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diff --git a/14219-0.txt b/14219-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58c977c --- /dev/null +++ b/14219-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14290 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14219 *** + +[Illustration: Cover] + + + + +THE HELMET OF NAVARRE. + +Bertha Runkle. + + + + +THE HELMET OF NAVARRE + +[Illustration: THE FLORENTINES IN THE HÔTEL DE MAYENNE] + +[Illustration] + + +BY BERTHA RUNKLE + + +THE HELMET OF + +NAVARRE + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANDRÉ CASTAIGNE + + +THE CENTURY CO. + +NEW YORK 1901 + + + + +TO MY MOTHER + + + + + Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war, + And be your oriflamme to-day the Helmet of Navarre. + + LORD MACAULAY'S "IVRY." + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + I A FLASH OF LIGHTNING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + II AT THE AMOUR DE DIEU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 + III M. LE DUC IS WELL GUARDED. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 + IV THE THREE MEN IN THE WINDOW. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 + V RAPIERS AND A VOW. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 + VI A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 + VII A DIVIDED DUTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62 + VIII CHARLES-ANDRÉ-ÉTIENNE-MARIE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + IX THE HONOUR OF ST. QUENTIN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 + X LUCAS AND "LE GAUCHER" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 + XI VIGO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 + XII THE COMTE DE MAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 + XIII MADEMOISELLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 + XIV IN THE ORATORY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + XV MY LORD MAYENNE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 + XVI MAYENNE'S WARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 + XVII "I'LL WIN MY LADY!". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 + XVIII TO THE BASTILLE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 + XIX TO THE HÔTEL DE LORRAINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 + XX "ON GUARD, MONSIEUR" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251 + XXI A CHANCE ENCOUNTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 + XXII THE SIGNET OF THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 + XXIII THE CHEVALIER OF THE TOURNELLES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 + XXIV THE FLORENTINES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319 + XXV A DOUBLE MASQUERADE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336 + XXVI WITHIN THE SPIDER'S WEB. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362 + XXVII THE COUNTERSIGN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379 +XXVIII ST. DENIS--AND NAVARRE!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402 + XXIX THE TWO DUKES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423 + XXX MY YOUNG LORD SETTLES SCORES WITH TWO FOES AT ONCE . . . . 440 + XXXI "THE VERY PATTERN OF A KING" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 461 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE +THE FLORENTINES IN THE HÔTEL DE MAYENNE. . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ +"WITH A CRY MONSIEUR SPRANG TOWARD ME" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 +"IN A FLASH HE WAS OUT OF THEIR GRASP, FLYING DOWN THE ALLEY". . . 117 +"I DO NOT FORGIVE HIS DESPATCHING ME HIS HORSE-BOY". . . . . . . . 149 +MLLE. DE MONTLUC AND FÉLIX BROUX IN THE ORATORY. . . . . . . . . . 169 +"SORRY TO DISTURB MONSIEUR, BUT THE HORSES MUST BE FED". . . . . . 205 +"HE WAS DEPOSITED IN THE BIG BLACK COACH". . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 +"WE CLIMBED OUT INTO A SILK-MERCER'S SHOP" . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 +AT THE "BONNE FEMME" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 +"IT DESOLATES ME TO HEAR OF HER EXTREMITY" . . . . . . . . . . . . 397 +ON THE WAY TO ST. DENIS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 +THE MEETING. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 467 + + + + + +THE HELMET OF NAVARRE + + + + +THE HELMET OF NAVARRE. + +[Illustration] + + + + +I + +_A flash of lightning._ + + +At 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." + +"And give the house a bad name," I said. + +"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." + +This raised a laugh among the tavern idlers, for I had been bragging a +bit of my prospects. I retorted: + +"When I am, Maître Jacques, look out for a rise in your taxes." + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Do you still wish to join M. le Duc?" he said. + +"Father!" was all I could gasp. + +"Then you shall go," he answered. That was not bad for an old man who +had lost two sons for Monsieur! + +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. + +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. + +Too tired, however, to wonder long, I blew out the candle, and was +asleep before I could shut my eyes. + + * * * * * + +Crash! Crash! Crash! + +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. + +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. + +Then all was dark again, and the thunder shook the roof. + +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. + + + + +II + +_At the Amour de Dieu._ + + +When 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. + +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. + +"You have strange neighbours in the house opposite," said I. + +He started, and the thin wine he was setting before me splashed over on +the table. + +"What neighbours?" + +"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." + +He laughed. + +"Aha, my lad, your head is not used to our Paris wines. That is how you +came to see visions." + +"Nonsense," I cried, nettled. "Your wine is too well watered for that, +let me tell you, Maître Jacques." + +"Then you dreamed it," he said huffily. "The proof is that no one has +lived in that house these twenty years." + +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: + +"If it was only a dream, how came you to spill the wine?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Holy Virgin!" I cried, crossing myself. + +"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." + +"And that house--what happened in that house?" + +"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." + +"Mon dieu! yes." + +"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." + +"And have others seen as well as I?" + +"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." + +"There were three men," I said, "young men, in sombre dress--" + +"M. de Béthune and his cousins. What further? Did you hear shrieks?" + +"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." + +"'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." + +I stared at him blankly, and he added: + +"Their Henry of Navarre." + +"But he is not lost. There has been no battle." + +"Lost to them," said Maître Jacques, "when he turns Catholic." + +"Oh!" I cried. + +"Oh!" he mocked. "You come from the country; you don't know these +things." + +"But the King of Navarre is too stiff-necked a heretic!" + +"Bah! Time bends the stiffest neck. Tell me this: for what do the +learned doctors sit in council at Mantes?" + +"Oh," said I, bewildered, "you tell me news, Maître Jacques." + +"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: + +"It should be welcome news to you." + +Welcome was it; it made plain the reason Monsieur's change of base. Yet +it was my duty to be discreet. + +"I am glad to hear of any heretic coming to the faith," I said. + +"Pshaw!" he cried. "To the devil with pretences! 'Tis an open secret +that your patron has gone over to Navarre." + +"I know naught of it." + +"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." + +"His parleyings?" I echoed feebly. + +"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." + +"Yet you do not think him safe?" + +"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." + +"And yet nothing has happened to him." + +"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." + +"I was talking with the men here last night," I said. "There was not one +but had a good word for Monsieur." + +"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." + +I would not be dampened, though, by an old croaker. + +"Nay, maître, if the people are with him, the League will not dare--" + +"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!" + +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: + +"At least, it will happen unless Henry of Navarre comes to save us from +it. He is a good fellow, this Navarre." + +"They say he can never enter Paris." + +"They say lies. Let him but leave his heresies behind him and he can +enter Paris to-morrow." + +"Mayenne does not think so." + +"No; but Mayenne knows little of what goes on. He does not keep an inn +in the Rue Coupejarrets." + +He stated the fact so gravely that I had to laugh. + +"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." + +"Well," said I, "I leave you, then, to make kings. I must be off to my +duke. What's the scot, maître?" + +He dropped the politician, and was all innkeeper in a second. + +"A crown!" I cried in indignation. "Do you think I am made of crowns? +Remember, I am not yet Minister of Finance." + +"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?" + +"Then I pray Navarre may come soon and end it." + +"Amen to that," said old Jacques, quite gravely. "If he comes a Catholic +it cannot be too soon." + +I counted out my pennies with a last grumble. + +"They ought to call this the Rue Coupebourses." + +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! + + + + +III + +_M. le Duc is well guarded._ + + +I 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He turned at once; then looked as if the sight of me scarce repaid him. + +"I wish to enter, if you please," I said. "I am come to see M. le Duc." + +"You?" he ejaculated, his eye wandering over my attire, which, none of +the newest, showed signs of my journey. + +"Yes, I," I answered in some resentment. "I am one of his men." + +He looked me up and down with a grin. + +"Oh, one of his men! Well, my man, you must know M. le Duc is not +receiving to-day." + +"I am Félix Broux," I told him. + +"You may be Félix anybody for all it avails; you cannot see Monsieur." + +"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. + +"Vigo, say you! Vigo does not see street boys." + +"I am no street boy," I cried angrily. "I know Vigo well. You shall +smart for flouting me, when I have Monsieur's ear." + +"Aye, when you have! Be off with you, rascal. I have no time to bother +with you." + +"Imbecile!" I sputtered. But he had turned his back on me and resumed +his pacing up and down the court. + +"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." + +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. + +A little knot of people had quickly collected--sprung from between the +stones of the pavement, it would seem--to see Monsieur emerge. + +"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. + +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!" + +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!" + +"I am no assassin," I cried; "I only sought to speak with Monsieur." + +"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!" + +"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." + +They all laughed; the young gentleman seemed no favourite. + +"Parbleu! that was why I drew him from the wheels, because _he_ knocked +him there," said my preserver. "I don't believe there's harm in the boy. +What meant you, lad?" + +"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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Remained, then, but one course--to stay in Paris, and keep from +starvation as best I might. + +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. + +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. + +'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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A few good blows knocked in the casement. I followed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The next instant a cloth fell over my face and was twisted tight; strong +arms pulled me back, and a deep voice commanded: + +"Close the shutter." + +Some one pushed past me and shut it with a clang. + +"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. + +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. + + + + +IV + +_The three men in the window_ + + +I 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. + +"Dame! but I have got into a pickle," I thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They came into the room, and I thought they were three in number. I +heard the door shut, and then steps approached my closet. + +"Have a care now, monsieur; he may be armed," spoke the rough voice of a +man without breeding. + +"Doubtless he carries a culverin up his sleeve," sneered the deep tones +of my captor. + +Some one else laughed, and rejoined, in a clear, quick voice: + +"Natheless, he may have a knife. I will open the door, and do you look +out for him, Gervais." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"How came you here? What are you about?" + +"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." + +He clutched my shoulder till I could have screamed for pain. + +"The truth, now. If you value your life you will tell the truth." + +"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." + +"Who said that?" + +"Maître Jacques, at the Amour de Dieu." + +He stared at me in surprise. + +"What had you been asking about this house?" + +Yeux-gris, lounging against the table, struck in: + +"I can tell you that myself. He told Jacques he saw us in the window +last night. Did you not?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, monsieur. He told me this house belonged to M. de Béthune, who was +a Huguenot and killed in the massacre." + +Yeux-gris burst into joyous laughter. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"St. Quentin!" came a cry from the henchman. With a fierce "Be quiet, +fool!" Gervais turned to me and demanded my name. + +"Félix Broux." + +"Who sent you here?" + +"Monsieur, no one." + +"You lie." + +Again he gripped me by the shoulder, gripped till the tears stood in my +eyes. + +"No one, monsieur; I swear it." + +"You will not speak! I'll make you, by Heaven." + +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. + +"Let alone, Gervais! The boy's honest." + +"He is a spy." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What of that?" + +"Pardieu! is it nothing?" + +Yeux-gris returned with a touch of haughtiness: + +"It is nothing. A gentleman may live in his own house." + +Gervais looked as if he remembered something. He said much less +boisterously: + +"And do you want Monsieur here?" + +Yeux-gris flushed red. + +"No," he cried. "But you may be easy. He will not trouble himself to +come." + +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." + +"Then you have me to kill as well!" + +Gervais turned on him snarling. Yeux-gris laid a hand on his sword-hilt. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I am for letting him go," said Yeux-gris. + +Gervais looked doubtful, the most encouraging attitude toward me he had +yet assumed. He answered: + +"If he had not said the name--" + +"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." + +This was Greek to me; I had mentioned no names but Maître Jacques's and +my own. And he was their friend. + +"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." + +"And that is at St. Quentin," said Yeux-gris. + +"Yes, monsieur. My father, Anton Broux, is Master of the Forest to the +Duke of St. Quentin." + +He started, and Gervais cried out: + +"Voilà! who is the fool now?" + +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. + +Yeux-gris spoke to me, for the first time gravely: + +"This is not a time when folks take pleasure-trips to Paris. What +brought you?" + +"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." + +The bitterness I felt over my rebuff must have been in my voice and +face, for Gervais spoke abruptly: + +"And do you hate him for that?" + +"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." + +"The Comte de Mar!" exclaimed Yeux-gris. + +"His son." + +"He has no son." + +"But he has, monsieur. The Comte de--" + +"He is dead," said Yeux-gris. + +"Why, we knew naught--" I was beginning, when Gervais broke in: + +"You say the fellow's honest, when he tells such tales as this! He saw +the Comte de Mar--!" + +"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--" + +"That is Lucas, that is his secretary," declared Yeux-gris, as who +should say, "That is his scullion." + +Gervais looked at him oddly a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and +demanded of me: + +"What next?" + +"I came away angry." + +"And walked all the way here to risk your life in a haunted house? +Pardieu! too plain a lie." + +"Oh, I would have done the like; we none of us fear ghosts in the +daytime," said Yeux-gris. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"He shall be nobody's valet," Gervais cried. + +The gray eyes flashed, but their owner rejoined lightly: + +"You have a man; surely I should have one, too. And I understand the +services of M. Félix are not engaged." + +"Mille tonnerres! you would take this spy--this sneak--" + +"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: + +"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." + +Easily, with grace, he had disposed of the matter. But I said: + +"Monsieur, I shall do nothing of the kind." + +"What!" he cried, as if the clothes-brush itself had risen in rebellion, +"what! you will not." + +"No," said I. + +"And why not?" he demanded, plainly thinking me demented. + +"Because I know you are against the Duke of St. Quentin." + +Whatever they had thought me, neither expected that speech. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +V + +_Rapiers and a vow._ + + +I 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Have you killed him?" cried Yeux-gris. + +"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." + +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. + +Gervais turned to his cousin. + +"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." + +"Nay," answered the other, faintly; "help me." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, I give you the boy," Gervais repeated rather sullenly, turning away +to pour himself some wine. + +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. + +"Aha," said Yeux-gris, "what think you now of being my valet?" + +Verily, I was hard pushed. + +"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." + +"No," he answered gravely, "that is not my métier." + +Gervais laughed. + +"Make me that offer, and I accept." + +Yeux-gris turned to him with that little hauteur he assumed +occasionally. + +"You are helpless, my cousin. You have passed your word." + +"Aye. I leave him to you." + +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? + +"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." + +"Time never was when I did not love courage." + +"Oh, it is courage!" With a sneer he turned away. + +"Gervais," said Yeux-gris, "have the kindness to unlock the door." + +Gervais wheeled around, his face an angry question. + +Yeux-gris answered it with cold politeness: + +"That Félix Broux may pass out." + +"By Heaven, he shall not!" + +"You gave your word you would leave him to me. Did you lie?" + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--" + +"I will come myself and let him out," said Gervais, and laughed. + +I glanced at my protector, not liking to think of that moment, whenever +it might be, "afterward." He went up to Gervais. + +"My cousin, are we friends or foes? For, faith! you treat me strangely +like a foe." + +"We are friends." + +"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." + +"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." + +A shadow fell over Yeux-gris's open face. + +"That task needs a greater power than yours, my Gervais." + +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." + +Gervais brought him back to the point. + +"Well, I've done what I could for you. But you don't help me when you +let loose a spy to warn Lucas." + +"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." + +"As you choose, then. I will not touch a hair of his head if you keep +him from Lucas." + +Once more he turned away across the room. My bewilderment was so great +that the words came out of themselves: + +"Messieurs, is it Lucas you mean to kill?" + +Yeux-gris looked at me, not instantly replying. I cried again to him: + +"Monsieur, is it Lucas or the duke?" + +Then Yeux-gris, despite a gesture from Gervais, who would have told me +nothing I might ask, exclaimed: + +"Why, Lucas!" + +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. + +A dash of water in the face made me look up, to see Yeux-gris standing +wet-handed by me. + +"Mon dieu!" he cried, "you were as white as the wall. Do you love so +much this Lucas who struck you?" + +"No," I said, rising; "I thought you meant to kill the duke." + +"Did you take us for Leaguers?" + +I nodded. + +He spoke as if actually he felt it important to set himself right in my +eyes. + +"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." + +"But you are enemies to the Duke of St. Quentin?" + +He answered me slowly: + +"We do not love him. But we do not plot his death. He goes his way +unharmed by us. We are gentlemen, not bravos." + +"And Lucas?" + +"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?" + +I looked into his gray eyes, that had flashed so hotly in my defence, +and I could not but believe him. + +"Yes, monsieur," I said. + +He regarded me curiously. + +"The duke's life seems much to you." + +"Why, monsieur, I am a Broux." + +"And could not be disloyal to save your life?" + +"My life! Monsieur, the Broux would not seek to save their souls if M. +le Duc preferred them damned." + +I expected he would rebuke me for the outburst, but he did not; he +merely said: + +"And Lucas?" + +"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." + +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. + +Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness. + +"Get up, hound. It is time to meet Martin." + +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: + +"You dare not send that man, Gervais." + +"Why not?" + +"Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you. Look at +his face." + +"He shall swear on the cross!" + +"Aye. But you cannot trust the oath of such as he." + +"What would you? We must send." + +"As you will. But you are mad if you send him." + +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. + +"I will settle with him later. But you are right. We cannot send him." + +Yeux-gris burst into laughter. + +"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." + +Gervais started. + +"No; that will not do." + +"Eh, bien, then, what will you propose?" + +But it was some one else who proposed. I said to Yeux-gris: + +"Monsieur, if all your purpose is against Lucas and no other, I am your +man. I will go." + +"What, my stubborn-neck, you?" + +"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." + +"Now, I wonder if you are lying," said Gervais. + +"I do not think he is lying," Yeux-gris said. "I trow, Gervais, we have +got our messenger." + +"You tell me to beware of Pontou because he hates me, and then would +have me trust this fellow?" Gervais demanded with some acumen. + +I said: "Monsieur, you do not seem to understand how I come to make this +offer." + +"To get out of the house with a whole skin." + +I had a joy in daring him, being sure of Yeux-gris. + +"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." + +He stared at me with an air more of bewilderment than aught else, but +Yeux-gris's ready laughter rang out. + +"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!" + +"Which do you wish to see slain?" demanded the black Gervais. + +I answered quite truthfully: + +"Monsieur, I shall be pleased either way." + +I know not how he relished the answer, for Yeux-gris cried out at once: + +"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." + +"Monsieur," I answered, as I think, very neatly, "if I am a well, truth +lies at the bottom." + +"Well, Gervais?" demanded Yeux-gris. + +Gervais bent his lowering brows on his cousin. + +"Do you say, trust him?" + +"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." + +Gervais was still doubtful. + +"It is a risk. If he betrays--" + +"What is life without risks?" cried Yeux-gris. "I thought you too good a +gambler, Gervais, to falter before a risk." + +"Well," Gervais consented, "I leave it to you. Do as you like." + +Yeux-gris said at once to me: + +"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." + +"Very good, monsieur. And I?" + +"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." + +"Then he will be the other man I saw in the window? I shall know him." + +"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?" + +I repeated the directions. + +"You have learned your lesson. You will ask him the hour--only that." + +"And you will take oath not to betray us," commanded Gervais. + +I took out the cross that hung on my rosary. I was ready to swear. +Gervais prompted: + +"I swear to go and come straight, and speak no word to any but Martin." + +With all solemnity I swore it on my cross. + +"That oath will be kept," said Yeux-gris. He held out a sudden hand for +the cross, which I gave him, wondering. + +"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. + +At last I saw the door unlocked. Yeux-gris even returned to me my knife. + +"Au revoir, messieurs." + +Gervais, sullen to the last, vouchsafed no answer, but Yeux-gris called +out cheerily, "Au revoir." + + + + +VI + +_A matter of life and death._ + + +Nothing 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"What seek you here?" + +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. + +"I am come to learn the hour," said I. + +"Did you not hear the chimes ring five?" + +"Oh, no need for disguise. I am come from the two in the Rue +Coupejarrets. They bade me ask the hour." + +He favoured me with another of his shifty glances. + +"What hour meant they?" + +I said bluntly, in a louder tone: + +"The hour when M. Lucas sets out on his secret mission." + +"Hush!" he cried. "Hush! Don't say names aloud--his or the other's." + +"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?" + +He looked at me sharply for another brief instant before his eyes slunk +away from mine. + +"You should have a password." + +"They gave me none. They told me to say I came from the shuttered house +in the Rue Coupejarrets, and that would be enough." + +"How came you into this business?" + +"By a back window." + +He gave me another suspicious glance, but making nothing by it, he +rejoined: + +"Eh bien, I trust you. I will tell you." + +He clutched my arm and drew me to the back of the arch, where the +afternoon shadows were already gathered. + +"What have you for me?" he demanded. + +"Nothing. What should I have?" + +"No gold?" + +"No." + +"He promised me ten pistoles to-day. He did not give them to you?" + +"I tell you, no." + +"You are a thief! You have them!" + +He stepped forward menacingly; so did I. He then fell back as abruptly. + +"Nay, it was a jest; I know you are honest. But he promised me ten +pistoles." + +"He did not give them to me," I said. "Perhaps he was not so convinced +of my honesty. He will doubtless pay you afterward." + +"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." + +"I cannot mend that. It lies between you and him. I have not seen or +heard of any money." + +Martin edged up close to the door of retreat and waxed defiant. + +"Then all I have to say is, he may go whistle for his news." + +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: + +"As you choose. But M. Gervais carries a long sword." + +He started at that and made no instant reply, seeming to be balancing +considerations. Then he gave his decision. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"Also Vigo will go." + +"Vigo!" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Three to two; Lucas will not fight." + +Lucas must be a poltroon, indeed! + +"But Vigo and Monsieur--" I began. + +"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." + +Talk of words like thunderbolts! All the thunder of heaven could not +have whelmed me like those words. Yeux-gris and his oaths! It _was_ the +duke, after all! + +I could not speak. I looked I know not how. But it was dusky in the +arch. + +"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." + +Still I stood like a block of wood. + +"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. + +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. + +The grilles were closed as before, but the sentry's face, luckily, was +strange to me. + +"Open! open!" I shouted, breathless. "I must see M. le Duc!" + +"Who are you?" he demanded, staring. + +"My name is Broux. I have news for M. le Duc. Let me in. It is a matter +of life and death." + +"Why, I suppose, then, I must let you in," that good fellow answered, +drawing back the bolts. "But you must wait here till--" + +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. + +"M. le Duc!" I cried. "I must see him." + +They jumped up, the picture of bewilderment. + +"Who are you? How came you here?" cried the quicker-tongued of the two. + +"The sentry opened for me. Where am I to find M. le Duc? I must see him! +I have news!" + +"M. le Duc sees no one to-day," the second lackey announced pompously. + +"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." + +"From whom do you come?" + +"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." + +They looked at each other, somewhat impressed. + +"I will go for M. Constant," said the one who had spoken first. + +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. + +"I had rather you fetched Vigo," I said. + +"Oh, Vigo will not come. He is with Monsieur. If I bring M. Constant, it +is the best I can do for you." + +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. + +The other was not too grand to cross-examine me. + +"What sort of news have you? Do you come from the king?" he asked in a +lowered voice. + +"No." + +"From M. de Valère?" + +"No." + +"Then who the devil are you?" + +"Félix Broux of St. Quentin." + +"Ah, St. Quentin," he said, as if he found that rather tame. "You bring +news from there?" + +"No, I do not. Think you I shall tell you? This news is for Monsieur." + +"It won't reach Monsieur unless you learn politeness toward the +gentlemen of his household," he retorted. + +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: + +"Ah, M. Constant! You know me, Félix Broux of St. Quentin. I must see M. +le Duc." + +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: + +"He lies. I do not know him. I never saw him." + +"Never saw me, Félix Broux!" I cried, completely taken aback. + +"No," maintained Constant. "You are an impostor." + +"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!" + +Constant was paying off old scores with interest. + +"An impostor," he yelled shrilly, "or else a madman--or an assassin." + +"That is the truth," said some one, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder. + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"He is here to kill Monsieur; he is an assassin!" screamed Constant. +"Flog him, men; he will own the truth then!" + +"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!" + +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: + +"What is this rumpus? Who talks of Monsieur's life?" + +The guards halted dead, and I cried out joyfully: + +"Vigo!" + +"Yes, I am Vigo," the big man answered, striding down the stairs. "Who +are you?" + +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. + +"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." + +At the friendliness in his voice the guards dropped their hands from me. + +"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." + +He looked at me sternly. + +"This is not one of your fooleries, Félix?" + +"No, M. Vigo." + +"Come with me." + + + + +VII + +_A divided duty._ + + +That 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. + +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. + +"No one may enter, M. Vigo, not even you. M. le Duc has ordered it. Why, +Félix! You in Paris!" + +"I enter," said Vigo; and, sweeping Marcel aside, he knocked loudly. + +"I came last night," I found time to say under my breath to my old +comrade before the door was opened. + +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. + +"You cannot enter, Vigo. M. le Duc is occupied." + +He made to shut the door, but Vigo's foot was over the sill. + +"Natheless, I must enter," he answered unabashed and pushed his way into +the room. + +"Then you must answer for it," returned the secretary, with a scowl that +sat ill on his delicate face. + +"_You_ 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. + +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. + +"Roland!" I said. The dog sprang up and came to me. + +"Félix Broux!" Monsieur exclaimed, with his quick, warm smile--a smile +no man in France could match for radiance. + +I had no thought of kneeling, of making obeisance, of waiting permission +to speak. + +"Monsieur," I cried, half choked, "there is a plot--a vile plot to +murder you!" + +"Where? At St. Quentin?" + +"No, Monsieur. Here in Paris. In the streets to-night, when you go to +the king." + +Monsieur sprang to his feet, his hand on his sword. Lucas turned white. +Vigo swore. Monsieur cried: + +"How, in God's name, know you that?" + +"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--" + +"Diable!" breathed Vigo. + +"They set on you on your way--three of them--to run you through before +you can draw." + +"But, ventre bleu! Monsieur is not alone." + +"No; he walks between you and M. Lucas." + +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! + +"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: + +"You cannot think, Monsieur, that I betrayed you?" + +Vigo said nothing. His steady eyes never left Monsieur's face. + +"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. + +"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." + +Lucas started, then instantly recovered himself. + +"A comprehensive plot, Monsieur," he said, with a smile. + +"Then who was it?" cried Monsieur to me. "You know. Speak." + +"There is a spy in the house--an eavesdropper," I said, and then paused. + +"Aye?" said Monsieur. "Who?" + +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. + +"His name, man, his name!" Monsieur was crying. + +"Monsieur," I returned, flushing hot, "Monsieur--" + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes, Monsieur, I know his name, but--" + +Monsieur looked at me in surprise and frowning, impatience. Quickly +Lucas struck in: + +"Monsieur, I have grave doubts of the boy's honesty." + +"Doubts!" cried Monsieur, with a sudden laugh. "It is not a case for +doubts. The boy states facts." + +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. + +"Now, Félix Broux, let us get to the bottom of this." + +"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." + +"And my assassin!" + +"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." + +"That is likely true," said Vigo, "for he was ready to kill the men who +barred his way." + +"You were in a plot to kill my secretary!" + +"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried. + +"You--Félix Broux!" + +I curled with shame. + +"M. Lucas had struck me," I muttered; "I thought the fight was fair +enough. And they threatened my life." + +Monsieur's contemptuous eyes shrivelled me as flame shrivels a leaf. + +"You--a Broux of St. Quentin!" + +Lucas, who had watched me close all the while, as they all three did, +said now: + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Then, in Heaven's name, Félix," burst out Vigo, "which side are you +on?" + +Monsieur began to laugh. + +"That is what I should like to know. For, by St. Quentin, I can make +nothing of it." + +"Monsieur," insisted Lucas, "whatever he was once, I believe him a +trickster now." + +Monsieur bent his keen eyes on me. + +"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." + +"Will Monsieur let me speak?" + +"I have done naught but urge you to do so for some time past," he +answered dryly. + +"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--" + +"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 _am_ sorry." + +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." + +"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." + +"There spoke the Broux!" cried Monsieur with his brilliant smile. "Now +you are Félix. Who are my would-be murderers?" + +We had come round in a circle to the place where we had stuck before, +and here we stuck again. + +"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." + +The duke's eyes flashed. + +"You call him that--my assassin!" + +"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?" + +"According to your own account, he betrayed you." + +"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?" + +"To whom do you owe your first duty?" + +"Monsieur, to you." + +"Then speak." + +But I could not do it. Though I knew Yeux-gris for a villain, yet he had +saved my life. + +"Monsieur, I cannot." + +The duke cried out: + +"This to me!" + +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: + +"Félix, let me understand you. In what manner did this man save your +life?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"I shall do as I see fit," he answered, all the duke. "Félix, will you +speak?" + +"If Monsieur will promise to let him go--" + +"Insolence, sirrah! I do not bargain with my servants." + +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: + +"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!" + +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. + +Monsieur's hand lay on my head as he said quietly: + +"Now, Félix, speak." + +I answered huskily: + +"Would Monsieur have me turn Judas?" + +"Judas betrayed his _master_." + +It was my last stand. My last redoubt had fallen. I raised my head to +tell him all. + +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. + +I rose to my feet, and said: + +"Kill me, Monsieur; I cannot tell." + +"Nom de dieu!" he shouted, springing up. + +I shut my eyes and waited. Had he slain me then and there it were no +more than my deserts. + +"Monsieur," said Vigo, immovably, "shall I go for the boot?" + +I opened my eyes then. Monsieur stood quite still, his brow knotted, his +hands clenched as if to keep them off me. + +"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 _cannot_." + +He burst into an angry laugh. + +"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." + +"There is the boot, Monsieur." + +Monsieur laughed again, no less angrily. + +"That does not help me, my good Vigo. I cannot torture a Broux." + +"There Monsieur is wrong. The lad has been disloyal and insolent, if he +is a Broux." + +"Granted, Vigo," said M. le Duc. But he did not add, "Fetch the boot." + +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?" + +M. le Duc was silent for a moment, while the hot flush that had sprung +to his face died away. Then he answered Vigo: + +"Nevertheless, it is owing to Félix that I shall not walk out to meet my +death to-night." + +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: + +"If I might be permitted a suggestion, Monsieur--" + +Monsieur silenced him with a sharp gesture. + +"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!" + + + + +VIII + +_Charles-André-Étienne-Marie._ + + +Unpleased, 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. + +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: + +"What is it? What is the coil? What have you done, Félix?" + +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! + +"What is it all about?" cried Marcel, again. "You look as glum as a +Jesuit in Lent. What is the matter with you, Félix?" + +"I have cooked my goose," I said gloomily. + +"What have you done?" + +"Nothing that I can speak about. But I am out of Monsieur's books." + +"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." + +I had nothing to tell him, and was silent. + +"What is it? Can't you tell an old chum?" + +"No; it is Monsieur's private business." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Yes. But Monsieur did not recognize me." + +"Like enough," Marcel answered. "He has a way of late of falling into +these absent fits. Monsieur is not the man he was." + +"He does look older," I said, "and worn. I trow the risk he is +running--" + +"Pshaw!" cried Marcel, with scorn. "Is Monsieur a man to mind risks? No; +it is M. le Comte." + +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! + +"How long ago was it?" I asked in a hushed voice. + +"Since M. le Comte left us? It will be three weeks next Friday." + +"How did he die?" + +"Die?" echoed Marcel. "You crazy fellow, he is not dead!" + +It was my turn to stare. + +"Then where is he?" + +"It would be money in my pouch if I knew. What made you think him dead, +Félix?" + +"A man told me so." + +"Pardieu!" he cried in some excitement. "When? Who was it?" + +"To-day. I do not know the man's name." + +"It seems you know very little. Pardieu! I do not believe M. le Comte is +dead. What else did your man say?" + +"Nothing. He only said the Comte de Mar was dead." + +"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." + +"But where is he, then? You say he is lost." + +"Aye. He has not been seen or heard of since the day they had the +quarrel." + +"Who quarrelled?" + +"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." + +But I thought of Monsieur's wonderful patience, and I cried: + +"Shame!" + +"What now?" + +"To speak like that of Monsieur." + +"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." + +"One would get his head broken." + +"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." + +"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." + +"And so I will, if you're civil. In the first place, there was the +question of M. le Comte's marriage." + +"What! is he married?" + +"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." + +"Of course," said I. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"And who may he be?" + +"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." + +"No, nor M. le Comte, either." + +"Why, you have seen M. le Comte!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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: + +"Nay, Marcel, you were telling me of M. le Comte and the quarrel." + +"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." + +"And so would any St. Quentin." + +"Oh, you are always piping up for the St. Quentins." + +"He should have no need in this house." + +We jumped up to find Vigo standing behind us. + +"What have you been saying of Monsieur?" + +"Nothing, M. Vigo," stammered the page. "I only said M. le Comte--" + +"You are not to discuss M. le Comte. Do you hear?" + +"Yes, M. Vigo." + +"Then obey. And you, Félix, I shall have a little interview with you +shortly." + +"As you will, M. Vigo," I said hopelessly. + +He went off down the corridor, and Marcel turned angrily on me. + +"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." + +"I am sorry," I said. "We should not have been talking of it." + +"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." + +We sat down close together, and he proceeded in a low tone to disobey +Vigo. + +"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!" + +Marcel paused dramatically. "And what then?" I asked. + +"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.'" + +And how have you learned all this?" + +"Oh, one hears." + +"One does, with one's ears to the keyhole." + +"It behooves you, Félix, to be civil to your better!" + +I made pretence of looking about me. + +"Where is he?" + +"He sits here. I am page to the Duke of St. Quentin. And you?" + +"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. + +"Continue, if you please, Marcel. Yet, in passing, I should like to ask +you how much you heard our talk in there just now." + +"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." + +"Yes, it is well to scorn it. People have an unpleasant trick of opening +doors so suddenly." + +He laughed cheerfully. + +"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." + +"How long has Lucas been here, Marcel? Who is he?" + +"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." + +"And then?" + +Marcel made a fine gesture. + +"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." + +"Ah!" I cried; "and then?" + +"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." + +He paused, and when I made no comment, said, a trifle aggrieved: + +"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." + +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. + +"Marcel," I stammered, shuddering, "Marcel--" + +"Mordieu! what ails you? Is some one walking on your grave?" + +"Marcel, how is M. le Comte named?" + +"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?" + +It was a certainty, then. Yet I could not bring myself to believe this +horrible thing. + +"I have never seen him. How does he look?" + +"Oh, not at all like Monsieur. He has fair hair and gray eyes--que +diable!" + +For I had flung open Monsieur's door and dashed in. + + + + +IX + +_The honour of St. Quentin._ + + +Monsieur 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: + +"Ah, Félix! You have come to your senses." + +"I will tell Monsieur all, the whole story." + +He tested my honesty with a glance, then looked beyond me at Marcel, +standing agape in the doorway. + +"Leave us, Marcel. Go down-stairs. Leave that door open, and shut the +door into the corridor." + +Marcel obeyed. Monsieur turned to me with a smile. + +"Now, Félix." + +I had hardly been able to hold my words back while Marcel was disposed +of. + +"Monsieur, I knew not, myself, the names of those men. Now I have found +out. They--" + +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. + +"I will tell Monsieur alone." + +"You may speak before M. Lucas," he rejoined impatiently. + +"No," I persisted. "I must tell Monsieur alone." + +He saw in my face that I had strong reasons for asking it, and said to +the secretary: + +"You may go, Lucas." + +Lucas protested. + +"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." + +The warning nettled my lord. He answered curtly: + +"You may go." + +"Monsieur--" + +"Go!" + +Lucas passed out, giving me, as he went, a look of hatred that startled +me. But I did not pay it much heed. + +"Well!" exclaimed Monsieur. + +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. + +"Félix! Beware how much longer you abuse my patience!" + +"Monsieur," I began, "the spy in the house is named Martin." + +"Ah!" cried Monsieur. "So it is Louis Martin. How he knew--But go on. +The others--" + +"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." + +[Illustration: "WITH A CRY MONSIEUR SPRANG TOWARD ME."] + +Monsieur's brows drew together, as if he were trying to recall something +half remembered, half forgotten. + +"But the men," he cried, "the men!" + +"They are three. One a low fellow named Pontou." + +"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. + +"There are two others, Monsieur," I said slowly. "Young men--noble." + +I looked at him. But no light whatever had broken in upon him. + +"Their names, lad!" + +Then, seeing him unsuspecting, the fury in my heart surged up and +covered every other feeling. I burst out: + +"Gervais de Grammont and the Comte de Mar." + +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. + +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. + +With a cry Monsieur sprang toward me. + +"You lie, you cur!" + +"No, Monsieur," I gasped; "it is the truth." + +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. + +He recovered himself. + +"It is some damnable mistake! You have been tricked!" + +My rage blazed up again. + +"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." + +"Then it is your guess! You dare to say--" + +"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." + +"It was he whom you would not betray?" + +"Aye. That was before I knew." + +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. + +"How do I know that you are not lying?" + +"Monsieur does know it." + +"Yes," he answered after a moment. "Alas! yes, I know it." + +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. + +"Tell me everything--how you met them--all. Else I shall not believe a +word of your devilish rigmarole," Monsieur cried out. + +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: + +"The villain! the black-hearted villain!" + +"Take care, Félix, he is my son!" + +I got hold of my cross and tore it off, breaking the chain. + +"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!" + +I flung the cross on the floor and stamped on it, splintering it. + +"Profaner!" cried Monsieur. + +"It is no sacrilege!" I retorted. "That is no holy thing since he has +touched it. He has made it vile--scoundrel, assassin, parricide!" + +Monsieur struck the words from my lips. + +"It is true," I muttered. + +"Were it ten times true, you have no right to say it." + +"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. + +"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." + +But Monsieur shook his head. + +"I cannot do that." + +"Why not, Monsieur?" + +"Can I take my own son prisoner?" + +"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. + +"Not even you and Vigo," he answered. "Think you I would arrest my son +like a common felon--shame him like that?" + +"He has shamed himself!" I cried. I cared not whether I had a right to +say it. "He has forgotten his honour." + +"Aye. But I have remembered mine." + +"Monsieur! Monsieur cannot mean to let him go scot-free?" + +But his eyes told me that he did mean it. + +"Then," I said in more and more amazement, "Monsieur forgives him?" + +His face set sternly. + +"No," he answered. "No, Félix. He has placed himself beyond my +forgiveness." + +"Then we will go there alone, we two, and kill him! Kill the three!" + +He laughed. But not a man in France felt less mirthful. + +"You would have me kill my son?" + +"He would have killed you." + +"That makes no difference." + +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. + +"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. + +"Of two: Gervais de Grammont is also of my blood." + +"Monsieur would spare him as well--him, the ringleader!" + +"He is my cousin." + +"He forgets it." + +"But I do not." + +"Monsieur, will you have no vengeance?" + +Monsieur looked at me. + +"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." + +"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried. "Monsieur is indeed a nobleman!" But I was +furious with him for it. + +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. + +"At least," I cried in desperation, "Monsieur has the spy." + +He laughed. Only a man in utter despair could have laughed then as he +did. + +"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?" + +"No," said I; "but it is the common way." + +"That is a true word," he said, turning away again. + +I waited till he faced me once more. + +"Monsieur will not suffer the spy to go free?" + +"No, Félix. He shall be punished lest he betray again." + +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. + +"Ah, Monsieur, you are noble, and I love you!" I cried from the depths +of my heart, and knelt to kiss his hand. + +Monsieur laid that kind hand on my shoulder. + +"You shall serve me. Go now and send Vigo here. I must be looking to the +country's business." + + + + +X + +_Lucas and "Le Gaucher."_ + + +I 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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"M. le Duc will let me pass out. I refer you to M. le Duc." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"So you are back at last, Félix Broux" + +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. + +"Yes, I am back!" I shouted. "Back to kill you, parricide!" + +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. + +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. + +The door flew open and, shoulder to shoulder like brothers, out rushed +Grammont and--Lucas! + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Lucas!" he cried, in a dearth of words. "_Lucas!_" + +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. + +"Aye," he answered evenly, "it is Lucas." + +M. le Comte appeared to be in a state of stupor. He could not for a +space find his tongue to demand: + +"How, in the name of Heaven, come you here?" + +"To fight Grammont," Lucas answered at once. + +"A lie!" I shouted. "You're Grammont's friend. You came here to warn him +off. It's your plot!" + +"Félix! The plot?" Yeux-gris cried. + +"The plot's to murder Monsieur. Martin let it out. I thought it was you +and Grammont. But it's Lucas and Grammont!" + +Lucas hesitated. Even now he debated whether he could not lie out of it. +Then he burst into laughter. + +"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?" + +Yeux-gris stared at him, neither in fear nor in fury, but in utter +stupefaction. + +"But Gervais? He plotted with you? But he hates you!" + +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. + +M. le Comte cried: "You! You come from Navarre's camp, from M. de +Rosny!" + +"Aye. I have outwitted more than one man." + +"Mordieu! I was right to hate you!" + +Lucas laughed. Yeux-gris blazed out: + +"Traitor and thief! You stole the money. I said that from the first. You +drove us from the house. How you and Grammont--" + +"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." + +"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." + +Lucas broke again into derisive laughter. + +"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." + +M. le Comte sprang forward, scarlet. Lucas flourished the sword. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Grammont had come to life and taken prompt part in the fray. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +M. le Comte stood his ground, barring the alley. They glared at each +other motionless. + +Grammont had raised himself to his knees and was trying painfully to get +on his feet. + +"A hand, Lucas," he gasped. + +Lucas gave him a startled glance but neither went nor spoke to him. + +"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. + +"Lucas, Lucas, help me! Draw out the knife. I cannot. I shall be myself +when the knife is out. Lucas, for God's sake!" + +"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. + +"Come on, then," he cried to Yeux-gris. + +But I sprang forward and seized the sword from M. le Comte's hand. + +"On guard!" I shouted, and we went to work. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He would likely have finished me had not a cry from Grammont shaken him. + +"The duke!" + +In truth, a deepening noise of hoofs and shouts came down the alley from +the street. + +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: + +"Au revoir, messieurs! We shall meet again." + +Grammont seized him. + +"Help me, Lucas, for the love of Christ! Don't leave me, Lucas!" + +Lucas beat him off with the sword. + +"Every man for himself!" he cried, and sprang down the alley. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +XI + +_Vigo._ + + +I 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. + +"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." + +Lucas seemed to make up his mind to this, for he quieted down directly. + +"So the game is up," he said pleasantly. "I had hoped to be gone before +you arrived, dear Vigo." + +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. + +"Where are the others?" he demanded. "No tricks, now." + +"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. + +One of the men had a torch which lighted the red pavement. Vigo saw this +first. + +"Morbleu! is it a shambles?" + +"That is wine," I said. + +"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. + +"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. + +"M. Étienne! Are you hurt?" shouted Vigo. + +"No, but he is." M. le Comte stepped aside to show us Grammont leaning +against the wall. + +"Ah!" cried Vigo, triumphantly. He and two of the men rushed at Gervais. + +"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." + +With amazement Vigo perceived the knife. + +"Who did it?" + +"I." + +"You, Félix? In the back?" Vigo looked at me as if to demand again which +side I was on. + +"He lay on me, throttling me," I explained. "I stabbed any way I +could." + +"I trow you are a dead man," Vigo told Grammont. "Natheless, here comes +the knife." + +It came, with a great cry from the victim. He fell back against Vigo's +man, clapping his hand to his side. + +"I am done for," he gasped faintly. + +"That is well," said Vigo, carefully wiping off the knife. + +"Yon is the scoundrel," Grammont gasped, pointing to Lucas. + +"He will die a worse death than you," said Vigo. + +Grammont looked from the one to the other of us, the sullen rage in his +face fading to a puzzled helplessness. He said fretfully: + +"Which--which is Étienne?" + +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. + +"Étienne--Étienne--pardon. It was wrong toward you--but I never had the +pistoles. He called me thief--the duke. I beseech--your--pardon." + +M. le Comte was silent. + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But the old comrades, estranged by traitory, were never to clasp again. +As he reached M. le Comte, Grammont fell at his feet. + +"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. + +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: + +"M. le Comte, I make you my prisoner." + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +But no thought of humbling himself troubled Vigo. Nor did he pronounce +judgment, but merely said: + +"M. le Comte will go home with me now. To-morrow he can tell his story +to my master." + +"I will tell it before this hour is out!" + +"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." + +"Gone out of Paris?" M. Étienne echoed blankly. To his eagerness it was +as if M. le Duc were out of France. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +I, guilty wretch, quailed. To take a flogging were easier than to +confess to him the truth. But I conceived I must. + +"Monsieur," I said, "I told M. le Duc you were guilty. I went back a +second time and told him." + +"And he?" cried M. Étienne. + +"Yes, monsieur, he did believe it." + +"Morbleu! that cannot be true," Vigo cried, "for when I saw him he gave +no sign." + +"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." + +M. le Comte's face blazed as he cried out: + +"Vastly magnanimous! I thank him not. I'll none of his mercy. I expected +his faith." + +"You had no claim to it, M. le Comte." + +"Vigo!" cried the young noble, "you are insolent, sirrah!" + +"I cry monsieur's pardon." + +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. + +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. + +Vigo went on: + +"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." + +"What!" Yeux-gris cried. "What! you call me cleared!" + +Vigo looked at him in surprise. + +"You said you were innocent, M. le Comte." + +M. le Comte stared, without a word to answer. The equery, all unaware of +having said anything unexpected, turned to the guardsman Maurice: + +"Well, is Lucas trussed? Have you searched him?" + +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?" + +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. + +"How came you by my letter?" he demanded of Lucas. + +"M. le Comte was pleased to consign it for delivery to Martin." + +"What purpose had you with it?" + +"Rest assured, dear monsieur, I had a purpose." + +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: + +"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." + +Lucas disagreed as politely as if exchanging pleasantries in a salon. + +"A dexterous game, M. le Comte. Your best friends deemed you guilty. +What would your enemies have said?" + +"Ah-h," breathed M. Étienne. + +"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." + +"You would kill me for my father's murder?" + +"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." + +M. le Comte, silent, stared at him with wild eyes, like one who looks +into the open roof of hell. Lucas fell to laughing. + +"What! hang you and let our cousin Valère succeed? Mon dieu, no! M. de +Valère is a man!" + +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: + +"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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"By God's grace," M. le Comte answered. He laid a hand on my shoulder +and leaned there heavily. Lucas grinned. + +"Ah, waxing pious, is he? The prodigal prepares to return." + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Oh, M. l'Écuyer, have mercy! Have pity upon me! For Christ's sake, +pity!" + +[Illustration: "IN A FLASH HE WAS OUT OF THEIR GRASP, FLYING DOWN THE +ALLEY."] + +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. + +That was what he had hoped for. In a flash he was out of their grasp, +flying down the alley. + +"To Vigo! Vigo is attacked," we heard him shout. + +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. + + + + +XII + +_The Comte de Mar._ + + +"Which way went he?" + +"The man who just came out?" + +"This way!" + +"No, yonder!" + +"Nay, I saw him not." + +"A man with bound hands, you say?" + +"Here!" + +"Down that way!" + +"A man in black, was he? Here he is!" + +"Fool, no; he went that way!" + +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. + +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. + +"He is gone," said M. le Comte. + +"Yes, monsieur. If it were day they might find him, but not now." + +"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." + +"Whither, monsieur?" + +"That is my concern." + +"But monsieur will see M. le Duc?" + +He shook his head. + +"But, monsieur--" + +He broke in on me fiercely. + +"Think you that I--I, smirched and sullied, reeking with plots of +murder--am likely to betake myself to the noblest gentleman in France?" + +"He will welcome M. le Comte." + +"Nay; he believed me guilty." + +"But, monsieur--" + +"You may not say 'but' to me." + +"Pardon, monsieur. Am I to tell Vigo monsieur is gone?" + +"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." + +He slipped away into the darkness. + +I stood hesitating for a moment. Then I followed my lord. + +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. + +"You, Félix?" + +"Yes, monsieur; I go with M. le Comte." + +"I have not permitted you." + +"Then must I go in despite. Monsieur is wounded; I cannot leave him to +go unsquired." + +"There are lackeys to hire. I bade you seek M. le Duc." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"No, monsieur," said I. + +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: + +"Come, then, if you choose to come unasked and most unwelcome!" + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Ah, Félix, do you bear me malice for an ungrateful churl?" + +"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." + +"Nay," he said; "I have forgotten it. And it was freely forgiven from +the moment I saw Lucas at my cousin's side." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Monsieur," I stammered, "I did naught. I am your servant till I die." + +"You deserve a better master. What am I? Lucas's puppet! Lucas's fool!" + +"Monsieur, it was not Lucas alone. It was a plot. You know what he +said--" + +"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." + +"It is the League's scheming, monsieur." + +"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!" + +"Never that, monsieur; never that!" + +"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." + +"Monsieur, if he comes to the faith--" + +"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!" + +I caught his fire. + +"By St. Quentin," I cried, "we will beat these Leaguers yet!" + +He laughed, yet his eyes burned with determination. + +"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!" + +He dropped back among the pillows, striving to look careless, as Maître +Menard, the landlord, opened the door and stood shuffling on the +threshold. + +"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. + +"Not yet," I answered. "What is it?" + +"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--" + +"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. + +"I dared not deny him further," added Maître Menard. "He wore the +liveries of M. de Mayenne." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +I returned with drooping tail to M. Étienne. He was alone, sitting up in +bed awaiting me, his cheeks scarlet, his eyes blazing. + +"He is gone," I panted. "I looked everywhere, but he was gone. Oh, if I +caught Lucas--" + +"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." + +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. + +"Get my clothes, Félix. I must go to the Hôtel de Lorraine." + +But I flung myself upon him, pushing him back into bed and dragging the +cover over him by main force. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Monsieur, you said you were done with the Leaguers--with M. de +Mayenne." + +"Aye, so I did," he cried. "But this--but this is Lorance." + +Then, at my look of mystification, he suddenly opened his hand and +tossed me the letter he had held close in his palm. + +I read: + + _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_ + + LORANCE DE MONTLUC. + +"And she--" + +"Is cousin and ward to the Duke of Mayenne. Yes, and my heart's desire." + +"Monsieur--" + +"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." + +"Then you, monsieur, were a Leaguer?" + +"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!" + +"Monsieur held out for his religion--" + +"Mademoiselle is my religion," he cried, and then laughed, not merrily. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"But, monsieur--" + +"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. + +"Monsieur, in my opinion--" + +"You are not here to hold opinions, Félix, but your tongue." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Félix, will you go get a shutter? For I see clearly that I shall reach +Mlle. de Montluc this night in no other way." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I can tell her how sorely you are hurt--how you would come, but +cannot." + +"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." + +"But I thought monsieur was going to take service with Henry of +Navarre." + +"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." + +"Monsieur will be gibbering in his bed unless he sleeps soon. I go now, +monsieur." + +"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." + + + + +XIII + +_Mademoiselle._ + + +I 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. + +We had not gone a block from the inn before I turned to the right-about, +to the impatience of my escort. + +"Nay, Jean, I must go back," I said. "I will only delay a moment, but +see Maître Menard I must." + +He was still in the cabaret where the crowd was thinning. + +"Now what brings you back?" + +"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." + +"I won't admit the Sixteen themselves," the maître declared. + +"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." + +"Good. And this other; what is he like?" + +"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." + +"His tongue shall not get around me," Maître Menard promised. "The host +of the Three Lanterns was not born yesterday let me tell you." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I am his servant," I said. "I am charged with a message for +mademoiselle." + +"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." + +A laugh went up and one of the gamblers looked round to say: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I heard Mar's name; yet you are not M. de Mar, I think." + +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. + +"No," I stammered; "I am his servant. I seek Mlle. de Montluc." + +"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: + +"Peste! he must be in low water if this is the best he can do for a +lackey." + +"Perhaps the fellow's errand is to beg an advance from Mlle. de +Montluc," suggested the pink youth. + +"Who speaks my name?" a clear voice called; and a lady, laying down her +hand at cards, rose and came toward me. + +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. + +I began to understand M. Étienne. + +"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: + +"Mademoiselle, this is a minister plenipotentiary and envoy +extraordinary--most extraordinary--from the court of his Highness the +Comte de Mar." + +"Oh, that is it!" she cried with a little laugh, but not, I think, at my +uncouthness, though she looked me over curiously. + +"He has not come himself, M. de Mar?" + +"It appears not, mademoiselle." + +She did not seem vastly disconcerted for all she cried in doleful tones: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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: + +"What is this disturbance, Lorance?" + +"A wager between me and my cousin Paul, madame," she answered with +instant gravity and respect. + +"Paul de Lorraine! Is he here?" the other asked, unpleased, I thought. + +"Yes, madame. He dropped from the skies on us this afternoon. He is out +of the house again now." + +"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." + +The other lady, whom I now guessed to be the Duchesse de Mayenne +herself, turned somewhat sharply on her cousin of Montluc. + +"I do not yet hear your excuses, mademoiselle, for the introduction of a +stable-boy into my salon." + +"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." + +"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." + +A laugh went up among those who laugh at whatever a duchess says. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Indeed we do. We have missed him sorely. And I dare swear this +messenger's account will prove diverting," lisped the sky-coloured +demoiselle. + +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. + +"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." + +"He has been in a duel, mademoiselle." + +"Whom was he fighting?" + +"And for what lady's favour?" + +"Is it a pretty Huguenot this time?" + +"Does she make him read his Bible?" + +"Or did her big brother set on him for a wicked papist?" + +The questions chorussed upon me; I saw they were framed to tease +mademoiselle. I answered as best I might: + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"About his own concerns, mademoiselle." + +"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." + +"M. de Brie--" she began at the same moment that I cried out to her: + +"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." + +Brie had me by the collar. + +"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." + +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: + +"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--" + +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. + +M. de Brie dragged me back from where we were blocking the passage. I +turned in his grasp to face the newcomer. + +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. + +He advanced into the room returning the salutes of the company, but his +glance travelling straight to me and my captor. + +"What have we here, François?" + +"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." + +"You are at unnecessary pains, my dear François; I already know Mar's +whereabouts and doings rather better than he knows them himself." + +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. + +M. de Brie said nothing and the duke continued: + +"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?" + +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. + +"Or did you need no information, mademoiselle?" + +She met his look unflinching. + +"I have not been sighing for tidings of the Comte de Mar, monsieur." + +"Because you have had tidings, mademoiselle?" + +"No, monsieur, I have had no communication with M. de Mar since +May--until to-night." + +"And what has happened to-night?" + +"To-night--Paul appeared." + +"Paul!" ejaculated the duke, startled momentarily out of his phlegm. +"Paul here?" + +"He was, monsieur, an hour ago. He has since gone forth again, I know +not whither or for what." + +Mayenne ruminated over this, pulling off his gloves slowly. + +"Well? What has this to do with Mar?" + +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: + +"Never mind; I will give you a pair of gloves, Lorance." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +[Illustration: "I DO NOT FORGIVE HIS DESPATCHING ME HIS HORSE-BOY."] + +"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?" + +But Mlle. de Tavanne's quick tongue robbed him of his answer. + +"Marry, you are severe on him, Lorance. To be sure he does not come +himself, but he sends so gallant a messenger!" + +Mademoiselle glanced at me with hard blue eyes. + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +Brie had me by the throat. Mayenne interfered without excitement. + +"Don't strangle him, François; I may need him later. Let him be flogged +and locked in the oratory." + +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: + +"Oh, M. de Latour, what have I done in destroying your knave of +diamonds! Ma foi, you had a quatorze!" + + + + +XIV + +_In the oratory._ + + +"Here, 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." + +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. + +Pierre sent one of his men for a cane and to the other suggested that he +should quench the Virgin's candles. + +"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." + +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: + +"Now howl your loudest, lad; and I'll not lay on too hard." + +My clinched fist dropped to my side. + +"You never did me any harm," he muttered. "Howl till they think you half +killed, and I'll manage." + +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. + +"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." + +"You'll strip his coat off?" said the second lackey, from the oratory. + +"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. + +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. + +"He has had his fill, I trow; we must not spoil him for the master," +Pierre said. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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: + +"I am not in the least hurt, mademoiselle." + +"Ah, but if they have spared you the flogging to take your life!" she +breathed. + +It was not a heartening suggestion. To my astonishment, suddenly I found +myself, frightened victim, striving to comfort this noblewoman for my +death. + +"Nay, I am not afraid. Since mademoiselle weeps over me, I can die +happily." + +She sprang toward me as if to protect me with her body from some +menacing thrust. + +"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?" + +She fell back a pace, pressing her hands to her temples as if to stifle +their throbbing. + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle," I said, "the worst has not followed, since M. Étienne +did not come himself." + +"You are glad for that?" + +"Why, of course, mademoiselle. Was it not a trap for him?" + +She caught her breath as if in pain. + +"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!" + +I had to tell her I had not thought it. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Is he hurt dangerously?" + +"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." + +"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." + +She advanced upon me holding out her silken purse which she had taken +from her bosom; but I retreated. + +"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." + +She looked at me a little hesitatingly. + +"You are telling me true?" + +"Why, yes, mademoiselle; if my monsieur needed money, indeed, indeed, I +would not refuse it." + +"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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"Who are you?" she asked me abruptly. "You have never been here before +on monsieur's errands?" + +"No, mademoiselle; I came up only yesterday from Picardie. I belong on +the St. Quentin estate. My name is Félix Broux." + +"Alack, you have chosen a bad time to visit Paris!" + +"I came up to see life," I said, "and mordieu! I am seeing it." + +"I pray God you may not see death, too," she answered soberly. + +She stood looking at me helplessly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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 _him_ I know not." + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, every one is asleep long ago; it is past two o'clock. Yes, you may +tell me if you wish." + +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: + +"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." + +I was silent, being of her opinion. Presently she asked reluctantly: + +"Does your master think this Lucas a tool of M. de Mayenne's?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle. He says secretaries do not plot against dukedoms for +their own pleasure." + +"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. + +"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." + +"But it failed. Thank God, it failed! And now he will leave Paris. He +will--he must!" + +"He did mean to seek Navarre's camp to-morrow," I answered; "but--" + +"But what?" + +"But then the letter came." + +"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." + +"I do not think he will go, mademoiselle." + +"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." + +"Then he will never go." + +"Félix!" + +"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--" + +"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." + +"Oh," I said, "mademoiselle is beyond me; I cannot keep up with her." + +"And you believed it! But you must needs spoil all by flaring out with +impudent speech." + +"I crave mademoiselle's pardon. I was wrong and insolent. But she played +too well." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +I dropped on my knees before her and kissed the hem of her dress. + +"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. + +I had no skill to comfort her. I bent my head before her, silent. At +length she sobbed out: + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle, it was the fault of my hasty tongue." + +But she shook her head. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +XV + +_My Lord Mayenne._ + + +I 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. + +Mademoiselle, with a whispered "God save us!" sank in a heap at my feet. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"And how goes it?" + +"Badly." + +The newcomer threw his hat aside and sat down without waiting for an +invitation. + +"What! Badly, sirrah!" Mayenne exclaimed sharply. "You come to me with +that report?" + +"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." + +Mayenne jumped to his feet, bringing his fist down on the table. + +"You tell me this?" + +Lucas regarded him with an easy smile. + +"Unfortunately, monsieur, I do." + +[Illustration: MLLE. De MONTLUC AND FÉLIX BROUX IN THE ORATORY] + +Mayenne turned on him, cursing. Lucas with the quickness of a cat +sprang a yard aside, dagger unsheathed. + +"Put up that knife!" shouted Mayenne. + +"When you put up yours, monsieur." + +"I have drawn none!" + +"In your sleeve, monsieur." + +"Liar!" cried Mayenne. + +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. + +"I'll have your neck wrung for this," he panted. + +"For what, monsieur?" asked Lucas, imperturbably. "For defending +myself?" + +Mayenne let the charge go by default. + +"For coming to me with the tale of your failures. Nom de dieu, do I +employ you to fail?" + +"We are none of us gods, monsieur. You yourself lost Ivry." + +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. + +"Sit down," bade the duke, "and tell me." + +Lucas, standing at the foot of the table, observed: + +"They turned you out of your bed, monsieur, to see me. It was +unnecessary severity. My tale will keep till morning." + +"By Heaven, it shall not!" Mayenne shouted. "Beware how much further you +dare anger me, you Satan's cub!" + +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. + +"Satan's cub!" Lucas repeated, laughing. "Our late king had called me +that, pardieu! But I knew not you acknowledged Satan in the family." + +"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." + +"It is not done. The whole plot is ruined." + +"Nom de dieu! If it is by your bungling--" + +"It was not by my bungling," Lucas answered with the first touch of heat +he had shown. "It was fate--and that fool Grammont." + +"Explain then, and quickly, or it will be the worse for you." + +Lucas sat down, the table between them. + +"Look here," he said abruptly, leaning forward over the board. "Have you +Mar's boy?" + +"What boy?