</p> +<p>"You certainly should, madame," replied the nearest of the +ladies. "You have been, in the goodness of your heart, far too +forbearing, too patient under many presumptions. One would suppose +the mistress here to be Mme. de Montpensier."</p> +<p>"I will show who is mistress here," the Duchesse de Mayenne +retorted. Then her eye fell on Mlle. de Montluc, making her way +softly to the door, and the vials of her wrath overflowed upon +her:</p> +<p>"What, Lorance, you could not be at the pains to follow me to +the rescue of my child! Your little cousin, poor innocent, may be +eaten by the beasts for aught you care, while you prink over +trinkets."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle faced her blankly, scarce understanding, midst the +whirl of her own thoughts, of what she was accused. The little +Tavanne came gallantly to the rescue:</p> +<p>"I did not follow you either, madame. We thought it scarcely +safe; Lorance could not bear to leave this fellow alone."</p> +<p>Mme. de Mayenne glanced instinctively at her dressing-table's +rich accoutrements, touched in spite of herself by such care of her +belongings.</p> +<p>"I had not suspected you maids of such fore-thought," she said +with relenting. "I vow for once I am beholden to you. You did quite +right, Lorance."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> +<h3><i>Within the spider's web.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ademoiselle slipped softly out of the room, taking our hearts +with her. Our one desire now was to be gone; but it was easier +wished than accomplished, for there remained the dreary process of +bargaining. Mme. de Mayenne had set her heart on a pearl bracelet, +Mme. de Brie wanted a vinaigrette, a third lady a pair of +shoe-buckles. M. Étienne developed a recklessness about +prices that would have whitened the hair of a goldsmith father; I +thought the ladies could not fail to be suspicious of such +prodigality, to imagine we carried stolen goods. But no; the quick +settlements defeated their own ends: they fired our customers with +longing to purchase further. I was despairing, when at length Mme. +de Mayenne bethought herself that supper-time was at hand, and that +no one was yet dressed. To my eyes the company already looked fine +enough for a coronation; but I rejoiced to hear them thanking +madame for her reminder, with the gratitude of victims snatched +from an awful fate. We were commanded to bundle out, which with all +alacrity we did.</p> +<p>Freedom was in sight. I was not so nervous on this journey as I +had been coming in. As we passed, lackey-led, through the long +corridors, I had ease enough of mind to enable me to take my +bearings, and to whisper to my master, "That door yonder is the +door of the council-room, where I was." Even as I spoke the door +opened, two gentlemen appearing at the threshold. One was a +stranger; the other was Mayenne.</p> +<p>Our guide held back in deference. The duke and his friend stood +a moment or two in low-voiced converse; then the visitor made his +farewells, and went off down the staircase.</p> +<p>Mayenne had not appeared aware of our existence, thirty feet up +the passage, but now he inquired, as if we had been pieces of +merchandise:</p> +<p>"What have you there, Louis?"</p> +<p>"An Italian goldsmith, so please your Grace. Madame has just +dismissed him."</p> +<p>He led us forward. Mayenne surveyed us deliberately, and at +length said to M. le Comte:</p> +<p>"I will look at your wares."</p> +<p>M. Étienne smiled his eager, deprecating smile, informing +his Highness that we, poor creatures, spoke no French.</p> +<p>"How came you in Paris, then?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne for the fourth time went through with his +tale. I think this time he must have trembled over it. My Lord +Mayenne had not the reputation of being easily gulled. For aught we +knew, he might be informed of the name and condition of every +person who had entered Paris this year. He might, as he listened +stolid-faced, be checking off to himself the number of monsieur's +lies. But if M. Étienne trembled in his soul, his words +never faltered; he knew his history well, by this. At its finish +Mayenne said:</p> +<p>"Come in here."</p> +<p>The lackey was ordered to wait outside, while we followed his +Grace of Mayenne across the council-room to that table by the +window where he had sat with Lucas night before last. I clinched my +teeth to keep them from chattering together. Not Grammont's +brutality, not Lucas's venom, not Mlle. de Tavanne's rampant +suspicion, had ever frightened me so horribly as did Mayenne's +amiable composure. He made me feel as I had felt when I entered the +tunnel, helpless in the dark, unable to cope with dangers I could +not see. Mayenne was a well, the light shining down its sides a +way, and far below the still surface of the water. You hang over +the edge and peer till your eyes drop out; you can as easily look +through iron as discern how deep the water is. I seemed to see +clearly that Mayenne suspected us not in the least. He was as +placid as a summer day, turning over the contents of the box, +showing little interest in us, much in our wares, every now and +then speaking a generous word of praise or asking a friendly +question. He was the very model of the gracious prince; the humble +tradesmen whom we feigned to be must needs have worshipfully loved +him. Yet withal I believed that all the time he knew us; that he +was amusing himself with us. Presently, when he tired, he would +walk casually out of the room and send in his creatures to stab +us.</p> +<p>Had I known this for a truth, that he had discovered us, I +should have braced myself, I trow, to meet it. The certainty would +have been bearable; I had courage to face ruin. It was the +uncertainty that was so heart-shaking—like crossing a morass +in the dark. We might be on the safe path; we might with every step +be wandering away farther and farther into the treacherous bog; +there was no way to tell. Mayenne was quite the man to be kindly +patron of the crafts, to pick out a rich present for a friend. He +was also the man to sit in the presence of his enemy, unbetraying, +tranquil, assured, waiting. It seemed to me that in a few minutes +more of this I should go mad; I should scream out: "Yes, I am +Félix Broux, and he is M. le Comte de Mar!"</p> +<p>But before I had verily come to this, something happened to +change the situation. Entered like a young tempest, slamming the +door after him, Lucas.</p> +<p>M. Étienne clutched me by the arm, drawing me back into +the embrasure of the window, where we stood in plain sight but with +our faces blotted out against the light. Mayenne looked up from two +rings he was comparing, one in each hand. Lucas, hat on head, came +rapidly across the room.</p> +<p>"So you have appeared again," Mayenne said. "I could almost +believe myself back in night before last."</p> +<p>"Aye; at last I have." Lucas was all hot and ruffled, panting +half from hurry, half from wrath.</p> +<p>"You saw fit to be absent last night," Mayenne went on +indifferently, his eyes on the ring. "I trust, for your sake, you +have used your time profitably."</p> +<p>"I have been about my own concerns," Lucas answered lightly, +arming himself with his insolence against the other's disdain. In a +moment he had mastered the excitement that brought him so stormily +into the room. He was once more the Lucas who had entered that +other night, nonchalant, mocking.</p> +<p>"Pretty trinkets," he observed, sitting down and lifting a +bracelet from the tray.</p> +<p>The close kinship of these men betrayed itself in nothing so +sharply as in their unerring instinct for annoying each other. Had +Lucas volunteered explanation for his absence, Mayenne would not +have listened to it; but as he withheld it, the duke demanded +brusquely:</p> +<p>"Well, do you give an account of yourself? You had better."</p> +<p>Lucas repeated the tactics which he had found such good +entertainment before. He looked with raised eyebrows toward us.</p> +<p>"You would not have me speak before these vermin, uncle?"</p> +<p>"These vermin understand no French," Mayenne made answer. "But +do as it likes you. It is nothing to me."</p> +<p>My master pinched my hand. Mayenne did not know us! After all, +he was what M. Étienne had called him—a man, neither +god nor devil. He could make mistakes like the rest of us. For once +he had been caught napping.</p> +<p>Lucas leaned back in his chair with a meditative air, as if idly +wondering whether to speak or not. In his place I should not have +wondered one moment. Had Mayenne assured me in that quiet tone that +he cared nothing whether I spoke, I should scarce have been able to +utter my words fast enough. But there was so strange a twist in +Lucas's nature that he must sometimes thwart his own interests, +value his caprice above his prosperity. Also, in this case his +story was no triumphant one. But at length he did begin it:</p> +<p>"I went to Belin to inform him that day before yesterday +Étienne de Mar murdered his lackey, Pontou, in Mar's house +in the Rue Coupejarrets."</p> +<p>"Was that your errand?" Mayenne said, looking up in slow +surprise. "My faith! your oaths to Lorance trouble you little."</p> +<p>Lucas started forward sharply. "Do you tell me you did not know +my purpose?"</p> +<p>"I knew, of course, that you were up to some warlockry," Mayenne +answered; "I did not concern myself to discover what."</p> +<p>"There speaks the general! There speaks the gentleman!" Lucas +cried out. "A general hangs a spy, yet he profits by spying. The +spy runs the risks, incurs the shames; the general sits in his +tent, his honour untarnished, pocketing all the glory. Faugh, you +gentlemen! You will not do dirty work, but you will have it done +for you. You sit at home with clean hands and eyes that see not, +while we go forth to serve you. You are the Duke of Mayenne. I am +your bastard nephew, living on your favour. But you go too far when +you sneer at my smirches."</p> +<p>He was on his feet, standing over Mayenne, his face blazing. M. +Étienne made an instinctive step forward, thinking him about +to knife the duke. But Mayenne, as we well knew, was no craven.</p> +<p>"Be a little quieter, Paul," he said, unmoved. "You will have +the guard in, in a moment."</p> +<p>Lucas held absolutely still for a second. So did Mayenne. He +knew that Lucas, standing, could stab quicker than he defend. He +sat there with both hands on the table, looking composedly up at +his nephew. Lucas flung away across the room.</p> +<p>"I shall have dismissed these people directly," Mayenne +continued. "Then you can tell me your tale."</p> +<p>"I can tell it now in two words," Lucas answered, coming +abruptly back. "Belin signed the warrant, and sent a young ass of +the burgher guard after Mar. I attended to some affairs of my own. +Then after a time I went round to the Trois Lanternes to see if +they had got him. He was not there—only that cub of a boy of +his. When I came in, he swore, the innkeeper swore, the whole crew +swore, I was Mar. The fool of an officer arrested me."</p> +<p>I expected Mayenne to burst out laughing in Lucas's chagrined +face. But instead he seemed less struck with his nephew's +misfortunes than with some other aspect of the affair. He said +slowly:</p> +<p>"You told Belin this arrest was my desire?"</p> +<p>"I may have implied something of the sort."</p> +<p>"You repeated it to the arresting officer before Mar's boy!"</p> +<p>"I had no time to say anything before they hustled me off," +Lucas exclaimed. "Mille tonnerres! Never had any man such luck as +I. It's enough to make me sign papers with the devil."</p> +<p>"Mar would believe I had broken faith with him?"</p> +<p>"I dare say. One isn't responsible for what Mar believes," Lucas +answered carelessly.</p> +<p>Mayenne was silent, with knit brows, drumming his hand on the +table. Lucas went on with the tale of his woes:</p> +<p>"At the Bastille, I ordered the commissary to send to you. He +did not; he sent to Belin. Belin was busy, didn't understand the +message, wouldn't be bothered. I lay in my cell like a mouse in a +trap till an hour agone, when at last he saw fit to +appear—damn him!"</p> +<p>Mayenne fell to laughing. Lucas cried out:</p> +<p>"When they arrested me my first thought was that this was your +work."</p> +<p>"In that case, how should you be free now?"</p> +<p>"You found you needed me."</p> +<p>"You are twice wrong, Paul. For I knew nothing of your arrest. +Nor do I think I need you. Pardieu! you succeed too badly to give +me confidence."</p> +<p>Lucas stood glowering, gnawing his lip, picturing the chagrin, +the angry reproaches, the justifications he did not utter. I am +certain he pitied himself as the sport of fate and of tyrants, the +most shamefully used of mortal men. And so long as he aspired to +the hand of Mayenne's ward, so long was he helpless under Mayenne's +will.</p> +<p>"'Twas pity," Mayenne said reflectively, "that you thought best +to be absent last night. Had you been here, you had had sport. Your +young friend Mar came to sing under his lady's window."</p> +<p>"Saw she him?" Lucas cried sharply.</p> +<p>"How should I know? She does not confide in me."</p> +<p>"You took care to find out!" Lucas cried, knowing he was being +badgered, yet powerless to keep himself from writhing.</p> +<p>"I may have."</p> +<p>"Did she see him?" Lucas demanded again, the heavy lines of +hatred and jealousy searing his face.</p> +<p>"No credit to you if she did not. You accomplish singularly +little to harass M. de Mar in his love-making. You deserve that she +should have seen him. But, as a matter of fact, she did not. She +was in the chapel with madame."</p> +<p>"What happened?"</p> +<p>"François de Brie—now there is a youngster, Paul," +Mayenne interrupted himself to point out, "who has not a tithe of +your cleverness; but he has the advantage of being on the spot when +needed. Desiring a word with mademoiselle, he betook himself to her +chamber. She was not there, but Mar was warbling under the +window."</p> +<p>"Brie?"</p> +<p>"Brie bestirred himself. He sent two of the guard round behind +the house to cut off the retreat, while he and Latour attacked from +the front."</p> +<p>"Mar's killed?" Lucas cried. "He's killed!"</p> +<p>"By no means," answered Mayenne. "He got away."</p> +<p>Before he could explain further,—if he meant to,—the +door opened, and Mlle. de Montluc came in.</p> +<p>Her eyes travelled first to us, in anxiety; then with relief to +Mayenne, sitting over the jewels; last, to Lucas, with startlement. +She advanced without hesitation to the duke.</p> +<p>"I am come, monsieur, to fetch you to supper."</p> +<p>"Pardieu, Lorance!" Mayenne exclaimed, "you show me a different +face from that of dinner-time." Indeed, so she did, for her eyes +were shining with excitement, while the colour that M. +Étienne had kissed into them still flushed her cheeks.</p> +<p>"If I do," she made quick answer, "it is because, the more I +think on it, the surer I grow that my loving cousin will not break +my heart."</p> +<p>"I want a word with you, Lorance," Mayenne said quietly.</p> +<p>"As many as you like, monsieur," she replied promptly. "But will +you not send these creatures from the room first?"</p> +<p>"Do you include your cousin Paul in that term?"</p> +<p>"I meant these jewellers. But since you suggest it, perhaps it +would be as well for Paul to go."</p> +<p>"You hear your orders, Paul."</p> +<p>"Aye, I hear and I disobey," Lucas retorted. "Mademoiselle, I +take too much joy in your presence to be willing to leave it."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she said to the duke, ignoring her cousin Paul with +a coolness that must have maddened him, "will you not dismiss your +tradespeople? Then can we talk comfortably."</p> +<p>"Aye," answered Mayenne, "I will. I am more gallant than Paul. +If you command it, out they go, though I have not half had time to +look their wares over. Here, master jeweller," he addressed M. +Étienne, slipping easily into Italian, "pack up your wares +and depart."</p> +<p>M. Étienne, bursting into rapid thanks to his Highness +for his condescension in noticing the dirt of the way, set about +his packing. Mayenne turned to his lovely cousin.</p> +<p>"Now for my word to you, mademoiselle. You wept so last night, +it was impossible to discuss the subject properly. But now I +rejoice to see you more tranquil. Here is the beginning and the +middle and the end of the matter: your marriage is my affair, and I +shall do as I like about it."</p> +<p>She searched his face; before his steady look her colour slowly +died. M. Étienne, whether by accident or design, knocked his +tray of jewels off the table. Murmuring profuse apologies, he +dropped on his knees to grope for them. Neither of the men heeded +him, but kept their eyes steadily on the lady.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," Mayenne deliberately went on, "I have been +over-fond with you. Had I followed my own interests instead of +bowing to your whims, you had been a wife these two years. I have +indulged you, mademoiselle, because you were my ally Montluc's +daughter, because you came to me a lonely orphan, because you were +my little cousin whose baby mouth I kissed. I have let you cavil at +this suitor and that, pout that one was too tall and one too short, +and a third too bold and a fourth not bold enough. I have been +pleased to let you cajole me. But now, mademoiselle, I am at the +end of my patience."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she cried, "I never meant to abuse your kindness. +You let me cajole you, as you say, else I could not have done it. +You treated my whims as a jest. You let me air them. But when you +frowned, I have put them by. I have always done your will."</p> +<p>"Then do it now, mademoiselle. Be faithful to me and to your +birth. Cease sighing for the enemy of our house."</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she said, "when you first brought him to me, he was +not the enemy of our house. When he came here, day after day, +season after season, he was not our enemy. When I wrote that +letter, at Paul's dictation, I did not know he was our enemy. You +told me that night that I was not for him. I promised you +obedience. Did he come here to me and implore me to wed with him, I +would send him away."</p> +<p>Mayenne little imagined how truly she spoke; but he could not +look in her eyes and doubt her honesty.</p> +<p>"You are a good child, Lorance," he said. "I could wish your +lover as docile."