diff options
Diffstat (limited to '28266-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 28266-h/28266-h.htm | 12462 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28266-h/images/printer.png | bin | 0 -> 4755 bytes |
2 files changed, 12462 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/28266-h/28266-h.htm b/28266-h/28266-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6356da --- /dev/null +++ b/28266-h/28266-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12462 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Duke’s Motto, by Justin Huntly McCarthy. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.ppg-pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.ppg-pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .fnanchor {font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Duke's Motto, by Justin Huntly McCarthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Duke's Motto + A Melodrama + +Author: Justin Huntly McCarthy + +Release Date: March 7, 2009 [EBook #28266] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUKE'S MOTTO *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Tim Krajcar and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 2em'> +THE DUKE’S MOTTO +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +A MELODRAMA +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +BY +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 1.5em'> +JUSTIN HUNTLY McCARTHY +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: .7em'> +AUTHOR OF +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: .7em'> +"SERAPHICA" "IF I WERE KING" "THE PROUD PRINCE" +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: .7em'> +ETC. ETC. +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/printer.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: .9em'> +NEW YORK AND LONDON +</p> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 1.2em'> +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +MCMVIII +</p> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<p style='text-align: center'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Novels by</span> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +JUSTIN HUNTLY McCARTHY +</p> + +<table summary="Novels by Justin Huntly McCarthy"> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Gorgeous Borgia.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>$1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">Seraphica.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Duke's Motto.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">If I Were King.</span> Illustrated. Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">Marjorie.</span> Illustrated. Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Dryad.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Lady of Loyalty House.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Proud Prince.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Flower of France.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">The Illustrious O'Hagan.</span> Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="font-variant:small-caps">Needles and Pins.</span> Illustrated. Post 8vo</td><td align='right'>1.50</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p style='text-align: center'> +HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, N. Y. +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +Published August, 1908. +</p> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<h2>DÉDICACE</h2> +</div> + +<p style='text-align: center'> +A VICTORIEN SARDOU +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Maître</span>, +</p> +<p> +Voilà un mélodrame que j’ai fait, le dernier de +plusieurs mélodrames anglais qui ont Lagardère +pour héros. Des mots remplacent l’action, des mots +remplacent le décor, les costumes, et les accessoires; +mais enfin ce pastiche n’est qu’une pièce et non un +roman. Je l’ai fait pour Lewis Waller, acteur +romantique s’il en fut, et grandement doué des +qualités qui appartiennent par tradition à Lagardère. +J’ai su, il y a longtemps, grâce à M. Jules Claretie, que +vous étiez le vrai createur de ce paladin, Lagardère, +pair de d’Artagnan, pair de Cyrano, pair presque de +Roland et d’Olivier. Et si je ne l’avais pas su, +j’aurais pu l’apprendre dernièrement en lisant ce +livre aussi plein de charme que d’érudition, "Les +Anciens Théâtres de Paris" de M. Georges Cain. +Mais je crois que cette vérité est connue de peu de +monde dans les pays où se parle la langue anglaise, +que quand on loue "Le Bossu" de Féval on doit +aussi louer "Le Bossu" de Sardou. +</p> +<p> +XIV-I.-MCMVIII. +</p> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 1.1em'> +CONTENTS +</p> +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Seven Devils</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_SEVEN_DEVILS'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Thrust of Nevers</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS'>13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Buyer of Blades</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_A_BUYER_OF_BLADES'>32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Little Parisian</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_LITTLE_PARISIAN'>48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Parry to the Thrust of Nevers</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_PARRY_TO_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS'>62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Moat of Caylus</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_THE_MOAT_OF_CAYLUS'>73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Brothers-in-arms</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_BROTHERSINARMS'>82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Fight in the Moat</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_FIGHT_IN_THE_MOAT'>91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Scythe of Time</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_THE_SCYTHE_OF_TIME'>100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Village Fair</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_A_VILLAGE_FAIR'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Æsop Redux</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_SOP_REDUX'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Flora</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_FLORA'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Confidences</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_CONFIDENCES'>132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>"I Am Here!"</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_I_AM_HERE'>139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The King’s Word</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_KING_S_WORD'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Shadows</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_SHADOWS'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In the Garden</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_IN_THE_GARDEN'>172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Faction of Gonzague</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_THE_FACTION_OF_GONZAGUE'>185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Hall of the Three Louis</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_THE_HALL_OF_THE_THREE_LOUIS'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Confidential Agent</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_A_CONFIDENTIAL_AGENT'>209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Princess de Gonzague</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_THE_PRINCESS_DE_GONZAGUE'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Family Council</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_THE_FAMILY_COUNCIL'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The King’s Ball</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_THE_KING_S_BALL'>237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Rose-colored Domino</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_THE_ROSECOLORED_DOMINO'>247</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Glove of Cocardasse</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_THE_GLOVE_OF_COCARDASSE'>257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Reward of Æsop</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_THE_REWARD_OF_SOP'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Æsop in Love</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_SOP_IN_LOVE'>278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Signature of Æsop</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_THE_SIGNATURE_OF_SOP'>290</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Dead Speaks</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_THE_DEAD_SPEAKS'>298</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> + + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_SEVEN_DEVILS' id='I_THE_SEVEN_DEVILS'></a> +<h2>I</h2> +<h3>THE SEVEN DEVILS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +It was very warm in the inn room, but it was so +much warmer outside, in the waning flames of the +late September evening, that the dark room seemed +veritably cool to those who escaped into its shelter +from the fading sunlight outside. A window was open +to let in what little air was stirring, and from that +window a spectator with a good head might look +down a sheer drop of more than thirty feet into the +moat of the Castle of Caylus. The Inn of the Seven +Devils was perched on the lip of one rock, and Caylus +Castle on the lip of another. Between the two lay +the gorge, which had been partially utilized to form +the moat of the castle, and which continued its way +towards the Spanish mountains. Beyond the castle +a bridge spanned the ravine, carrying on the road +towards the frontier. The moat itself was dry now, +for war and Caylus had long been disassociated, and +France was, for the moment, at peace with her neighbor, +if at peace with few other powers. A young +thirteenth Louis, a son of the great fourth Henri, now +sat