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is all one," Lucas answered quickly. "You know what is to be the +reward of my success." + +"I thought you told me you had failed." + +Lucas's hand moved instinctively to his belt; then he thought better of +it and laid both hands, empty, on the table. + +"Our plot has failed; but that does not mean that St. Quentin is +immortal." + +"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." + +"The Duke of St. Quentin is not immortal," Lucas repeated. "I have +missed him once, but I shall get him in spite of all." + +"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." + +Lucas sprang to his feet. + +"You swore to me I should have her." + +"Permit me to remind you again that you have not brought me the price." + +"I will bring you the price." + +"E'en then," spoke Mayenne, with the smile of the cat standing over the +mouse--"e'en then I might change my mind." + +"Then," said Lucas, roundly, "there will be more than one dead duke in +France." + +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. + +He said now, evenly: + +"That is a silly way to talk to me, Paul." + +"It is the truth for once," Lucas made sullen answer. + +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: + +"Mort de dieu! monsieur, what am I doing your dirty work for? For love +of my affectionate uncle?" + +"It might well be for that. I have been your affectionate uncle, as you +say." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You had your ends to serve," Lucas muttered. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Mar is not in the race now. You need not speak of him, nor of your +brother Charles, either." + +"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." + +"I have no desire to be King of France," Mayenne began angrily. + +"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." + +"Nom de dieu, Paul--" Mayenne cried, half rising; but Lucas, leaning +forward on the table, riveting him with his keen eyes, went on: + +"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." + +"Aye. And you have been about it these four months, and you have not +killed him." + +Lucas reddened with ire. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Something--not as much. I did not want him killed--I preferred him to +Valère." + +"Nor did I want him killed; so our views jibed well." + +"Why not, then? Did you prefer him as your wife's lover to some other +who might appear?" + +"I do not intend that my wife shall have lovers," Lucas answered. + +Mayenne broke into laughter. + +"Nom d'un chien, where will you keep her? In the Bastille? Lorance and +no lovers! Ho, ho!" + +"I mean none whom she favours." + +"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. + +"I know she loves him now, and she would love him dead; but she would +not love him a parricide." + +"Is that your creed? Pardieu! you don't know women. The blacker the +villain the more they adore him." + +"I know it is true, monsieur," Lucas said smoothly, "that you have had +successes." + +Mayenne started forward with half an oath, changing to a laugh. + +"So it is not enough for you to possess the fair body of Lorance; you +must also have her love?" + +"She will love me," Lucas answered uneasily. "She must." + +"It is not worth your fret," Mayenne declared. "If she did, how long +would it last? _Souvent femme varie_--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." + +"She will not love any one else," Lucas said hoarsely. + +Mayenne laughed. + +"You are very young, Paul." + +"She shall not love any one else! By the throne of heaven, she shall +not!" + +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. + +"It is a little early to sweat over the matter," Mayenne said, "since +mademoiselle is not your wife nor ever likely to become so." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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: + +"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." + +"I never knew a failure yet but what the fault was fate's," Mayenne +returned. + +"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." + +He sat down again and began his story, striving as he talked to +reconquer something of his old coolness. + +"The thing was ruined by the advent of this boy, Mar's lackey I spoke +of. You said he had not been here?" + +"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." + +"He started hither; I thought some one would have the sense to keep him. +Mordieu! I will find from Lorance whether she saw him." + +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. + +"Well," said Mayenne, sharply, "what about your boy?" + +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. + +"You let him to the duke?" Mayenne cried presently. + +At the harsh censure of his voice, Lucas's rang out with the old +defiance: + +"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." + +"Does he never take wine?" Mayenne asked, lifting his hand with shut +fingers over the table and then opening them. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Well," Mayenne rejoined, "get on with your tale." + +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. + +"What! by daylight?" + +"Aye. He was afraid, after this discovery, of being set on at night." + +"He went out in broad day?" + +"So Vigo said. I saw him not," Lucas answered with something of his old +nonchalance. + +"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." + +"It is not worth your fret, monsieur," Lucas said lightly. "If you did, +how long would it avail? _Souvent homme trahie_; 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." + +Mayenne looked at him, half angry, half startled into some deeper +emotion at this deft twisting of his own words. + + "Souvent homme trahie, + Mal habile qui s'y fie," + +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. + +"_Souvent homme trahie_," 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." + +"When I give up hope of Lorance," Lucas said bluntly. + +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. + +"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. + +"Trust me for that." + +"Then came you here?" + +"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." + +Mayenne burst out laughing. + +"It was not your night, Paul." + +"No," said Lucas, shortly. + +"And what then? It did not take you till three o'clock to be put out of +the inn." + +"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." + +"And will he tell tales?" + +"No," said Lucas, "he will tell no tales." + +"How about your spy in the Hôtel St. Quentin?" + +"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." + +"That's as good as to say there is none," Mayenne answered; "for I have +the boy." + + + + +XVI + +_Mayenne's ward._ + + +Lucas sprang up. + +"You have him? Where?" + +"Yes, I have him," Mayenne answered with his tantalizing slowness. + +"Alive?" + +"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." + +"Diable! Listening?" cried Lucas, as if a quick doubt of Mayenne's good +faith to him struck his mind. + +"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." + +"What will you do with him, monsieur?" + +"We'll have him out," said Mayenne. Lucas, needing no second bidding, +hastened down the room. + +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. + +He recoiled as from a ghost. + +"Lorance!" he gasped, "Lorance!" + +"Nom de dieu!" came Mayenne's shout from the back of the room. "What! +Lorance!" + +He caught up the candelabrum and strode over to us. + +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. + +"You spying here, Lorance!" Mayenne stormed at her. + +"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." + +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. + +"Mordieu, monsieur!" Lucas cried. "This is Mlle. de Montluc." + +"Then why did you come?" demanded Mayenne. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You have been crying, Lorance," Mayenne said in a softer tone. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I am never glad over a flogging, monsieur." + +"Then why not speak? A word from you and it had stopped." + +She flushed red for very shame. + +"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. + +"Then you will let him go, monsieur? Alack that I did not speak before! +Thank you, my cousin!" + +"Of what did you suspect me? The boy was whipped for a bit of +impertinence to you; I had no cause against him." + +My heart leaped up; at the same time I scorned myself for a craven that +I had been overcome by groundless terror. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Monsieur!" she gasped, cowering as from a blow. + +"Aye," he said quietly. "I would have let him go. But you have made it +impossible." + +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. + +"Never mind, mademoiselle," I cried to her. "You came and wept over me, +and that is worth dying for." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +He flushed with anger, and this time he offered no justification. He +advanced on the girl with outstretched hand. + +"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." + +She retreated toward the threshold where I stood, still covering me as +with a shield. + +"Monsieur, you are very cruel to me." + +"Your hand, mademoiselle." + +She did not yield it to him but held out both hands, clasped in appeal. + +"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." + +Mayenne was still holding out his hand for her. + +"I wish you sweet dreams, my cousin Lorance." + +"Monsieur," she cried, shrinking back till she stood against the +door-jamb, "will you not let the boy go?" + +"How will you look to-morrow," he said with his unchanged smile, "if +you lose all your sleep to-night, my pretty Lorance?" + +"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.'" + +"Mademoiselle," the duke repeated, "will you get to your bed?" + +She did not stir, but, fixing him with her brilliant eyes, went on as if +thinking aloud. + +"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." + +"You were the prettiest little creature ever was," Mayenne said +abruptly. + +"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." + +"This is a great coil over a horse-boy," Mayenne said curtly. + +"Life is as dear to a horse-boy as to M. le Duc de Mayenne." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"For that you should be thankful to him, monsieur. He has saved you the +stain of a cowardly crime." + +"Mordieu!" Mayenne exclaimed, "who foully murdered my brother?" + +"The Valois." + +"And his henchman, St. Quentin." + +"Not so," she cried. "He was here in Paris when it happened. He was +revolted at the deed." + +"Did they teach you that at the convent?" + +"No, but it is true. M. de St. Quentin warned my cousin Henri not to go +to Blois." + +"Pardieu, you think them angels, these St. Quentins." + +"I think them brave and honest gentlemen, as I think you, Cousin +Charles." + +"That sounds ill on the lips that have but now called me villain and +murderer," Mayenne returned. + +"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." + +He kept silence, eying her in a puzzled way. After a moment she went on: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +He looked at her fixedly; I think he heeded her words less than her +shining, earnest eyes. And he said at last: + +"Well, you shall have your boy, Lorance." + +"Ah, monsieur!" + +With tears dimming the brightness of those sweet eyes she dropped on her +knees before him, kissing his hand. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +She swept him a curtsey, silently, without looking at him. He made an +eager pace nearer her. + +"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?" + +Now she turned to him and met his gaze squarely. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Your conversion is sudden, then; only an hour ago you were working for +nothing and no one but Paul de Lorraine." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I wish rather you would practise a little virtue to win me," she said. + +"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!" + +He dropped her hand to kiss the cross of his sword. She retreated from +him, her face very pale, her breast heaving. + +"You make it hard for me to know when you are speaking the truth," she +said. + +"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!" + +"Then I am very grateful and glad," she said gravely, and again curtsied +to him. + +"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." + +"Grand'merci, monsieur," she said, sweeping him another of her graceful +obeisances. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are a good girl, Lorance," Mayenne said. + +"Will you let the boy go now, Cousin Charles?" she asked. + +"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." + +"You have called me a good girl, cousin." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You have made me happy, to-night at least, monsieur," she answered +gently, if not merrily. + +"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." + +"You can swear him to silence, monsieur," she cried quickly. + +"What use? He would not keep silence." + +"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. + +"When you have lived in the world as long as I have, you will not so +flatter yourself, Lorance." + +Thus it happened that I was not bound to silence concerning what I had +seen and heard in the house of Lorraine. + +Mayenne took out his dagger. + +"What I do I do thoroughly. I said I'd set you free. Free you shall be." + +Mademoiselle sprang forward with pleading hand. + +"Let me cut the cords, Cousin Charles." + +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. + +"Monsieur, I shall never cease to love you for this. And now I thank you +for your long patience, and bid you good night." + +With a bare inclination of the head to Lucas, she turned to go. But +Mayenne bade her pause. + +"Do I get but a curtsey for my courtesy? No warmer thanks, Lorance?" + +He held out his arms to her, and she let him kiss both her cheeks. + +"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. + +"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: + +"You think I am bested, do you, you devil's brat? Let him laugh that +wins; I shall have her yet." + +"I will tell M. le Comte so," I answered with all the impudence I could +muster. + +"By Heaven, you will tell him nothing," he cried. "You will never see +daylight again." + +"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. + +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. + +Mayenne, red and puffing, hurried into the room. + +"What is the pother?" he demanded. "What devilment now, Paul?" + +"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." + +I had given him the lie then and there, but as I emerged from the +darkness Mayenne commanded: + +"Take him out to the street, d'Auvray." + +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: + +"When you marry me, Paul de Lorraine, you will marry a dead wife." + + + + +XVII + +_"I'll win my lady!"_ + + +Lucas'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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sorry to disturb monsieur, but the horses must be fed." + +"Oh, I am obliged to you," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I must go up to M. +le Comte." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are out of bed, monsieur," I cried. + +"But yes," he answered, springing up, "I am as well as ever I was. +Félix, what has happened to you?" + +[Illustration: "SORRY TO DISTURB MONSIEUR, BUT THE HORSES MUST BE +FED."] + +I glanced at the serving-man; M. Étienne ordered him at once from the +room. + +"Now tell me quickly," he cried, as I faltered, tongue-tied from very +richness of matter. "Mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. "Mademoiselle is--" I paused in a +dearth of words worthy of her. + +"She is, she is!" he agreed, laughing. "Oh, go on, you little slow-poke! +You saw her? And she said--" + +He was near to laying hands on me, to hurry my tale. + +"I saw her and Mayenne and Lucas and ever so many things," I told him. +"And they had me flogged, and mademoiselle loves you." + +"She does!" he cried, flushing. "Félix, does she? You cannot know." + +"But I do know it," I answered, not very lucidly. "You see, she wouldn't +have wept so much, just over me." + +"Did she weep? Lorance?" he exclaimed. + +"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." + +"And what said she? Now I am sorry they beat you. Who did that? Mayenne? +What said she, Félix?" + +"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." + +"Mille tonnerres du ciel! But he is a Huguenot, a Rochelais!" + +"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." + +He stared at me with dropped jaw, absolutely too startled to swear. + +"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." + +"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: + +"But she--mademoiselle?" + +"You need give yourself no uneasiness there," I said. "Mademoiselle +hates him." + +"Does she know--" + +"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." + +"Yes, yes, go on," he cried. + +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. + +I had finished at length, and he burst out at me: + +"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." + +"But monsieur's arm--" + +"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." + +"Monsieur--" I began, but he broke in on me: + +"Nom de dieu, Félix, are we to sit idle while mademoiselle is carried +off by that beast Lucas?" + +"Of course not," I said. "I was only trying to ask what monsieur meant +to do." + +"To take the moon in my teeth," he cried. + +"Yes, monsieur, but how?" + +"Ah, if I knew!" + +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. + +"How are we to do it, Félix?" he demanded. + +But I could only shrug my shoulders and answer: + +"Sais pas." + +He paced the floor once more, and presently faced me again with the +declaration: + +"Lucas shall have her only over my dead body." + +"He will only have her own dead body," I said. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Monsieur," I suggested, "if I could get a letter into the hands of +Pierre, that lackey who befriended me--" But he shook his head. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"My faith, Félix," he laughed, "you take a black view of mankind." + +"Not of mankind, M. Étienne. Only of Lucas. Not of Monsieur, or you, or +Vigo." + +"And of Mayenne?" + +"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." + +"Think you he meant to let you go from the first?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Monsieur," I said, "if there is any bad in the St. Quentins I, for one, +do not know it." + +"Ah, Félix," he cried, "you may believe that till doomsday--you will--of +Monsieur." + +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. + +"Félix," he said at length, "I see nothing for it but to eat my pride." + +I kept still in the happy hope that I should hear just what I longed to; +he went on: + +"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." + +"Monsieur, if you repent your hot words, so does he." + +"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." + +I came forward to kiss his hand, I was so pleased. + +"Oh, you look very smiling over it," he cried. "Think you I like +sneaking back home again like a whipped hound to his kennel?" + +"But," I protested, indignant, "monsieur is not a whipped hound." + +"Well, a prodigal son, as Lucas named me yesterday. It is the same +thing." + +"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." + +M. Étienne looked not altogether convinced. + +"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." + +"You will beg his aid, monsieur?" + +"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." + +"We must do it, monsieur," I cried. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Holà, squinting Charlot! Open now!" + +"Morbleu, M. le Comte!" the fellow exclaimed, running to draw the bolts. +"Well, this is a sight for sore eyes, anyway." + +M. Étienne laughed out in pleasure. It put heart into him, I could see, +that his first greeting should be thus friendly. + +"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!" + +"Eh bien, I am found," M. Étienne returned. "In time we'll get Lucas, +too. Is Monsieur back?" + +"No, M. Étienne, not yet." + +I think he was half sorry, half glad. + +"Where's Vigo?" he demanded. + +"Somewhere about. I'll find him for monsieur." + +"No, stay at your post. I'll find him." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Marcel," my master said, "and where is M. l'Écuyer?" + +"I think in the stables, monsieur." + +"Bid him come to me in the small cabinet." + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"M. Étienne, I had liefer see you stand here than the king himself." + +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: + +"Thank you, Vigo." + +Vigo bent over to kiss it in cheerful ignorance of how that hand had +itched to box his ears. + +"What became of you last night, M. Étienne?" he inquired. + +"I was hunting Lucas. When does Monsieur return, Vigo?" + +"He thought he might be back to-day. But he could not tell." + +"Have you sent to tell him about me?" he asked, colouring. + +"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." + +"I understand that," M. Étienne said, "but--" + +"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 _he_ can get through the gates +_you_ can." + +"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--" + +He broke off, to begin again abruptly: + +"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?" + +"I knew he suspected you of a kindness for the League, monsieur. But you +are cured of that." + +"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." + +Vigo made no answer, but the corners of his grim mouth twitched. + +"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." + +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: + +"A fool for luck." + +"Well," said M. Étienne, impatiently, "is that all you have to say? What +are we to do about it?" + +"Do? Why, nothing." + +"Nothing?" he cried, with his hand on his sword. "Nothing? And let that +scoundrel have her?" + +"That is M. de Mayenne's affair," Vigo said. "We can't help it." + +"I will help it!" M. Étienne declared. "Mordieu! Am I to let that +traitor, that spy, that soul of dirt, marry Mlle. de Montluc?" + +"What Mayenne wishes he'll have," Vigo said. "Some day you will surely +get a chance to fight Lucas, monsieur." + +"And meantime he is to enjoy her?" + +"It is a pity," Vigo admitted. "But there is Mayenne. Can we storm the +Hôtel de Lorraine? No one can drink up the sea." + +"One could if he wanted to as much as I want mademoiselle," my lord +declared. + +But Vigo shook his head. + +"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." + +"Not to-day, Vigo." + +"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." + +"And you bid me grudge my life? Strange counsel from you, Vigo." + +"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--" + +"I fall for my lady," M. Étienne finished. "The bravest captain of them +all does no better than that." + +"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." + +M. Étienne laid his arm around Vigo's shoulder with a smile. + +"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?" + +"Aye, if 'twas a hopeless business to stay, certes I would go." + +"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?" + +"I had no choice, monsieur. My master was there." + +"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." + +"What is your purpose, M. Étienne?" Vigo asked. + +Indeed, there was a vagueness about his scheme as revealed to us. + +"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." + +"No," Vigo said, "no, monsieur. You may not do that." + +"Ventre bleu, Vigo!" his young lord cried. + +"No," said Vigo. "I can't have her here, and Mayenne's army after her." + +"Coward!" shouted M. Étienne. + +I thought Vigo would take us both by the scruff of our necks and throw +us out of the place. But he answered undisturbed: + +"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." + +"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!'" + +A twinkle came into Vigo's eyes. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then why not now? Death of my life, Vigo! When I know, and you know, +Monsieur would approve." + +"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." + +"I should think not, forsooth!" M. Étienne blazed out furiously. + +"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." + +My lord was white with ire. + +"Who is master here, you or I?" + +"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." + +"Hang you for an obstinate pig!" M. Étienne cried. + +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. + +"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!" + + + + +XVIII + +_To the Bastille._ + + +But 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _him_, 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. + +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. + +"No," he had said, "it won't do. Think of something better, Félix." + +But I could not, and so was taking my dull way to the inn of the Trois +Lanternes. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Spare me, noble gentlemen! Spare a poor innkeeper! I swear I know +nothing of his whereabouts." + +As my footsteps sounded on the threshold, one and all spun round to look +at me in fresh dread. + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"What now?" the captain cried, springing to his feet. "Who are you?" + +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. + +"My name is Félix Broux," I said. "I came to pay a bill--" + +"His servant," Maître Menard contrived to murmur, the dragoon allowing +him a breath. + +"Oh, you are the Comte de Mar's servant, are you? Where have you left +your master?" + +"What do you want of him?" I asked in turn. + +"Never you mind. I want him." + +"But Mayenne said he should not be touched," I cried. "The Duke of +Mayenne said himself he should not be touched." + +"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." + +"On what charge?" + +"A trifle. Merely murder." + +"_Murder?