</p> +<p>"He will not come here again," she cried. "He knows I am not for +him. He gives it up, monsieur—he takes himself out of Paris. +I promise you it is over. He gives me up."</p> +<p>"I have not his promise for that," Mayenne said dryly; "but the +next time he comes after you, he may settle with your husband."</p> +<p>She uttered a little gasp, but scarce of surprise—almost +of relief that the blow, so long expected, had at last been +dealt.</p> +<p>"You will marry me, monsieur?" she murmured. "To M. de +Brie?"</p> +<p>"You are shrewd, mademoiselle. You know that it will be a good +three months before François de Brie can stand up to be wed. +You say to yourself that much may happen in three months. So it +may. Therefore will your bridegroom be at hand to-morrow +morning."</p> +<p>She made no rejoinder, but her eyes, wide like a hunted +animal's, moved fearsomely, loathingly, to Lucas. Mayenne uttered +an abrupt laugh.</p> +<p>"No; Paul is not the happy man. Besides bungling the St. Quentin +affair, he has seen fit to make free with my name in an enterprise +of his own. Therefore, Paul, you will dance at Lorance's wedding a +bachelor. Mademoiselle, you marry in the morning Señor el +Conde del Rondelar y Saragossa of his Majesty King Philip's court. +After dinner you will depart with your husband for Spain."</p> +<p>Lucas sprang forward, hand on sword, face ablaze with furious +protest. Mayenne, heeding him no more than if he had not been +there, rose and went to Mlle de Montluc.</p> +<p>"Have I your obedience, cousin?"</p> +<p>"You know it, monsieur."</p> +<p>She was curtseying to him when he folded her in his arms, +kissing both her cheeks.</p> +<p>"You are as good as you are lovely, and that says much, ma mie. +We will talk a little more about this after supper. Permit me, +mademoiselle."</p> +<p>He took her hand and led her in leisurely fashion out of the +room.</p> +<p>It wondered me that Lucas had not killed him. He looked murder. +Haply had the duke disclosed by so much as a quivering eyelid a +consciousness of Lucas's rage, of danger to himself, Lucas had +struck him down. But he walked straight past, clad in his composure +as in armour, and Lucas made no move. I think to stab was the +impulse of a moment, gone in a moment. Instantly he was glad he had +not killed the Duke of Mayenne, to be cut himself into dice by the +guard. After the duke was gone, Lucas stood still a long time, no +less furious, but cogitating deeply.</p> +<p>We had gathered up our jewels and locked our box, and stood +holding it between us, waiting our chance to depart. We might have +gone a dozen times during the talking, for none marked us; but M. +Étienne, despite my tuggings, refused to budge so long as +mademoiselle was in the room. Now was he ready enough to go, but +hesitated to see if Lucas would not leave first. That worthy, +however, showed no intention of stirring, but remained in his pose, +buried in thought, unaware of our presence. To get out, we had to +walk round one end or the other of the table, passing either before +or behind him. M. le Comte was for marching carelessly before his +face, but I pulled so violently in the other direction that he gave +way to me. I think now that had we passed in front of him, Lucas +would have let us go by without a look. As it was, hearing steps at +his back, he wheeled about to confront us. If the eye of love is +quick, so is the eye of hate. He cried out instantly:</p> +<p>"Mar!"</p> +<p>We dropped the box, and sprang at him. But he was too quick for +us. He leaped back, whipping out his sword.</p> +<p>"I have you now, Mar!" he cried.</p> +<p>M. Étienne grabbed up the heavy box in both hands to +brain him. Lucas retreated. He might run through M. Étienne, +but only at the risk of having his head split. After all, it suited +his book as well to take us alive. Shouting for the guards, he +retreated toward the door.</p> +<p>But I was there before him. As he ran at M. Étienne, I +had dashed by, slammed the door shut, and bolted it. If we were +caught, we would make a fight for it. I snatched up a stool for +weapon.</p> +<p>He halted. Then he darted over to the chimney, and pulled +violently the bell-rope hanging near. We heard through the closed +door two loud peals somewhere in the corridor.</p> +<p>We both ran for him. Even as he pulled the rope, M. +Étienne struck the box over his sword, snapping it. I +dropped my stool, as he his box, and we pinned Lucas in our +arms.</p> +<p>"The oratory!" I gasped. With a strength born of our +desperation, we dragged him kicking and cursing across the room, +heaved him with all our force into the oratory, and bolted the door +on him.</p> +<p>"Your wig!" cried M. Étienne, running to recover his box. +While I picked it up and endeavoured with clumsy fingers to put it +on properly, he set on its legs the stool I had flung down, threw +the pieces of Lucas's sword into the fireplace, seized his box, +dashed to me and set my wig straight, dashed to the outer door, and +opened it just as Pierre came up the corridor.</p> +<p>"Well, what do you want?" the lackey demanded. "You ring as if +it was a question of life and death."</p> +<p>"I want to be shown out, if the messer will be so kind. His +Highness the duke, when he went to supper, left me here to put up +my wares, but I know not my way to the door."</p> +<p>It was after sunset, and the room, back from the windows, was +dusky. The lackey seemed not to mark our flushed and rumpled looks, +and to be quite satisfied with M. Étienne's explanation, +when of a sudden Lucas, who had been stunned for the moment by the +violent meeting of his head and the tiles, began to pound and kick +on the oratory door.</p> +<p>He was shouting as well. But the door closed with absolute +tightness; it had not even a keyhole. His cries came to us muffled +and inarticulate.</p> +<p>"Corpo di Bacco!" M. Étienne exclaimed, with a face of +childlike surprise. "Some one is in a fine hurry to enter! Do you +not let him in, Sir Master of the Household?"</p> +<p>"I wonder who he's got there now," Pierre muttered to himself in +French, staring in puzzled wise at the door. Then he answered M. +Étienne with a laugh:</p> +<p>"No, my innocent; I do not let him in. It might cost me my neck +to open that door. Come along now. I must see you out and get back +to my trenchers."</p> +<p>We met not a soul on the stairs, every one, served or servants, +being in the supper-room. We passed the sentry without question, +and round the corner without hindrance. M. Étienne stopped +to heave a sigh of thanksgiving.</p> +<p>"I thought we were done for that time!" he panted. "Mordieu! +another scored off Lucas! Come, let us make good time home! 'Twere +wise to be inside our gates when he gets out of that closet."</p> +<p>We made good time, ever listening for the haro after us. But we +heard it not. We came unmolested up the street at the back, of the +Hôtel St. Quentin, on our way to the postern. Monsieur took +the key out of his doublet, saying as we walked around the corner +tower:</p> +<p>"Well, it appears we are safe at home."</p> +<p>"Yes, M. Étienne."</p> +<p>Even as I uttered the words, three men from the shadow of the +wall sprang out and seized us.</p> +<p>"This is he!" one cried. "M. le Comte de Mar, I have the +pleasure of taking you to the Bastille."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> +<h3><i>The countersign.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>nstantly two more men came running from the postern arch. The +five were upon us like an avalanche. One pinned my arms while +another gagged me. Two held M. Étienne, a third stopping his +mouth.</p> +<p>"Prettily done," quoth the leader. "Not a squeal! Morbleu! I +wasn't anxious to have old Vigo out disputing my rights."</p> +<p>M. Étienne's wrists were neatly trussed by this time. At +a word from the leader, our captors turned us about and marched us +up the lane by Mirabeau's garden, where Bernet's blood lay rusty on +the stones. We offered no resistance whatever; we should only have +been prodded with a sword-point for our pains. I made out, despite +the thickening twilight, the familiar uniform of the burgher guard; +M. de Belin, having bagged the wrong bird once, had now caught the +right one.</p> +<p>The captain bade one of the fellows go call the others off; I +could guess that the job had been done thoroughly, every approach +to the house guarded. I gnashed my teeth over the gag, that I had +not suspected the danger. The truth was, both of us had our heads +so full of mademoiselle, of Mayenne, and of Lucas, that we had +forgotten the governor and his preposterous warrant.</p> +<p>They led us into the Rue de l'Évêque, where was +waiting the same black coach that had stood before the Oie d'Or, +the same Louis on the box. Its lamps were lighted; by their glimmer +our captors for the first time saw us fairly.</p> +<p>"Why, captain," cried the man at M. Étienne's elbow, +"this is no Comte de Mar! The Comte de Mar is fair-haired; I've +seen him scores of times."</p> +<p>"The Comte de Mar answers to the name of Étienne, and so +does this fellow," the captain answered. He took the candle from +one of the lamps and held it in M. Étienne's face. Then he +put out a sudden hand, and pulled the wig off.</p> +<p>"Good for you, captain!" cried the men. We were indeed +unfortunate to encounter an officer with brains.</p> +<p>"We'll take your gag off too, M. le Comte, in the coach," the +captain told him.</p> +<p>"Will you bring the lass along, captain?"</p> +<p>"Not exactly," the leader laughed. "A fine prison it would be, +could a felon have his bonnibel at his side. No, I'll leave the +maid; but she needn't give the alarm yet. Do you stay awhile with +her, L'Estrange; you'll not mind the job. Keep her a quarter of an +hour, and then let her go her ways."</p> +<p>They bundled my lord into the coach, box and all, the captain +and two men with him. The fourth clambered up beside Louis as he +cracked his whip and rattled smartly down the street.</p> +<p>My guardian stole a loving arm around my waist and marched me +down the quiet lane between the garden walls. He was clutching my +right wrist, but my left hand was free, and I fumbled at my gag. In +the middle of the deserted lane he halted.</p> +<p>"Now, my beauty, if you'll be good I'll take that stopper off. +But if you make a scream, by Heaven, it'll be your last!"</p> +<p>I shook my head and squeezed his hand imploringly, while he, +holding me tight in one sinewy arm, plucked left-handedly at the +knot. I waited, meek as Griselda, till the gag was off, and then I +let him have it. Volleying curses, I hammered him square in the +eye.</p> +<p>It was a mad course, for he was armed, I not. But instead of +stabbing, he dropped me like a hot coal, gasping in the blankest +consternation:</p> +<p>"Thousand devils! It's a boy!"</p> +<p>A second later, when he recollected himself, I was tearing down +the lane.</p> +<p>I am a good runner, and then, any one can run well when he runs +for his life. Despite the wretched kirtle tying up my legs, I +gained on him, and when I had reached the corner of our house, he +dropped the pursuit and made off in the darkness. I ran full tilt +round to the great gate, bellowing for the sentry to open. He came +at once, with a dripping torch, to burst into roars of laughter at +the sight of me. My wig was somewhere in the lane behind me; he +knew me perfectly in my silly toggery. He leaned against the wall, +helpless with laughing, shouting feebly to his comrades to come +share the jest. I, you may well imagine, saw nothing funny about +it, but kicked and shook the grilles in my rage and impatience. He +did open to me at length, and in I dashed, clamouring for Vigo. He +had appeared in the court by this, as also half a dozen of the +guard, who surrounded me with shouts of astonished mockery; but I, +little heeding, cried to the equery:</p> +<p>"Vigo, M. le Comte is arrested! He's in the Bastille!"</p> +<p>Vigo grasped my arm, and lifted rather than led me in at the +guard-room door, slamming it in the soldiers' faces.</p> +<p>"Now, Félix."</p> +<p>"M. Étienne!" I gasped—"M. Étienne is +arrested! They were lying in wait for him at the back of the house, +by the tower. They've taken him off in a coach to the +Bastille."</p> +<p>"Who have?"</p> +<p>"The governor's guard. You'll saddle and pursue? You'll rescue +him?"</p> +<p>"How long ago?"</p> +<p>"About ten minutes. The coach was standing in the Rue de +l'Évêque. They left a man guarding me, but I broke +away."</p> +<p>"It can't be done," Vigo said. "They'll be out of the quarter by +now. If I could catch them at all, it would be close by the +Bastille. No good in that; no use fighting four regiments. What the +devil are they arresting him for, Félix? I understand +Mayenne wants his blood, but what has the city guard to do with +it?"</p> +<p>"It's Lucas's game," I said. Then I remembered that we had not +confided to him the tale of the first arrest. I went on to tell of +the adventure of the Trois Lanternes, and, reflecting that he might +better know just how the land lay with us, I made a clean breast of +everything—the fight before Ferou's house, the rescue, the +rencounter in the tunnel, to-day's excursion, and all that befell +in the council-room. I wound up with a second full account of our +capture under the very walls of the house, our garroting before we +could cry on the guards to save us. Vigo said nothing for some +time; at length he delivered himself:</p> +<p>"Monsieur wouldn't have a patrol about the house. He wouldn't +publish to the mob that he feared any danger whatever. Of course no +one foresaw this. However, the arrest is the best thing could have +happened."</p> +<p>"Vigo!" I gasped in horror. Was Vigo turned traitor? The solid +earth reeled beneath my feet.</p> +<p>"He'd never rest till he got himself killed," Vigo went on. +"Monsieur's hot enough, but M. Étienne's mad to bind. If +they hadn't caught him to-night he'd have been in some worse pickle +to-morrow; while, as it is, he's safe from swords at least."</p> +<p>"But they can murder as well in the Bastille as elsewhere!" I +cried.</p> +<p>Vigo shook his head.</p> +<p>"No; had they meant murder, they'd have settled him here in the +alley. Since they lugged him off unhurt, they don't mean it. I know +not what the devil they are up to, but it isn't that."</p> +<p>"It was Lucas's game in the first place," I repeated. "He's too +prudent to come out in the open and fight M. Étienne. He +never strikes with his own hand; his way is to make some one else +strike for him. So he gets M. Étienne into the Bastille. +That's the first step. I suppose he thinks Mayenne will attend to +the second."</p> +<p>"Mayenne dares not take the boy's life," Vigo answered. "He +could have killed him, an he chose, in the streets, and nobody the +wiser. But now that monsieur's taken publicly to the Bastille, +Mayenne dares not kill him there, by foul play or by law—the +Duke of St. Quentin's son. No; all Mayenne can do is to confine him +at his good pleasure. Whence presently we will pluck him out at +King Henry's good pleasure."</p> +<p>"And meantime is he to rot behind bars?"</p> +<p>"Unless Monsieur can get him out. But then," Vigo went on, "a +month or two in a cell won't be a bad thing for him, neither. His +head will have a chance to cool. After a dose of Mayenne's purge he +may recover of his fever for Mayenne's ward."</p> +<p>"Monsieur! You will send to Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Of course. You will go. And Gilles with you to keep you out of +mischief."</p> +<p>"When? Now?"</p> +<p>"No," said Vigo. "You will go clothe yourself in breeches first, +else are you not likely to arrive anywhere but at the mad-house. +And then eat your supper. It's a long road to St. Denis."</p> +<p>I ran at once, through a fusillade of jeers from soldiers, +grooms, and house-men, across the court, through the hall, and up +the stairs to Marcel's chamber. Never was I gladder of anything in +my life than to doff those swaddling petticoats. Two minutes, and I +was a man again. I found it in my heart to pity the poor things who +must wear the trappings their lives long.</p> +<p>But for all my joy in my freedom, I choked over my supper and +pushed it away half tasted, in misery over M. Étienne. Vigo +might say comfortably that Mayenne dared not kill him, but I +thought there were few things that gentleman dared not do. Then +there was Lucas to be reckoned with. He had caught his fly in the +web; he was not likely to let him go long undevoured. At best, if +M. Étienne's life were safe, yet was he helpless, while +to-morrow our mademoiselle was to marry. Vigo seemed to think that +a blessing, but I was nigh to weeping into my soup. The one ray of +light was that she was not to marry Lucas. That was something. +Still, when M. Étienne came out of prison, if ever he +did,—I could scarce bring myself to believe it,—he +would find his dear vanished over the rocky Pyrenees.</p> +<p>Vigo would not even let me start when I was ready. Since we were +too late to find the gates open, we must wait till ten of the +clock, at which hour the St. Denis gate would be in the hands of a +certain Brissac, who would pass us with a wink at the word St. +Quentin.</p> +<p>I was so wroth with Vigo that I would not stay with him, but +went up-stairs into M. Étienne's silent chamber, and flung +myself down on the window-bench his head might never touch again, +and wondered how he was faring in prison. I wished I were there +with him. I cared not much what the place was, so long as we were +together. I had gone down the mouth of hell smiling, so be it I +went at his heels. Mayhap if I had struggled harder with my +captors, shown my sex earlier, they had taken me too. Heartily I +wished they had; I trow I am the only wight ever did wish himself +behind bars. And promptly I repented me, for if Vigo had proved but +a broken reed, there was Monsieur. Monsieur was not likely to sit +smug and declare prison the best place for his son.</p> +<p>The slow twilight faded altogether, and the dark came. The city +was very still. Once in a while a shout or a sound of bell was +borne over the roofs, or infrequent voices and footsteps sounded in +the street beyond our gate. The men in the court under my window +were quiet too, talking among themselves without much raillery or +laughter; I knew they discussed the unhappy plight of the heir of +St. Quentin. The chimes had rung some time ago the half-hour after +nine, and I was fidgeting to be off, but huffed as I was with him, +I could not lower myself to go ask Vigo's leave to start. He might +come after me when he wanted me.