upon the throne of France, and seemingly believed +himself to be the ruler of his kingdom, though a newly +made Cardinal de Richelieu held a different opinion, +and acted according to his conviction with great pertinacity +and skill. +</p> +<p> +Inside the Inn of the Seven Devils, on this heavy +day of early autumn, seven men were sitting. It +was an odd chance, and the men had joked about it +heavily—there was one man for each devil of the Inn’s +name. Six of these men were grouped about a table +furnished with flagons and beakers, and were doing +their best to alleviate the external heat by copious +draughts of the rough but not unkindly native wine +which Martine, the plain-faced maid of the Inn, dispensed +generously enough from a ruddy earthenware +pitcher. A stranger entering the room would, at the +first glance, have taken the six men seated around the +table for soldiers, for all were stalwart fellows, with +broad bodies and long limbs, bronzed faces and swaggering +carriage, and behind them where they sat six +great rapiers dangled from nails in the wall, rapiers +which the revellers had removed from their sides for +their greater ease and comfort. But if the suppositious +stranger were led to study the men a little more +closely, he would be tempted to correct his first impression. +The swaggering carriage of the men lacked +something of the stiffness inevitably to be associated +with military training in the days when the levies +of the Sun-King were held, or at least held themselves +to be, the finest troops in Europe, a cheerful opinion +which no amount of military misfortune could dissipate. +</p> +<p> +Each of the drinkers of the inn had his own individuality +of swagger, his truculent independence of +mien, which suggested a man by no means habitually +used either to receive commands or to render +unquestioning obedience. Each of the men resembled +his fellows in a certain flamboyant air of ferocity, +but no one of them resembled the others by wearing +that air of harmonious training with other men which +links together a company of seasoned soldiers. With +their long cloaks and their large hats and their high +boots, with their somewhat shabby garments stained +with age and sweat and wine, in many places patched +and in many places tattered, with their tangled locks +and ragged mustachios, the revellers had on closer +study more the appearance of brigands, or at least +of guerillas, than of regular troops. As a matter of +fact, they were neither soldiers nor brigands, though +their way of life endowed them with some of the +virtues of the soldier and most of the vices of the +brigand. +</p> +<p> +There was not a man in that room who lacked +courage of the fiercest kind; there was but one man +in the room with intelligence enough to appreciate +the possibility of an existence uncoupled with the +possession of courage of the fiercest kind. There +was not a man in the room who had the slightest fear +of death, save in so far as death meant the cessation +of those privileges of eating grossly, drinking grossly, +and loving grossly, which every man of the jack-rascals +prized not a little. There was not a man in +the room that was not prepared to serve the person, +whoever he might be, who had bought his sword to +strike and his body to be stricken, so long as the +buyer and the bought had agreed upon the price, and +so long as the man who carried the sword felt confident +that the man who dandled the purse meant +to meet his bargain. +</p> +<p> +These were the soldierly virtues. But, further, +there was not a man in the room who would have +felt the smallest compunction in cutting any man’s +throat if he had full pockets, or shaming any woman’s +honor if she had good looks. These were their +brigand’s vices. Fearless in their conduct, filthy +in their lives, the assembled rogues were as ugly a +bunch of brutalities as ever sprawled in a brothel, +brawled in a tavern, or crawled from some dark corner +to cut down their unsuspicious prey. +</p> +<p> +The six fellows that sat around the wine-stained, +knife-notched table of the Inn of the Seven Devils had +little in them to interest a serious student of humanity, +if such a one had chanced, for his misfortune, to find +his way to that wicked wine-house on that wicked +evening. There were differences of nationality among +the half-dozen; that was plain enough from their features +and from their speech, for though they all talked, +or thought they talked, in French, each man did +his speaking with an accent that betrayed his nativity. +As the babbling voices rose and fell in alternations of +argument that was almost quarrel, narrative that was +sometimes diverting, and ribaldry that was never wit, +it would seem as if the ruffianism of half Europe had +called a conference in that squalid, horrible little inn. +Guttural German notes mixed whimsically with sibilant +Spanish and flowing Portuguese. Cracked +Biscayan—which no Spaniard will allow to be Spanish—jarred +upon the suavity of Italian accents, and +through the din the heavy steadiness of a Breton +voice could be heard asserting itself. Though every +man spoke in French, for the purposes of the common +parliament, each man swore in his own tongue; +and they all swore briskly and crisply, with a seemingly +inexhaustible vocabulary of blasphemy and obscenity, +so that the foul air of that inn parlor was +rendered fouler still by the volley of oaths—German, +Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Biscayan, and Breton—that +were fired into its steaming, stinking atmosphere. +So much for the six men that sat at the table. +</p> +<p> +The seventh man in the room, although he was of +the same fellowship, was curiously unlike his fellows. +While the others were burly, well-set-up fellows, who +held their heads high enough and thrust out their +chests valiantly and sprawled their strong limbs at +ease, the seventh man was a hunchback, short of +stature and slender of figure, with a countenance +whose quiet malignity contrasted decisively with the +patent brutality of his comrades. The difference between +the one and the others was accentuated even +in dress, for, while the swashbucklers at the table loved +to bedizen themselves with an amount of ferocious +finery, and showed in their sordid garments a quantity +of color that likened them to a bunch of faded +wild flowers, the hunchback was clad soberly in black +that was well-worn, indeed, and grizzled at the seams, +but neatly attended. He sat in the window, reading +intently in a little volume, and, again unlike his +associates, while he read he nursed between his knees +a long and formidable rapier. Those at the table +paid him no heed; most of them knew his ways, and +he, on his side, seemed to be quite undisturbed in his +studies by the noise and clamor of the drinking-party, +and to be entirely absorbed in the delights of literature. +</p> +<p> +But if the hunchback student was quite content +to let his companions be, and to find his pleasures in +scholarship of a kind, it came about that one of his +companions, in a misguided moment, found himself +less content to leave the hunchback student undisturbed. +It was the one of the company that knew +least about him—Pinto the Biscayan, newest recruit +in that huddle of ruffians, and therefore the less inclined +than his fellows to let a sleeping dog lie. He +had been drinking deeply, for your Biscayans are +potent topers, and in the course of his cups he discovered +that it irritated him to see that quiet, silent figure +perched there in the window with its wry body as +still as if it had been snipped out of cardboard, with +its comical long nose poked over a book, with its colorless +puckered lips moving, as if the reader muttered +to himself the meaning of what he read, and tasted +an unclean pleasure in so doing. So Pinto pulled himself +to his feet, steadied himself with the aid of the +table edge, and then, with a noiseless dexterity that +showed the practised assassin, whose talent it is to +pad in shadows, he crossed the room and came up behind +the hunchback before the hunchback was, or +seemed to be, aware of his neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +"What are you reading?" he hiccoughed. "Let +us have a peep at it." And before the hunchback +could make an answer Pinto had picked the book +quickly from the hunchback’s fingers and held it to +his own face to see what it told about. +</p> +<p> +Now it would have profited Biscayan Pinto very +little if he had been given time to study the volume, +at least so far as its text was concerned, for the little +book was a manuscript copy of the <i>Luxurious Sonnets</i> +of that Pietro Aretino whom men, or rather some +men, once called "The Divine." The book was illustrated +as well, not unskilfully, with sketches that +professed to be illuminative of the text in the manner +of Giulio Romano. These might have pleased +the Biscayan, for if he had no Italian, and could, +therefore, make nothing of the voluptuousness of the +Scourge of Princes, he could, at least, see as well as +another savage the meaning of a lewd image. But +the privilege was denied him. Scarcely had he got +the book in his fingers when it was plucked from them +again, and thereafter, while with his left hand the +hunchback slipped the booklet into the breast of his +doublet, with his right hand he dealt Pinto such a +buffet on the side of his head as sent him reeling +across the floor, to bring up with a dull thud at the +table against the backs of his nearest companions. +</p> +<p> +Instantly all was tumult. Pinto, black with anger, +screamed Biscayan maledictions and struggled to get +at his sword where it hung against the wall, while his +comrades, clinging to him and impeding him, were +trying in every variety of bad French to dissuade him +from a purpose which they were well enough aware +must needs end disastrously for him. For they all +knew, what the raw Biscayan did not know, how +strong was the arm and how terrible the sword of the +hunchback whose studies Pinto had so rudely and so +foolishly interrupted. As for the hunchback himself, +he stood quietly