_" + +"Yes, the murder of a lackey, one Pontou." + +"But that is ridiculous!" I cried. "M. le Comte did not--" + +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. + +"You can tell that to the judges," the captain rejoined. + +At this I felt ice sliding down my spine. To be arrested as a witness +was the last thing I desired. + +"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." + +To a nice ear I might have seemed a little too voluble, but the captain +only laughed at my patent fright. + +"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." + +I was stung to be thought such a craven, but I pocketed the insult, and +merely answered: + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Monsieur is about the streets somewhere. On my life, I know not where. +But I know he will be back here to supper." + +"Oh, you don't know, don't you? Then perhaps Gaspard can quicken your +memory." + +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. + +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. + +"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! + +"How now, sirrah?" he cried to the dragoon. "Hands off me, knaves!" For +the second soldier had seized his other arm. + +"I regret to inconvenience monsieur," the captain answered, "but he is +wanted at the Bastille." + +"Wanted? I?" Lucas cried, fear flashing into his eyes. + +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. + +"You, monsieur. You are wanted for the murder of your man, Pontou." + +He grew white, looking instinctively at me, remembering where I had been +at three o'clock this morning. + +"It is a lie! He left my service a month back and I have never seen him +since." + +"Tell that to the judges," the captain said, as he had said to me. "I am +not trying you. The handcuffs, men." + +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. + +"If this is Mayenne's work--" he panted. + +The officer caught nothing but the name Mayenne. + +"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." + +"At whose instigation?" + +"How should I know'? I am a soldier of the guard. I have naught to do +with it but to arrest you." + +"Let me see the warrant." + +"I am not obliged to. But I will, though. It may quiet your bluster." + +He took out the warrant and held it at a safe distance before Lucas's +eyes. A great light broke in on that personage. + +"Mille tonnerres! I am not the Comte de Mar!" + +"Oh, you say that now, do you? Pity you had not thought of it sooner." + +"But I am not the Comte de Mar! I am Paul de Lorraine, nephew to my Lord +Mayenne." + +"Why don't you say straight out that you're the Duc de Guise?" + +"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." + +"You take me for a fool." + +"Aye, who shall hang for his folly!" + +"You must think me a fool," the captain repeated. "The Duke of Guise's +eldest brother is but seventeen--" + +"I did not say I was legitimate." + +"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." + +"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?" + +Poor Maître Menard had dropped down on his iron box, too limp and sick +to know what was going on. He only stared helplessly. + +"Speak, rascal," Lucas cried. "Am I Comte de Mar?" + +"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." + +"Who is he, then?" + +"I know not," the maître stammered. "He came here last night. But it is +as he says--he is not the Comte de Mar." + +"Take care, mine host," the officer returned; "you're lying." + +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. + +"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." + +"M. le Capitaine," Maître Menard quavered, rising unsteadily to his +feet, "you make a mistake. On my sacred word, you mistake; this is +not--" + +"Get out!" cried the captain, helping him along with his boot. Maître +Menard fell rather than walked out of the door. + +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. + +"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." + +"The name of Étienne de Mar will do," the captain returned; "we have no +fancy for aliases at the Bastille." + +"It is a plot!" Lucas cried. + +"It is a warrant; that is all I know about it" + +"But I am not Comte de Mar," Lucas repeated. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Lucas, at this unexpected testimony, looked so taken aback that the +captain burst out laughing. + +"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." + +It was awkward to explain. Lucas, knowing well that there was no future +for him who betrayed the Generalissimo's secrets, cried out angrily: + +"He lies! I never rode out with M. de St. Quentin." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You hell-hound!" Lucas cried. + +"Go tell Louis to drive up to the cabaret door, Gaspard," bade the +captain. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +He read from the paper: + +"'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--" + +"Is my arm in a sling?" Lucas demanded. + +"No, in a handcuff," the captain laughed, at the same moment that his +dragoon exclaimed, "His right wrist is bandaged, though." + +"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: + +[Illustration: "HE WAS DEPOSITED IN THE BIG BLACK COACH."] + +"'Fair hair, gray eyes, aquiline nose'--I suppose you will still tell +us, monsieur, that you are not the man?" + +"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--" + +"It is plain to me, monsieur," the officer interrupted, "that the +description fits you in every particular." And so it did. + +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! + +"You lie!" he cried furiously. "You know I am not Mar. You lie, the +whole pack of you!" + +"Gag him, Ravelle," the captain commanded with an angry flush. + +"I demand to be taken before M. de Belin!" Lucas shouted. + +The next moment the soldier had twisted a handkerchief about his mouth. + +"Ready?" the captain asked of Gaspard, who had come back just in time to +aid in the throttling. "Move on, then." + +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. + +I laughed all the way back to the Hôtel St. Quentin. + + + + +XIX + +_To the Hôtel de Lorraine._ + + +I 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. + +Evidently he was struck by some change in my appearance; for he asked at +once: + +"What has happened, Félix?" + +"Such a lark!" I cried. + +"What! did old Menard share the crowns with you for your trouble?" + +"No; he pocketed them all. That was not it." + +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. + +"Mordieu!" he cried, starting up, his face ablaze, "if I resemble that +dirt--" + +"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." + +"And they took him off?" + +"Truly. They gagged him because he protested so much, and lugged him +off." + +"To the Bastille?" he demanded, as if he could scarcely realize the +event. + +"To the Bastille. In a big travelling-coach, between the officer and his +men. He may be there by this time." + +He looked at me as if he were still not quite able to believe the thing. + +"It is true, monsieur. If I were inventing it I could not invent +anything better; but it is true." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Monsieur, I put it to you: Had you been there, how could Lucas have +been arrested for Comte de Mar?" + +"He won't stay arrested long--more's the pity." + +"No," I said regretfully; "but they may keep him overnight." + +"Aye, he may be out of mischief overnight. I am happy to say that my +face is not known at the Bastille." + +"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." + +"Impossible," he answered, smiling; "I have an engagement in Paris." + +"But monsieur may not keep it. He must go to St. Denis." + +"I must go nowhere but to the Hôtel Lorraine." + +"Monsieur!" + +"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." + +"But in the hôtel-" + +"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." + +"But, monsieur, how long is it since you were there last?" + +"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." + +"Neither will mademoiselle," I made my point. + +"I hope she may," he answered. "She will know I must see her to-night. +And I think she will be at the window." + +The reasoning seemed satisfactory to him. And I thought one wet blanket +in the house was enough. + +"Very well, monsieur. I am ready for anything you propose." + +"Then I propose supper." + +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. + +"Very well, monsieur," I said with all alacrity. + +"But you are not to come!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Certainly not. I must go alone to-night." + +"But, monsieur, you will need me. You will need some one to watch the +street while you speak with mademoiselle." + +"I can have no listener to-night," he replied immovably. + +"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." + +"I can manage my own affairs," he retorted haughtily; "I desire neither +your advice nor your company." + +"Monsieur!" I cried, almost in tears. + +"Enough!" he bade sharply. "Go send me Vigo." + +I went like one in whose face the doors of heaven had shut. + +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. + +M. Étienne was standing in the doorway. + +"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." + +Vigo hesitated a moment, saluted, and went. + +"Monsieur," I cried out, "you meant all the time to take me!" + +He gazed down on my heated visage and laughed and laughed. + +"Félix," he gasped, "you had your sport over there at the inn. But I +have seen nothing this summer as funny as _your_ face." + +Vigo came back with a sword and baldric for me, and a horse-pistol +besides, but M. Étienne would not let me have it. + +"Circumstances are such, Vigo, that I want no noisy weapons." + +The equery regarded him with a troubled countenance. + +"I wish I knew, monsieur, whether I do right to let you go." + +"We will not discuss that, an it please you." + +"I do not, monsieur. I have no right to curtail M. le Comte's liberties. +But I let you go with a heavy heart." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +I went to my post, and he began singing, scarce loud enough for any but +his lady above to mark him: + + _Fairest blossom ever grew + Once she loosened from her breast. + This I say, her eyes are blue. + + From her breast the rose she drew, + Dole for me, her servant blest, + Fairest blossom ever grew._ + +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: + + _Of my love the guerdon true, + 'Tis my bosom's only guest. + This I say, her eyes are blue. + + Still to me 'tis bright of hue + As when first my kisses prest + Fairest blossom ever grew. + + Sweeter than when gathered new + 'Twas the sign her love confest. + This I say, her eyes are blue._ + +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: + + _Askest thou of me a clue + To that lady I love best? + Fairest blossom ever grew! + This I say, her eyes are blue._ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XX + +_"On guard, monsieur."_ + + +We 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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Of the Sixteen?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes; and Marc Latour." + +"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?" + +He could do no less than answer his saviour. + +"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." + +"I will come to take a hand with you any time, madame," M. Étienne +assured her. "I like the way you play." + +She broke into shrill, delighted laughter. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Madame," M. Étienne cried, "I hope the day may come when I shall make +you suitable acknowledgements. My name--" + +"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." + +"But, madame, when monsieur your son discovers--" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"You will let us see you safe back in your hall." + +"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." + +Crowing her elfin laugh, she pulled the door open and fairly hustled us +through. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +"This is like to be awkward," murmured M. Étienne. + +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. + +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. + +"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice ringing out loud and steady. "Is it +you, Ferou?" + +M. Étienne hooked his scabbard in place, and went forward into the clear +circle of light. + +"No, M. de Mayenne; it is Étienne de Mar." + +"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: + +"How the devil come you here?" + +"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." + +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: + +"How came you here?" + +"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." + +"Very well, then," said Mayenne; "our swords, if you are ready, will +make adequate explanation." + +"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." + +The walls of the passage were roughly laid. Mayenne perched his lantern +on a projecting stone. + +"On guard, sir," he answered. + +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: + +"On guard, monsieur." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +No man could have spoken with a franker grace. I believe then, I +believe now, he meant it. M. Étienne believed he meant it. + +"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." + +"In that case," returned Mayenne, "perhaps we might each continue on his +way." + +"With all my heart, monsieur." + +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. + +"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." + +"I thank you, monsieur. You make me immortal." + +"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." + +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. + +[Illustration: "WE CLIMBED OUT INTO A SILK-MERCER'S SHOP."] + +"It wasn't necessary to tell him the door is bolted," M. Étienne +muttered. + +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. + +"Are you hurt, Félix?" cried M. Étienne, the first to disentangle +himself. + +"No," I said, groaning; "but I banged my head. She did not say it was a +trap-door." + +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. + +"Ah, I have the cord!" he exclaimed. + +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. + +"Faith, my man," said M. Étienne to the little bourgeois who had opened +to us, "I am glad to see you appear so promptly." + +He looked at us, somewhat troubled or alarmed. + +"You must have met--" he suggested with hesitancy. + +"Yes," said M. Étienne; "but he did not object. We are, of course, of +the initiated." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"For the King," the shopkeeper made instant rejoinder, drawing in the +air in his turn a letter C and the numeral X. + +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. + +"And now, my friend, let us out into the street and forget our faces." + +The man took up his candle to light us to the door. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +Presently M. Étienne cried out: + +"Death of my life! Had I fought there in the burrow, I should have +changed the history of France!" + + + + +XXI + +_A chance encounter._ + + +The 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. + +"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." + +And I. But I held my tongue about it, as became me. + +"They were wider awake than I thought--those Lorrainers. Pardieu! Féix, +you and I came closer quarters with death than is entirely amusing." + +"If that door had not opened-" I shuddered. + +"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! + +"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." + +"Monsieur made somewhat of a mess as it was." + +"Aye. I would I knew whether I killed Brie. We'll go round in the +morning and find out." + +"I am thankful that monsieur does not mean to go to-night." + +"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." + +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. + +"The snake-hole over again," said M. Étienne. "But we are almost at our +own gates." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Monsieur is a member of the Parliament?" M. Étienne asked with immense +respect. + +"I have that honour, monsieur," the little man replied, delighted to +impress us, as he himself was impressed, by the sense of his importance. + +"Oh," said M. Étienne, with increasing solemnity, "perhaps monsieur had +a hand in a certain decree of the 28th June?" + +The little man began to look uneasy. + +"There was, as monsieur says, a measure passed that day," he stammered. + +"A rebellious and contumacious decree," M. Étienne rejoined, "most +offensive to the general-duke." Whereupon he fingered his sword. + +"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--" + +"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. + +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: + +"Stir one step at your peril!" + +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. + +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. + +"Monsieur, beware what you do. I am Pierre Marceau!" + +"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?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +M. Étienne wheeled round to me. + +"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." + +He seized me by the hand, and we dashed up the street. + +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. + +"I said I wanted no more fighting to-night, but two against a mob! We +know how it feels." + +The clash of steel on steel grew ever louder, and as we wheeled around a +jutting garden wall we came full upon the combatants. + +"A rescue, a rescue!" cried M. Étienne. "Shout, Félix! Montjoie St. +Denis! A rescue, a rescue!" + +We charged down the street, drawing our swords and shouting at the top +of our lungs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He spoke first, in a voice husky from his exertion: + +"Who are you?" + +"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." + +The unknown made a rapid step toward me, crying, "What--" + +But at the word M. Étienne emerged from the shadows. + +"Who lives?" he called out. "You, Félix?" + +"Not hurt, monsieur. And you?" + +"Not a scratch. Nor did I scratch my man. Permit me to congratulate you, +monsieur l'inconnu, on our coming up when we did." + +The unknown said one word: + +"Étienne!" + +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. + +I made one pace and stopped; for I remembered what ghastly shape stood +between me and Monsieur--that horrible lying story. + +"Dieu!" gasped M. Étienne, "Monsieur!" + +For a moment we all kept silence, motionless; then Monsieur flung his +sword over the wall. + +"Do your will, Étienne." + +His son darted forward with a cry. + +"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." + +Monsieur said naught, and we could not see his face; could not know +whether he believed or rejected, softened or condemned. + +M. Étienne, catching at his breath, went on: + +"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." + +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. + +"My cousin Grammont--who is dead--was in the plot, and his lackey +Pontou, and Martin the clerk; but the contriver was Lucas." + +"Lucas?" + +"Lucas," continued M. Étienne. "Or, to give him his true title, Paul de +Lorraine, son of Henri de Guise." + +"But that is impossible" Monsieur cried, stupefied. + +"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." + +"And how long have you known this?" asked Monsieur. + +"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. + +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. + +"M. Étienne, stop!" I commanded. "Monsieur, it is the truth. Indeed it +is the truth. He is innocent, and Lucas _is_ 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!" + +M. Étienne, who had actually obeyed me,--me, his lackey,--turned to his +father once again. + +"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." + +"Nay," Monsieur cried; "I believe thee, Étienne." + +And he took his son in his arms. + + + + +XXII + +_The signet of the king._ + + +Already 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. + +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. + +I leaned my head back against the wall, and had shut my eyes to consider +the matter more quietly, when I heard my name. + +"Félix! Félix! Where is the boy got to?" + +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. + +I sprang up, and Monsieur, my duke, embraced me. + +"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." + +"I might ask you that, Étienne." + +The young man hesitated a bare moment before he answered: + +"I am just come from serenading Mlle. de Montluc." + +A shade fell over Monsieur's radiance. At his look, M. Étienne cried +out: + +"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." + +"Monsieur," I cried, curiosity mastering me, "was she in the window?" + +He shook his head, his eyes on his father' face. + +"Étienne," Monsieur said slowly, "can't you see that Mlle. de Montluc is +not for you?" + +"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." + +"Then, mordieu, we'll steal her together!" + +"You! You'll help me?" + +"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!" + +M. Étienne, wet-eyed, laughing, hugged Monsieur. + +"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." + +"My life is a little thing." + +"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." + +"Ah, you know how I love her!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, we'll win her by noon. But first we'll sleep. There's Félix yawning +his head off. Come, come." + +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. + +"Félix, you said Huguet had run for aid?" + +"Yes, Monsieur; Vigo should have been here before now," I answered, +remembering Vigo's promptitude yesterday. + +"Every one was asleep; he has been hammering this half-hour to get in," +M. Étienne said easily. + +But Monsieur asked of me: + +"Was he much hurt, Félix?" + +"No; I am sure not, Monsieur. He was run through the arm; I am sure he +was not hurt otherwise." + +We came to where the two slain men lay across the way. M. Étienne +exclaimed: + +"If you do not hold your life dear, you sell it dear, Monsieur! How many +of the rascals were there?" + +"It was hard to tell in the dark. Five, I think." + +"Now, Monsieur, how came you to be in this place in the dark?" + +"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--" + +"But some friend near the gate? Tarigny would have sheltered you." + +"Aye, and got into trouble for it, had it leaked out to the Sixteen." + +"Tarigny is no craven." + +"But neither am I," said Monsieur, smiling. + +"Oh, I give you up! Go your ways. But I will not come to save you next +time." + +"No, lad; you will be at my side hereafter." + +M. Étienne laughed and said no more. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +But Monsieur, not heeding, was bending over the other man. + +"Your acquaintance is wider than mine. Do you know this one?" + +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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +But Monsieur looked back again at the dead lad, and then at his son and +at me, and came with us heavy of countenance. + +On the stones before us lay a trail of blood-drops. + +"Now, that is where Huguet ran with his wounded arm," I said to M. +Étienne. + +"Aye, and if we did not know the way home we could find it by this red +track." + +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. + +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. + +Monsieur knelt on the ground beside him, but he was quite cold. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I forgot him, too," Monsieur sorrowed. "Shame to me; he would not have +forgotten me." + +"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." + +"In sight of the door," Monsieur said sadly. "In sight of his own door." + +We held silent. Monsieur got soberly to his feet. + +"I never lost a better man." + +"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." + +He smiled at the outburst, but I did not care; if he would only smile, I +was content it should be at me. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"What is it, Monsieur?" cried his son. + +"My papers." + +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. + +"What were they, Monsieur?" + +A drawn look had come over Monsieur's face. + +"Papers which the king gave me, and which I, fool and traitor, have +lost." + +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. + +"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." + +"And of course he would not." + +"He should; it was my command. He stayed and saved my life perhaps, and +lost me what is dearer than life--my honour." + +"He could not leave you to be killed, Monsieur; that were asking the +impossible." + +"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." + +M. Étienne ventured no word, understanding well enough that in such +bitter moments no consolation consoles. M. le Duc added after a moment: + +"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!" + +"Nay, Monsieur, the mischance might have befallen any one." + +"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." + +"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." + +"When? How?" + +"Soon," M. Étienne answered, "and easily, if you will tell me what they +are like. Are they open?" + +"I fear by now they may be. There are three sheets of names, and a +fourth sheet, a letter--all in cipher." + +"Ah, but in that case--" + +Monsieur cut short his son's jubilation. + +"But--Lucas." + +"Of course--I forgot him. He knows your ciphers, then?" + +"Dolt that I was, he knows everything." + +"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?" + +"It was a span long, and half as wide; for all address, the letters _St. +Q._ in the corner. It was tied with red cord and bore the seal of a +flying falcon, and the motto, _Je reviendrai_." + +"What! the king's seal? That's serious. Expect, then, Monsieur, to see +the papers in an hour's time." + +"Étienne, Étienne," Monsieur cried, "are you mad?" + +"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." + +"Ah," cried Monsieur, "then let us go." But M. Étienne laid a +restraining hand on his shoulder. + +"Not you. I. They will kill you in the Halles just as cheerfully as in +the Quartier Marais. This is my affair." + +He looked at Monsieur with kindling eyes, seeing his chance to prove his +devotion. The duke yielded to his eagerness. + +"But," M. Étienne added generously, "you may have the honour of paying +the piper." + +"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." + +"Then go practise, Monsieur, at feeling more than king." + +He embraced his father, and we turned off down the street. + +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. + +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. + +"Does M. Bernet lodge with you?" my master asked of the landlord. We +were his only patrons at the moment. + +"M. Bernet? Him with the eye out?" + +"The same." + +"Why, no, monsieur. I don't let lodgings. The building is not mine. I +but rent the ground floor for my purposes." + +"But M. Bernet lodges in the house, then?" + +"No, he doesn't. He lodges round the corner, in the court off the Rue +Clichet." + +"But he comes here often?" + +"Oh, aye. Every morning for his glass. And most evenings, too." + +M. Étienne laid down the drink-money, and something more. + +"Sometimes he has a friend with him, eh?" + +The man laughed. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Then you can tell us, my man, where he lodges?