</p> +<p>"Félix! Félix!" Marcel shouted down the corridor. +I sprang up; then, remembering my dignity, moved no further, but +bade him come in to me.</p> +<p>"Where are you mooning in the dark?" he demanded, stumbling over +the threshold. "Oh, there you are. Dame! you'd come down-stairs +mighty quick if you knew what was there for you?"</p> +<p>"What?" I cried, divided between the wild hope that it was +Monsieur and the wilder one that it was M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Don't you wish I'd tell you? Well, you're a good boy, and I +will. It's the prettiest lass I've seen in a month of +Sundays—you in your petticoats don't come near her."</p> +<p>"For me?" I stuttered.</p> +<p>"Aye; she asked for M. le Duc, and when he wasn't here, for you. +I suppose it's some friend of M. Étienne's."</p> +<p>I supposed so, indeed; I supposed it was the owner of my +borrowed plumage come to claim her own, angry perhaps because I had +not returned it to her. I wondered whether she would scratch my +eyes out because I had lost the cap—whether I could find it +if I went to look with a light. None too eagerly I descended to +her.</p> +<p>She was standing against the wall in the archway. Two or three +of the guardsmen were about her, one with a flambeau, by which they +were all surveying her. She wore the coif and blouse, the black +bodice and short striped skirt, of the country peasant girl, and, +like a country girl, she showed a face flushed and downcast under +the soldiers' bold scrutiny. She looked up at me as at a rescuing +angel. It was Mlle. de Montluc!</p> +<p>I dashed past the torch-bearer, nearly upsetting him in my +haste, and snatched her hand.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle! Come into the house!"</p> +<p>She clutched me with fingers as cold as marble, which trembled +on mine.</p> +<p>"Where is M. de St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>"At St. Denis."</p> +<p>"You must take me there to-night."</p> +<p>"I was going," I stammered, bewildered; "but you, +mademoiselle—"</p> +<p>"You knew of M. de Mar's arrest?"</p> +<p>"Aye."</p> +<p>"What coil is this, Félix?" demanded Vigo, coming up. He +took the torch from his man, and held it in mademoiselle's face, +whereupon an amazing change came over his own. He lowered the +light, shielding it with his hand, as if it were an impertinent +eye.</p> +<p>"You are Vigo," she said at once.</p> +<p>"Yes; and I know not what noble lady mademoiselle can be, +save—will it please her to come into the house?"</p> +<p>He led the way with his torch, not suffering himself to look at +her again. He had his foot on the staircase, when she called to +him, as if she had been accustomed to addressing him all her +life:</p> +<p>"Vigo, this will do. I will speak to you here."</p> +<p>"As mademoiselle wishes. I thought the salon fitter. My cabinet +here will be quieter than the hall, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>He opened the door, and she entered. He pushed me in next, +giving me the torch and saying:</p> +<p>"Ask mademoiselle, Félix, whether she wants me." He +amazed me—he who always ordered.</p> +<p>"I want you, Vigo," mademoiselle answered him herself. "I want +you to send two men with me to St. Denis."</p> +<p>"To-morrow?"</p> +<p>"No; to-night."</p> +<p>"But mademoiselle cannot go to St. Denis."</p> +<p>"I can, and I must."</p> +<p>"They will not let a horse-party through the gate at night," +Vigo began.</p> +<p>"We will go on foot."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," Vigo answered, as if she had proposed flying to +the moon, "you cannot walk to St. Denis."</p> +<p>"I must!" she cried.</p> +<p>I had put the flambeau in a socket on the wall. Now that the +light shone on her steadily, I saw for the first time, though I +might have known it from her presence here, how rent with emotion +she was, white to the lips, with gleaming eyes and stormy breast. +She had spoken low and quietly, but it was a main-force composure, +liable to snap like glass. I thought her on the very verge of +passionate tears. Vigo looked at her, puzzled, troubled, pitying, +as on some beautiful, mad creature. She cried out on him suddenly, +her rich voice going up a key:</p> +<p>"You need not say 'cannot' to me, Vigo! You know not how I came +here. I was locked in my chamber. I changed clothes with my Norman +maid. There was a sentry at each end of the street. I slid down a +rope of my bedclothes; it was dark—they did not see me. I +knocked at Ferou's door—thank the saints, it opened to me +quickly! I told M. Ferou—God forgive me!—I had business +for the duke at the other end of the tunnel. He took me through, +and I came here."</p> +<p>"But, mademoiselle, the bats!" I cried.</p> +<p>"Yes, the bats," she returned, with a little smile. "And my +hands on the ropes!" She turned them over; the skin was torn +cruelly from her delicate palms and the inside of her fingers. +Little threads of blood marked the scores. "Then I came here," she +repeated. "In all my life I have never been in the streets +alone—not even for one step at noonday. Now will you tell me, +M. Vigo, that I cannot go to St. Denis?"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, it is yours to say what you can do."</p> +<p>As for me, I dropped on my knees and laid my lips to her +fingers, softly, for fear even their pressure might hurt her +tenderness.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle!" I cried in pure delight. "Mademoiselle, that you +are here!"</p> +<p>She flushed under my words.</p> +<p>"Ah, it is no little thing brought me. You knew M. de Mar was +arrested?"</p> +<p>We assented; she went on, more to me than to Vigo, as if in +telling me she was telling M. Étienne. She spoke low, as if +in pain.</p> +<p>"After supper M. de Mayenne went back to his cabinet and let out +Paul de Lorraine."</p> +<p>"I wish we had killed him," I muttered. "We had no time or +weapons."</p> +<p>"M. de Mayenne sent for me then," she went on, wetting her lips. +"I have never seen him so angry. He was furious because M. de Mar +had been before his face and he had not known it. He felt he had +been made a mock of. He raged against me—I never knew he +could be so angry. He said the Spanish envoy was too good for me; I +should marry Paul de Lorraine to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Mordieu, mademoiselle!"</p> +<p>"That was not it. I had borne that!" she cried. "Mayhap I +deserved it. But while my lord thundered at me, word came that M. +de Mar was taken. My lord swore he should die. He swore no man ever +set him at naught and lived to boast of it."</p> +<p>"Will—"</p> +<p>She swept on unheeding:</p> +<p>"He said he should be tried for the murder of Pontou—he +should be tortured to make him confess it."</p> +<p>She dropped down on her knees, hiding her face in her arms on +the table, shaking from head to foot as in an ague. Vigo swore to +himself, loudly, violently: "If Mayenne do that, by the throne of +Heaven, I'll kill him!"</p> +<p>She sprang to her feet, dry-eyed, fierce as a young lioness.</p> +<p>"Is that all you can say? Mayenne may torture him and be killed +for it?"</p> +<p>"I shall send to the duke—" Vigo began.</p> +<p>"Aye! I shall go to the duke! I can say who killed Pontou. I +know much besides to tell the king. I was Mayenne's cousin, but if +he would save his secrets he must give up M. de Mar. Mother of God! +I have been his obedient child; I have let him do so with me as he +would. I sent my lover away. I consented to the Spanish marriage. +But to this I will not submit. He shall not torture and kill +Étienne de Mar!"</p> +<p>Vigo took her hand and kissed it.</p> +<p>"Shall we start, Vigo? Once at St. Denis, I am hostage for his +safety. The king can tell Mayenne that if Mar is tortured he will +torture me! Mayenne may not tender me greatly, but he will not +relish his cousin's breaking on the wheel."</p> +<p>"Mayenne won't torture M. Étienne," Vigo said, patting +her hand in both of his, forgetting she was a great lady, he an +equery. "Fear not! you will save him, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"Let us go!" she cried feverishly. "Let us go!"</p> +<p>Gilles was in the court waiting, stripped of his livery, dressed +peaceably as a porter, but with a mallet in his hand that I should +not like to receive on my crown. I thought we were ready, but Vigo +bade us wait. I stood on the house-steps with mademoiselle, while +he took aside Squinting Charlot for a low-voiced, emphatic +interview.</p> +<p>"Must we wait?" mademoiselle urged me, quivering like the arrow +on the bow-string. "They may discover I am gone. Need we wait?"</p> +<p>"Aye," I answered; "if Vigo bids us. He knows."</p> +<p>We waited then. Vigo disappeared presently. Mademoiselle and I +stood patient, with, oh! what impatience in our hearts, wondering +how he could so hinder us. Not till he came back did it dawn on me +for what we had stayed. He was dressed as an under-groom, not a tag +of St. Quentin colours on him.</p> +<p>"I beg a thousand pardons, mademoiselle. I had to give my +lieutenant his orders. Now, if you will give the word, we go."</p> +<p>"Do you go, M. Vigo?" She breathed deep. It was easy to see she +looked upon him as a regiment.</p> +<p>"Of course," Vigo answered, as if there could be no other +way.</p> +<p>I said in pure devilry, to try to ruffle him:</p> +<p>"Vigo, you said you were here to guard Monsieur's interests-his +house, his goods, his moneys. Do you desert your trust?"</p> +<p>Mademoiselle turned quickly to him:</p> +<p>"Vigo, you must not let me take you from your rightful post. +Félix and your man here will care for me—"</p> +<p>"The boy talks silliness, mademoiselle," Vigo returned +tranquilly. "Mademoiselle is worth a dozen hôtels. I go with +her."</p> +<p>He walked beside her across the court, I following with Gilles, +laughing to myself. Only yesterday had Vigo declared that never +would he give aid and comfort to Mlle. de Montluc. It was no marvel +she had conquered M. Étienne, for he must needs have been in +love with some one, but in bringing Vigo to her feet she had won a +triumph indeed.</p> +<p>We had to go out by the great gate, because the key of the +postern was in the Bastille. But as if by magic every guardsman and +hanger-about had disappeared—there was not one to stare at +the lady; though when we had passed some one locked the gates +behind us. Vigo called me up to mademoiselle's left. Gilles was to +loiter behind, far enough to seem not to belong to us, near enough +to come up at need. Thus, at a good pace, mademoiselle stepping out +as brave as any of us, we set out across the city for the Porte St. +Denis.</p> +<p>Our quarter was very quiet; we scarce met a soul. But afterward, +as we reached the neighbourhood of the markets, the streets grew +livelier. Now were we gladder than ever of Vigo's escort; for +whenever we approached a band of roisterers or of gentlemen with +lights, mademoiselle sheltered herself behind the equery's broad +back, hidden as behind a tower. Once the gallant M. de Champfleury, +he who in pink silk had adorned Mme. de Mayenne's salon, passed +close enough to touch her. She heaved a sigh of relief when he was +by. For her own sake she had no fear; the midnight streets, the +open road to St. Denis, had no power to daunt her: but the dread of +being recognized and turned back rode her like a nightmare.</p> +<p>Close by the gate, Vigo bade us pause in the door of a shop +while he went forward to reconnoiter. Before long he returned.</p> +<p>"Bad luck, mademoiselle. Brissac's not on. I don't know the +officer, but he knows me, that's the worst of it. He told me this +was not St. Quentin night. Well, we must try the Porte Neuve."</p> +<p>But mademoiselle demurred:</p> +<p>"That will be out of our way, will it not, Vigo? It is a longer +road from the Porte Neuve to St. Denis?"</p> +<p>"Yes; but what to do? We must get through the walls."</p> +<p>"Suppose we fare no better at the Porte Neuve? If your Brissac +is suspected, he'll not be on at night. Vigo, I propose that we +part company here. They will not know Gilles and Félix at +the gate, will they?"</p> +<p>"No," Vigo said doubtfully; "but—"</p> +<p>"Then can we get through!" she cried. "They will not stop us, +such humble folk! We are going to the bedside of our dying mother +at St. Denis. Your name, Gilles?"</p> +<p>"Forestier, mademoiselle," he stammered, startled.</p> +<p>"Then are we all Forestiers—Gilles, Félix, and +Jeanne. We can pass out, Vigo; I am sure we can pass out. I am +loath to part with you, but I fear to go through the city to the +Porte Neuve. My absence may be discovered—I must place myself +without the walls speedily.</p> +<p>"Well, mademoiselle may try it," Vigo gave reluctant consent. +"If you are refused, we can fall back on the Porte Neuve. If you +succeed—Listen to me, you fellows. You will deliver +mademoiselle into Monsieur's hands, or answer to me for it. If any +one touches her little finger—well, trust me!"</p> +<p>"That's understood," we answered, saluting together.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle need have no doubts of them," Vigo said. +"Félix is M. le Comte's own henchman. And Gilles is the best +man in the household, next to me. God speed you, my lady. I am +here, if they turn you back."</p> +<p>We went boldly round the corner and up the street to the gate. +The sentry walking his beat ordered us away without so much as +looking at us. Then Gilles, appointed our spokesman, demanded to +see the captain of the watch. His errand was urgent.</p> +<p>But the sentry showed no disposition to budge. Had we a +passport? No, we had no passport. Then we could go about our +business. There was no leaving Paris to-night for us. Call the +captain? No; he would do nothing of the kind. Be off, then!</p> +<p>But at this moment, hearing the altercation, the officer himself +came out of the guard-room in the tower, and to him Gilles at once +began his story. Our mother at St. Denis had sent for us to come to +her dying bed. He was a street-porter; the messenger had had +trouble to find him. His young brother and sister were in service, +kept to their duties till late. Our mother might even now be +yielding up the ghost! It was a pitiful case, M. le Capitaine; +might we not be permitted to pass?</p> +<p>The young officer appeared less interested in this moving tale +than in the face of mademoiselle, lighted up by the flambeau on the +tower wall.</p> +<p>"I should be glad to oblige your charming sister," he returned, +smiling, "but none goes out of the city without a passport. Perhaps +you have one, though, from my Lord Mayenne?"</p> +<p>"Would our kind be carrying a passport from the Duke of +Mayenne?" quoth Gilles.</p> +<p>"It seems improbable," the officer smiled, pleased with his wit. +"Sorry to discommode you, my dear. But perhaps, lacking a passport, +you can yet oblige me with the countersign, which does as well. +Just one little word, now, and I'll let you through."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="408.jpg"></a> <a href="images/408.jpg"><img src= +"images/408.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"IT DESOLATES ME TO HEAR OF HER EXTREMITY."</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"If monsieur will tell me the little word?" she asked +innocently.</p> +<p>He burst into laughter.</p> +<p>"No, no; I am not to be caught so easy as that, my girl."</p> +<p>"Oh, come, monsieur captain," Gilles urged, "many and many a +fellow goes in and out of Paris without a passport. The rules are a +net to stop big fish and let the small fry go. What harm will it do +to my Lord Mayenne, or you, or anybody, if you have the gentleness +to let three poor servants through to their dying mother?"</p> +<p>"It desolates me to hear of her extremity," the captain +answered, with a fine irony, "but I am here to do my duty. I am +thinking, my dear, that you are some great lady's maid?"</p> +<p>He was eying her sharply, suspiciously; she made haste to +protest:</p> +<p>"Oh, no, monsieur; I am servant to Mme. Mesnier, the grocer's +wife."</p> +<p>"And perhaps you serve in the shop?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur," she said, not seeing his drift, but on guard +against a trap. "No, monsieur; I am never in the shop. I am far too +busy with my work. Monsieur does not seem to understand what a +servant-lass has to do."</p> +<p>For answer, he took her hand and lifted it to the light, +revealing all its smooth whiteness, its dainty, polished nails.</p> +<p>"I think mademoiselle does not understand it, either."</p> +<p>With a little cry, she snatched her hand from him, hiding it in +the folds of her kirtle, regarding him with open terror. He +softened somewhat at sight of her distress.</p> +<p>"Well, it's none of my business if a lady chooses to be +masquerading round the streets at night with a porter and a lackey. +I don't know what your purpose is—I don't ask to know. But +I'm here to keep my gate, and I'll keep it. Go try to wheedle the +officer at the Porte Neuve."</p> +<p>In helpless obedience, glad of even so much leniency, we turned +away—to face a tall, grizzled veteran in a colonel's +shoulder-straps. With a dragoon at his back, he had come so softly +out of a side alley that not even the captain had marked him.</p> +<p>"What's this, Guilbert?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Some folks seeking to get through the gates, sir. I've just +turned them away."</p> +<p>"What were you saying about the Porte Neuve?"</p> +<p>"I said they could go see how that gate is kept. I showed them +how this is."</p> +<p>"Why must you pass through at this time of night?" said the +commanding officer, civilly. Gilles once again bemoaned the dying +mother. The young captain, eager to prove his fidelity, interrupted +him:</p> +<p>"I believe that's a fairy-tale, sir. There's something queer +about these people. The girl says she is a grocer's servant, and +has hands like a duchess's."</p> +<p>The colonel looked at us sharply, neither friendly nor +unfriendly. He said in a perfectly neutral manner:</p> +<p>"It is of no consequence whether she be a servant or a +duchess—has a mother or not. The point is whether these +people have the countersign. If they have it, they can pass, +whoever they are."</p> +<p>"They have not," the captain answered at once. "I think you +would do well, sir, to demand the lady's name."