by his chair, with his hands resting +on the pommel of his rapier, and a disagreeable smile +twisting new hints of malignity into features that were +malign enough in repose. Now it may be that the +sight of that frightful smile had its effect in cooling +the hot blood of the Biscayan, for, indeed, the hunchback, +as he stood there, so quietly alert, so demoniacally +watchful, seemed the most terrible antagonist +he had ever challenged. At least, in a little while the +Biscayan, drinking in swiftly the warnings of his companions, +consented to be pacified, consented even to +be apologetic on a whispered hint, that was also a +whispered threat, from his leader, that there should +be no brawling among friends. +</p> +<p> +"It was only a joke, comrade," he said, sullenly, +and flung himself heavily into his empty seat. The +hunchback nodded grimly. +</p> +<p> +"I like a joke as well as any man," he said, "and +can make one myself if occasion serve." +</p> +<p> +Therewith he seated himself anew, and, pulling the +book from his bosom, resumed his reading and his +silent mouthing, while something of a gloom brooded +over his fellows at the table. It was to dissipate this +gloom that presently the man who sat at the head +of the table, a bald and red-faced fellow who looked +a German, and who seemed to exercise some kind of +headship over the others, pushed back his chair a +little from the board and glanced half anxiously and +half angrily towards the inn door. Then he thumped +his red fist upon the wood till the flagons clattered and +rattled. +</p> +<p> +"Why don’t the late dogs come to heel?" he grumbled, +speaking with a strong Teutonic accent. "It is +long past the hour, and I like punctuality." +</p> +<p> +A Spaniard at his right hand, swarthy, not ill-looking, +whom his friends called Pepe el Matador, +grinned into the German’s face. +</p> +<p> +"Will not this string of swords serve the turn?" +he said, and pointed with a dirty, well-shaped hand +to the six long rapiers that hung against the wall behind +them. +</p> +<p> +The Italian, Faenza, began to laugh a little, quiet, +teasing laugh; the sullen Biscayan, Pinto, patted el +Matador on the back; Joel de Jurgan the Breton, +stared stolidly; and Saldagno the Portuguese, refreshed +himself with a drink. Encouraged by what +he conceived to be the sympathy of his comrades, +Pepe renewed the attack. "Come, Staupitz, come," +he questioned, "are not those swords long enough +and sharp enough to scare the devil?" +</p> +<p> +Staupitz struck the table again. "No, no, my children," +he said, "not for this job. Monsieur Peyrolles +told me to bring nine of my babies, and nine we must +be, and nine we should be at this moment if our +truants were at hand." +</p> +<p> +At this moment Saldagno set down his beaker. "I +hear footsteps," he said. In the momentary silence +which followed this remark, all present could hear +distinctly enough the tramp of feet outside, and in +another instant the door was flung open and the two +men whom Staupitz had been expecting so impatiently +made their appearance. +</p> +<p> +If the contrast had been marked between the six +men who sat at the table and the seventh man who +sat apart, the contrast that existed between the two +new-comers was still more striking. The first to enter +was a big, jovial, red-faced, black-haired man +with a huge mustache and a manner that suggested +an ebullient admiration of himself and an ebullient +appreciation of all possible pleasures. He was habited +much like his predecessors, in that he was booted, +cloaked, hatted, and sworded as they were booted, +cloaked, hatted, and sworded, but everything with +him, owing, it may be, to his flagrant Gascon nationality, +tended to an extravagance of exaggeration that +made him seem almost like a caricature of the others. +His hat was bigger, his cloak more voluminous, his +boots more assertive, his sword longer, his taste for +colors at once more pronounced and more gaudy. If +the others might be likened in their coloring to faded +wild flowers, this man seemed to blaze like some +monstrous exotic. He was a swashbuckler whom +Callot would have loved to paint. +</p> +<p> +While he entered the room with his air of splendid +assurance that suggested that the Inn belonged to him, +and greeted those that awaited him with such a nod +as a monarch might accord to his vassals, he was followed +by one that showed in almost every particular +his opposite. This one, that represented an extreme +of Norman character as his ally represented an extreme +of Gascon character, this one that seemed to +shelter timidly behind the effulgence of his companion, +was a lean, lanky, pallid fellow, clad wholly in +black of a rustier and shabbier kind than that worn +by the reader in the window. From beneath his +dingy black felt hat thin wisps of flaxen hair flowed +ridiculously enough about his scraggy neck. While +his Gascon comrade entered the room with the manner +of one who carries all before him, the Norman +seemed to creep, or rather to slink, in with lack-lustre +eyes peering apologetically about him through lowered +pink eyelids, while his twitching fingers appeared to +protest apologetically for his intrusion into a society +so far above his deserts. But if in almost every particular +he was the opposite to his friend, in one +particular, however, he resembled him, for a long rapier +hung from his side and slapped against his lean +calves. +</p> +<p> +In a further regard, moreover, the two new-comers, +however different they might seem in build of body +and in habit of apparel, resembled each other more +closely than they resembled any of the earlier occupants +of the Inn room. There are castes in rascality +as in all other trades, classes, professions, and mysteries, +honorable or dishonorable, and this latest pair +of knaves belonged patently to the more amiable caste +of ruffianism—a higher or a lower caste, as you may +be pleased to look at it. In the bold eyes of the +gaudily clad Gascon, as in the uneasy eyes of the +sable-coated Norman, there was a quality of candor +which might be sought for in vain among the rogues +that greeted them. Certainly neither the Gascon nor +the Norman would have seemed reassuring figures to +a timid traveller on a lonely road, and yet there was, +as it were, a kind of gentility in their composition +which would have been obvious to a reader of men, +and would have approved them as, in their way and +of their race, trustworthy. Here, the reader of men +would say, are a brace of assassins who hold a sort of +honor in their hearts, who would never skulk in a corner +to stab an enemy in the back, nor wrong a wretched +woman who plainly was unwilling to be wronged—a +brace of heroes. And the reader of men would +for once in a way, have been in the right. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS' id='II_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS'></a> +<h2>II</h2> +<h3>THE THRUST OF NEVERS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +At the sight of the two men, the ruffians at the +table set up a roar of welcome and bumped their +mugs lustily upon the board to a chorus of greeting, +in which the names of Cocardasse and Passepoil were +repeated in a variety of accents from German to +Italian, from Portuguese to Biscayan, from Spanish +to Breton, but in all cases with the same degree of +enthusiasm and admiration. The big, gaudy fellow, +patently pleased by the tribute, struck a magnificent +attitude and extended a benedictory hand towards +the drinkers. "Courage, chanticleers!" he shouted—"comrades +all," and, advancing towards the table, gave +Staupitz a lusty slap on the back, while Passepoil, following +nervously behind him, whispered beneath his +breath and behind his lifted hand a timid "Greeting, +gentlemen," which was hardly audible in the buzz +of voices. But while Cocardasse was busy engaging +clasps of the hand with the men of many nationalities +who had been waiting for him, the attention of Passepoil +was entirely diverted by the appearance of +the Inn maid, Martine, who at that moment appeared +upon the scene with a fresh pitcher of wine in honor +of the fresh arrivals. The lean and pale man blushed +and sighed as he saw her. Those in the room that +knew the Norman were well aware that love of woman +was his weakness, and they paid no heed to his attempted +philandering, taking it, so far as they thought +of it at all, as a matter of course and honest Passepoil’s +way. +</p> +<p> +Though Martine was as little comely as need be, +she was still a woman, and a woman Passepoil had +never seen before, and, sidling towards her, he endeavored +to enter into amicable conversation, which +was received but indifferently well. By this time Cocardasse +had finished his greetings, and, drawing back +a step or two, surveyed the company with a look of +satisfaction not unmingled with astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"Why, Papa Staupitz," he said, "here we have +many friends and all fine blades. This is indeed a +pleasure party." His eyes travelled from the table +to the window, where the man in black still sat and +read quite unconcernedly. Something like surprise +puckered Cocardasse’s rubicund face. "You here, +Æsop?" he questioned. +</p> +<p> +The man whom he called Æsop looked up for a +moment from his book and shrugged his shoulders. +"Devil knows why!" he said. "If they want me, +they don’t want the others. If they want the others, +they don’t want me." +</p> +<p> +His remarks were interrupted by a slight scuffle +between Passepoil and Martine. Passepoil had so far +conquered his natural timidity as to go to the length +of soliciting a kiss from the Inn maid. She had successfully +repulsed him with a slap on each of his +cheeks, and had slipped from the room. While Passepoil +was rubbing his face ruefully, Æsop went on, +sardonically: +</p> +<p> +"What do you think of it, friend Cocardasse? Here +we are, nine of us, nine picked swordsmen, and we are +going to fight one man." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse had returned to the table and filled himself +a monstrous measure of wine. He was thirsty, an +habitual state with him, and he eyed the rough wine +lovingly. +</p> +<p> +"Who is the giant who is going to fight nine +of us?" he asked as he lifted his cup from the +board. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil, who, enjoying like his comrade an abiding +drought, had followed his example, hoping to find consolation +in wine for the disappointments of love, also +expressed his surprise. +</p> +<p> +"Every man of us can fight three men at a time," +he whispered, timidly, and he, too, lifted his glass. +</p> +<p> +"Who is the man, anyhow?" said Cocardasse, +cheerfully, making the wine swing in the vessel; and +Staupitz answered him, slowly: +</p> +<p> +"Louis, Duke of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +The effect of this simple speech upon the new-comers +was exceedingly remarkable. Cocardasse +seemed suddenly to forget his thirst, for he set down +his untasted mug upon the table. Passepoil did the +like. "Oh!" said Cocardasse, solemnly. "Ah!" said +Passepoil, gloomily. +</p> +<p> +For a few appreciable seconds of strained excitement +to those that watched them the pair remained +rigid, staring at their rejected wine-cups, as if the +liquor they contained had some monstrous Medusa-like +property of stiffening into stone all those that +presumed to drink of it. Then the Gascon, slowly +turning his head, gazed steadfastly at the Norman; +and the Norman, slowly turning his head, gazed +steadfastly at the Gascon, and then the pair, so gazing, +both wagged their polls very solemnly indeed, and +puckered their eyebrows and betrayed many other +very visible signs of dissatisfaction, not to say of discomfort. +Then Cocardasse muttered to his comrade +the words "Louis de Nevers," as if they were not at +all to his liking, and Passepoil, in his turn, repeated the +words, as if they were not at all to his liking, and +then they both sighed and grunted and were silent. +</p> +<p> +The look of stupefaction, not to say consternation, +on the faces of the new arrivals was patent to every +man in the room—most patent and most unpalatable +to the leader of the gang. Staupitz thrust his red, +Teutonic face forward with a mocking look and a +mocking voice as he grunted: "Seems to me you +don’t relish the job." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse nodded at him with perfect affability, +and patted his shoulder with a massive, red hand. +"Papa Staupitz," he said, good-humoredly, "you +read me like a book." +</p> +<p> +"In the largest print," added Passepoil, who generally +supplemented any remark of his comrade with +some approving comment of his own. +</p> +<p> +Staupitz swung round in his chair, upsetting a tankard +in his angry movement, as he glared, all rage, at +the strangely assorted pair. "Are you afraid?" he +asked, with guttural contempt. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse grinned and showed his large, dog-like +teeth. "I am not afraid of you, Papa Staupitz," he +said, quite cheerfully, "nor of any man in this room, +nor of all the men in this room." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil added, stammering in his speech, blinking +his pink eyelids rapidly: "If any gentleman +doubts the point, there is a pleasant bit of kitchen +garden outside where we can adjourn and argue the +matter pleasantly together, as gentlemen should." +</p> +<p> +Nobody present seemed inclined to pick a quarrel +either with the ebullient Gascon or the hesitating Norman. +The six bullies at the table knew well enough, +and savage, masterful Æsop at the window knew well +enough, that the swaggering Gascon was the first +fencing-master in Paris, and that his colleague, the +Norman, for all his air of ineffable timidity, was only +second to him in skill with the weapon and readiness +to use it. There was a moment’s silence, and then +Cocardasse observed: "I’m afraid of just two men in +the world." +</p> +<p> +"The same with me," added Passepoil, humbly. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse resumed his interrupted speech: "And +one of them is Louis de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz’s puzzled, angry face travelled round the +room, ranging over the Gascon, the Norman, the +Spaniard, the Portuguese, the Biscayan, the Breton, +and the hunchback. "Thunder and weather!" he +cried; "is not nine to one good enough odds for +you?" +</p> +<p> +The others, with the exception of Æsop, who still +seemed to read as peacefully in his book as if he were +alone in the room, appeared inclined to applaud the +question of their chief, but Cocardasse was not in the +least impressed by the retort. He replied to Staupitz’s +query with another—"Have you never heard of +the secret thrust of Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +A new silence seemed to fall upon the company, +and for the second time since the Gascon and the Norman +had entered the room the hunchback took a +part in the conversation, closing his book as he did +so, but carefully keeping a finger between the pages to +mark the place. "I don’t believe in secret thrusts," +he said, decisively. +</p> +<p> +The Gascon moved a little away from Staupitz and +a little nearer to Æsop, whom he looked at fixedly. +The hunchback sustained his gaze with his habitual +air of cold indifference. Cocardasse spoke: "You +will, if you ever face Louis de Nevers. Now, Passepoil, +here, and I, we are, I believe, held in general repute +as pretty good swordsmen—" +</p> +<p> +Passepoil interrupted, stuttering furiously in his +excitement: "But he touched us with that secret +thrust in our own school in Paris—" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse completed his friend’s statement: "Three +times, here on the forehead, just between the eyes." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil labored his point: "Devil take us if we +could find a parry for it." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse summed up his argument, gloomily: +"They say it has never been parried, never will be +parried." +</p> +<p> +Again an awkward silence reigned. With a shrug +of his shoulders, Æsop resumed his studies, finding +Aretino more diverting than such nonsense. Breton +stared at Teuton; Italian interrogated Spaniard; +Portuguese questioned Biscayan. The affairs of the +party seemed to be at a dead-lock. The fact was that +Staupitz and his little band of babies, as he was +pleased to call them, were not really of the same +social standing in the world of cutthroats as Gascon +Cocardasse and Norman Passepoil. Cocardasse and +his companion were recognized fencing-masters in +Paris, well esteemed, if not of the highest note, +whereas Staupitz was no better than an ordinary +bully-broker, and his so-styled children no more than +provincial rascallions. It was not for them, and they +knew it, to display such knowledge of the great world +as might be aired by Cocardasse and Passepoil, and +when Cocardasse spoke with so much significance +about the thrust of Nevers, and questioned them with +so much insistence about the thrust of Nevers, it was +plain that he spoke from the brimmings of a wisdom +richer than their own. Staupitz, who was in some +sense a son of Paris, if only an adopted son, and that, +indeed, by process of self-adoption, knew enough of +Olympian matters to be aware that there was an +illustrious gentleman that was Duke of Nevers, whom +he was equally willing to aid with his sword or slay +with his sword, if occasion served. Now occasion +seemed to demand that Staupitz should follow the +latter course. He was employed to kill somebody, +and Æsop had assured him that this somebody was +Louis, Duke de Nevers. Staupitz had not cared +who it was; it was all one to him, but honestly he +was troubled now by the patent trouble of Cocardasse +and his ominous mutterings about the thrust of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil broke the silence, surveying the puzzled +faces around him. "No wonder there’s such a crowd +of us." And for the first time there was something +like the sound of audacity in his voice and a glance +of audacity on his visage. +</p> +<p> +"Faith," said Cocardasse, emphatically, "I’d rather +face an army than face Louis de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Again there was a silence. The gentlemen of the +sword seemed to be at a loss for conversation. Again +Passepoil broke the silence, this time with a question: +"Why are we after Louis de Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +Nobody seemed to be able to answer him. Even +Staupitz, who was responsible to the others for this +gathering of the company, was baffled. He had been +told to supply nine swords, and he had supplied them. +He had been told by his employer the purpose for +which the nine swords were wanted—he had been +told by Æsop against whom those nine swords were to +be drawn—and that was the extent of his knowledge. +This time the hunchback, in his favorite character of +know-all, took the lead. He put his book in his +pocket, as if he perceived that further study was to +be denied him that afternoon, with so much noise and +bustle of curiosity about him, and rose from his chair. +Holding his long rapier behind his back with both +his hands, he advanced into the middle of the room, +where he proceeded to harangue his fellow-guardsmen. +</p> +<p> +"I can tell you," he said, harshly, "if you would +care to hear the story." +</p> +<p> +Now bravos, swashbucklers, spadassins, and such +soldiers of fortune are like children in this regard—as +indeed in many another—that they love a good +yarn well spun. If something in the dominating, +masterful manner of Æsop compelled their attention, +something also in the malicious smile that twitched +his lips seemed to promise plenitude of entertainment. +A grave quiet settled upon the ragamuffins, +their sunburned faces were turned eagerly towards +the hunchback, their wild eyes studied his mocking +face; they waited in patience upon his pleasure. +Pleased with the humility of his audience, Æsop began +his narrative. +</p> +<p> +"There are," he said, "now living three noble gentlemen +in