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +The concierge regarded us without cordiality, while by no means ceasing +his endeavours to cover our shoes with his sweepings. + +"Third story back," he said. + +"Does M. Bernet lodge alone?" + +"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: + +"Ah, I understood he shared his lodgings with a comrade. He has a +friend, then, in the building?" + +"Aye, I suppose so," the old chap grinned, "when monsieur walks in." + +"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?" + +"You seem to know all about it. Better see Bernet himself, instead of +chattering here all day." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +She picked one of the brats up in her arms to display him to us. M. +Étienne asked: + +"What man?" + +"Why, the one that came for him. The one he went out with." + +"And what sort of person was this?" + +"Nay, how was I to see? Would I be out walking the common passage with a +child to hush? I was rocking the cradle." + +"But who does come here to visit M. Bernet?" + +"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." + +"I thank you, madame," M. Étienne said, turning to the stairs. + +She ran out to the rail, babies and all. + +"But I could take a message for him, monsieur. I will make a point of +seeing him when he comes in." + +"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: + +"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." + +The door in front of us opened with a startling suddenness, and a big, +brawny wench bounced out to demand of us: + +"What is that she says? What are you saying of us, you slut?" + +We had no mind to be mixed in the quarrel. We fled for our lives down +the stair. + +The old carl, though his sweeping was done, leaned on his broom on the +outer step. + +"So you didn't find M. Bernet at home? I could have told you as much had +you been civil enough to ask." + +I would have kicked the old curmudgeon, but M. Étienne drew two gold +pieces from his pouch. + +"Perchance if I ask you civilly, you will tell me with whom M. Bernet +went out last night?" + +"Who says he went out with anybody?" + +"I do," and M. Étienne made a motion to return the coins to their place. + +"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." + +"And where does he lodge?" + +"How should I know? I have trouble enough keeping track of my own +lodgers, without bothering my head about other people's." + +"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." + +"Well, Rue des Tournelles, sign of the Gilded Shears," the old carl spat +out at last. + +"You are sure?" + +"Hang me else." + +"If you are lying to me, I will come back and beat you to a jelly with +your own broom." + +"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." + +"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: + +"If M. Bernet's not at home yet, neither will his friend be. I've told +you what will profit you none." + +"You mistake, Sir Gargoyle," M. Étienne called over his shoulder. "Your +information is entirely to my needs." + + + + +XXIII + +_The Chevalier of the Tournelles._ + + +It 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Peyrot!" + +"Who is it?" + +"I want to speak with you about something important." + +"Who are you, then?" + +"I'll tell you when you let me in." + +"I'll let you in when you tell me." + +"My name's Martin. I'm a friend of Bernet. I want to speak to you +quietly about a matter of importance." + +"A friend of Bernet. Hmm! Well, friend of Bernet, it appears to me you +speak very well through the door." + +"I want to speak with you about the affair of to-night." + +"What affair?" + +"To-night's affair." + +"To-night? I go to a supper-party at St. Germain. What have you to say +about that?" + +"Last night, then," M. Étienne amended, with rising temper. "If you want +me to shout it out on your stairs, the St. Quentin affair." + +"Now, what may you mean by that?" called the voice from within. If +Peyrot was startled by the name, he carried it off well. + +"You know what I mean. Shall I take the house into our confidence?" + +"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." + +"Aye," said M. Étienne, readily. "This is it: twenty pistoles." + +No answer came immediately; I could guess Peyrot puzzled. Presently he +called to us: + +"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." + +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. + +At length Peyrot opened the door and surveyed us. + +"What, two friends of Bernet, ventre bleu!" But he allowed us to enter. + +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. + +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. + +My lord closed the door after him and went straight to the point. + +"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." + +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: + +"You are the Comte de Mar." + +"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." + +M. Peyrot swept a bow till his head almost touched the floor. + +"My poor apartment is honoured." + +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. + +"Monsieur desired?" he asked sympathetically. + +"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." + +He smiled to prove it. Nor do I think his complaisance altogether +feigned. The temper of our host amused him. + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, come," M. Étienne cried, "no shuffling, Peyrot. We know as well as +you where you were before dawn." + +"Before dawn? Marry, I was sleeping the sleep of the virtuous." + +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. + +"For all you are a count, monsieur, you have the worst manners ever came +inside these walls." + +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. + +Instantly Peyrot's voice rang out, "Stop!" M. Étienne, turning, looked +into his pistol-barrel. + +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. + +"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." + +M. Étienne sat down on the chest and smiled more amiably than ever. + +"Why--have I never known you before, Peyrot?" + +"One moment, monsieur." The nose of the pistol pointed around to me. "Go +over there to the door, you." + +I retreated, covered by the shining muzzle, to a spot that pleased him. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I was wondering," he answered pleasantly, "how long you have dwelt in +this town and I not known it. You are from Guienne, methinks." + +"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." + +"A very pretty brotherhood, you for sample." + +"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." + +He leaned his head back, his eyes fixed contemplatively on the ceiling, +and burst into song, in voice as melodious as a lark's: + + _Piety and Grace and Gloom, + For such like guests I have no room! + Piety and Gloom and Grace, + I bang my door shut in your face! + Gloom and Grace and Piety, + I set my dog on such as ye!_ + +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. + +"M. Peyrot has made his fortune in Paris? Monsieur rolls in wealth, of +course?" + +Peyrot shrugged his shoulders, his eyes leaving the ceiling and making a +mocking pilgrimage of the room, resting finally on his own rusty +clothing. + +"Do I look it?" he answered. + +"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." + +Peyrot's roving eye condescended to meet his visitor's. + +"Say on," he permitted lazily. + +"I offer twenty pistoles for a packet, seal unbroken, taken at dawn from +the person of M. de St. Quentin's squire." + +"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." + +"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." + +Peyrot grinned cheerfully. + +"M. de Mar doesn't seem able to get it through his head that I know +nothing whatever of this affair." + +"No, I certainly don't get that through my head." + +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. + +"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." + +I declare I was almost shaken, almost thought we had wronged him. But M. +Étienne gauged him otherwise. + +"Your words please me," he began. + +"The contemplation of virtue," the rascal droned with down-drawn lips, +in pulpit tone, "is always uplifting to the spirit." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +Plainly the game was in Peyrot's hands; we could play only to his lead. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Conscience, quotha!" + +"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. + + _Mirth, my love, and Folly dear, + Baggages, you're welcome here!_ + +I fix the injury to my conscience at thirty pistoles, M. le Comte. Fifty +in all will bring the packet to your hand." + +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. + +"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." + +"What guaranty have I that you will deal fairly with me?" + +"The word of a St. Quentin." + +"Sufficient, of course." + +The scamp rose with a bow. + +"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." + +M. Étienne's eyes went over to the chest. + +"I wish you all success in your arduous search." + +"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." + +M. Étienne still pensively regarded the chest. + +"If you leave no key unturned, 'twill be more to the purpose." + +"You appear yet to nurse the belief that I have the packet. But as a +matter of fact, monsieur, I have not." + +I studied his grave face, and could not for the life of me make out +whether he were lying. M. Étienne said merely: + +"Come, Félix." + +"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. + +"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. + + _Kiss me, Folly; hug me, Mirth: + Life without you's nothing worth!_ + +Monsieur, can I lend you a hat?" + +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. + +"I cannot rob monsieur," he said. + +"M. le Comte need have no scruple. I shall buy me better out of his +fifty pistoles." + +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: + + _Mirth I'll keep, though riches fly, + While Folly's sure to linger by!_ + +"Think you we'll get the packet?" I asked. + +"Aye. I think he wants his fifty pistoles. Mordieu! it's galling to let +this dog set the terms." + +"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." + +"Now are you more zealous than honest, boy." + +I was silent, abashed, and he added: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Perhaps you should go home and sleep," he suggested tenderly. + +"Nay," cried I. "I had a cat-nap in the lane; I'm game to see it +through." + +"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." + +"And if I lose him?" + +"Come back home. Station yourself now where he won't notice you. That +arch there should serve." + +We had been standing at the street corner, sheltered by a balcony over +our heads from the view of Peyrot's window. + +"Monsieur," I said, "I do wish you would bring Vigo back with you." + +"Félix," he laughed, "you are the worst courtier I ever saw." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: AT THE "BONNE FEMME."] + +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. + +"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, _Je reviendrai_. In the corner was written very small, +_St. Q._ Smiling, he put it into the breast of his doublet. + +"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." + +"I hanker not for such service as you have given him," M. Étienne +answered. Peyrot's eyes twinkled brighter than ever. + +"I have said it. I will serve you as vigourously as I have served him. +Bear me in mind, monsieur." + +"Come, Félix," was all my lord's answer. + +Peyrot sprang forward to detain us. + +"Monsieur, will you not dine with me? Both of you, I beg. I will have +every wine the cellar affords." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I would that knave were of my rank," he said. "I had not left him +without slapping a glove in his face." + +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. + +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. + +"Well done, Étienne, my champion! An you brought me the crown of France +I were not so pleased!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Ah, Monsieur, I have often asked myself of late what I was born for. +Now I know it was for this morning." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Won't you take me for your messenger, Monsieur? You need a trusty +one." + +"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." + +He had inclosed the packet in a clean wrapper, but now, a thought +striking him, he took it out again. + +"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." + +"He is not likely to leave it about, Monsieur." + +"No, but this time we'll provide for every chance. We'll take all the +precautions ingenuity can devise or patience execute." + +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. + +"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--" + +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! + + + + +XXIV + +_The Florentines._ + + +M. 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. + +"But the seal!" he stammered. + +"The seal was genuine," Monsieur answered, startled as he. "How your +fellow could have the king's signet--" + +"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. + +"I had no thought of it. But this Peyrot--it may not yet be too late--" + +"I will go back," M. Étienne cried, darting to the door. But Monsieur +laid forcible hands on him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Stop, Étienne," Monsieur commanded. "I forbid you. You are gray with +fatigue. Vigo shall go." + +M. Étienne turned on him in fiery protest; then the blaze in his eyes +flickered out, and he made obedient salute. + +"So be it. Let him go. I am no use; I bungle everything I touch. But he +may accomplish something." + +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. + +"Go find Vigo," Monsieur bade me, "and then get you to bed." + +I obeyed both orders with all alacrity. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +He, meeting my eye, smiled in the friendliest way, like a child, and +said, in Italian: + +"Good day to you, my little gentleman." + +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. + +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: + +"I give you good day, friend." + +He looked somewhat surprised and more than pleased, breaking at once +into voluble speech: + +"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?" + +"Nay, I have no sweetheart," I said, "and if I had, she would not wear +these gauds." + +"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." + +His words huffed me a bit, for he spoke as if he were vastly my senior. + +"I want no sweetheart," I returned with dignity, "to be bought with +gold." + +"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." + +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. + +"Well, I tell you again I have no sweetheart and I want no sweetheart," +I said; "I have no time to bother with girls." + +At once he abandoned the subject, seeing that he was making naught by +it. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"I cannot take the rosary. But I should like well the crucifix. But +then, I have only ten pistoles." + +"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?" + +"Oh, there's nobody like him," I answered, "except, of course, M. le +Duc." + +"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. + +"This is the house of the Duke of St. Quentin," I said. "Surely you +could not come in at the gate without discovering that?" + +"He is a very grand seigneur, then, this duke?" + +"Assuredly," I replied cautiously. + +"More of a man than the Comte de Mar?" + +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: + +"They are both as gallant gentlemen as any living. About this cross, +now--" + +"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." + +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. + +Sure enough, he began as I had expected: + +"This M. de Mar down-stairs, he is a very good master, I suppose?" + +"Yes," I said, without enthusiasm. + +"He has always treated you well?" + +I bethought myself of the trick I had played successfully with the +officer of the burgess guard. + +"Why, yes, I suppose so. I have only known him two days." + +"But you have known him well? You have seen much of him?" he demanded +with ill-concealed eagerness. + +"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." + +"And you know not whether or no he be a good master?" + +"Oh, pretty good. So-so." + +He sprang forward to deal me a stinging box on the ear. + +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. + +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. + +"Ventre bleu!" I said. + +"And so you know not you little villain, whether you have a good master +or not?" + +"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." + +"Then I am a good master?" he demanded truculently, advancing upon me. + +I put up my hands to my ears. + +"The best, monsieur. And monsieur wrestled well, too." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, then, how do you like me?" + +"Monsieur confounds me. It's witchery. I cannot get used to him." + +"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." + +"Monsieur goes to the Hôtel de Lorraine as a jeweller?" I cried, +enlightened. + +"Aye. And if the ladies do not crowd about me--" he broke off with a +gesture, and put his trays back in his box. + +"Well, I wondered, monsieur. I wondered if we were going to sell +ornaments to Peyrot." + +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. + +"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!" + +His face betokened little hope of Gilles. We both kept chagrined +silence. + +"And we thought him sleeping!" presently cried he. + +"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." + +"Mayenne dare not touch him." + +"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?" + +"Ah, monsieur!" I cried, bethinking myself that I had forgotten to +dress. + +"Nay, you need not don these clothes," he interposed, with a look of +wickedness which I could not interpret. "Wait; I'm back anon." + +He darted out of the room, to return speedily with an armful of apparel, +which he threw on the bed. + +"Monsieur," I gasped in horror, "it's woman's gear!" + +"Verily." + +"Monsieur! you cannot mean me to wear this!" + +"I mean it precisely." + +"Monsieur!" + +"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." + +"Oh, monsieur, put me in a wig, in cap and bells, an you like! I will be +monsieur's clown, anything, only not this!" + +"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." + +I was like to burst with mortification; I stood there in dumb, agonized +appeal. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Enough, monsieur," I said. "I am sobered." + +But even now that I held still we could not draw the last holes in the +bodice-point nearly together. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You must change your shoes," he cried eagerly. "Your hobnails spoil +all." + +I put one of his gossip's shoes on the floor beside my foot. + +"Now, monsieur, I ask you, how am I to get into that?" + +"Shall I fetch you Vigo's?" he grinned. + +"No, Constant's," I said instantly, thinking how it would make him +writhe to lend them. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Pardieu! I should say so," he cried. "I must e'en go repair myself; and +you, Félix,--Félicie,--must be fed." + +I was in truth as hollow as a drum, yet I cried out that I had rather +starve than venture into the kitchen. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Why, monsieur, I carry that on my shoulders." + +"What, my lass, on your dainty shoulders? Nay, 'twould make the +townsfolk stare." + +I gnawed my lip in silence; he exclaimed: + +"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." + +I shrank as a snail when you touch its horns. He cried: + +"Marry, but I will, though!" + +Now I, unlike Sir Snail, had no snug little fortress to take refuge in; +I might writhe, but I could not defend myself. + +"As you will, monsieur," I said, setting my teeth hard. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +XXV + +_A double masquerade._ + + +"Félix, we are speaking in our own tongue. It is such lapses as these +bring men to the gallows. Italian from this word, my girl." + +"Monsieur, I have no notion how to bear myself, what to say," I answered +uneasily. + +"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." + +"Monsieur, could we not go safelier at night?" + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Never out of St. Quentin till I came hither. But Father Francesco has +talked to me much of his city of Florence." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +M. Étienne, tapping his box, very brokenly, very laboriously stammered +forth something about jewels for the ladies. + +"Get in with you, then." + +We were not slow to obey. + +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. + +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. + +M. Étienne looked from one to another with the childlike smile of his +bare lips, demanding if any here spoke Italian. + +"I," answered Pierre himself. "Now, what may your errand be?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Now, that is a heavy box for a maid to help lug. Do you make the lasses +do porters' work, you Florentines?" + +"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." + +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. + +"How came you two to be in Paris?" he asked. + +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: + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +The men burst into loud applause. + +"Good old Jean! Jean wins. Well played, Jean! Vive Jean!" + +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. + +Jean came again directly with a great silver tankard. + +"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." + +"Oh, I shall drink with her," Jean answered. + +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. + +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. + +"Who insults my sister?" he shouted. "Who is the dog does this!" + +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. + +"Mind your manners, sirrah!" Jean cried. + +Monsieur's ardour vanished; a gentle, appealing smile spread over his +face. + +"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." + +"Nor he," Pierre retorted. "A kiss, forsooth! What do you expect with a +handsome lass like that? If you will take her about--" + +"Madame says the jeweller fellow is to come up," our messenger +announced, returning. + +My lord besought Pierre: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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: + +"It really matters not in the least, for if we be caught the dagger's +not yet forged can save us." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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: + +"Lorance!" + +Our hearts stood still--mine did, and I can vouch for his--as the heavy +window-curtain swayed aside and she came forth. + +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. + +"You wanted me, madame?" she asked Mme. de Mayenne. + +"No," said the duchess, with a tartness of voice she seemed to reserve +for Mlle. de Montluc; "'twas Mme. de Montpensier." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Does it become me, madame?" + +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: + +"You look a shade too green-faced to-day, mademoiselle, for anything to +become you." + +"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." + +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: + +"You impudent minxes! 'Tis enough that one of you should bring my son +to his death, without the other making a mock of it." + +"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: + +"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." + +"I'll warrant it was not," muttered Mlle. Blanche. + +"Mar has turned traitor, and deserves nothing so well as to be spitted +in the dark," Mme. de Brie cried out. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"If not madame," murmured Mile. Blanche to herself. + +"--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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Ferou gave him up, of course," Mme. de Mayenne answered. "Monsieur has +done what seemed to him proper." + +"You are darkly mysterious, sister." + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +As I stole across the room to see, Mlle. de Tavanne detached herself +from the group and glided unnoticed out of the door. + +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: + +"Brother, it grows late. We must go. It will soon be dark. We must go +now--now!" + +He turned on me with an impatient frown, but before he could answer, +Mme. de Montpensier cried, with a laugh: + +"And do you fear the dark, wench? Marry, you look as if you could take +care of yourself." + +"Nay, madame," I protested, "but the box. Come, Giovanni. If we linger, +we may be robbed in the dark streets." + +"Why, my sister, where are your manners?" he retorted, striving to shake +me off. "The ladies have not yet dismissed me." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"She knows us; she's gone to tell. We must run for it." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Monsieur, monsieur!" she panted. "Go! you must go!" + +He seized her hand in both of his. + +"O Lorance! Lorance!" + +She laid her left hand on his for emphasis. + +"Go! go! An you love me, go!" + +For answer he fell on his knees before her, covering those sweet hands +with kisses. + +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. + +She was rosy with running, her little face brimming over with mischief. +She flitted into the room, crying: + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle, you are an angel." + +"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?" + +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. + +"Lorance, Lorance!" M. Étienne murmured tremulously. "She said I should +kiss you--" + +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. + +Mademoiselle was the first to stir; she raised her head and strove to +break away from his locked arms. + +"Monsieur! monsieur! This is madness! You must go!" + +"Are you sorry I came?" he demanded vibrantly. "Are you sorry, Lorance?" + +His eyes held hers; she threw pretence to the winds. + +"No, monsieur; I am glad. For if we never meet again, we have had this." + +"Aye. If I die to-night, I have had to-day." + +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. + +"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--" + +"There is a tunnel from Ferou's house to the Rue de la Soierie. His +mother--merciful angel--let me through." + +"And you were not hurt?" + +"Not a scratch, ma mie." + +"But the wound before? Félix said--" + +"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." + +"But now, monsieur? Does it heal?" + +"It is well--almost. 