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle started forward for a bold stroke just as the +superior officer demanded of her, "The countersign?" As he said the +word, she pronounced distinctly her name:</p> +<p>"Lorance—"</p> +<p>"Enough!" the colonel said instantly. "Pass them through, +Guilbert."</p> +<p>The young captain stood in a mull, but no more bewildered than +we.</p> +<p>"Mighty queer!" he muttered. "Why didn't she give it to me?"</p> +<p>"Stir yourself, sir!" his superior gave sharp command. "They +have the countersign; pass them through."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> +<h3><i>St. Denis—and Navarre!</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>s the gates clanged into place behind us, Gilles stopped short +in his tracks to say, as if addressing the darkness before him:</p> +<p>"Am I, Gilles, awake or asleep? Are we in Paris, or are we on +the St. Denis road?"</p> +<p>"Oh, come, come!" Mademoiselle hastened us on, murmuring half to +herself as we went: "O you kind saints! I saw he could not make us +out for friends or foes; I thought my name might turn the scale. +Mayenne always gives a name for a countersign; to-night, by a +marvel, it was mine!"</p> +<p>I like not to think often of that five-mile tramp to St. Denis. +The road was dark, rutty, and in places still miry from Monday +night's rain. Strange shadows dogged us all the way. Sometimes they +were only bushes or wayside shrines, but sometimes they moved. This +was not now a wolf country, but two-footed wolves were plenty, and +as dangerous. The hangers-on of the army—beggars, feagues, +and footpads—hovered, like the cowardly beasts of prey they +were, about the outskirts of the city. Did a leaf rustle, we +started; did a shambling shape in the gloom whine for alms, we made +ready for onset. Gilles produced from some place of +concealment—his jerkin, or his leggings, or somewhere—a +brace of pistols, and we walked with finger on trigger, taking +care, whenever a rustle in the grass, a shadow in the bushes, +seemed to follow us, to talk loud and cheerfully of common things, +the little interests of a humble station. Thanks to this diplomacy, +or the pistol-barrels shining in the faint starlight, none molested +us, though we encountered more than one mysterious company. We +never passed into the gloom under an arch of trees without the +resolution to fight for our lives. We never came out again into the +faint light of the open road without wondering thanks to the +saints—silent thanks, for we never spoke a word of any fear, +Gilles and I. I trow mademoiselle knew well enough, but she spoke +no word either. She never faltered, never showed by so much as the +turn of her head that she suspected any danger, but, eyes on the +distant lights of St. Denis, walked straight along, half a step +ahead of us all the way. Stride as we might, we two strong fellows +could never quite keep up with her.</p> +<p>The journey could not at such pace stretch out forever. +Presently the distant lights were no longer distant, but near, +nearer, close at hand—the lights of the outposts of the camp. +A sentinel started out from the quoin of a wall to stop us, but +when we had told our errand he became as friendly as a brother. He +went across the road into a neighbouring tournebride to report to +the officer of the guard, and came back presently with a torch and +the order to take us to the Duke of St. Quentin's lodging.</p> +<p>It was near an hour after midnight, and St. Denis was in bed. +Save for a drowsy patrol here and there, we met no one. Fewer than +the patrols were the lanterns hung on ropes across the streets; +these were the only lights, for the houses were one and all as dark +as tombs. Not till we had reached the middle of the town did we +see, in the second story of a house in the square, a beam of light +shining through the shutter-chink.</p> +<p>"Some one in mischief." Gilles pointed.</p> +<p>"Aye," laughed the sentry, "your duke. This is where he lodges, +over the saddler's."</p> +<p>He knocked with the butt of his musket on the door. The shutter +above creaked open, and a voice—Monsieur's voice—asked, +"Who's there?"</p> +<p>Mademoiselle was concealed in the embrasure of the doorway; +Gilles and I stepped back into the street where Monsieur could see +us.</p> +<p>"Gilles Forestier and Félix Broux, Monsieur, just from +Paris, with news."</p> +<p>"Wait."</p> +<p>"Is it all right, M. le Duc?" the sentry asked, saluting.</p> +<p>"Yes," Monsieur answered, closing the shutter.</p> +<p>The soldier, with another salute to the blank window, and a nod +of "Good-by, then," to us, went back to his post. Left in darkness, +we presently heard Monsieur's quick step on the flags of the hall, +and the clatter of the bolts. He opened to us, standing there fully +dressed, with a guttering candle.</p> +<p>"My son?" he said instantly.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle, crouching in the shadow of the door-post, pushed +me forward. I saw I was to tell him.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, he was arrested and driven to the Bastille to-night +between seven and eight. Lucas—Paul de Lorraine—went to +the governor and swore that M. Étienne killed the lackey +Pontou in the house in the Rue Coupejarrets. It was Lucas killed +him—Lucas told Mayenne so. Mlle. de Montluc heard him, too. +And here is mademoiselle."</p> +<p>At the word she came out of the shadow and slowly over the +threshold.</p> +<p>Her alarm and passion had swept her to the door of the +Hôtel St. Quentin as a whirlwind sweeps a leaf. She had come +without thought of herself, without pause, without fear. But now +the first heat of her impulse was gone. Her long tramp had left her +faint and weary, and here she had to face not an equery and a page, +hers to command, but a great duke, the enemy of her house. She came +blushfully in her peasant dress, shoes dirty from the common road, +hair ruffled by the night winds, to show herself for the first time +to her lover's father, opposer of her hopes, thwarter of her +marriage. Proud and shy, she drifted over the door-sill and stood a +moment, neither lifting her eyes nor speaking, like a bird whom the +least movement would startle into flight.</p> +<p>But Monsieur made none. He kept as still, as tongue-tied, as +she, looking at her as if he could hardly believe her presence +real. Then as the silence prolonged itself, it seemed to frighten +her more than the harsh speech she may have feared; with a +desperate courage she raised her eyes to his face.</p> +<p>The spell was broken. Monsieur stepped forward at once to +her.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, you have come a journey. You are tired. Let me +give you some refreshment; then will you tell me the story."</p> +<p>It was an unlucky speech, for she had been on the very point of +unburdening herself; but now, without a word, she accepted his +escort down the passage. But as she went, she flung me an imploring +glance; I was to come too. Gilles bolted the door again, and sat +down to wait on the staircase; but I, though my lord had not bidden +me, followed him and mademoiselle. It troubled me that she should +so dread him—him, the warmest-hearted of all men. But if she +needed me to give her confidence, here I was.</p> +<p>Monsieur led her into a little square parlour at the end of the +passage. It was just behind the shop, I knew, it smelt so of +leather. It was doubtless the sitting-and eating-room of the +saddler's family. Monsieur set his candle down on the big table in +the middle; then, on second thought, took it up again and lighted +two iron sconces on the wall.</p> +<p>"Pray sit, mademoiselle, and rest," he bade, for she was +starting up in nervousness from the chair where he had put her. "I +will return in a moment."</p> +<p>When he had gone from the room, I said to her, half hesitating, +yet eagerly:</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, you were never afraid on the way, where there was +good cause for fear. But now there is nothing to dread."</p> +<p>She rose and fluttered round the walls of the room, looking for +something. I thought it was for a way of escape, but it was not, +for she passed the three doors and came back to her place with an +air of disappointment, smoothing the loose strands of her hair.</p> +<p>"I never before went anywhere unmasked," she murmured.</p> +<p>Monsieur entered with a salver containing a silver cup of wine +and some Rheims biscuit. He offered it to her formally; she +accepted with scarcely audible thanks, and sat, barely touching the +wine to her lips, crumbling the biscuit into bits with restless +fingers, making the pretence of a meal serve as excuse for her +silence. Monsieur glanced at her, puzzled-wise, waiting for her to +speak. Had the Infanta Isabella come to visit him, he could not +have been more surprised. It seemed to him discourteous to press +her; he waited for her to explain her presence.</p> +<p>I wanted to shake mademoiselle. With a dozen swift words, with a +glance of her blue eyes, she could sweep Monsieur off his feet as +she had swept Vigo. And instead, she sat there, not daring to look +at him, like a child caught stealing sweets. She had found words to +defend herself from the teasing tongues at the Hôtel de +Lorraine, to plead for me, to lash Lucas, to move Mayenne himself; +but she could not find one syllable for the Duke of St. Quentin. +She had been to admiration the laughing coquette, the stout +champion, the haughty great lady, the frank lover; but now she was +the shy child, blushing, stammering, constrained.</p> +<p>Had Monsieur attacked her with blunt questions, had he demanded +of her up and down what had brought her this strange road at such +amazing hour and in such unfitting company, she must needs have +answered, and, once started, she would quickly have kindled her +fire again. Had he, on other part, with a smile, an encouraging +word, given her ever so little a push, she had gone on easily +enough. But he did neither. He was courteous and cold. Partly was +his coldness real; he could not look on her as other than the +daughter of his enemy's house, ward of the man who had schemed to +kill him, will-o'-the-wisp who had lured his son to disaster. +Partly was it mere absence; M. Étienne's plight was more to +him than mademoiselle's. When she spoke not, he turned impatiently +to me.</p> +<p>"Tell me, Félix, all about it."</p> +<p>Before I could answer him the door behind us opened to admit two +gentlemen, shoulder to shoulder. They were dressed much alike, +plainly, in black. One was about thirty years of age, tall, +thin-faced, and dark, and of a gravity and dignity beyond his +years. Living was serious business to him; his eyes were +thoughtful, steady, and a little cold. His companion was some ten +years older; his beard and curling hair, worn away from his +forehead by the helmet's chafing, were already sprinkled with gray. +He had a great beak of a nose and dark-gray eyes, as keen as a +hawk's, and a look of amazing life and vim. The air about him +seemed to tingle with it. We had all done something, we others; we +were no shirks or sluggards: but the force in him put us out, penny +candles before the sun. I deem not Jeanne the Maid did any marvel +when she recognized King Charles at Chinon. Here was I, a common +lout, never heard a heavenly voice in all my days, yet I knew in +the flick of an eye that this was Henri Quatre.</p> +<p>I was hot and cold and trembling, my heart pounding till it was +like to choke me. I had never dreamed of finding myself in the +presence. I had never thought to face any man greater than my duke. +For the moment I was utterly discomfited. Then I bethought me that +not for God alone were knees given to man, and I slid down quietly +to the floor, hoping I did right, but reflecting for my comfort +that in any case I was too small to give great offence.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle started out of her chair and swept a curtsey almost +to the ground, holding the lowly pose like a lady of marble. Only +Monsieur remained standing as he was, as if a king was an every-day +affair with him. I always thought Monsieur a great man, but now I +knew it.</p> +<p>The king, leaving his companion to close the door, was across +the room in three strides.</p> +<p>"I am come to look after you, St. Quentin," he cried, laughing. +"I cannot have my council broken up by pretty grisettes. The +precedent is dangerous."</p> +<p>With the liveliest curiosity and amusement he surveyed the top +of mademoiselle's bent head, and Monsieur's puzzled, troubled +countenance.</p> +<p>"This is no grisette, Sire," Monsieur answered, "but a very +high-born demoiselle indeed—cousin to my Lord Mayenne."</p> +<p>Astonishment flashed over the king's mobile face; his manner +changed in an instant to one of utmost deference.</p> +<p>"Rise, mademoiselle," he begged, as if her appearance were the +most natural and desirable thing in the world. "I could wish it +were my good adversary Mayenne himself who was come to treat with +us; but be assured his cousin shall lack no courtesy."</p> +<p>She swayed lightly to her feet, raising her face to the king's. +Into his countenance, which mirrored his emotions like a glass, +came a quick delight at the sight of her. The colour waxed and +waned in her cheeks; her breath fluttered uncertainly; her eyes, +anxious, eager, searched his face.</p> +<p>"I cry your Majesty's good pardon," she faltered. "I had urgent +business with M. de St. Quentin—I did not guess he was with +your Majesty—"</p> +<p>"The king's business is glad to step aside for yours, +mademoiselle."</p> +<p>She curtseyed, blushing, hiding her eyes under their sooty +lashes; thinking as I did, I made no doubt, here was a king indeed. +His Majesty went on:</p> +<p>"I can well believe, mademoiselle, 'tis no trifling matter +brings you at midnight to our rough camp. We will not delay you +further, but be at pains to remember that if in anything Henry of +France can aid you he stands at your command."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="422.jpg"></a> <a href="images/422.jpg"><img src= +"images/422.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>ON THE WAY TO ST. DENIS.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>He made her a noble bow and took her hand to kiss, when she, +like a child that sees itself losing a protector, clutched his hand +in her little trembling fingers, her wet eyes fixed imploringly on +his face. He beamed upon her; he felt no desire whatever to be +gone.</p> +<p>"Am I to stay?" he asked radiantly; then with grave gentleness +he added: "Mademoiselle is in trouble. Will she bring her trouble +to the king? That is what a king is for—to ease his subjects' +burdens."</p> +<p>She could not speak; she made him her obeisance with a look out +of the depths of her soul.</p> +<p>"Then are you my subject, mademoiselle?" he demanded slyly.</p> +<p>She shook the tears from her lashes, and found her voice and her +smile to answer his:</p> +<p>"Sire, I was a true Ligueuse this morning. But I came here half +Navarraise, and now I swear I am wholly one."</p> +<p>"Now, that is good hearing!" the king cried. "Such a recruit +from Mayenne! Also is it heartening to discover that my conversion +is not the only sudden one in the world. It has taken me five +months to turn my coat, but here is mademoiselle turns hers in a +day."</p> +<p>He had glanced over his shoulder to point this out to his +gentleman, but now he faced about in time to catch his recruit +looking triste again.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, "you are beautiful, grave; but, as you +had the graciousness to show me just now, still more beautiful, +smiling. Now we are going to arrange matters so that you will smile +always. Will you tell me what is the trouble, my child?"</p> +<p>"Gladly, Sire," she answered, and dropped down a moment on her +knees before him, to kiss his hand.</p> +<p>I marvelled that Mayenne and all his armies had been able to +keep this man off his throne and in his saddle four long years. It +was plain why his power grew stronger every day, why every hour +brought him new allies from the ranks of the League. You had only +to see him to adore him. Once get him into Paris, the struggle +would be over. They would put up with no other for king.</p> +<p>"Sire," mademoiselle said with hesitancy, "I shall tire you with +my story."</p> +<p>"I am greatly in dread of it," the king answered, ceremoniously +placing her in a chair before seating himself to listen. Then, to +give her a moment, I think, to collect herself, he turned to his +companion:</p> +<p>"Here, Rosny, if you ache to be grubbing over your papers, do +not let us delay you."</p> +<p>"I am in no haste, Sire," his gentleman answered, unmoving.</p> +<p>"Which is to say, you dare not leave me alone," the king laughed +out. "I tell you, St. Quentin, if I am not dragooned into a staid, +discreet, steady-paced monarch, 'twill be no lapse of Whip-King +Rosny's. I am listening, mademoiselle."</p> +<p>She began at once, eager and unfaltering. All her confusion was +gone. It had been well-nigh impossible to tell the story to M. de +St. Quentin, impossible to tell it to this impassive M. de Rosny. +But to the King of France and Navarre it was as easy to talk as to +one's playfellow.</p> +<p>"Sire, I am Lorance de Montluc. My grandfather was the Marshal +Montluc."</p> +<p>"Were to-day next Monday, I could pray, 'God rest his soul,'" +the king rejoined. "But even a heretic may say that he was a +gallant general, an honour to France. He married a sister of +François le Balafré? And mademoiselle is orphaned +now, and my friend Mayenne's ward?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Sire. I came here, Sire, to tell M. de St. Quentin +concerning his son. And though I am talking of myself, it is all +the same story. Three years ago, after the king died, M. de Mayenne +was endeavouring with all his might to bring the Duke of St. +Quentin into the League. He offered me to him for his son, M. de +Mar."</p> +<p>"And you are still Mlle. de Montluc?"</p> +<p>She turned to Monsieur with the prettiest smile in the +world.</p> +<p>"M. de St. Quentin, though he has not fought for you, Sire, has +ever been whole-heartedly loyal."</p> +<p>"Ventre-saint-gris!" the king exclaimed. "He is either an +incredible loyalist or an incredible ass!"</p> +<p>Even the grave Rosny smiled, and the victim laughed as he +defended himself.</p> +<p>"That my loyalty may be credible, Sire, I make haste to say that +I had never seen mademoiselle till this hour."</p> +<p>"I know not whether to think better of you for that, or worse," +the king retorted. "Had I been in your place, beshrew me but I +should have seen her."</p> +<p>Monsieur smiled and was silent, with anxious eyes on +mademoiselle.</p> +<p>"M. de St. Quentin withdrew to Picardie, Sire, but M. de Mar +stayed in Paris. And my cousin Mayenne never gave up entirely the +notion of the marriage. He is very tenacious of his plans."</p> +<p>"Aye," said the king, with a grimace. "Well I know."</p> +<p>"He blew hot and cold with M. de Mar. He favoured the marriage +on Sunday and scouted it on Wednesday and discussed it again on +Friday."</p> +<p>"And what were M. de Mar's opinions?"</p> +<p>She met his probing gaze blushing but candid.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar, Sire, favoured it every day in the week."</p> +<p>"I'll swear he did!" the king cried.</p> +<p>"When M. le Duc came back to Paris," mademoiselle went on, "and +it was known he had espoused your cause, Sire, Mayenne was so loath +to lose the whole house of St. Quentin to you that he offered to +marry me out of hand to M. de Mar. And he refused."</p> +<p>"Ventre-saint-gris!" Henry cried. "We will marry you to a king's +son. On my honour, mademoiselle—"</p> +<p>"Sire," she pleaded, "you promised to hear me."</p> +<p>"That I will, then. But I warn you I am out of patience with +these St. Quentins."</p> +<p>"Then you are out of patience with devotion to your cause, +Sire."</p> +<p>"What! you speak for the recreants?"</p> +<p>"I assure you, Sire, you have no more loyal servant than M. de +Mar."</p> +<p>"Strange I cannot recollect the face of my so loyal servant," +the king said dryly.</p> +<p>But she, with a fine scorn of argument, made the audacious +answer:</p> +<p>"When you see it, you will like it, Sire."</p> +<p>"Not half so well as I like yours, mademoiselle, I promise you! +But he comes to me well commended, since you vouch for him. Or +rather, he does not come. What is this ardent follower doing so +long away from me? Where the devil does this eager partizan keep +himself? St. Quentin, where is your son?"</p> +<p>"He had been with you long ago, Sire, but for the bright eyes of +a lady of the League. And now she comes to tell me—my page +tells me—he is in the Bastille."</p> +<p>"Ventre-saint-gris! And how has that calamity befallen?"</p> +<p>She hesitated a moment, embarrassed by her very wealth of +matter, confused between her longing to set the whole case before +the king, and her fear of wearying his patience. But his glance +told her she need have no misgiving. Had she come to present him +Paris, he could not have been more interested.</p> +<p>In the little silence Monsieur found his moment and his +words.</p> +<p>"Sire, may I interrupt mademoiselle? Last night, for the first +time in a month, I saw my son. He was just returned from an +adventure under her window. Mayenne's guard had set on him, and he +was escaped by the skin of his teeth. He declared to me that never +till he was slain should he cease endeavour to win Mlle. de +Montluc. And I? Marry, I ate my words in humblest fashion. After +three years I made my surrender. Since you are his one desire, +mademoiselle, then are you my one desire. I bade him +God-speed."</p> +<p>She gave her hand to Monsieur, sudden tears welling over her +lashes.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I thought to-night I had no friends. And I have so +many!"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," the king cried in the same breath, "fear not. I +will get you your lover if I sell France for him."</p> +<p>She brushed the tears away and smiled on him.</p> +<p>"I have no fear, Sire. With you and M. de St. Quentin to save +him, I can have no fear. But he is in desperate case. Has M. de St. +Quentin told you of his secretary Lucas, my cousin Paul de +Lorraine?"</p> +<p>"Aye," said the king, "it is a dolourous topic—very +painful! Eh, Rosny?"</p> +<p>"I do not shrink from my pains, Sire," M. de Rosny answered +quietly. "I hold myself much to blame in this matter. I thought I +knew the Lucases root and branch—I did not discover that a +daughter of the house had ever been a friend to Henri de +Guise."</p> +<p>"And how should you discover it?" the king demanded. He had made +the attack; now, since Rosny would not resent it, he rushed himself +to the defence. "How were you to dream it? Henri de Guise's side +was the last place to look for a girl of the Religion. But I +forgive him. If he stole a Rochelaise, we have avenged it deep: we +have stolen the flower of Lorraine."</p> +<p>"Paul Lucas—Paul de Lorraine," she went on eagerly, "was +put into M. le Duc's house to kill him. He went all the more +willingly that he believed M. de Mar to be my favoured suitor. He +tried to draw M. de Mar into the scheme, to ruin him. He failed. +And the whole plot came to naught."</p> +<p>"I have learned that," the king said. "I have been told how a +country boy stripped his mask off."</p> +<p>He glanced around suddenly at me where I stood red and abashed. +He was so quick that he grasped everything at half a word. +Instantly he had turned to the lady again. "Pray continue, dear +mademoiselle."</p> +<p>"Afterward—that is, yesterday—Paul went to M. de +Belin and swore against M. de Mar that he had murdered a lackey in +his house in the Rue Coupejarrets. The lackey was murdered there, +but Paul de Lorraine did it. The man knew the plot; Paul killed him +to stop his tongue. I heard him confess it to M. de Mayenne. I and +this Félix Broux were in the oratory and heard it."</p> +<p>"Then M. de Mar was arrested?"</p> +<p>"Not then. The officers missed him. To-day he came to our house, +dressed as an Italian jeweller, with a case of trinkets to sell. +Madame admitted him; no one knew him but me and my chamber-*mate. +On the way out, Mayenne met him and kept him while he chose a +jewel. Paul de Lorraine was there too. I was like to die of fear. I +went in to M. de Mayenne; I begged him to come out with me to +supper, to dismiss the tradespeople that I might talk with him +there—anything. But it availed not. M. de Mayenne spoke +freely before them, as one does before common folk. Presently he +led me to supper. Paul was left alone with M. de Mar and the boy. +He recognized them. He was armed, and they were not, but they +overbore him and locked him up in the closet."</p> +<p>"Mordieu, mademoiselle! I was to rescue M. de Mar for your sake, +but now I will do it for his own. I find him much to my liking. He +came away clear, mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"Aye, to be seized in the street by the governor's men. When M. +de Mayenne found how he had been tricked, Sire, he blazed with +rage."</p> +<p>"I'll warrant he did!" the king answered, suppressing, however, +in deference to her distress, his desire to laugh. +"Ventre-saint-gris, mademoiselle! forgive me if this amuses me here +at St. Denis. I trow it was not amusing in the Hôtel de +Lorraine."</p> +<p>"He sent for me, Sire," she went on, blanching at the memory; +"he accused me of shielding M. de Mar. It was true. He called me +liar, traitor, wanton. He said I was false to my house, to my +bread, to my honour. He said I had smiling lips and a +Judas-heart—that I had kissed him and betrayed him. I had +given him my promise never to hold intercourse with M. de Mar +again, I had given my word to be true to my house. M. de Mar came +by no will of mine. I had no inkling of such purpose till I beheld +him before madame and her ladies. He came to entreat me to +fly—to wed him. I denied him, Sire. I sent him away. But was +I to say to the guard, 'This way, gentlemen. This is my +lover'?"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," the king exclaimed, "good hap that you have +turned your back on the house of Lorraine. Here, if we are but +rough soldiers, we know how to tender you."</p> +<p>"It was not for myself I came," she said more quietly. "My lord +had the right to chasten me. I am his ward, and I did deceive him. +But while he foamed at me came word of M. de Mar's capture. Then +Mayenne swore he should pay for this dear. He said he should be +found guilty of the murder. He said plenty of witnesses would swear +to it. He said M. de Mar should be tortured to make him +confess."</p> +<p>With an oath Monsieur sprang forward.</p> +<p>"Aye," she cried, starting up, "he swore M. de Mar should suffer +the preparatory and the previous, the estrapade and the +brodekins!"</p> +<p>"He dare not," the king shouted. "Mordieu, he dare not!"</p> +<p>"Sire," she cried, "you can promise him that for every blow he +strikes Étienne de Mar you will strike me two. Mar is in his +hands, but I am in yours. For M. de Mar, unhurt, you will deliver +him me, unhurt. If he torture Mar, you will torture me."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," the king cried, "rather shall he torture every +chevalier in France than I touch a hair of your head!"</p> +<p>"Sire—" the word died away in a sigh; like a snapt rose +she fell at his feet.</p> +<p>The king was quick, but Monsieur quicker. On his knees beside +her, raising her head on his arm, he commanded me:</p> +<p>"Up-stairs, Félix! The door at the back—bid Dame +Verney come instantly."</p> +<p>I flew, and was back to find him risen, holding mademoiselle in +his arms. Her hair lay loose over his shoulder like a rippling +flag; her lashes clung to her cheeks as they would never lift +more.</p> +<p>"St. Quentin," his Majesty was saying, "I would have married her +to a prince. But since she wants your son she shall have him, +ventre-saint-gris, if I storm Paris to-morrow!" And as Monsieur was +carrying her from the room, the king bent over and kissed her.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle has dropped a packet from her dress," M. de Rosny +said. "Will you take it, St. Quentin?"</p> +<p>The king, who was nearest, turned to pass it to him; at the +sight of it he uttered his dear "ventre-saint-gris!" It was a flat, +oblong packet, tied about with common twine, the seal cut out. The +king twitched the string off, and with one rapid glance at the +papers put them into Monsieur's hand.</p> +<p>"Take them, St. Quentin; they are yours."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> +<h3><i>The two dukes.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ademoiselle being given into Dame Verney's motherly hands, +Gilles and I were ordered to repose ourselves on the skins in the +saddler's shop. Lying there in the malodourous gloom, I could see +the crack of light under the door at the back and hear, between +Gilles's snores, the murmur of voices. The king and his gentlemen +were planning to save my master; I went to sleep in perfect +peace.</p> +<p>At daybreak, even before the saddler opened the shop, Monsieur +routed us out.</p> +<p>"I'm off for Paris, lads. Félix comes with me. Gilles +stays to guard mademoiselle."</p> +<p>I felt not a little injured, deeming that I, whom mademoiselle +knew best, should not be the one chosen to stay by her. But the +sting passed quickly. After all, Paris was likely to be more +exciting than St. Denis.</p> +<p>The day being Friday, we delayed not to eat, but straightway +mounted the two nags that a sunburnt Béarn pikeman had +brought to the door. As we walked them gently across the square, +which at this rath hour we alone shared with the twittering birds, +we saw coming down one of the empty streets the hurrying figure of +M. de Rosny. My lord drew rein at once.</p> +<p>"You are no slugabed, St. Quentin," the young councillor called. +"I deserved to miss you. Fear not! I come not to hinder you, but to +wish you God-speed."</p> +<p>"Now, this is kind, Rosny," Monsieur answered, grasping his +hand. "The more that you don't approve me."</p> +<p>Rosny smiled, like a sudden burst of sunshine in a December day. +Another man's embrace would have meant less.</p> +<p>"I approve you so much, St. Quentin, that I cannot composedly +see you putting your head into the lion's jaws."</p> +<p>"My head is used to the pillow. Do the teeth close, I am no +worse off than my son."</p> +<p>"Your death makes your son's no easier."</p> +<p>"Why, what else to do, Rosny?" Monsieur exclaimed. "Mishandle +the lady? Storm Paris? Sell the Cause?"</p> +<p>"I would we could storm Paris," Rosny sighed. "It would suit me +better to seize the prisoner than to sue for him. But Paris is not +ripe for us yet. You know my plan—to send to Villeroi. I +believe he could manage this thing."</p> +<p>"I am second to none," Monsieur said politely, "in my admiration +of M. de Villeroi's abilities. But to reach him is uncertain; what +he can or will do, uncertain. Étienne de Mar is not +Villeroi's son; he is mine."</p> +<p>"Aye, it is your business," Rosny assented. "It is yours to take +your way."</p> +<p>"A mad way, but mine. But come, now, Rosny, you must admit that +once or twice, when all your wiseacres were deadlocked, my madness +has served."</p> +<p>Rosny took Monsieur's hand in a silent grip.</p> +<p>"Maximilien," the duke said, smiling down on him, "what a pity +you are a scamp of a heretic!"</p> +<p>"Henri," Rosny returned gravely, "I would you had had the good +fortune to be born in the Religion."</p> +<p>Again he wished us God-speed, and we gathered up our reins. As +we turned the corner I glanced back to find him still standing as +we had left him, gazing soberly after us.</p> +<p>The man who was going into the lion's den was far less solemn +over it. By fits and starts, as he thought on his son's great +danger, he contrived a gloomy countenance: but Monsieur had ridden +all his life with Hope on the pillion; she did not desert him now. +As we cantered steadily along in the fresh, cool morning, he +already pictured M. Étienne released. However mad he +acknowledged his errand to be, I think he was scarce visited by a +doubt of its success. It was impossible to him that his son should +not be saved.</p> +<p>We entered with perfect ease the gate of Paris, and took our way +without hesitancy through the busiest streets. Nowhere did the +guard spring on us, but, instead, more than once, the passers-by +gathered in knots, the tradesmen and artisans ran out of their +shops to cheer St. Quentin, to cheer France, to cheer peace, to +cheer to the echo the Catholic king.</p> +<p>"I hope Mayenne hears them," Monsieur said to me, doffing his +hat to a big farrier who had come out of his smithy waving +impudently in the eye of all the world the white flag of the +king.</p> +<p>We kept a brisk pace alike where they cheered us and where, in +other streets, they scowled and hooted at us, so that I looked out +for men with pistols in second-story windows. But, friend or foe, +none stopped us till at length we drew rein before the grilles of +the Hôtel de Lorraine.</p> +<p>They made no demur at admitting us. Monsieur went into the +house, while I led the horses to the stables, where three or four +grooms at once volunteered to rub them down, in eagerness to pump +their guardian. But before the fellows had had time to get much out +of me came Jean Marchand, all unrecognizing, to summon me indoors. +I followed him in delight, partly for curiosity, partly because it +had seemed to me when the doorway swallowed Monsieur that I might +never see him more. Jean ushered me into the well-remembered +council-room, where Monsieur stood alone, surprised at the sight of +me.</p> +<p>"A lackey came for me," I said. "Look, Monsieur, that's where we +shut up Lucas."</p> +<p>I ceased hastily, for I knew the step in the corridor.</p> +<p>It was difficult to credit mademoiselle's tale, to believe that +Mayenne could ever be in a rage. In he came, big and calm and +smiling, whatever emotion he may have felt at Monsieur's arrival +not only buried, but with a flower-bed blooming over it. He greeted +his guest with all the courteous ease of an unruffled conscience +and a kindly heart. Not till his glance fell on me did he show any +sign of discomposure.</p> +<p>"What, you!" he exclaimed brusquely.</p> +<p>"Your servant brought him hither," Monsieur said for me.</p> +<p>"I understood that one of your gentlemen had come with you. I +sent for him, deeming his presence might conduce to your ease, M. +de St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"I am at my ease, M. de Mayenne," my lord answered, with every +appearance of truth. "You may go, Félix."</p> +<p>"No," said Mayenne. "Since he is here, he may stay. He serves +the purpose as well as another."</p> +<p>He did not say what the purpose was, nor could I see for what he +had kept me, unless as a sign to Monsieur that he meant to play +fair. I began to feel somewhat heartened.</p> +<p>"You have guessed, M. de Mayenne, my errand?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. You have come to join the League."</p> +<p>Monsieur laughed out.</p> +<p>"On the contrary, M. de Mayenne, I have come to persuade you to +join the King."</p> +<p>"That was a waste of horse-flesh."</p> +<p>"My friend, you know as well as we do that before long you will +come over."</p> +<p>"I am not there yet, nor are my enemies scattered, nor is the +League dead."</p> +<p>"Dying, my lord. It will get its coup de grâce o' Sunday, +when the king goes to mass."</p> +<p>"St. Quentin," Mayenne made quiet answer, "when I am in such +case that nothing remains to me but to fall on my sword or to kneel +to Henry, be assured I shall kneel to Henry. Till then I play my +game."</p> +<p>"Play it, then. We have the patience to wait for you, monsieur. +Be assured, in your turn, that when you do come on your knees to +his Majesty you will do well to have a friend or two at court."</p> +<p>"Morbleu," Mayenne cried, suddenly showing his teeth, "you will +never go back to him if I choose to stop you!"</p> +<p>Monsieur raised his eyebrows at him, pained by the +unsuavity.</p> +<p>"Of course not, monsieur. I quite understood that when I entered +the gate. I shall never leave this house if you will +otherwise."</p> +<p>"You will leave the house unharmed," Mayenne said curtly. "I +shall not treat you as your late master treated my brother."</p> +<p>"I thank your generosity, monsieur, and commend your good +sense."</p> +<p>Mayenne looked for a moment as if he repented of both. Then he +broke into a laugh.</p> +<p>"One permits the insolences of the court jester."</p> +<p>Monsieur sprang up, his hand on his sword. But at once the quick +flush passed from his face, and he, too, laughed.</p> +<p>Mayenne sat as he was, in somewhat lowering silence. My duke +made a step nearer him, and spoke for the first time with perfect +seriousness.