'Twas but a slash on the arm." + +"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." + +"My sweeting!" he laughed out. "If I cannot hold a sword yet, I can hold +my love." + +"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!" + +"If you will come with me." + +She made no answer, save to look at him as at a madman. + +"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." + +Silently, sadly, she shook her head. His arms loosened, and she freed +herself from him. But instantly he was close on her again. + +"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." + +"But my cousin Mayenne is not won over." + +"Devil fly away with your cousin Mayenne!" M. Étienne retorted with a +vehemence that made me shudder, lest the walls have ears. + +"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." + +He was looking at her with a passionate ardour, grasping her actual +words less than their import of refusal. + +"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." + +"It is not that," she answered. + +"Am I your fear?" he cried quickly. "Ah, Lorance, my Lorance, you need +not. I love you as I love the Queen of Heaven." + +"Ah, hush!" + +"As I love the Queen of Heaven. I will as soon do sacrilege toward her +as ill to you." + +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. + +He raised his eyes to hers, still kneeling at her feet. + +"Lorance, will you come with me?" + +She was silent a moment, with heaving breast and face a-quiver. + +"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--" + +He leaped to his feet, crying out: + +"Lorance, he was the first forsworn! For he did move against me--" + +"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." + +"You are cruel to me, Lorance." + +Sighing, she turned from him, hiding her face in her hands. + +"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." + +"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." + +"They missed me. They took by mistake Paul de Lorraine." + +"He was not here last night!" she cried. "Mayenne was demanding him of +me." + +"Then he slept pleasantly in the Bastille. May he never look on the +outside of its walls again!" + +"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." + +"And shall I flee my dangers? Shall I run, in the face of my peril?" + +"Ah, monsieur, perhaps your life is nothing to you. But it is more to me +than tongue can tell." + +"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. + +"Oh, you will go! you will go!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"It is true. But you cannot think, Lorance, it was for any lack of love +for you. I swear to you--" + +"Nay, you need not. I have it by heart that you love me." + +"Lorance!" + +"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?" + +"A woman belongs to her husband's house." + +"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?" + +"Lorance," he was fiercely beginning, when Mlle. de Tavanne bounded in. + +"On guard!" she hissed at us. "They come!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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: + +"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." + +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: + +"I did not follow you either, madame. We thought it scarcely safe; +Lorance could not bear to leave this fellow alone." + +Mme. de Mayenne glanced instinctively at her dressing-table's rich +accoutrements, touched in spite of herself by such care of her +belongings. + +"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." + + + + +XXVI + +_Within the spider's web._ + + +Mademoiselle 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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"What have you there, Louis?" + +"An Italian goldsmith, so please your Grace. Madame has just dismissed +him." + +He led us forward. Mayenne surveyed us deliberately, and at length said +to M. le Comte: + +"I will look at your wares." + +M. Étienne smiled his eager, deprecating smile, informing his Highness +that we, poor creatures, spoke no French. + +"How came you in Paris, then?" + +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: + +"Come in here." + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +"So you have appeared again," Mayenne said. "I could almost believe +myself back in night before last." + +"Aye; at last I have." Lucas was all hot and ruffled, panting half from +hurry, half from wrath. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Pretty trinkets," he observed, sitting down and lifting a bracelet from +the tray. + +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: + +"Well, do you give an account of yourself? You had better." + +Lucas repeated the tactics which he had found such good entertainment +before. He looked with raised eyebrows toward us. + +"You would not have me speak before these vermin, uncle?" + +"These vermin understand no French," Mayenne made answer. "But do as it +likes you. It is nothing to me." + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +"Was that your errand?" Mayenne said, looking up in slow surprise. "My +faith! your oaths to Lorance trouble you little." + +Lucas started forward sharply. "Do you tell me you did not know my +purpose?" + +"I knew, of course, that you were up to some warlockry," Mayenne +answered; "I did not concern myself to discover what." + +"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." + +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. + +"Be a little quieter, Paul," he said, unmoved. "You will have the guard +in, in a moment." + +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. + +"I shall have dismissed these people directly," Mayenne continued. "Then +you can tell me your tale." + +"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." + +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: + +"You told Belin this arrest was my desire?" + +"I may have implied something of the sort." + +"You repeated it to the arresting officer before Mar's boy!" + +"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." + +"Mar would believe I had broken faith with him?" + +"I dare say. One isn't responsible for what Mar believes," Lucas +answered carelessly. + +Mayenne was silent, with knit brows, drumming his hand on the table. +Lucas went on with the tale of his woes: + +"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!" + +Mayenne fell to laughing. Lucas cried out: + +"When they arrested me my first thought was that this was your work." + +"In that case, how should you be free now?" + +"You found you needed me." + +"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." + +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. + +"'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." + +"Saw she him?" Lucas cried sharply. + +"How should I know? She does not confide in me." + +"You took care to find out!" Lucas cried, knowing he was being badgered, +yet powerless to keep himself from writhing. + +"I may have." + +"Did she see him?" Lucas demanded again, the heavy lines of hatred and +jealousy searing his face. + +"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." + +"What happened?" + +"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." + +"Brie?" + +"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." + +"Mar's killed?" Lucas cried. "He's killed!" + +"By no means," answered Mayenne. "He got away." + +Before he could explain further,--if he meant to,--the door opened, and +Mlle. de Montluc came in. + +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. + +"I am come, monsieur, to fetch you to supper." + +"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. + +"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." + +"I want a word with you, Lorance," Mayenne said quietly. + +"As many as you like, monsieur," she replied promptly. "But will you not +send these creatures from the room first?" + +"Do you include your cousin Paul in that term?" + +"I meant these jewellers. But since you suggest it, perhaps it would be +as well for Paul to go." + +"You hear your orders, Paul." + +"Aye, I hear and I disobey," Lucas retorted. "Mademoiselle, I take too +much joy in your presence to be willing to leave it." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then do it now, mademoiselle. Be faithful to me and to your birth. +Cease sighing for the enemy of our house." + +"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." + +Mayenne little imagined how truly she spoke; but he could not look in +her eyes and doubt her honesty. + +"You are a good child, Lorance," he said. "I could wish your lover as +docile." + +"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." + +"I have not his promise for that," Mayenne said dryly; "but the next +time he comes after you, he may settle with your husband." + +She uttered a little gasp, but scarce of surprise--almost of relief that +the blow, so long expected, had at last been dealt. + +"You will marry me, monsieur?" she murmured. "To M. de Brie?" + +"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." + +She made no rejoinder, but her eyes, wide like a hunted animal's, moved +fearsomely, loathingly, to Lucas. Mayenne uttered an abrupt laugh. + +"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." + +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. + +"Have I your obedience, cousin?" + +"You know it, monsieur." + +She was curtseying to him when he folded her in his arms, kissing both +her cheeks. + +"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." + +He took her hand and led her in leisurely fashion out of the room. + +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. + +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: + +"Mar!" + +We dropped the box, and sprang at him. But he was too quick for us. He +leaped back, whipping out his sword. + +"I have you now, Mar!" he cried. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Well, what do you want?" the lackey demanded. "You ring as if it was a +question of life and death." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"Well, it appears we are safe at home." + +"Yes, M. Étienne." + +Even as I uttered the words, three men from the shadow of the wall +sprang out and seized us. + +"This is he!" one cried. "M. le Comte de Mar, I have the pleasure of +taking you to the Bastille." + + + + +XXVII + +_The countersign._ + + +Instantly 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. + +"Prettily done," quoth the leader. "Not a squeal! Morbleu! I wasn't +anxious to have old Vigo out disputing my rights." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Good for you, captain!" cried the men. We were indeed unfortunate to +encounter an officer with brains. + +"We'll take your gag off too, M. le Comte, in the coach," the captain +told him. + +"Will you bring the lass along, captain?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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: + +"Thousand devils! It's a boy!" + +A second later, when he recollected himself, I was tearing down the +lane. + +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: + +"Vigo, M. le Comte is arrested! He's in the Bastille!" + +Vigo grasped my arm, and lifted rather than led me in at the guard-room +door, slamming it in the soldiers' faces. + +"Now, Félix." + +"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." + +"Who have?" + +"The governor's guard. You'll saddle and pursue? You'll rescue him?" + +"How long ago?" + +"About ten minutes. The coach was standing in the Rue de l'Évêque. They +left a man guarding me, but I broke away." + +"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?" + +"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: + +"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." + +"Vigo!" I gasped in horror. Was Vigo turned traitor? The solid earth +reeled beneath my feet. + +"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." + +"But they can murder as well in the Bastille as elsewhere!" I cried. + +Vigo shook his head. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"And meantime is he to rot behind bars?" + +"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." + +"Monsieur! You will send to Monsieur?" + +"Of course. You will go. And Gilles with you to keep you out of +mischief." + +"When? Now?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Félix! Félix!" Marcel shouted down the corridor. I sprang up; then, +remembering my dignity, moved no further, but bade him come in to me. + +"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?" + +"What?" I cried, divided between the wild hope that it was Monsieur and +the wilder one that it was M. Étienne. + +"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." + +"For me?" I stuttered. + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +I dashed past the torch-bearer, nearly upsetting him in my haste, and +snatched her hand. + +"Mademoiselle! Come into the house!" + +She clutched me with fingers as cold as marble, which trembled on mine. + +"Where is M. de St. Quentin?" + +"At St. Denis." + +"You must take me there to-night." + +"I was going," I stammered, bewildered; "but you, mademoiselle--" + +"You knew of M. de Mar's arrest?" + +"Aye." + +"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. + +"You are Vigo," she said at once. + +"Yes; and I know not what noble lady mademoiselle can be, save--will it +please her to come into the house?" + +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: + +"Vigo, this will do. I will speak to you here." + +"As mademoiselle wishes. I thought the salon fitter. My cabinet here +will be quieter than the hall, mademoiselle." + +He opened the door, and she entered. He pushed me in next, giving me the +torch and saying: + +"Ask mademoiselle, Félix, whether she wants me." He amazed me--he who +always ordered. + +"I want you, Vigo," mademoiselle answered him herself. "I want you to +send two men with me to St. Denis." + +"To-morrow?" + +"No; to-night." + +"But mademoiselle cannot go to St. Denis." + +"I can, and I must." + +"They will not let a horse-party through the gate at night," Vigo began. + +"We will go on foot." + +"Mademoiselle," Vigo answered, as if she had proposed flying to the +moon, "you cannot walk to St. Denis." + +"I must!" she cried. + +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: + +"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." + +"But, mademoiselle, the bats!" I cried. + +"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?" + +"Mademoiselle, it is yours to say what you can do." + +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. + +"Mademoiselle!" I cried in pure delight. "Mademoiselle, that you are +here!" + +She flushed under my words. + +"Ah, it is no little thing brought me. You knew M. de Mar was arrested?" + +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. + +"After supper M. de Mayenne went back to his cabinet and let out Paul de +Lorraine." + +"I wish we had killed him," I muttered. "We had no time or weapons." + +"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." + +"Mordieu, mademoiselle!" + +"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." + +"Will--" + +She swept on unheeding: + +"He said he should be tried for the murder of Pontou--he should be +tortured to make him confess it." + +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!" + +She sprang to her feet, dry-eyed, fierce as a young lioness. + +"Is that all you can say? Mayenne may torture him and be killed for it?" + +"I shall send to the duke--" Vigo began. + +"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!" + +Vigo took her hand and kissed it. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Let us go!" she cried feverishly. "Let us go!" + +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. + +"Must we wait?" mademoiselle urged me, quivering like the arrow on the +bow-string. "They may discover I am gone. Need we wait?" + +"Aye," I answered; "if Vigo bids us. He knows." + +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. + +"I beg a thousand pardons, mademoiselle. I had to give my lieutenant his +orders. Now, if you will give the word, we go." + +"Do you go, M. Vigo?" She breathed deep. It was easy to see she looked +upon him as a regiment. + +"Of course," Vigo answered, as if there could be no other way. + +I said in pure devilry, to try to ruffle him: + +"Vigo, you said you were here to guard Monsieur's interests-his house, +his goods, his moneys. Do you desert your trust?" + +Mademoiselle turned quickly to him: + +"Vigo, you must not let me take you from your rightful post. Félix and +your man here will care for me--" + +"The boy talks silliness, mademoiselle," Vigo returned tranquilly. +"Mademoiselle is worth a dozen hôtels. I go with her." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Close by the gate, Vigo bade us pause in the door of a shop while he +went forward to reconnoiter. Before long he returned. + +"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." + +But mademoiselle demurred: + +"That will be out of our way, will it not, Vigo? It is a longer road +from the Porte Neuve to St. Denis?" + +"Yes; but what to do? We must get through the walls." + +"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?" + +"No," Vigo said doubtfully; "but--" + +"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?" + +"Forestier, mademoiselle," he stammered, startled. + +"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. + +"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!" + +"That's understood," we answered, saluting together. + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +"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?" + +"Would our kind be carrying a passport from the Duke of Mayenne?" quoth +Gilles. + +"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." + +[Illustration: "IT DESOLATES ME TO HEAR OF HER EXTREMITY."] + +"If monsieur will tell me the little word?" she asked innocently. + +He burst into laughter. + +"No, no; I am not to be caught so easy as that, my girl." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +He was eying her sharply, suspiciously; she made haste to protest: + +"Oh, no, monsieur; I am servant to Mme. Mesnier, the grocer's wife." + +"And perhaps you serve in the shop?" + +"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." + +For answer, he took her hand and lifted it to the light, revealing all +its smooth whiteness, its dainty, polished nails. + +"I think mademoiselle does not understand it, either." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"What's this, Guilbert?" he demanded. + +"Some folks seeking to get through the gates, sir. I've just turned them +away." + +"What were you saying about the Porte Neuve?" + +"I said they could go see how that gate is kept. I showed them how this +is." + +"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: + +"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." + +The colonel looked at us sharply, neither friendly nor unfriendly. He +said in a perfectly neutral manner: + +"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." + +"They have not," the captain answered at once. "I think you would do +well, sir, to demand the lady's name." + +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: + +"Lorance--" + +"Enough!" the colonel said instantly. "Pass them through, Guilbert." + +The young captain stood in a mull, but no more bewildered than we. + +"Mighty queer!" he muttered. "Why didn't she give it to me?" + +"Stir yourself, sir!" his superior gave sharp command. "They have the +countersign; pass them through." + + + + +XXVIII + +_St. Denis--and Navarre!_ + + +As the gates clanged into place behind us, Gilles stopped short in his +tracks to say, as if addressing the darkness before him: + +"Am I, Gilles, awake or asleep? Are we in Paris, or are we on the St. +Denis road?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Some one in mischief." Gilles pointed. + +"Aye," laughed the sentry, "your duke. This is where he lodges, over the +saddler's." + +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?" + +Mademoiselle was concealed in the embrasure of the doorway; Gilles and I +stepped back into the street where Monsieur could see us. + +"Gilles Forestier and Félix Broux, Monsieur, just from Paris, with +news." + +"Wait." + +"Is it all right, M. le Duc?" the sentry asked, saluting. + +"Yes," Monsieur answered, closing the shutter. + +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. + +"My son?" he said instantly. + +Mademoiselle, crouching in the shadow of the door-post, pushed me +forward. I saw I was to tell him. + +"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." + +At the word she came out of the shadow and slowly over the threshold. + +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. + +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. + +The spell was broken. Monsieur stepped forward at once to her. + +"Mademoiselle, you have come a journey. You are tired. Let me give you +some refreshment; then will you tell me the story." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +When he had gone from the room, I said to her, half hesitating, yet +eagerly: + +"Mademoiselle, you were never afraid on the way, where there was good +cause for fear. But now there is nothing to dread." + +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. + +"I never before went anywhere unmasked," she murmured. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me, Félix, all about it." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The king, leaving his companion to close the door, was across the room +in three strides. + +"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." + +With the liveliest curiosity and amusement he surveyed the top of +mademoiselle's bent head, and Monsieur's puzzled, troubled countenance. + +"This is no grisette, Sire," Monsieur answered, "but a very high-born +demoiselle indeed--cousin to my Lord Mayenne." + +Astonishment flashed over the king's mobile face; his manner changed in +an instant to one of utmost deference. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"The king's business is glad to step aside for yours, mademoiselle." + +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: + +"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." + +[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO ST. DENIS.] + +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. + +"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." + +She could not speak; she made him her obeisance with a look out of the +depths of her soul. + +"Then are you my subject, mademoiselle?" he demanded slyly. + +She shook the tears from her lashes, and found her voice and her smile +to answer his: + +"Sire, I was a true Ligueuse this morning. But I came here half +Navarraise, and now I swear I am wholly one." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Gladly, Sire," she answered, and dropped down a moment on her knees +before him, to kiss his hand. + +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. + +"Sire," mademoiselle said with hesitancy, "I shall tire you with my +story." + +"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: + +"Here, Rosny, if you ache to be grubbing over your papers, do not let us +delay you." + +"I am in no haste, Sire," his gentleman answered, unmoving. + +"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." + +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. + +"Sire, I am Lorance de Montluc. My grandfather was the Marshal Montluc." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And you are still Mlle. de Montluc?" + +She turned to Monsieur with the prettiest smile in the world. + +"M. de St. Quentin, though he has not fought for you, Sire, has ever +been whole-heartedly loyal." + +"Ventre-saint-gris!" the king exclaimed. "He is either an incredible +loyalist or an incredible ass!" + +Even the grave Rosny smiled, and the victim laughed as he defended +himself. + +"That my loyalty may be credible, Sire, I make haste to say that I had +never seen mademoiselle till this hour." + +"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." + +Monsieur smiled and was silent, with anxious eyes on mademoiselle. + +"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." + +"Aye," said the king, with a grimace. "Well I know." + +"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." + +"And what were M. de Mar's opinions?" + +She met his probing gaze blushing but candid. + +"M. de Mar, Sire, favoured it every day in the week." + +"I'll swear he did!" the king cried. + +"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." + +"Ventre-saint-gris!" Henry cried. "We will marry you to a king's son. On +my honour, mademoiselle--" + +"Sire," she pleaded, "you promised to hear me." + +"That I will, then. But I warn you I am out of patience with these St. +Quentins." + +"Then you are out of patience with devotion to your cause, Sire." + +"What! you speak for the recreants?" + +"I assure you, Sire, you have no more loyal servant than M. de Mar." + +"Strange I cannot recollect the face of my so loyal servant," the king +said dryly. + +But she, with a fine scorn of argument, made the audacious answer: + +"When you see it, you will like it, Sire." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Ventre-saint-gris! And how has that calamity befallen?" + +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. + +In the little silence Monsieur found his moment and his words. + +"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." + +She gave her hand to Monsieur, sudden tears welling over her lashes. + +"Monsieur, I thought to-night I had no friends. And I have so many!" + +"Mademoiselle," the king cried in the same breath, "fear not. I will get +you your lover if I sell France for him." + +She brushed the tears away and smiled on him. + +"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?" + +"Aye," said the king, "it is a dolourous topic--very painful! Eh, +Rosny?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I have learned that," the king said. "I have been told how a country +boy stripped his mask off." + +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." + +"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." + +"Then M. de Mar was arrested?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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'?" + +"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." + +"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." + +With an oath Monsieur sprang forward. + +"Aye," she cried, starting up, "he swore M. de Mar should suffer the +preparatory and the previous, the estrapade and the brodekins!" + +"He dare not," the king shouted. "Mordieu, he dare not!" + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle," the king cried, "rather shall he torture every chevalier +in France than I touch a hair of your head!" + +"Sire--" the word died away in a sigh; like a snapt rose she fell at his +feet. + +The king was quick, but Monsieur quicker. On his knees beside her, +raising her head on his arm, he commanded me: + +"Up-stairs, Félix! The door at the back--bid Dame Verney come +instantly." + +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. + +"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. + +"Mademoiselle has dropped a packet from her dress," M. de Rosny said. +"Will you take it, St. Quentin?" + +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. + +"Take them, St. Quentin; they are yours." + + + + +XXIX + +_The two dukes._ + + +Mademoiselle 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. + +At daybreak, even before the saddler opened the shop, Monsieur routed us +out. + +"I'm off for Paris, lads. Félix comes with me. Gilles stays to guard +mademoiselle." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Now, this is kind, Rosny," Monsieur answered, grasping his hand. "The +more that you don't approve me." + +Rosny smiled, like a sudden burst of sunshine in a December day. Another +man's embrace would have meant less. + +"I approve you so much, St. Quentin, that I cannot composedly see you +putting your head into the lion's jaws." + +"My head is used to the pillow. Do the teeth close, I am no worse off +than my son." + +"Your death makes your son's no easier." + +"Why, what else to do, Rosny?" Monsieur exclaimed. "Mishandle the lady? +Storm Paris? Sell the Cause?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Aye, it is your business," Rosny assented. "It is yours to take your +way." + +"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." + +Rosny took Monsieur's hand in a silent grip. + +"Maximilien," the duke said, smiling down on him, "what a pity you are a +scamp of a heretic!" + +"Henri," Rosny returned gravely, "I would you had had the good fortune +to be born in the Religion." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"A lackey came for me," I said. "Look, Monsieur, that's where we shut up +Lucas." + +I ceased hastily, for I knew the step in the corridor. + +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. + +"What, you!" he exclaimed brusquely. + +"Your servant brought him hither," Monsieur said for me. + +"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." + +"I am at my ease, M. de Mayenne," my lord answered, with every +appearance of truth. "You may go, Félix." + +"No," said Mayenne. "Since he is here, he may stay. He serves the +purpose as well as another." + +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. + +"You have guessed, M. de Mayenne, my errand?" + +"Certainly. You have come to join the League." + +Monsieur laughed out. + +"On the contrary, M. de Mayenne, I have come to persuade you to join the +King." + +"That was a waste of horse-flesh." + +"My friend, you know as well as we do that before long you will come +over." + +"I am not there yet, nor are my enemies scattered, nor is the League +dead." + +"Dying, my lord. It will get its coup de grâce o' Sunday, when the king +goes to mass." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Morbleu," Mayenne cried, suddenly showing his teeth, "you will never go +back to him if I choose to stop you!" + +Monsieur raised his eyebrows at him, pained by the unsuavity. + +"Of course not, monsieur. I quite understood that when I entered the +gate. I shall never leave this house if you will otherwise." + +"You will leave the house unharmed," Mayenne said curtly. "I shall not +treat you as your late master treated my brother." + +"I thank your generosity, monsieur, and commend your good sense." + +Mayenne looked for a moment as if he repented of both. Then he broke +into a laugh. + +"One permits the insolences of the court jester." + +Monsieur sprang up, his hand on his sword. But at once the quick flush +passed from his face, and he, too, laughed. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"You may find me, St. Quentin, less timid than you suppose." + +"Impossible. Mayenne's courage is unquestioned. I rely not on his +timidity, but on his judgment." + +"You take a great deal upon yourself in supposing that I wanted your +death on Tuesday and do not want it on Friday." + +"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." + +"But not less a pleasure. I have had something of the kind in mind ever +since your master killed my brother." + +"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." + +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: + +"Your son comes honestly by his unbound tongue." + +"Ah, my son! Now that you mention him, we shall discuss him a little. +You have put my son, monsieur, in the Bastille." + +"No; Belin and my nephew Paul, whom you know, have put him there." + +"But M. de Mayenne can get him out if he choose." + +"If he choose." + +Monsieur sat down again, with the air of one preparing for an amiable +discussion. + +"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." + +"Well, do you deny it?" + +"Not the love, but the offence of it. Palpably you might do much worse +than dispose of the lady to my heir." + +"I might do much better than bestow my time on you if that is all you +have to say." + +"We have hardly opened the subject, M. de Mayenne--" + +"I have no wish to carry it further." + +"Monsieur, the king's ranks afford no better match than my heir." + +"No maid of mine shall ever marry a Royalist." + +"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." + +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: + +"You speak with a confidence, St. Quentin." + +"Why, to be sure." + +Mayenne jumped heavily to his feet. + +"What mean you?" + +"I mean that mademoiselle's marrying is in my hands. Where is your ward, +M. de Mayenne?" + +"Mordieu! Have you found her?" + +"You speak sooth." + +"In your hôtel--" + +"No, eager kinsman. In a place whither you cannot follow her." + +Mayenne looked about, as if with some instinctive idea of seeking a +weapon, of summoning his soldiers. + +"By God's throne, you shall tell me where!" + +"With pleasure. She is at St. Denis." + +Mayenne cried helplessly, as numbed under a blow: + +"St. Denis! But how--" + +"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." + +Mayenne seized Monsieur's wrist. + +"She is safe, St. Quentin? She is safe?" + +"As safe, monsieur, as the king's protection can make her." + +"Pardieu! Is she with the king?" + +"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." + +"You answer for her safety?" Mayenne cried huskily; his breath coming +short. He was flushed, the veins in his forehead corded. + +"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." + +"Thousand thunders of heaven! You, with your son, shall be hostages for +her safe return." + +"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." + +"Well, then, pardieu, we'll try if he means it!" + +"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." + +"Then are you gone mad that you put yourself in my grasp?" + +"I was never saner. I come, my friend, to make you listen to sanity." + +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. + +"What, to your understanding, is sanity?" + +"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?" + +Mayenne sat silent, his face a mask. It was impossible to tell whether +the shot hit. Monsieur went on: + +"You can of course hold us in durance, torture us, kill us; but you must +answer for it to the people of Paris." + +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: + +"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." + +"Monsieur--" + +"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." + +"Monsieur, you show what little surprises me--knightly generosity. It is +to that generosity I appeal." + +"Is the horse of that colour? But now you were frightening my prudence." + +"Ah, but how fortunate the man to whom generosity and prudence point the +same path!" + +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: + +"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." + +Now it was Monsieur's turn to sit discreetly silent, waiting. + +"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." + +"Monsieur, she made her way to us at St. Denis to offer herself to our +torture did you torture Mar." + +"Morbleu!" Mayenne cried, half rising. + +"God's mercy, we're not ruffians out there! I tell it to show you to +what the maid was strung." + +"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." + +Monsieur sprang up radiant, advancing on him open-armed. Mayenne added, +with his cool smile: + +"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.'" + +"Then," cried Monsieur, "I must value my sweet daughter more than ever." + +He was standing over Mayenne with outstretched hand, but the chief +delayed taking it. + +"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." + +"By all means, monsieur. You stamp us churls else." + +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." + +"Name it, monsieur." + +"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." + +"Your shrewdness does you credit." + +"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." + +"Even to half my fortune--" + +"No, not your gear. Save that for your Béarnais's itching palm." + +"Then what the devil is it you want? You will not get my name in the +League." + +"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." + +"You are wise, monsieur. I am, after all, a harmless creature." + +Mayenne laughed. + +"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." + +"Oh, I don't like that!" + +The naïveté amazed while it amused Mayenne. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You mistake, St. Quentin. You are welcome to spend the rest of your +days with me." + +"In the Bastille?" + +"Or in the League." + +"The former is preferable." + +"You may count yourself thrice fortunate, then, that a third alternative +is given you." + +"It needs not the reminder. You have treated me as a prince indeed. Be +assured the St. Quentins will not forget." + +"Every one forgets." + +"Perhaps. But when you need our good offices we shall not have had time +to forget." + +"Pardieu, St. Quentin, you have good courage to tell me to my head my +course is run!" + +"My dear Mayenne, none punishes the maunderings of the court jester." + +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: + +"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!" + +The other did not flame out at Monsieur, but answered coldly: + +"I have no taste to be Navarre's vassal." + +"Better his than Spain's." + +Mayenne shrugged his shoulders, his face at its stolidest. + +"Well, I am no astrologer to read the future." + +Monsieur laid an emphatic hand on his host's shoulder. + +"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." + +Mayenne looked up with a grim smile. + +"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." + +"And when you have none, you yet have three pairs of hands at Henry's +court to pull you up out of the mire." + +"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. + +"After all," he said, "it's as well to lay an anchor to windward." + + + + +XXX + +_My young lord settles scores with two foes at once._ + + +Occupied 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. + +"M. de Lorraine! Any news?" + +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. + +"Any news here?" he made Norman answer. + +"No, monsieur, unless his Grace has information. We have heard nothing." + +"And the woman?" + +"Sticks to it mademoiselle told her never a word." + +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. + +"You!" + +"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. + +"With M. le Duc de St. Quentin," I grinned at him. "We and M. de Mayenne +are friends now." + +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. + +"You've not told this fellow?" + +"We understand our orders, monsieur," d'Auvray answered, a bit huffed. + +Now this was eminently the place for me to hold my tongue, but of course +I could not. + +"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." + +He confronted me now with all the fire I could ask. + +"What mean you, whelp?" + +"I mean mademoiselle. What else should I mean?" + +"What do you know?" + +"Everything." + +"Her whereabouts?" + +"Her whereabouts." + +He had his hand to his knife by this. I abated somewhat of my drawl to +say, still airily: + +"Go ask M. de St. Quentin. He's here. He'll be so glad to see you." + +"Here?" + +"Certes. He's closeted now with M. de Mayenne. They're thicker than +brothers. Go see for yourself, M.--Lucas." + +"Where is mademoiselle?" + +"Safe. She's to marry the Comte de Mar to-morrow." + +He stared at me for one moment, weighing whether this could be true; +then without further parley he shot into the house. + +"Is that true?" d'Auvray demanded. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You stay, Félix, and go to the Bastille for your master. Then you will +wait at the St. Denis gate for Vigo, with horses." + +"Is all right, Monsieur?" I had to ask, as I held his stirrup. "Is all +right? Lucas--" + +His face had been a little clouded as he came down the stairs, and now +it darkened more, but he answered: + +"Quite right, Achates. M. de Mayenne stands to his word. Lucas availed +nothing." + +He stood a moment frowning, then his countenance cleared up. + +"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." + +He sprang to the saddle with a smiling salute to his guardians, and the +little train clattered off. + +Pierre came to my elbow with an open paper--the order signed and sealed +for M. de Mar's release. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"The regulations, M. de Lorraine--" The officer broke off to demand of +our escort, "Well, what now?" + +I went straight up to him, not waiting permission, and held out my +paper. + +"An order, if it please you, monsieur, for the Comte de Mar's release." + +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. + +"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." + +Lucas's face was as blank as the wall. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Since the young gentleman's a count, I'll do turnkey's office myself," +he said, his grim old battlement of a face smiling. + +This was our day; from Mayenne down, everybody went out of his way to +pleasure us. I was suddenly emboldened by his manner. + +"Monsieur, perhaps it is preposterous to ask, but might I go with you?" + +He looked at me a moment, surprised. + +"Well, after all, why not? You too, Sir Musketeer, an you like." + +So the three of us, he and d'Auvray and I, went to rescue the Comte de +Mar. + +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. + +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. + +He wheeled about at the door's creaking. + +"I go to trial, monsieur?" he asked quickly, not seeing me behind the +keeper. + +"No, M. le Comte. The charge is cancelled. I come to set you free." + +I dashed in past the officer, snatching my lord's hand to kiss. + +"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.'" + +Incredulous joy flashed over his face, to give way to belief without +joy. + +"Now I know she's married." + +"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." + +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: + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"I will come like a lamb, M. le Mousquetaire." + +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. + +The first thing my lord did, still in the shadow of the prison, was to +come to terms with d'Auvray. + +"See here, my friend, why must you put yourself to the fatigue of +escorting me to the gate?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, if it is a question of something to play with!" M. Étienne laughed. + +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. + +"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." + +And I told him, till we almost ran blindly into the tower of the St. +Denis gate. + +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. + +"Well, then, we'll go have a glass. But if Vigo doesn't come soon, by my +faith, I'll walk to St. Denis!" + +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. + +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: + +"Tuesday I told you our hour would come. It is here." + +"At your service," quoth my lord. + +"Then it needs not to slap your face?" + +"You insult me safely, Lucas. You have but one life. That is forfeit, be +you courteous." + +"You think so?" + +"I know it." + +Lucas held out the bare sword, hilt toward us. + +"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." + +"Thoughtful of you, Lucas. Is this the make of sword you elect to be +killed with?" + +He was bending the blade to try its temper. Lucas unsheathed his own. + +"M. de Mar may have his choice." + +M. de Mar professed himself satisfied with the blade given him. + +"Have you summoned your seconds, Lucas?" + +Lucas raised his eyebrows. + +"Is that necessary? I thought we might settle our affairs without delay. +I confess myself impatient." + +"Your sentiments for once are mine." + +"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. + +"And who is to watch me?" + +"Oh, monsieur's chivalry is notorious. Precautions are unnecessary. It +is your privilege, monsieur, to appoint the happy spot." + +"The spot is near at hand. Where you slew Pontou is the fitting place +for you to die." + +"It is fitting for you to die in your own house," Lucas amended. + +Without further parley we turned into the Rue des Innocents, on our way +to that of the Coupejarrets. + +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. + +M. Étienne remarked casually to me: + +"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?" + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"We go in by your postern, Félix," my master said. "M. Lucas, I confess +I prefer that you go first." + +Lucas put his back to the wall. + +"Why go farther, M. le Comte?" + +"Do you long for interruption'?" + +"We were not noticed coming in. The street was quiet." + +He crossed the court abruptly and went down the alley to look into the +street. + +"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." + +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. + +"No; leave it wide. I have no fancy for a walk in pitch-darkness with M. +Lucas." + +"Do we fight here?" Lucas asked, facing us in the wide, square hall. "We +can let in more light." + +"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." + +"I suppose you insist on my walking first," Lucas sneered. + +"I request it, monsieur." + +"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. + +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. + +"Monsieur!" + +"What?" + +"I heard a noise." + +"Of course you did. The place is full of rats." + +"It was no rat. It was footsteps." + +We all three held still. + +"There, monsieur. Don't you hear?" + +"Nothing, Félix; your teeth are chattering. Cross yourself and come on." + +But I could not stand it. + +"I'll go back and see, monsieur." + +"No," Lucas said, striding back from the foot of the next flight. "I +will go." + +We saw a glint in the gloom, monsieur's bared sword. + +"You will go neither one of you. Hush! If we show ourselves, there'll be +no duel to-day." + +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. + +"You show an eagerness to get away from me, M. de Lorraine." + +"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." + +"On the contrary, you will go up with me. Félix will close the shutter." + +They confronted each other, vague shapes in the darkness, each with +drawn sword. Then Lucas raised his in salute. + +"As you will; so be some one sees to it." + +"Go, Félix." + +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. + +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: + + _Mirth, my love, and Folly dear_-- + +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: + +"Here we are, M. de Lorraine. Are you ready?" + +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: + +"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." + +"As you say, monsieur. It is your job." + +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. + +When I reached the uppermost landing, I rushed along the passage and +into the room, flinging the door shut, locking and bolting it. + +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. + +"What is it?" cried M. Étienne. + +"Cutthroats. They'll be here in a minute." + +Even as I spoke, I heard tramping on the stairs below. My slam of the +door had warned them that something was wrong. + +"Was that your delay?" M. Étienne shouted, springing at his foe. + +"I play to win!" Lucas answered, smiling. + +The blades met; the men circled about and about. Lucas, though he +preferred to murder, knew how to duel. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Maître Jacques!" + +He looked up, gaping at this voice out of the sky, but, despite his +amazement, I saw that he knew me. + +"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!" + +For an instant he stood confounded. Then he vanished into the inn. + +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. + +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. + +I ran back to the window. No Jacques appeared. We were lost, lost! + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Good morning, Peyrot. We've recovered the packet." + +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. + +"Go, monsieur! There are four behind us. Go!" + +"You first!" + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXXI + +_"The very pattern of a king."_ + + +The 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. + +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: + +"What happened?" + +"Dear, brave lad! You fainted!" + +My lord's voice was as unsteady as mine. + +"But the ladder?" I murmured. + +"The ladder broke. But you had hold beyond the break. You hung on till +we seized you. And then you swooned." + +"What a baby!" I said, getting to my feet. "But the men, monsieur? +Peyrot?" + +"I think we've seen the last of those worthies. They took to their heels +when you escaped them." + +"But, monsieur, they've gone to inform! You'll be taken for killing +Lucas." + +"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." + +But for all his haste, he would not start till I had had some bread and +soup down in the kitchen. + +"We must take good care of you, boy Félix," he said. "For where the St. +Quentins would be without you, I tremble to think." + +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. + +M. Étienne laughed out at him. + +"Be more careful, I beg you, Vigo! You will make me imagine myself of +some importance." + +"I thought you swallowed up," Vigo growled. "You had been here--I +couldn't get a trace of you." + +"I was killing Lucas." + +"Sacré! He's dead?" + +"Dead." + +"That's the best morning's work ever you did, M. Étienne." + +"Have you horse for us, Vigo?" + +"Of course. Some of the men will walk. I suppose we're leaving Paris to +buy you out of the Bastille?" + +"Not worth it, eh, Vigo?" + +"Yes," said Vigo, gravely--"yes, M. Étienne. You are worth it." + +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. + +"To be sure!" cried the sentry. "We've orders about you. You dine with +the king, M. de Mar." + +"Mordieu! I do?" + +"You do. Orders are to take you to him out of hand. Captain!" + +The officer lounged out of the tavern door. + +"Captain, M. de Mar." + +"Oh, aye!" cried the captain, coming forward with brisk interest. "M. de +Mar, you're the child of luck. You dine with the king." + +"I am the child of bewilderment, captain." + +"And you've not too much time to recover from it, M. le Comte. You are +to go straight to the king." + +"I may go to M. de St. Quentin's lodgings first?" + +"No, monsieur; straight to the king." + +"What! in my shirt?" + +"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." + +"I might wash my face, then." + +"Certainly. No harm in that." + +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. + +"You'll ride to Monsieur's," he commanded me, when the captain answered: + +"No; he goes with you, monsieur, if he's the boy Choux, Troux, whatever +it is." + +"Broux--Félix Broux!" I cried, a-quiver. + +"That's it. You go to the king, too. Another luck-child." + +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. + +"Enter!" + +It was Henry's own voice. I pinched monsieur's hand to tell him. Our +guide opened the door a crack. + +"M. de Mar, Sire, and his servant." + +"Good, La Force. Let them enter." + +M. La Force fairly pushed us over the sill, so abashed were we, and shut +the door upon us. + +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: + +"M. de Mar, you look less like a carpet-knight than I expected." + +M. Étienne came to himself, to kneel at once. + +"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." + +"What! the spy Lucas?" + +"Himself. And when I left the spot by way of the window in some haste, I +was not expecting this honour, Sire." + +"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." + +"Aye, Sire." + +"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!" + +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: + +"That is my life's misfortune, Sire." + +"Misfortune, sirrah? Misfortune you call it? Let me hear you say fault." + +"I dare not, Sire," M. Étienne murmured. "It was of course your +Majesty's fault. We cannot serve heretics, we St. Quentins." + +"Ventre-saint-gris! You think well of yourself, young Mar." + +"I must, Sire, when your Majesty invites me to dinner." + +The king burst into laughter, and his temper, which I believe was all a +play, vanished to the winds. + +"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?" + +"Aye, Sire, I needs must have. Therefore am I everlastingly beholden to +your Majesty for remaining so long a Huguenot." + +"How now, cockerel?" + +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. + +"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." + +"The loveliest demoiselle I ever saw!" the king cried. "I shall marry +her to one of my staunchest supporters." + +[Illustration: THE MEETING.] + +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. + +"To one of my bravest captains. Here's his commission, my lad." + +M. Étienne stared up from the writing into the king's laughing face. + +"I, Sire? I?" + +"You, Mar, you. You are my staunch supporter, perhaps?" + +"Your horse-boy, an you ask it, Sire!" + +He pressed his lips to the king's hand, great, helpless tears dripping +down upon it. + +"If I ever desert you, I am a dog, Sire! But the fighting is not all +done. I will capture you a flag yet." + +"Perhaps. I much fear me there's life in Mayenne still." + +M. Étienne, not venturing to rise, yet lifted beseeching eyes to the +king's. + +"What! you want to get away from me, ventre-saint-gris!" + +My lord, who wanted precisely that, had no choice but to protest that +nothing was farther from his thoughts. + +"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!" + +"Sire--" + +"Peace! You are guilty, sirrah. Take your punishment!" + +He darted across the room, and throwing open an inner door, called +gently, "Mademoiselle!" + +"Yes, Sire," she answered, coming to the threshold. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Answer he got none. They heard nothing, knew nothing, but each other. +The slighted king chuckled and, beckoning me, withdrew to his cabinet. + +So here an end. For if Henry of France leave them, you and I may not +stay. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Helmet of Navarre, by Bertha Runkle + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14219 *** |