</p> +<p>"My Lord Mayenne, it was no outrecuidance brought me here this +morning. There is the Bastille. There is the axe. I know that my +course has been offensive to you—your nephew proved me that. +I know also that you do not care to meddle with me openly. At +least, you have not meddled. Whether you will change your +method—but I venture to believe not. I am popular just now in +Paris. I had more cheers as I came in this morning than have met +your ears for many a month. You have a great name for prudence, M. +de Mayenne; I believe you will not molest me."</p> +<p>I hardly thought my duke was making a great name for prudence. +But then, as he said, he had to work in his own way. Mayenne +returned, with chilling calm:</p> +<p>"You may find me, St. Quentin, less timid than you suppose."</p> +<p>"Impossible. Mayenne's courage is unquestioned. I rely not on +his timidity, but on his judgment."</p> +<p>"You take a great deal upon yourself in supposing that I wanted +your death on Tuesday and do not want it on Friday."</p> +<p>"The king is three days nearer the true faith than on Tuesday. +His party is three days stronger. On Tuesday it would have been a +blunder to kill me; on Friday it is three days worse a +blunder."</p> +<p>"But not less a pleasure. I have had something of the kind in +mind ever since your master killed my brother."</p> +<p>"You should profit by that murderer's experience before you take +a leaf from his book, M. de Mayenne. Henry of Valois gained +singularly little when he slew Guise to make you head of the +League."</p> +<p>Mayenne started, and then laughed to show his scorn of the +flattery. But I think he was, all the same, half pleased, none the +less because he knew it to be flattery. He said unexpectedly:</p> +<p>"Your son comes honestly by his unbound tongue."</p> +<p>"Ah, my son! Now that you mention him, we shall discuss him a +little. You have put my son, monsieur, in the Bastille."</p> +<p>"No; Belin and my nephew Paul, whom you know, have put him +there."</p> +<p>"But M. de Mayenne can get him out if he choose."</p> +<p>"If he choose."</p> +<p>Monsieur sat down again, with the air of one preparing for an +amiable discussion.</p> +<p>"He is charged with the murder of one Pontou, a lackey. Of +course he did not commit it, nor would you care if he had. His real +offence is making love to your ward."</p> +<p>"Well, do you deny it?"</p> +<p>"Not the love, but the offence of it. Palpably you might do much +worse than dispose of the lady to my heir."</p> +<p>"I might do much better than bestow my time on you if that is +all you have to say."</p> +<p>"We have hardly opened the subject, M. de Mayenne—"</p> +<p>"I have no wish to carry it further."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, the king's ranks afford no better match than my +heir."</p> +<p>"No maid of mine shall ever marry a Royalist."</p> +<p>"I swore no son of mine should ever marry a Leaguer, but I have +come to see the error of my ways, as you will see yours, Mayenne. +It is for you to choose where among the king's forces you will +marry mademoiselle."</p> +<p>A vague uneasiness, a fear which he would not own a fear, crept +into Mayenne's eyes. He studied the face before him, a face of gay +challenge, and said, at length, not quite confidently himself:</p> +<p>"You speak with a confidence, St. Quentin."</p> +<p>"Why, to be sure."</p> +<p>Mayenne jumped heavily to his feet.</p> +<p>"What mean you?"</p> +<p>"I mean that mademoiselle's marrying is in my hands. Where is +your ward, M. de Mayenne?"</p> +<p>"Mordieu! Have you found her?"</p> +<p>"You speak sooth."</p> +<p>"In your hôtel—"</p> +<p>"No, eager kinsman. In a place whither you cannot follow +her."</p> +<p>Mayenne looked about, as if with some instinctive idea of +seeking a weapon, of summoning his soldiers.</p> +<p>"By God's throne, you shall tell me where!"</p> +<p>"With pleasure. She is at St. Denis."</p> +<p>Mayenne cried helplessly, as numbed under a blow:</p> +<p>"St. Denis! But how—"</p> +<p>"How came she there? On foot, every step. I suppose she never +walked two streets in her life before, has she, M. de Mayenne? But +she tramped to St. Denis through the dark, to knock at my door at +one in the morning."</p> +<p>Mayenne seized Monsieur's wrist.</p> +<p>"She is safe, St. Quentin? She is safe?"</p> +<p>"As safe, monsieur, as the king's protection can make her."</p> +<p>"Pardieu! Is she with the king?"</p> +<p>"She is at my lodgings, in the care of the saddler's wife who +lets them. I left a staunch man in charge—I have no doubt of +him."</p> +<p>"You answer for her safety?" Mayenne cried huskily; his breath +coming short. He was flushed, the veins in his forehead corded.</p> +<p>"When she came last night, it happened that the king was there," +Monsieur went on. "Her loveliness and her misery moved him to the +heart."</p> +<p>"Thousand thunders of heaven! You, with your son, shall be +hostages for her safe return."</p> +<p>"The king," Monsieur went on, as immovably as Mayenne himself at +his best, "with that warm heart of his pitying beauty in distress, +is eager for mademoiselle's marriage with her lover Mar. But he did +not favour my venture here; he called it a silly business. He said +you would clap me in jail, and he told me flat I might rot my life +out there before he would give up to you Mlle. de Montluc."</p> +<p>"Well, then, pardieu, we'll try if he means it!"</p> +<p>"He gave me to understand that he meant it. The St. Quentins out +of the way, there is Valère, stout Kingsman, to succeed. The +king loses little."</p> +<p>"Then are you gone mad that you put yourself in my grasp?"</p> +<p>"I was never saner. I come, my friend, to make you listen to +sanity."</p> +<p>I had waited from moment to moment Mayenne's summons to his +soldiers. But he had not rung, and now he flung himself down again +in his arm-chair.</p> +<p>"What, to your understanding, is sanity?"</p> +<p>"If you send me to join my son, monsieur, you leave mademoiselle +without a protector, friendless, penniless, in the midst of a +hostile army cursing the name of Mayenne. Have you reared her +delicately, tenderly, for that?"</p> +<p>Mayenne sat silent, his face a mask. It was impossible to tell +whether the shot hit. Monsieur went on:</p> +<p>"You can of course hold us in durance, torture us, kill us; but +you must answer for it to the people of Paris."</p> +<p>Still was Mayenne silent, drumming on the edge of the table. +Finally he said roughly, as if the words were dragged from him +against his will:</p> +<p>"I shall not torture you. I never meant to torture Mar. The +arrest was not my work. Since it was done, I meant to profit by it +to keep him awhile out of my way—only that. I threatened my +cousin otherwise in heat of passion. But I shall not torture him. I +shall not kill him."</p> +<p>"Monsieur—"</p> +<p>"I put a card in your hand," Mayenne said curtly. His pride ill +brooked to concede the point, but he could not have it supposed +that he did not see what he was doing. "I give you a card. Do what +you can with it."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, you show what little surprises me—knightly +generosity. It is to that generosity I appeal."</p> +<p>"Is the horse of that colour? But now you were frightening my +prudence."</p> +<p>"Ah, but how fortunate the man to whom generosity and prudence +point the same path!"</p> +<p>It may have been but pretence, this smiling bonhomie of +Monsieur's. Mayenne doubtless gauged it as such, but, at any rate, +he suffered it to warm him. He regained of a sudden all the +amiability with which he had greeted his guest. Smiling and calm, +he answered:</p> +<p>"St. Quentin, I care little for either your threats or your +cajoleries. They amuse me alike, and move me not. But I have a care +for my sweet cousin. Since you threaten me with her danger, you +have the whiphand."</p> +<p>Now it was Monsieur's turn to sit discreetly silent, +waiting.</p> +<p>"I went last night to tell the child I would not harm her lover. +Lo! she had flown. I had a regiment searching Paris for her. I was +in the streets myself till dawn."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, she made her way to us at St. Denis to offer herself +to our torture did you torture Mar."</p> +<p>"Morbleu!" Mayenne cried, half rising.</p> +<p>"God's mercy, we're not ruffians out there! I tell it to show +you to what the maid was strung."</p> +<p>"I never thought it great matter whom one married," Mayenne said +slowly: "one boy is much like another. I should have mated her as +befitted her station—I thought she would be happy enough. And +she was good about it: I did not see how deep she cared. She was +docile till I drove her too hard. She's a loving child. You are +fortunate in your daughter, St. Quentin."</p> +<p>Monsieur sprang up radiant, advancing on him open-armed. Mayenne +added, with his cool smile:</p> +<p>"You need not flatter yourself, Monsieur, that it is your doing. +I laugh at your threats. 'Twere sport to me to clap you behind +bars, to say to your king, to the mob you brag of, 'Come, now, get +him out.'"</p> +<p>"Then," cried Monsieur, "I must value my sweet daughter more +than ever."</p> +<p>He was standing over Mayenne with outstretched hand, but the +chief delayed taking it.</p> +<p>"Not quite so fast, my friend. If I yield up the Duc de St. +Quentin, the Comte de Mar, and Mlle. Lorance de Montluc, I demand +certain little concessions for myself."</p> +<p>"By all means, monsieur. You stamp us churls else."</p> +<p>My duke sat again, his smile a shade uneasy. Which Mayenne +perceived with quiet enjoyment, as he went on blandly: "Nothing +that I could ask of you, M. de St. Quentin, could equal, could +halve, what I give. Still, that the knightliness may not be, to +your mortification, all on one side, I have thought of something +for you to grant."</p> +<p>"Name it, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Another point in your favour I had forgot," Mayenne observed, +with his usual reluctance to show his cards even when the time had +come to spread them. "Last night I laid on this table a packet, +just arrived, which I was told belonged to you. When I had time to +think of it again, it had vanished. I accused my lackeys, but later +it occurred to me that Mlle. de Montluc, arming for battle, had +purloined it."</p> +<p>"Your shrewdness does you credit."</p> +<p>"You see you have scored a fourth point, though again by no +prowess of your own. Therefore am I emboldened to demand what I +want."</p> +<p>"Even to half my fortune—"</p> +<p>"No, not your gear. Save that for your Béarnais's itching +palm."</p> +<p>"Then what the devil is it you want? You will not get my name in +the League."</p> +<p>"I am glad my nephew Paul bungled that affair of his," Mayenne +went on at his own pace. "It might have been a blunder to kill you; +it had certainly been a pity. Though we Lorraines have two murders +to avenge, I have changed my mind about beginning with yours."</p> +<p>"You are wise, monsieur. I am, after all, a harmless +creature."</p> +<p>Mayenne laughed.</p> +<p>"Natheless have you done your best here in Paris to undermine +me. Did I let you carry on your little works unhindered, they might +in time annoy me. Therefore I request that so long as I stay in +Paris you stay out."</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't like that!"</p> +<p>The naïveté amazed while it amused Mayenne.</p> +<p>"Possibly not, but you will consent to it. You will ride out of +my court, when we have finished some necessary signing of papers, +straight to the St. Denis gate. And you will pledge me your honour +to make no attempt hereafter to enter so long as the city is +mine."</p> +<p>Mayenne was smiling broadly, Monsieur frowning. He relished the +condition little. He was enjoying himself much in Paris, his +dangers, his successes, his biting his thumb at the power of the +League. To be killed at his post was nothing, but to be bundled +away from it to inglorious safety, that stuck in his gorge. For a +moment he actually hesitated. Then he began to laugh at his own +hesitation.</p> +<p>"Well, ma foi! what do I expect? To walk, a rabbit, into the +lion's den and make my own terms to Leo? I am happy to accept +yours, M. de Mayenne, especially since, do I refuse, you will none +the less pack me off."</p> +<p>"You mistake, St. Quentin. You are welcome to spend the rest of +your days with me."</p> +<p>"In the Bastille?"</p> +<p>"Or in the League."</p> +<p>"The former is preferable."</p> +<p>"You may count yourself thrice fortunate, then, that a third +alternative is given you."</p> +<p>"It needs not the reminder. You have treated me as a prince +indeed. Be assured the St. Quentins will not forget."</p> +<p>"Every one forgets."</p> +<p>"Perhaps. But when you need our good offices we shall not have +had time to forget."</p> +<p>"Pardieu, St. Quentin, you have good courage to tell me to my +head my course is run!"</p> +<p>"My dear Mayenne, none punishes the maunderings of the court +jester."</p> +<p>Monsieur laughed out with a gay gusto; after a moment Mayenne +laughed too. My duke cried quickly, rising and walking the length +of the table to his host:</p> +<p>"You have dealt with me munificently, Mayenne. You have kept +back but one thing I want. That is yourself. You know you must come +over to us sooner or later. Come now!"</p> +<p>The other did not flame out at Monsieur, but answered +coldly:</p> +<p>"I have no taste to be Navarre's vassal."</p> +<p>"Better his than Spain's."</p> +<p>Mayenne shrugged his shoulders, his face at its stolidest.</p> +<p>"Well, I am no astrologer to read the future."</p> +<p>Monsieur laid an emphatic hand on his host's shoulder.</p> +<p>"But I read it, my friend. I see a French land under a French +king, a Catholic and a gallant fellow, faithful to old friends, +friendly to old foes. I see the dear land at peace at last, the +looms humming, the mills clacking, wheat growing thick on the +battle-fields."</p> +<p>Mayenne looked up with a grim smile.</p> +<p>"I have still a field or two to water for that wheat. My +compliments to your new master, St. Quentin; you may tell him from +me that when I submit, I submit. When I have made my surrender, +from that hour forth am I his hound to lick his hand, to guard and +obey him. Till then, let him beware of my teeth! While I have one +pikeman to my back, one sou in my pouch, I fight my cause."</p> +<p>"And when you have none, you yet have three pairs of hands at +Henry's court to pull you up out of the mire."</p> +<p>"I thank their graciousness, though I shall never need their +offices," Mayenne said grandly. He stood there stately and proud +and confident, the picture of princeliness and strength. Last night +at St. Denis it had seemed to me that no power could defy my king. +Now it seemed to me that no king could nick the power of my Lord +Mayenne. When suddenly, precisely like a mummer who in his great +moment winks at you to let you know it is make-believe, the +general-duke's dignity melted into a smile.</p> +<p>"After all," he said, "it's as well to lay an anchor to +windward."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> +<h3><i>My young lord settles scores with two foes at once.</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-o.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>ccupied in wrangling with the grooms over the merits of our +several stables, with the soldiers over politics and the armies, I +awaited in a shady corner of the court the conclusion of +formalities. I had just declared that King Henry would be in Paris +within a week, and was on the point of getting my crown cracked for +it, when, as if for the very purpose—save the mark!—of +rescuing me, entered from the street Lucas. He approached rapidly, +eyes straight in front of him, heeding us no whit; but all the +loungers turned to stare at him. Even then he paid no heed, passing +us without a glance. But the tall d'Auvray bespoke him.</p> +<p>"M. de Lorraine! Any news?"</p> +<p>He started and turned to us in half-absent surprise, as if he +had not known of our presence nor, indeed, quite realized it now. +He was both pale and rumpled, like one who has not closed an eye +all night.</p> +<p>"Any news here?" he made Norman answer.</p> +<p>"No, monsieur, unless his Grace has information. We have heard +nothing."</p> +<p>"And the woman?"</p> +<p>"Sticks to it mademoiselle told her never a word."</p> +<p>Lucas stood still, his eyes travelling dully over the group of +us, as if he expected somewhere to find help. At the same time he +was not in the least thinking of us. He looked straight at me for a +full minute before he awoke to my identity.</p> +<p>"You!"</p> +<p>"Yes, M. de Lorraine," I said, with all the respectfulness I +could muster, which may not have been much. Considering our +parting, I was ready for any violence. But after the first moment +of startlement he regarded me in a singularly lack-lustre way, +while he inquired without apparent resentment how I came there.</p> +<p>"With M. le Duc de St. Quentin," I grinned at him. "We and M. de +Mayenne are friends now."</p> +<p>I could not rouse him even to curiosity, it seemed. But he +turned abruptly to the men with more life than he had yet +shown.</p> +<p>"You've not told this fellow?"</p> +<p>"We understand our orders, monsieur," d'Auvray answered, a bit +huffed.</p> +<p>Now this was eminently the place for me to hold my tongue, but +of course I could not.</p> +<p>"They had no need to tell me, M. de Lorraine. I know quite well +what the trouble is. I know rather more about it than you do +yourself."</p> +<p>He confronted me now with all the fire I could ask.</p> +<p>"What mean you, whelp?"</p> +<p>"I mean mademoiselle. What else should I mean?"</p> +<p>"What do you know?"</p> +<p>"Everything."</p> +<p>"Her whereabouts?"</p> +<p>"Her whereabouts."</p> +<p>He had his hand to his knife by this. I abated somewhat of my +drawl to say, still airily:</p> +<p>"Go ask M. de St. Quentin. He's here. He'll be so glad to see +you."</p> +<p>"Here?"</p> +<p>"Certes. He's closeted now with M. de Mayenne. They're thicker +than brothers. Go see for yourself, M.—Lucas."</p> +<p>"Where is mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"Safe. She's to marry the Comte de Mar to-morrow."</p> +<p>He stared at me for one moment, weighing whether this could be +true; then without further parley he shot into the house.</p> +<p>"Is that true?" d'Auvray demanded.</p> +<p>Their tongues loosened now, they flooded me with questions +concerning mademoiselle, which I answered warily as I could, +heartily repenting me by this of baiting Lucas. No good could come +of it. He might even turn Mayenne from his bargain, upset all our +triumph. I hardly heard what the soldiers said to me; I was almost +nervous enough, wild enough, to dash up-stairs after him. But that +was no help. I stayed where I was, fevered with anxiety.</p> +<p>At the end of five minutes he came out of the house again, and, +without a glance at us, went straight through the gate with the +step and air of a man who knows what he is about. I was no easier +in my mind though I saw him gone.</p> +<p>Soon on his steps came a lackey to order M. de St. Quentin's +horses and two musketeers to mount and ride with him. On reaching +the door with the nags, I discovered I was not to be of the party; +our second steed must carry gear of mademoiselle's and her +handwoman, a hard-faced peasant, silent as a stone. Though the men +quizzed her, asking if she were glad to get to her mistress again, +whether she had known all this time the lady's whereabouts, she +answered no single word, but busied herself seeing the horse loaded +to her notion. Presently, in the guidance of Pierre, Monsieur +appeared.</p> +<p>"You stay, Félix, and go to the Bastille for your master. +Then you will wait at the St. Denis gate for Vigo, with +horses."</p> +<p>"Is all right, Monsieur?" I had to ask, as I held his stirrup. +"Is all right? Lucas—"</p> +<p>His face had been a little clouded as he came down the stairs, +and now it darkened more, but he answered:</p> +<p>"Quite right, Achates. M. de Mayenne stands to his word. Lucas +availed nothing."</p> +<p>He stood a moment frowning, then his countenance cleared up.</p> +<p>"My faith! I have enough to gladden me without fretting that +Lucas is alive. Fare you well, Félix. You are like to reach +St. Denis as soon as I. My son's horse will not lag."</p> +<p>He sprang to the saddle with a smiling salute to his guardians, +and the little train clattered off.</p> +<p>Pierre came to my elbow with an open paper—the order +signed and sealed for M. de Mar's release.</p> +<p>"Here, my young cockerel, you and d'Auvray are to take this to +the Bastille, and it will be strange if your master does not walk +free again. His Grace bids you tell M. de Mar he remembers +Wednesday night, underground."</p> +<p>"And I remember Tuesday night in the council-room, Pierre," I +was beginning, but he cut me short. Even now that I was in favour, +he risked no mention of his disobedience. He packed me off with +d'Auvray on the instant; I had no chance to ask him whether he +suspected us yesterday. Sometimes I have thought he did, but I am +bound to say he gave us no look to show it.</p> +<p>D'Auvray and I walked straight across Paris to the many-towered +Bastille. It seemed a little way. Before the potent name of Mayenne +bars flew open; a sentry on guard in the court led us into a small +room all stone, floor, walls, ceiling, where sat at the table some +high official, perhaps the governor of the prison himself. He was +an old campaigner, grizzled and weather-beaten, his right sleeve +hanging empty. An interesting figure, no doubt, but I paid him +scant attention, for at his side stood Lucas.</p> +<p>"I come on M. de Mayenne's business," he was expostulating, +vehement, yet civil. "I suppose he did not think it necessary to +write the order, since you know me."</p> +<p>"The regulations, M. de Lorraine—" The officer broke off +to demand of our escort, "Well, what now?"</p> +<p>I went straight up to him, not waiting permission, and held out +my paper.</p> +<p>"An order, if it please you, monsieur, for the Comte de Mar's +release."</p> +<p>Lucas's hand went out to snatch and crumple it; then his +clenched fist dropped to his side. It seemed as if his eyes would +blacken the paper with their fire.</p> +<p>"Just that—the requisition for M. de Mar's release," the +officer told him, looking up from it. "All perfectly regular and in +order. In five minutes, M. de Lorraine, the Comte de Mar shall be +before you. You may have all the conversation you wish."</p> +<p>Lucas's face was as blank as the wall.</p> +<p>"I am a soldier, and a soldier's orders must be obeyed," the +officer went on to explain, evidently not caring to offend the +general's nephew. "Without the written order I could not admit your +brother of Guise. But now you can have all the conversation you +desire with M. de Mar."</p> +<p>Lucas's face did not change, save to scowl at the very name of +his brother Guise. He said curtly, "No, I must get back to his +Grace," and, barely bowing, went from the room.</p> +<p>"Now, I don't make that out," the keeper muttered in his beard. +That Lucas should be in one moment cured of his urgent need of +seeing the Comte de Mar was too much for him, but no riddle to me. +I knew he had come to stab M. Étienne in his cell. It was +his last chance, and he had missed it. I feared him no longer, for +I believed in Mayenne's faith. My master once released, Lucas could +not hurt him.</p> +<p>What was as much to the point, the officer had no doubt of +Mayenne's good faith. He went with his paper into an inner room, +where we caught sight, through the door, of big books with a clerk +or two behind them, and in a moment appeared again with a key.</p> +<p>"Since the young gentleman's a count, I'll do turnkey's office +myself," he said, his grim old battlement of a face smiling.</p> +<p>This was our day; from Mayenne down, everybody went out of his +way to pleasure us. I was suddenly emboldened by his manner.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, perhaps it is preposterous to ask, but might I go +with you?"</p> +<p>He looked at me a moment, surprised.</p> +<p>"Well, after all, why not? You too, Sir Musketeer, an you +like."</p> +<p>So the three of us, he and d'Auvray and I, went to rescue the +Comte de Mar.</p> +<p>We passed through corridor after corridor, row after row of +heavy-barred doors. The deeper we penetrated the mighty pile, the +fonder I grew of my friend Mayenne, by whose complaisance none of +these doors would shut on me. We climbed at last a steep turret +stair winding about a huge fir trunk, lighted by slits of windows +in the four-foot wall, and at the top turned down a dark passage to +a door at the end, the bolts of which, invisible to me in the +gloom, the veteran drew back with familiar hand.</p> +<p>The cell was small, with one high window through which I could +see naught but the sky. For all furniture it contained a pallet, a +stool, a bench that might serve as table. M. Étienne stood +at the window, his arm crooked around the iron bars, gazing out +over the roofs of Paris.</p> +<p>He wheeled about at the door's creaking.</p> +<p>"I go to trial, monsieur?" he asked quickly, not seeing me +behind the keeper.</p> +<p>"No, M. le Comte. The charge is cancelled. I come to set you +free."</p> +<p>I dashed in past the officer, snatching my lord's hand to +kiss.</p> +<p>"It's true, monsieur! You're free! It's all settled with +Mayenne. Monsieur's seen him; he sets you free. He said, 'In +recognizance of Wednesday night.'"</p> +<p>Incredulous joy flashed over his face, to give way to belief +without joy.</p> +<p>"Now I know she's married."</p> +<p>"Nothing of the sort!" I fairly shouted at him, dancing up and +down in my eagerness. "She's to marry M. le Comte. She's at St. +Denis with Monsieur. She's to marry you. It's all arranged. Mayenne +consents—the king—everybody. It's all settled. She +marries you."</p> +<p>Preposterous as it seemed, he could not discredit my fervour. He +followed us out of the cell and through the fortress in a radiant +daze. He half believed himself dreaming, I think, and feared to +speak lest his happiness should melt. I fancied even that he walked +lightly and gingerly, as if the slightest unwary movement might +break the spell. Not till we were actually in the open door of the +court, face to face with freedom, did he rouse himself to +acknowledge the thing real. With a joyous laugh, he turned to the +keeper:</p> +<p>"M. de La Motte, you should employ your leisure in writing down +your reflections, like the Chevalier de Montaigne. You could give +us a trenchant essay on the Ingratitude of Man. Here are you host +of the biggest inn in Paris—a pile more imposing than the +Louvre itself. Your hospitality is so eager that you insist on +entertaining me, so lavish that you lodge me for nothing, would +keep me without a murmur till the end of my life. Yet I, ingrate +that I am, depart without a thank you!"</p> +<p>"They don't leave in such case that they can very well thank me, +most of my guests," La Motte answered, with a dry smile. "You are a +fortunate man, M. de Mar."</p> +<p>"M. le Comte, will you come quietly with me to the St. Denis +gate?" d'Auvray asked him. "Or must I borrow a guard from M. de La +Motte?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne's whole face was smiling; not his lips alone, +but his eyes. Even his skin and hair seemed to have taken on a +brighter look. He glanced at d'Auvray in surprise at the absurd +question.</p> +<p>"I will come like a lamb, M. le Mousquetaire."</p> +<p>We saluted La Motte and walked merrily out into the Place +Bastille. I think I never felt so grand as when I passed through +the noble sally-port, the soldiers making no motion to hinder us, +but all saluting as if we owned the place. It had its advantage, +this making friends with Mayenne.</p> +<p>The first thing my lord did, still in the shadow of the prison, +was to come to terms with d'Auvray.</p> +<p>"See here, my friend, why must you put yourself to the fatigue +of escorting me to the gate?"</p> +<p>"Orders, monsieur. The general-duke wants to know that you get +into no mischief between here and the gate. You are banished, you +understand, from Paris."</p> +<p>"I pledge you my word I shall make no attempt to elude my fate. +I go straight to the gate. But, with all politeness to you, Sir +Musketeer, I could dispense with your company."</p> +<p>"I am a soldier, and a soldier's orders must be obeyed," +d'Auvray quoted the keeper's words, which seemed to have impressed +him. "However, M. le Comte, if I had something to look at, I could +walk ten paces behind you and look at it."</p> +<p>"Oh, if it is a question of something to play with!" M. +Étienne laughed.</p> +<p>D'Auvray was provided with toys, and M. Étienne linked +arms with me, the soldier out of ear-shot behind us. He followed +till we were in the Rue St. Denis, when, waving his hand in +farewell, he turned his steps with the pious consciousness of duty +done. Only I looked back to see it; monsieur had forgotten his +existence.</p> +<p>"I am not proud; I don't mind being marched through the streets +by a musketeer," M. Étienne explained as we started; "but I +can't talk before him. Tell me, Félix, the story, if you +would have me live."</p> +<p>And I told him, till we almost ran blindly into the tower of the +St. Denis gate.</p> +<p>We learned of the warder that M. de St. Quentin had recently +passed out, but that nothing had been seen of his equery. No steeds +were here for us.</p> +<p>"Well, then, we'll go have a glass. But if Vigo doesn't come +soon, by my faith, I'll walk to St. Denis!"</p> +<p>But that promised glass was never drunk, nor were we to set out +at once for St. Denis; for in the door of the wine-shop we met +Lucas.</p> +<p>I had dismissed him from thought, as something out of the +reckoning, dead and done with, powerless as yesterday's broken +sword. I thought him gone out of our lives when he went out of +prison—gone forever, like last year's snow. And here within +the hour we encountered him, a naked sword in his hand, a smile on +his lips. He said, in the flower of his easy insolence:</p> +<p>"Tuesday I told you our hour would come. It is here."</p> +<p>"At your service," quoth my lord.</p> +<p>"Then it needs not to slap your face?"</p> +<p>"You insult me safely, Lucas. You have but one life. That is +forfeit, be you courteous."</p> +<p>"You think so?"</p> +<p>"I know it."</p> +<p>Lucas held out the bare sword, hilt toward us.</p> +<p>"Monsieur had a box for weapon yesterday, but as I prefer to +fight in the established way, I ventured to provide him with a +sword."</p> +<p>"Thoughtful of you, Lucas. Is this the make of sword you elect +to be killed with?"</p> +<p>He was bending the blade to try its temper. Lucas unsheathed his +own.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar may have his choice."</p> +<p>M. de Mar professed himself satisfied with the blade given +him.</p> +<p>"Have you summoned your seconds, Lucas?"</p> +<p>Lucas raised his eyebrows.</p> +<p>"Is that necessary? I thought we might settle our affairs +without delay. I confess myself impatient."</p> +<p>"Your sentiments for once are mine."</p> +<p>"It is understood you bring your spaniel with you. He will watch +that I do not spring on you before you are ready," Lucas said, with +a fine sneer.</p> +<p>"And who is to watch me?"</p> +<p>"Oh, monsieur's chivalry is notorious. Precautions are +unnecessary. It is your privilege, monsieur, to appoint the happy +spot."</p> +<p>"The spot is near at hand. Where you slew Pontou is the fitting +place for you to die."</p> +<p>"It is fitting for you to die in your own house," Lucas +amended.</p> +<p>Without further parley we turned into the Rue des Innocents, on +our way to that of the Coupejarrets.</p> +<p>Now, I had been on the watch from the first instant for foul +play. I had suspected something wrong with the sword, but my lord, +who knew, had accepted it. Then, when Lucas proposed no seconds, I +had felt sure of a trap. But his inviting my presence at the place +of our choice smelt like honesty.</p> +<p>M. Étienne remarked casually to me:</p> +<p>"Faith, there'll soon be as many ghosts in the house as you +thought you saw there—Grammont, Pontou, and now Lucas. What +ails you, lad? Footsteps on your grave?"</p> +<p>But it was not thoughts of my grave caused the shudder, but of +his. For of the three men of the lightning-flash, the third was not +Lucas, but M. Étienne. What if the vision were, after all, +the thing I had at first believed it—a portent? An appearance +not of those who had died by steel, but of those who must. One, +two, and now the third.</p> +<p>Next moment I almost laughed out in relief. It was not Pontou I +had seen, but Louis Martin. And he was living. The vision was no +omen, but a mere happening. Was I a babe to shiver so?</p> +<p>And yet Martin, if not dead, was like to die. He was in duress +as a Leaguer spy, to await King Henry's will. All who entered this +house lay under a curse. We should none of us pass out again, save +to our tombs.</p> +<p>We entered the well-remembered little passage, the +well-remembered court, where shards of glass still strewed the +pavement. Some one—the gendarmes, I fancy, when they took +away Pontou—had put a heavy padlock on the door Lucas and +Grammont left swinging.</p> +<p>"We go in by your postern, Félix," my master said. "M. +Lucas, I confess I prefer that you go first."</p> +<p>Lucas put his back to the wall.</p> +<p>"Why go farther, M. le Comte?"</p> +<p>"Do you long for interruption'?"</p> +<p>"We were not noticed coming in. The street was quiet."</p> +<p>He crossed the court abruptly and went down the alley to look +into the street.</p> +<p>"Not a soul in sight," he said, coming back. "I think we shall +not be interrupted. Still, it is wise to use every care. We will +fight, if you like, in the house."</p> +<p>He opened with his knife the fastened shutter, and leaped +lightly in. Monsieur followed. I, the last, was for closing the +shutter, but he stopped me.</p> +<p>"No; leave it wide. I have no fancy for a walk in pitch-darkness +with M. Lucas."</p> +<p>"Do we fight here?" Lucas asked, facing us in the wide, square +hall. "We can let in more light."</p> +<p>"You seem anxious, my friend, to call attention to your +whereabouts. As I am host, I designate the fighting-ground. +Up-stairs, if you please."</p> +<p>"I suppose you insist on my walking first," Lucas sneered.</p> +<p>"I request it, monsieur."</p> +<p>"With all the willingness in the world," his rogue-ship +answered, setting foot straightway on the stair and mounting +steadily, never turning to see how near we followed, or what we did +with our hands. His trust made me ashamed of our lack of it. I +almost believed we did him injustice. Yet at heart I could not +bring myself to credit him with any fair dealing.</p> +<p>We went up one flight, up two. We had left behind us the +twilight of the lower story, had not reached dawn again at the top. +We walked in blackness. Suddenly I halted.</p> +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"I heard a noise."</p> +<p>"Of course you did. The place is full of rats."</p> +<p>"It was no rat. It was footsteps."</p> +<p>We all three held still.</p> +<p>"There, monsieur. Don't you hear?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, Félix; your teeth are chattering. Cross +yourself and come on."</p> +<p>But I could not stand it.</p> +<p>"I'll go back and see, monsieur."</p> +<p>"No," Lucas said, striding back from the foot of the next +flight. "I will go."</p> +<p>We saw a glint in the gloom, monsieur's bared sword.</p> +<p>"You will go neither one of you. Hush! If we show ourselves, +there'll be no duel to-day."</p> +<p>We kept still, all three leaning over the banister, peering down +to where the white tiles picked themselves out of the floor of the +hall far beneath. We could see them better than we could see one +another. All was silent. Not so much as a rustle came up from +below. Suddenly Lucas made a step or two, as if to pass us. M. +Étienne wheeled about, raising his sword toward the spot +where from his footfalls we supposed Lucas to be.</p> +<p>"You show an eagerness to get away from me, M. de Lorraine."</p> +<p>"Not in the least, M. de Mar. This alarm is but Félix's +poltroonery, yet it prompts me to go down and close the +shutter."</p> +<p>"On the contrary, you will go up with me. Félix will +close the shutter."</p> +<p>They confronted each other, vague shapes in the darkness, each +with drawn sword. Then Lucas raised his in salute.</p> +<p>"As you will; so be some one sees to it."</p> +<p>"Go, Félix."</p> +<p>Lucas first, they mounted the last flight of stairs, and their +footsteps passed along the corridor to the room at the back. I, as +I was ordered, set my face down the stairs.</p> +<p>They might mock me as they liked, but I could not get it out of +my head that I had heard steps below. Cautiously, with a thumping +heart, I stole from stair to stair, pausing at the bottom of the +flight. I heard plainly the sound of moving above me, and of +voices; but below not a whisper, not a creak. It must have been my +silly fears. Resolved to choke them, I planted my feet boldly on +the next flight, and descended humming, to prove my ease, the +rollicky tune of Peyrot's catch. Suddenly, from not three feet off, +came the soft singing:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Mirth, my love, and Folly dear</i>—</p> +</div> +<p>My knees knocked together, and the breath fluttered in my +throat. It seemed the darkness itself had given tongue. Then came a +low laugh and the muttered words:</p> +<p>"Here we are, M. de Lorraine. Are you ready?"</p> +<p>There was a stir of feet on the landing before me, behind the +voice. The house, then, was full of Lucas's cutthroats, the first +of them Peyrot. In the height of my terror, I remembered that M. +Étienne's life, too, depended on my wits, and I kept them. I +whispered, for whispering voices are hard to tell apart:</p> +<p>"Not yet. The two of them are up there. Keep quiet, and I'll +send the boy down. When you've finished him, come up."</p> +<p>"As you say, monsieur. It is your job."</p> +<p>I turned, scarce able to believe my luck, and, not daring to +run, walked up-stairs again. Prick my ears as I might, I heard no +movement after me. Actually, I had fooled Peyrot. I had gone down +to meet my death, and a tune had saved me.</p> +<p>When I reached the uppermost landing, I rushed along the passage +and into the room, flinging the door shut, locking and bolting +it.</p> +<p>They had not begun to fight, but had busied themselves clearing +the space of all obstacles. The table was pushed against the wall +in the corner by the door; the chairs were heaped one on another at +the end of the room. Both shutters were wide open. M. +Étienne, bareheaded, in his shirt, stood at guard. Lucas was +kneeling on the floor, picking up with scrupulous care some bits of +a broken plate. He sprang to his feet at sight of me.</p> +<p>"What is it?" cried M. Étienne.</p> +<p>"Cutthroats. They'll be here in a minute."</p> +<p>Even as I spoke, I heard tramping on the stairs below. My slam +of the door had warned them that something was wrong.</p> +<p>"Was that your delay?" M. Étienne shouted, springing at +his foe.</p> +<p>"I play to win!" Lucas answered, smiling.</p> +<p>The blades met; the men circled about and about. Lucas, though +he preferred to murder, knew how to duel.</p> +<p>We were doomed. With monsieur's sword for only weapon, we could +never hope to pass the gang. In another minute they would be here +to batter the door down and end us. Our consolation lay in killing +Lucas first. Yet as I watched, I feared that M. Étienne, in +the brief moments that remained to him, could not conquer him, so +shrewd and strong was Lucas's fence. Must the scoundrel win? I +started forward to play Pontou's trick. Lucas sought to murder us. +Why not we him?</p> +<p>One flash from my lord's eyes, and I retreated in despair. For I +knew that did I touch Lucas, M. Étienne would let fall his +sword, let Lucas kill him. And the bravos were on the last +flight.</p> +<p>Was there no escape? There were three doors in the room. One led +to the passage, one to the closet, the third—I dashed through +to find myself in a large empty chamber, a door wide open giving on +the passage. Through it I could see the dusky figures of four men +running up the stairs.</p> +<p>I was across the room like an arrow, and got the door shut and +bolted before they could reach the landing. The next moment some +one flung against it. It stood firm. Delaying only a moment to +shake it, three of the four I could hear run to the farther door, +whence issued the noise of the swords.</p> +<p>I, inside the wall, ran back too. The combat still raged. +Neither, that I could see, had gained the least advantage. Outside, +the murderers dashed themselves upon the door.</p> +<p>I dragged at the heavy table, and, with a strength that amazed +myself, pushed and pulled it before the door. It would make the +panels a little firmer.</p> +<p>Was there no escape? None? I ran once more into the second +chamber. Its shutters were closed; I threw them open. There was no +other door to the room, no hiding-place. There was a chimney, but +spanned a foot above the fireplace by two iron bars. The thinnest +sweep that ever wielded broom could not have squeezed between +them.</p> +<p>In despair, I ran to the window again. Top of the house as it +was, I thought I would sooner leap than be stabbed to death. I +stuck my head out. It was the same window where I had stood when +Grammont seized me. There, not ten feet away, eight at the most, +but a little above me, was the casement of my garret in the Amour +de Dieu. Would it be possible to jump and catch the sill? If I did, +I could scarce pull myself in.</p> +<p>I looked below me. There swung the sign of the Amour de Dieu. +And there beside it stood a homespun figure surely known to me. +There was no mistaking that bald pate. I yelled at the top of my +lungs:</p> +<p>"Maître Jacques!"</p> +<p>He looked up, gaping at this voice out of the sky, but, despite +his amazement, I saw that he knew me.</p> +<p>"Maître Jacques! We're being murdered! We can't get out! +Help us for the love of Christ! Bring a plank, a rope, to the +window there!"</p> +<p>For an instant he stood confounded. Then he vanished into the +inn.</p> +<p>I waited, on fire. Still from the next room sounded the clash of +steel. White shirt and black doublet passed the door in turn, +unflagging, ungaining.</p> +<p>Suddenly came a new noise from the passage, of trampling and +rending, blows and oaths. My first thought was that they were +fighting out there, that rescuers had come. Then, as I listened, I +learned better. Despairing of kicking down the door, they were +tearing out a piece of stair-rail for a battering-ram. It would not +long stand against that.</p> +<p>I ran back to the window. No Jacques appeared. We were lost, +lost!</p> +<p>Hark, from the next room a cry, a fall! Well, were it Lucas's +victory, he might kill me as well as another. I walked into the +back room. But it was Lucas who lay prone.</p> +<p>"Come, come!" I cried, clutching monsieur's wrist. But he would +not till with Lucas's own misericorde he had given him coup de +grâce.</p> +<p>Crash! Crash! The upper panel shivered in twain. A great +splinter six inches wide, hanging from the top, blocked the +opening. A hand came through to wrench it away.</p> +<p>M. Étienne, across the room at a leap, drove his knife +through the hand, nailing it to the wood. On the instant he +recognized its owner.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Peyrot. We've recovered the packet."</p> +<p>Not waiting for further amenities, I seized my lord and dashed +him into the front room, only a faint hope to lead me, but the +oaths of the bravos a good spur. And, St. Quentin be thanked, there +in the garret window were Jacques and his tapsters, pushing a +ladder to us.</p> +<p>"Go, monsieur! There are four behind us. Go!"</p> +<p>"You first!"</p> +<p>But I, who had snatched up his sword as he stabbed Lucas, ran +back to guard the door. He had the sense to see there was no good +arguing. Crying, "Quick after me, Félix!" he crawled out on +the ladder.</p> +<p>Peyrot was released. Another blow from the ram, and the door +fell to finders. They leaped in over the table like a freshet over +a dam. I darted to the window. M. Étienne was in the garret, +helping hold the ladder for me. I flung myself upon it all too +eagerly. Like a lath it snapped.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> +<h3><i>"The very pattern of a king."</i></h3> +<div class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p>he next world appeared to be strangely like this. I found myself +lying on a straw bed in a little low attic, my head resting +comfortably on some one's shoulder, while some one else poured wine +down my gullet. Presently I discovered that Maître Jacques's +was the ministering hand, M. Étienne's the shoulder. After +all, this was not heaven, but still Paris.</p> +<p>I had no desire to speak so long as the flow of old Jacques's +best Burgundy continued; but when he saw my eyes wide open, he +stopped, and I said, my voice, to my surprise, very faint and +quavery:</p> +<p>"What happened?"</p> +<p>"Dear, brave lad! You fainted!"</p> +<p>My lord's voice was as unsteady as mine.</p> +<p>"But the ladder?" I murmured.</p> +<p>"The ladder broke. But you had hold beyond the break. You hung +on till we seized you. And then you swooned."</p> +<p>"What a baby!" I said, getting to my feet. "But the men, +monsieur? Peyrot?"</p> +<p>"I think we've seen the last of those worthies. They took to +their heels when you escaped them."</p> +<p>"But, monsieur, they've gone to inform! You'll be taken for +killing Lucas."</p> +<p>"I doubt it. Themselves smell too strong of blood to dare bruit +the matter. Natheless, if you can walk now, we'll make good time to +the gate."</p> +<p>But for all his haste, he would not start till I had had some +bread and soup down in the kitchen.</p> +<p>"We must take good care of you, boy Félix," he said. "For +where the St. Quentins would be without you, I tremble to +think."</p> +<p>I set out a new man. In three steps, it seemed to me, we had +reached the city gate, to find the way blocked by a company of +twenty or thirty horse, the St. Quentin uniform flaunting gay in +the sun. The nearest trooper set up a shout at sight of us, when +Vigo, coming out suddenly from behind a nag, took M. le Comte in +his big embrace. He released him immediately, looking immensely +startled at his own demonstration.</p> +<p>M. Étienne laughed out at him.</p> +<p>"Be more careful, I beg you, Vigo! You will make me imagine +myself of some importance."</p> +<p>"I thought you swallowed up," Vigo growled. "You had been +here—I couldn't get a trace of you."</p> +<p>"I was killing Lucas."</p> +<p>"Sacré! He's dead?"</p> +<p>"Dead."</p> +<p>"That's the best morning's work ever you did, M. +Étienne."</p> +<p>"Have you horse for us, Vigo?"</p> +<p>"Of course. Some of the men will walk. I suppose we're leaving +Paris to buy you out of the Bastille?"</p> +<p>"Not worth it, eh, Vigo?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Vigo, gravely—"yes, M. Étienne. You are +worth it."</p> +<p>Vigo's troop was but slow-moving, as some of the horses carried +double, some were loaded with chattels. M. Étienne and I, on +the duke's blood-chargers, soon left the cavalcade behind us. +Before I knew it, we were halted at the outpost of the camp. My +lord gave his name.</p> +<p>"To be sure!" cried the sentry. "We've orders about you. You +dine with the king, M. de Mar."</p> +<p>"Mordieu! I do?"</p> +<p>"You do. Orders are to take you to him out of hand. +Captain!"</p> +<p>The officer lounged out of the tavern door.</p> +<p>"Captain, M. de Mar."</p> +<p>"Oh, aye!" cried the captain, coming forward with brisk +interest. "M. de Mar, you're the child of luck. You dine with the +king."</p> +<p>"I am the child of bewilderment, captain."</p> +<p>"And you've not too much time to recover from it, M. le Comte. +You are to go straight to the king."</p> +<p>"I may go to M. de St. Quentin's lodgings first?"</p> +<p>"No, monsieur; straight to the king."</p> +<p>"What! in my shirt?"</p> +<p>"I can't help it, monsieur," the captain laughed. "I suppose the +king did not guess you were coming in your shirt. Anyway, his order +was to fetch you direct. And direct you go. But never care. Our +king's no stickler for toggery. He's known what it is himself to +lack for a coat."</p> +<p>"I might wash my face, then."</p> +<p>"Certainly. No harm in that."</p> +<p>So M. Étienne went into the tournebride and washed his +face. And that was all the toilet he made for audience with the +greatest king in the world.</p> +<p>"You'll ride to Monsieur's," he commanded me, when the captain +answered:</p> +<p>"No; he goes with you, monsieur, if he's the boy Choux, Troux, +whatever it is."</p> +<p>"Broux—Félix Broux!" I cried, a-quiver.</p> +<p>"That's it. You go to the king, too. Another luck-child."</p> +<p>I thought so indeed. We followed the sentry through the town in +a waking dream, content to let him do with us as he would. He did +the talking, explained to the grandees in the king's hall our names +and errand. One of them led us up the stairs and knocked at a +closed door.</p> +<p>"Enter!"</p> +<p>It was Henry's own voice. I pinched monsieur's hand to tell him. +Our guide opened the door a crack.</p> +<p>"M. de Mar, Sire, and his servant."</p> +<p>"Good, La Force. Let them enter."</p> +<p>M. La Force fairly pushed us over the sill, so abashed were we, +and shut the door upon us.</p> +<p>The king was alone. But before this simple gentleman in the +rusty black, M. Étienne caught his breath as he had not done +before a court in full pomp. He had seen courts, but he had never +seen the first soldier of Europe. He advanced three steps into the +room, and forgot to kneel, forgot to lower his gaze in the +presence, but merely stared wide-eyed at majesty, as majesty stared +at him. Thus they stood surveying each other from top to toe in the +frankest curiosity, till at length the king spoke:</p> +<p>"M. de Mar, you look less like a carpet-knight than I +expected."</p> +<p>M. Étienne came to himself, to kneel at once.</p> +<p>"Sire, I blush for my looks. But your zealous soldiers would not +let me from their clutches. I am just come from killing Paul de +Lorraine."</p> +<p>"What! the spy Lucas?"</p> +<p>"Himself. And when I left the spot by way of the window in some +haste, I was not expecting this honour, Sire."</p> +<p>"Nor do I think you deserve it, ventre-saint-gris!" the king +cried. "Though you come hatless and coat-less to-day, you have been +a long time on the road, M. de Mar."</p> +<p>"Aye, Sire."</p> +<p>"You might as well have stayed away as come at this hour. Marry, +all's over! Go hang yourself, my breathless follower! We have +fought all our great battles, and you were not there!"</p> +<p>Scarlet under the lash, M. Étienne, kneeling, bent his +eyes on the ground. He was silent, but as the king spoke not, he +felt it incumbent to stammer something:</p> +<p>"That is my life's misfortune, Sire."</p> +<p>"Misfortune, sirrah? Misfortune you call it? Let me hear you say +fault."</p> +<p>"I dare not, Sire," M. Étienne murmured. "It was of +course your Majesty's fault. We cannot serve heretics, we St. +Quentins."</p> +<p>"Ventre-saint-gris! You think well of yourself, young Mar."</p> +<p>"I must, Sire, when your Majesty invites me to dinner."</p> +<p>The king burst into laughter, and his temper, which I believe +was all a play, vanished to the winds.</p> +<p>"Pardieu! you're a glib fellow, Mar. But I didn't invite you to +dinner for your own sake, little as you can imagine it. So you +would have joined my flag four years ago, had I not been a stinking +heretic?"</p> +<p>"Aye, Sire, I needs must have. Therefore am I everlastingly +beholden to your Majesty for remaining so long a Huguenot."</p> +<p>"How now, cockerel?"</p> +<p>M. Étienne faltered a moment. He was not burdened by +shyness, but before the king's sharp glance he underwent a cold +terror lest he had been too free with his tongue. However, there +was naught to do but go on.</p> +<p>"Sire, had I fought under your banner like a man, at Dieppe and +Arques and Ivry, M. de Mayenne had never dreamed of marrying his +ward to me. I had never known her."</p> +<p>"The loveliest demoiselle I ever saw!" the king cried. "I shall +marry her to one of my staunchest supporters."</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a name="478.jpg"></a> <a href="images/478.jpg"><img src= +"images/478.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>THE MEETING.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>The smile was washed from M. Étienne's lips. He turned as +white as linen. In one moment his youth seemed to go from him. The +king, unnoting, picked a parchment off the table.</p> +<p>"To one of my bravest captains. Here's his commission, my +lad."</p> +<p>M. Étienne stared up from the writing into the king's +laughing face.</p> +<p>"I, Sire? I?"</p> +<p>"You, Mar, you. You are my staunch supporter, perhaps?"</p> +<p>"Your horse-boy, an you ask it, Sire!"</p> +<p>He pressed his lips to the king's hand, great, helpless tears +dripping down upon it.</p> +<p>"If I ever desert you, I am a dog, Sire! But the fighting is not +all done. I will capture you a flag yet."</p> +<p>"Perhaps. I much fear me there's life in Mayenne still."</p> +<p>M. Étienne, not venturing to rise, yet lifted beseeching +eyes to the king's.</p> +<p>"What! you want to get away from me, ventre-saint-gris!"</p> +<p>My lord, who wanted precisely that, had no choice but to protest +that nothing was farther from his thoughts.</p> +<p>"Stuff!" the king exclaimed. "You're in a sweat to be gone, you +unmannerly churl! You, a raw, untried boy, are invited to dine with +the king, and your one itch is to escape the tedium!"</p> +<p>"Sire—"</p> +<p>"Peace! You are guilty, sirrah. Take your punishment!"</p> +<p>He darted across the room, and throwing open an inner door, +called gently, "Mademoiselle!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Sire," she answered, coming to the threshold.</p> +<p>The peasant lass was gone forever. The great lady, regal in +satins, stood before us. She bent on the king a little, eager, +questioning glance; then she caught sight of her lover. Faith, had +the sun gone out, the room would have been brilliant with the light +of her face.</p> +<p>M. Étienne sprang up and toward her. And she, pushing by +the king as if he had been the door-post, went to him. They stood +before each other, neither touching nor speaking, but only looking +one at the other like two blind folk by a heavenly miracle restored +to sight.</p> +<p>"How now, children? Am I not a model monarch? Do you swear by me +forever? Do you vouch me the very pattern of a king?"</p> +<p>Answer he got none. They heard nothing, knew nothing, but each +other. The slighted king chuckled and, beckoning me, withdrew to +his cabinet.</p> +<p>So here an end. For if Henry of France leave them, you and I may +not stay.</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helmet of Navarre, by Bertha Runkle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELMET OF NAVARRE *** + +***** This file should be named 14219-h.htm or 14219-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1/14219/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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