the first flush of youth, in the first flight +of greatness, young, handsome, brilliant, more like +brothers than friends. They are known in the noble +world of the court as the three Louis, because by a +curious chance each of these splendid gentlemen carries +Louis for a Christian name. Humorists have been +known to speak of them as the three Louis d’or. The +first is none other than our good king’s person, Louis +of Bourbon, thirteenth monarch of his name; the +second is Louis, Duke of Nevers; the third is his +cousin, Louis of Mantua, Prince of Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment, looking with the satisfaction +of a tale-teller at the expectant faces before +him, and as he paused an approving murmur from +his audience urged him to continue. Æsop resumed +his narration. +</p> +<p> +"You will ask how the Italianate Mantuan comes +to be a cousin of our French Nevers, and I will tell +you. Nevers’s father, Louis de Nevers, the twelfth +duke, had a very beautiful sister, who was foolish +enough, or wise enough, as you may choose to take +it, to fall in love with a needy Italian nobleman that +came adventuring to Paris in the hope of making a +rich marriage. He made a rich marriage, or perhaps it +would be more accurate to say that he thought he made +a rich marriage. He married Mademoiselle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Again Æsop halted, employing one of the familiar +devices of rhetoricians, who lure their hearers to keener +interest by such judicious pauses in the course of +their exposition. The listening ruffians were as attentive +as babes at a day-school, and Æsop, with a +hideous distortion of his features, which he intended +for a pleased smile, went on with his story: +</p> +<p> +"Mademoiselle de Nevers had some fortune of her +own, of course, but it was not large; it was not the +feast for which the amative Mantuan had hungered. +The Nevers’s fortune was in the duke’s hands, and remained +in the duke’s hands, for the duke married at +much the same time as his sister; and the duke’s wife +and Gonzague’s wife were brought to bed much about +the same time, and each bore a son, and each son was +named Louis after the twelfth duke, out of the affection +his wife bore him, out of the affection his sister +bore him, and out of the affection that sister’s Mantuan +husband pretended, in his sly Italian manner, +to bear him." +</p> +<p> +A belated patriotism stirring vaguely in Faenza’s +muddled mind tempted him to resent the hunch-back’s +slights upon the land which had been unlucky +enough to mother him. +</p> +<p> +"All men of Italy are not knaves," he growled, +huskily, and, half rising from his seat with crimsoned +visage, he was busying himself to say more, when +Staupitz, who was as interested as the others in Master +Æsop’s scandalous chronicle, clapped one bear’s +paw on Faenza’s shoulder and another bear’s paw +across Faenza’s mouth, and thus forced him at once, +by sheer effort of brute strength, to a sitting posture +and to silence. This action on the part of the man +whom for the time being he had consented to accept +as his general, combined with the cold glance of +cruelty and scorn which Æsop gave him, served to +cool Faenza’s hot blood. He heard Æsop say, dryly, +"Some men of Italy are fools," and might perchance +have flamed again, to his misluck, but that Staupitz, +breathing thickly in his ear, whispered: "Idiot, he +mocks a Mantuan. Are not you Naples born and +bred?" Faenza, recovering his composure, resolved +himself swiftly from an Italian in general to a Neapolitan +in particular, with a clannish antagonism to +alien states. He spat upon the floor. "Damn all +Mantuans!" he muttered, and did no more to interrupt +the flow of Æsop’s discourse. +</p> +<p> +"As I was saying, this princeling of Gonzague affected +a great show of friendship for his ducal brother +of Nevers, and this same friendship he left—it was, +indeed, wellnigh all he had to leave—to his only son +and only child, the present prince of Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +He made a momentary halt, as if he were observing +curiously the effect of his words upon his hearers, +then resumed: +</p> +<p> +"The young Louis de Gonzague and the young Louis +de Nevers were almost of an age. Each was an only +child, each was an only son, each was clever, each +was courageous, each was comely, each was the +chosen heart’s friend of a namesake king, each was +much a lover of ladies, each was much loved by +ladies." +</p> +<p> +Æsop grinned hideously as he said these words, +and his left hand fumbled lovingly at the little volume +that lay hid in the breast of his doublet, but he +did not delay the flow of his words. +</p> +<p> +"The chief difference between the two young men +who were bound so closely by ties of blood and yet +more closely by ties of personal affection was that +while Louis de Nevers was the heir to all the treasures +of his house, Louis of Gonzague was heir to little more +than a rotting palace and a hollow title. And yet, by +the irony of nature that seemed to deny long life to +any of the stock of Nevers, Louis de Gonzague was +the next of kin to his cousin, and the heir to all +his wealth if by any ill chance the dear young duke +should die unmarried." +</p> +<p> +Here Æsop deliberately shut his mouth for several +seconds, while the listening bandits, persuaded that +some thrilling news was toward, nudged each other +with their elbows and riddled the watchful hunchback +with imploring glances that entreated him to +proceed. Thus mutely importuned, Æsop opened his +mouth again: +</p> +<p> +"But the difference in the youths’ fortunes never +made any difference in their friendship. The purse +of the rich Nevers was always open to the fingers of +the poor Gonzague, and the poor Gonzague had always +too true an appreciation of the meaning of +friendship to deny his heart’s brother the privilege +of ministering to his needs. And as the young Nevers +did not hint at the slightest inclination to marry +and settle down, but always declared himself and approved +himself the most vagrant of lovers and the +most frivolous of libertines, there seemed no reason +for the good Gonzague to be uneasy as to his possible +heritage. Moreover, the young Duke of Nevers +was something delicate of constitution, as it would +seem, for all his skill as a soldier and swordsman and +his fame as a lady’s man. Once when he was the +guest of his cousin of Gonzague in Mantua he fell ill +of a strange fever that came near to ending his days, +and was only saved by his French physician, who +tended him day and night and took him back to +France in the first dawn of his convalescence." +</p> +<p> +Æsop stopped and blinked at his hearers viciously, +looking like some school-master that wonders how +much or how little of what he has been saying his +pupils have understood. Cocardasse was the first +to show intelligence and to give it tongue. +</p> +<p> +"I’ll wager," he cried, and swore a great Gascon +oath, "that I can hazard a pretty guess as to the +name of our employer in to-night’s work." +</p> +<p> +Æsop leered at him with a pitying benignity. +</p> +<p> +"You were always a great brain for deduction, +friend Cocardasse," he said. "And who should you +say was the honest gentleman who wanted our swords +for this present business?" +</p> +<p> +"Why," answered Cocardasse, shaking his head +gloomily, "though I hate to think it, and hate to +say it, it seems to me that the man who has most +to gain from this little meeting and its inevitable result +is none other than the third Louis, your Italian +of Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +Æsop nodded, and a ferocious smile illuminated +his evil face. +</p> +<p> +"You have come to a very creditable conclusion, +friend Cocardasse. It looks very much as if Jonathan +wanted to kill David, as if Patroclus yearned to +slaughter Achilles, as if Pythias wanted to extinguish +Damon." +</p> +<p> +Master Æsop prided himself upon his scholarship +and his felicity in classical allusion—a felicity wholly +wasted upon his present audience. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse was still curious. "Why does Louis de +Gonzague want to kill his friend, Louis of Nevers, +just at this particular moment, and why here in this +heaven-forgotten hole of a place, in this heaven-forgotten +corner of the world?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop explained: "Because Louis de Gonzague, +having tried once, with good reason, and failed, tries +again with better reason and means to succeed this +time, believing much steel to do better than a little +poison. Because, in a few words, Louis de Gonzague +wants to marry the beautiful Gabrielle, daughter of +old Caylus of the castle there, who is wealthy, too." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil, who was always interested in affairs of +the heart, put in his word. "Why doesn’t he marry +her?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop was ready to explain that matter also: "Because +Gabrielle de Caylus is already secretly married +to Louis de Nevers. They were married one year ago +in the chapel of Caylus, and the only witnesses were +Louis de Gonzague and his factotum, Monsieur Peyrolles, +who has summoned us to this tryst." +</p> +<p> +"Why were they secretly married?" asked the amorous +Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +Æsop answered him: "An old family feud between +the houses of Nevers and Caylus. The marquis +would rather kill his daughter than let her marry +Louis de Nevers. So they were wedded secretly, +without his knowledge, and Louis de Gonzague, that +could deny his dear friend and cousin, Louis de Nevers, +nothing, helped him to his wife." +</p> +<p> +"That was generous, at least," Passepoil sighed. +</p> +<p> +Æsop sneered. "He hoped, as he believed with reason, +that there would be no issue of the marriage, and +that by-and-by he would come to what he called his +own. But three months ago a daughter was born to +the nuptials of Nevers, and that is why we are here +to-night. Monsieur Peyrolles would pretend that it +is the old marquis who is using us, the old marquis +who is suspicious of an amour between his daughter +and Nevers. But I know better." +</p> +<p> +"How do you know all this?" Cocardasse inquired. +</p> +<p> +Æsop shrugged his shoulders. "My good fellow," +he said, "it is my business to know everything that +is worth knowing in my trade. There are very few +noble houses in France that can hope to hold any +secrets from me. You may take my word for it—that +is how matters stand." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz and his five swordsmen sat silent and puzzled, +leaving the ball of conversation to be tossed between +Cocardasse, Passepoil, and Æsop. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse spoke next: "An ugly job. There’s +only one man alive to match Louis de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Something almost approaching a human smile distorted +the wrinkled face of Æsop and made it appear +more than usually repulsive. "You mean me," he +said, and the smirk deepened, only to dissipate quickly +as Cocardasse replied: +</p> +<p> +"Devil a bit. I mean the little Parisian, Henri de +Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +"The best swordsman in Paris!" Passepoil cried, +enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +"The best swordsman in France!" Cocardasse +shouted. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil commented again: "The best swordsman +in Europe." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse, not to be outdone, put the final touch +to the picture: "The best swordsman in the world." +</p> +<p> +The name of Lagardere seemed to make a marked +impression upon the company. Every man seemed +to have his contribution to make to the history of +the little Parisian. +</p> +<p> +Faenza was the first to speak. +</p> +<p> +"I met your Lagardere once," he said, "at a fencing-school +in Milan, where half a dozen French gentlemen +met half a dozen gentlemen of my nationality +in a match to test the merits of the French and +Italian methods of fence. This Lagardere of yours +was the only one whom I had any difficulty in overcoming." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse gave an ironic snort. It was evident +that he did not in the least believe the latter part +of Faenza’s narrative. Joel de Jurgan took up the +thread of reminiscence. +</p> +<p> +"If your Lagardere be the same as the man I am +thinking of," he said, "I came across him a couple +of years ago at the fair of Neuilly. We had a passage +of arms, and I think I gave him a cut on the head, but +it took me some time, I promise you." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse glared at the speaker, but said nothing, +though the word "liar" was plainly expressed in his +scornful glance. Joel, impressed by his angry face, +hastened to add, with the air of one that praises an +adversary in the handsomest manner, "I swear he +was the best fellow, second to myself, that I ever +met with the rapier." +</p> +<p> +"I have met him," grunted Staupitz. "He touched +me once in a bout of twelve points. That was a +triumph for him, to my thinking." +</p> +<p> +Pepe added: "He fought with me once in Madrid, +and got off without a scratch. That says a good deal +for his skill, I’m thinking." +</p> +<p> +Saldagno and Pinto were silent. They looked curiously +at Pepe, but they nodded their heads approvingly. +</p> +<p> +Thus each of the bravos had his eager tale to +tell, and would have told more but that Cocardasse +waved them into silence with his large hand. "There +is only one Lagardere," he said, and looked as if the +subject were ended. +</p> +<p> +Æsop yawned. "I should like to meet your Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse eyed him ironically. "Sword in hand?" +he questioned. "When that day comes, pray for your +soul." +</p> +<p> +Æsop shrugged his shoulders, and with an air of +indifference produced a watch and consulted its dial. +"Friends," he said, "this is the hour fixed for the +arrival of Monsieur Peyrolles, and I think I hear +footsteps in the passage." +</p> +<p> +Instantly the Gascon seemed animated by a hurried +purpose. He sprang to Staupitz’s side, and, +catching him by the shoulder, shook him vehemently. +"We must be well paid to face the thrust of Nevers. +Let me bargain for you. Back me up, and those that +are alive to-night will have money in pocket to-morrow." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_A_BUYER_OF_BLADES' id='III_A_BUYER_OF_BLADES'></a> +<h2>III</h2> +<h3>A BUYER OF BLADES</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Staupitz and his companions seemed to place +implicit confidence in the superior diplomatic +powers of their Gascon comrade, and to have been +seriously impressed by the gravity of his statement +concerning the thrust of Nevers, so death-dealing, so +unwardable, so almost magically fatal, for they readily +agreed to his proposition. Places were rapidly +found for Cocardasse and Passepoil at the table. +Æsop returned to his seat and his little sinful book. +It was deepening dusk by now, but the hunchback +knew his Aretino by heart, and the open page was a +pretence. So he mused by the window, and sat +nursing his knee moodily. Those at the table seemed +busy drinking, and heedless of all things save drink, +when the side-door of the room, that led through the +kitchen to the yard, opened, and the man they were +expecting entered. It was characteristic of the man +to make his appearance so slyly, surreptitiously, +sidling, and roundabout, where another would have +stepped in direct. At the heels of the new-comer +tiptoed Martine, swinging, for precaution against the +thickening dusk, a dingy lantern whose provision of +fish-oil emitted a pitiful light that scarcely bettered +the growing blackness. This lantern the girl set +upon the head of an empty barrel that stood in a +corner, and its fitful, shivering rays, faintly illuminating +the murkiness around, was at least strong enough +to allow any philosopher among the bravos—and +Æsop was in his way a philosopher—to observe and +moralize upon the contrast between the appearance +of this Monsieur Peyrolles who employed bravos and +the bravos that this Monsieur Peyrolles employed. +</p> +<p> +Monsieur Peyrolles was a tall, thin, middle-aged +man of pale complexion. Like Æsop and like Passepoil, +he was dressed in black, as became the confidential +servant of a master with many confidences; +but, unlike the amorous Æsop and unlike the amorous +Passepoil—though the two men were amorous +after a very different fashion—his garments were of +fine quality and fine cut, with much costly lace at his +yellow neck, and much costly lace about the wrists +of yellow hands that to a casual glance might, in +their affected ease, have passed for patrician. Like +Passepoil, he carried a sword, and, like Passepoil, he +knew how to use it, although, unlike Passepoil, he +was really of a timid disposition, and never engaged +in any encounter in which he was not certain that his +skill was far superior to that of his opponent. +</p> +<p> +He affected the manners of a fine gentleman, and +modelled himself as much as he dared upon the carriage +of his master, when his master was not by, and, +like the most of such copying apes, he overdid the +part. His face was curiously unpleasant, long and +yellowish white and inexpressive, with drooping eyelids +masking pale, shifty eyes, with a drooping, ungainly +nose, and a mouth that seemed like a mistake +of nature. +</p> +<p> +When Martine had placed her lantern to her satisfaction +upon its Bacchic pedestal, she slipped from +the room as quietly as she had entered it, answering +as she went, with a glance of disdain, the +passion of admiration that glowed in the eyes and +twitched in the fingers of Norman Passepoil. The +people that kept that evil Inn, the people that served +that evil Inn, always left their sinister customers to +themselves to kiss or kill, as best pleased them. +</p> +<p> +On the entrance of Monsieur Peyrolles the bravos +rose and saluted him ceremoniously. If there was +any hidden mockery, any latent contempt, any unconscious +hate felt by the brave scoundrels for the +cowardly scoundrel in their reverence, it was not evident +to the new-comer, who took the greetings with +offensive condescension, eying the bandits over the +lace edges of his kerchief. +</p> +<p> +Staupitz advanced some few feet to greet him. +"Welcome, Monsieur Peyrolles," he said. Then, +pointing with an air of introduction to the fantastic, +many-colored, huge-hatted, big-booted gang of ruffians +ranged about the table, he added, "My children." +</p> +<p> +In the dim light Peyrolles peered derisively at the +different members of the party. "They seem a +choice set of ruffians," he observed, with the labored +impertinence that seemed to him a copy of his master’s +nonchalance. +</p> +<p> +Staupitz laughed thickly. "No better blades between +here and world’s end." He pointed first at +his comrades, as if to imply that he spoke allegorically; +then he pointed to the row of rapiers dangling +against the wall, to prove that he also spoke +practically and by the card. +</p> +<p> +"After all," said Peyrolles, "that is the important +matter. I come to tell you how to earn your pay." +</p> +<p> +By this time Staupitz and the others had resumed +their seats and were staring fixedly at Peyrolles, +something to that worthy personage’s embarrassment. +Staupitz having said his say, dropped into +silence, and Cocardasse leaned forward, asserting himself. +"We are all attention," he declared; and Passepoil, +faithful echo by his side, murmured, "We are +all attention," and allowed himself to wonder what +had become of Martine, and to regret that business +did not permit him to go to look for her. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles began to explain. "Wait in the moat +to-night at ten o’clock." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz interrupted him. "Ten o’clock?" he cried. +"The devil! it will be pretty dark by ten." +</p> +<p> +"I think there should be a moon about ten," Æsop +observed, quietly, with his exasperating air of all +knowledge. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes," Peyrolles went on, sharply, irritated +at being stayed in his instructions, "there will be a +moon, no doubt, but we do not want too much light +for this business. Well, then, wait in the moat at +ten. I do not think you will have to wait long. +Then, or thenabouts, a cavalier coming by the mountain +road will tie his horse to a tree beyond the bridge +that spans the ravine. He will cross the bridge and +walk to yonder window hard by the postern." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles paused as if he had nothing more to say, +and took it for granted that his hearers understood +his drift. But one of them seemed to desire more +explicit information. +</p> +<p> +"Then," said Cocardasse—"then we are to accost +him." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles nodded. "Very politely—and earn your +money." He turned upon his heel now, for he relished +the Inn room little, and its company less, being +a fastidious lackey, and made to go, as if the affair +were settled. +</p> +<p> +But Cocardasse arrested him. "Who is the gentleman +we accost politely?" he asked, very blandly, +but behind this blandness of Cocardasse’s there was +something menacing to those that knew him well. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles eyed the huge Gascon disdainfully. +"That does not concern you," he said, sharply. +</p> +<p> +But the Gascon was not in the least abashed, and, +while he grinned at the would-be great man with +an air of veiled insolence that was excessively exasperating +to Monsieur Peyrolles, he questioned again: +"Who is our employer?" +</p> +<p> +Again Peyrolles retorted: "That does not concern +you." +</p> +<p> +And again Cocardasse persisted: "It might concern +us very much if we chanced to believe that our +quarry is Louis de Nevers, and if we got it somehow +or other into our heads that our employer is Louis +de Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +As Cocardasse spoke these words, Peyrolles, now +thoroughly alarmed and irritated, gave Cocardasse a +glance that ought to have withered him, but Cocardasse +was not withered, and smiled banteringly at +his employer. +</p> +<p> +"Fellow," Peyrolles said, "you are inquisitive." +As he spoke he flapped his kerchief reprovingly at +the bravo, whose dilated nostrils greedily drank the +delicate odors it discharged, and he again made as if +to depart, and again Cocardasse delayed him, still +with the same exasperating show of exuberant politeness. +</p> +<p> +"When it is a matter of our skins," he said, "I +think we have a right to be inquisitive, and I think +we had better have a little chat, Monsieur Peyrolles." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he made a noble flourish of his right +arm that was distinctly an invitation to Peyrolles to +seat himself in their company, and Passepoil, rising +with an air of great urbanity, placed a stool before +Peyrolles. +</p> +<p> +"Pray be seated," he urged, suavely, blinking his +pink eyelids and manifesting a deferential fear of +the great man that he was very far indeed from feeling. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles looked about him half angrily, half +frightened. He would have been glad to make his +escape from that accursed chamber, but he had +astuteness enough to see that there was no escape +for him. Cocardasse had somehow or other managed +to get between him and the door, and the other +ruffians seemed to be entirely in sympathy with the +Gascon’s conduct, and to have no regard whatever +for Peyrolles’s dignity or feelings. +</p> +<p> +With a smile that he intended to be amiable, Peyrolles +sat down. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he said, with an air of one that swallows +sour wine, "what have you to say to me?" +</p> +<p> +"Come," said the Gascon, "that is good. Now we +can chat at our ease, and it will not take us many +seconds to understand each other, I promise you." +He turned to Staupitz. "What was the sum offered +for our services?" He knew very well, for Staupitz +had told him as they huddled together before, while +the hand of Peyrolles was upon the latch, but he +thought that it made the situation more impressive +if he affected ignorance. +</p> +<p> +Staupitz answered: "Three hundred pistoles." +</p> +<p> +Now this was a fair market price enough as the +tariff went for ambuscades and assassinations of the +kind. It meant twenty-five pistoles each to the +eight subordinates of the band, and a comfortable +hundred pistoles for old Papa Staupitz to pocket as +the patron of the enterprise. But Cocardasse held +up his hands in well-affected horror and amazement. +"Three hundred pistoles!" he echoed; "for ruddling +the blades and risking the lives of nine of the finest +swordsmen in Europe? Preposterous!—there must +be some mistake! We won’t haggle. We must have +three thousand pistoles or—good-bye." +</p> +<p> +At this audacious proposal to raise their blood-wages +exactly ten times, the eyes of the bravos glittered +avariciously, and they drummed approval on +the table with their fists. Cocardasse deprecated +this display of interest with a gentle wave of the +hand, and, leaning back in his chair, eyed Peyrolles +coolly, sure that he plied him with a vise. And Cocardasse +was right. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles hesitated, but also Peyrolles reflected. +It had been his wish to buy his bandits as cheaply as +he could, but it was evident that they were better +informed about the night’s business than he intended +them to be. It was essential that the work must be +done that night, and it was also evident that the +gentlemen of the sword were quite prepared to take +their leaves if their terms were not agreed to. He +sighed and said, "You shall have the money." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse nodded approvingly. He was enjoying +himself immensely in this baiting of the valet of Gonzague, +but he allowed no sign of entertainment to +ripple over his crimson countenance. +</p> +<p> +"Good," he said, quietly, "but I take it that you +have not got such a sum as three thousand pistoles +about you." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles shook his head. "I have brought with +me the three hundred pistoles that were agreed upon," +he said, sourly, with an emphasis upon the closing +words of his speech. Cocardasse caught him up +promptly. +</p> +<p> +"Agreed upon in ignorance of the services demanded," +he corrected. "Well, good Monsieur Peyrolles, +let us have that three hundred pistoles as earnest +money for the larger sum." +</p> +<p> +Somewhat reluctantly Monsieur Peyrolles produced +from his doublet a small canvas bag and threw it into +the hollow of Cocardasse’s extended palm. It chinked +pleasantly as it fell, and Cocardasse weighed it tenderly. +</p> +<p> +"I will not affront your worthiness," he said, "by +affecting to doubt the contents of this little bag, and +putting it to the scrutiny of a count. I will take your +word for the tale." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he tossed the bag over to Staupitz, +who caught it dexterously and put it in his pocket. +On this Peyrolles made to rise, and again found that +the hand of Passepoil, obedient to a glance from +Cocardasse, descended upon his shoulder and nailed +him to his place. +</p> +<p> +"Wait," said Cocardasse, amiably, "we must have +some surety for the lave of the money." +</p> +<p> +"Is not my word enough?" Peyrolles asked, with +an ineffective air of dignity. Cocardasse smiled very +sweetly. +</p> +<p> +"The best of us may have a bad memory," he said, +and sighed over the frailties of humanity. He turned +to his nominal leader. "Papa Staupitz," he said, +"will you not see if a pen and ink be available?" +</p> +<p> +Staupitz rose while Peyrolles glowered, and going +to the door that led to the kitchen, summoned Martine. +Martine, heedless of the adoring homage renewed +in Passepoil’s eyes, went to a cupboard in the +wall and extracted from its depths a dingy ink-horn +and a stubby quill, together with a page of fairly +clean paper torn from the back of an old account-book. +Setting these on the table, she departed as +quietly as she came, wholly indifferent to the languishing +glances of the Norman. Cocardasse waved +a space for Peyrolles at the table. +</p> +<p> +"Be so good," he said, with a quiet insistence, "as +to write a formal promise to pay Papa Staupitz two +thousand seven hundred pistoles to-morrow. Date +it carefully, and sign it with your excellent and honorable +name, my dear Monsieur Peyrolles." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles frowned, but there was no help for it; so +he rose to his feet, untroubled this time by the restraining +fingers of Passepoil, and, going to the table, +wrote the demanded document, with every appearance +of repugnance at the task and its conditions, +for the pen was vile, the ink viler, and the paper +vilest. When he had finished, Cocardasse took it +from him and scanned it carefully. +</p> +<p> +"That is all right," he said, and placed the still +wet writing on the table in front of Staupitz. Peyrolles +made as if to move towards the door, but again +Passepoil, who was watching intently the face of Cocardasse, +read a meaning there, and, pouncing upon +Peyrolles, persuaded him firmly back into the seat +he had quitted. +</p> +<p> +"That is not all," said Cocardasse to the astonished +and angry valet. "This night’s work is a big night’s +work, and not to be paid for over the counter and +done with. We want the money first, but afterwards +we want the protection and favor of Louis de +Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles frowned and made a vehement effort to +assert his authority. +</p> +<p> +"You talk very freely and loosely of great names," +he said, with as much sharpness as he could muster +in the presence of that ring of rascality. "You +should know very well, if you know anything at all +about the scandals of grandees, that Monseigneur the +Marquis of Caylus has every reason to dislike Monseigneur +the Duke of Nevers, and to wish him out of +the way." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse laid a whimsical finger to the side of his +jolly, tropical nose and grinned impishly. +</p> +<p> +"We know what we know, Monsieur Peyrolles," +he said, urbanely. "If it were merely necessary to +kill the Duke of Nevers to gratify the hate of any +private enemy, one place would do as well as another, +and we might take him any time on his way +here, instead of waiting till the precise moment when +he enters the moat of Caylus. But you wish us to +wait for that precise moment because you, and your +master, wish it to seem patent to all the world that +the deed was done by the Marquis of Caylus on his +own ground, to defend his own honor. Once again, +we demand hereafter the favor and protection of his +highness the Prince of Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +This time Peyrolles needed no pause for reflection. +So much was wise to promise to men who could draw +conclusions so dexterously. "You shall have it," he +said, and rose from his seat, this time unrestrained +by the Norman’s pressure. "There is my hand on +it," he added. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse appeared not to perceive the extended +hand as he slapped the hilt of his sword. "Here is +my rapier, which answers for me." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles smiled sourly. "You had better place +a sentinel in the moat," he said, addressing Staupitz. +"He can give the signal when the mouse walks into +the trap. Till then let the others keep in the background +so as to cut off our gentleman’s retreat." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz nodded sulkily. He had always held +Monsieur Peyrolles in considerable respect, a respect +that had been greatly shaken by Cocardasse’s audacious +and insolent treatment of the satellite of +Gonzague. Now the bravo seemed ready to resent +receiving an order from his employer’s go-between. +Peyrolles prudently took no notice of his sullenness. +"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said, and walked +towards the door. As he reached it, he turned again +and spoke significantly: "Remember—if you fail, +no pay." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse grinned impudently at him. "Sleep in +peace, Monsieur Peyrolles." Peyrolles made a wry +face and went out. +</p> +<p> +As soon as he had gone the bravos gathered about +Cocardasse and patted him enthusiastically on the +back. Only Æsop remained in his corner, apparently +indifferent to the whole proceedings. +</p> +<p> +"Well done, comrade," cried Passepoil, wringing +the hand of his brother-in-arms; and the others, +whose pay had been so notably increased by the +diplomacy of Cocardasse, were equally as effusive in +their expressions of gratitude. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse met their applause with an impressive +monosyllable. "Wine," he said to Martine, who +had peeped in to see if her services were needed, and +in a twinkling the pannikins were filled again and +lifted to eight thirsty mouths, and set down again +empty of their contents. The first business was +to share the contents of Monsieur Peyrolles’s bag, +which Staupitz duly divided according to the +original understanding, giving each man twenty-five +pistoles, and keeping the remainder for himself. By +this time the ink on the promissory note was dry, +and Staupitz folded it up carefully and put it in his +pocket. +</p> +<p> +After this for another half-hour the talk was all +about the young Duke de Nevers and his secret +thrust, and the woman he loved, and the Prince de +Gonzague, his friend, who meant to kill him. Here, +as before, Æsop dominated the party by his superior +knowledge of all the individuals in the little tragedy +in which they were invited to play subordinate parts. +He told them of the life feud between the family of +Caylus and the family of Nevers, a feud as bitter +as that of the Capulets and Montagues of old time. +He told them of Gonzague’s passions, Gonzague’s +poverty. He told them all about Monsieur Peyrolles, +Gonzague’s discreet and infamous factotum. +He told them, also, being as it seemed a very gold-mine +of court scandals, much of the third Louis, the +august friend of Louis of Nevers and Louis of +Gonzague, the third Louis who was the king of +France. +</p> +<p> +The bravos hung upon his words. In many ways +they were simple folk, and, like all simple folk, they +loved to be told stories, and Æsop prided himself +upon being something of a man of letters, a +philosopher, and an historian. It was, therefore, no +small annoyance to narrator and audience when +the narrative was interrupted, as it was nearing its +conclusion, by the opening of the Inn door. Every +face expressed astonishment as it was pushed sufficiently +apart to admit the entry of a slender and +graceful boy in the rich habit of a page. The boy +came a little way into the room, looking cautiously +about him. He acted as if at first he took the room +in its dimness to be unoccupied, and he seemed to be +somewhat disconcerted at discovering that it contained +so many occupants. He stood still while his +bright eyes ran rapidly, and indeed fearfully, over the +somewhat alarming features of the guests. Failing, +apparently, to find among them the person, whoever +it was, whom he had come there to seek, he +turned to leave as quietly as he had entered, but +his egress was barred by Æsop, who had slipped between +him and the door, and who now questioned +him, with a grin of malignant intelligence on his +face. +</p> +<p> +"Whom are you looking for, pygmy?" +</p> +<p> +The page put a bold face on it and answered +with a bold voice: "I have a letter for a gentleman." +</p> +<p> +Æsop pointed to the group at the table. "We are +all gentlemen. Let’s have a look at your letter." +Then he added to his companions: "It may be useful. +The imp wears the livery of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Instantly the others approved by signs and grunts +of Æsop’s action, and the page, now really alarmed, +made a desperate effort to escape. "Let me pass!" +he cried, and tried to rush under Æsop’s arm. But +Æsop caught the boy in an iron grip, and, though the +courageous page drew a dagger and tried to stab his +assailant, he was disarmed in a second and seized +by the others, who sprang from the table and clustered +about him, fierce birds of prey about a helpless quarry. +The lad cried for help, hopelessly enough. Strong, +dirty fingers were tearing open his jerkin and fumbling +for the concealed letter, when suddenly it seemed +to the astonished swordsmen that an earthquake and +a whirlwind had combined for their undoing. Æsop +rolled to one end of the room, Staupitz to another; +Cocardasse and Passepoil, Saldagno, Pepe, Pinto, +Faenza, and Joel were scattered like sparrows, and +the little page found himself liberated and crouching +at the feet of a man who was standing with folded +arms surveying the discomfited bravos mockingly. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_THE_LITTLE_PARISIAN' id='IV_THE_LITTLE_PARISIAN'></a> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h3>THE LITTLE PARISIAN</h3> +</div> + +<p> +The new-comer was a young man of little over +one-and-twenty, of medium height, but with +a well-built, well-knit figure that gave a promise +of extraordinary strength and power of endurance, +coupled at the same time with a scarcely less extraordinary +suppleness. He had a face that was certainly +handsome, though many handsomer faces were familiar +in Paris at that day, but none more gallant, and, +indeed, its chief charm was its almost audacious +air of self-reliance, of unfailing courage, of changeless +composure, and unconquerable humor. The eyes +were bright and laughing. Even now, although the +man was undoubtedly angry, his eyes still smiled in +unison with his lips. His dark hair fell gracefully +about his shoulders. He wore a somewhat faded +white coat, girdled with a crimson sash—the white +coat of a captain in the king’s Light-Horse—and, +though he carried himself with an easy dignity, the +general condition of his dress showed he was one who +was neither afraid of nor unfamiliar with poverty. +Now he looked around him with a bright defiance, +seemingly diverted by the havoc his single pair of +arms and legs—for he had used both limbs in the +brawl—had wrought among nine swashbucklers, and +apparently prepared at any moment to repeat the +performance, if occasion called for action. +</p> +<p> +It was curious to observe that, though the new-comer +had worked such confusion among the bravos +whom he had taken so roughly unawares, he did not +show any sign of having passed through a scuffle +with a number of men or having accomplished anything +especially arduous in bringing them so swiftly +to discomfiture. His breathing was not quickened, +his comely young face was unflushed. As he stood +there lightly poised in an easy attitude that might +at any moment be resolved into an attitude of defence, +he seemed, to such of his spectators as had +sufficiently recovered their senses to look at him +coolly, rather to resemble one that had come in +on the heels of a tuss and was watching its result +with unconcerned eyes than one that with no more +assistance than his own agile limbs had been the +cause of humiliation to so many powerful adversaries. +Staupitz, blinking fiercely as he rubbed his aching +head, which had rattled sharply against the table +that arrested his flight across the room, was too bewildered +to swear out the oaths that were frothing +within him when he realized that the earthquake, +the whirlwind, the cataclysm that had tumbled him +and his companions about like so many nine-pins was +no other and no more than the slim and pleasant +young gentleman who stood there so composedly. +While the bewildered ruffians were picking themselves +up, and with some little difficulty recovering +their breath, the young gentleman addressed them +mockingly: "Are there quite enough of you to manage +this adversary?" And as he spoke he pointed to the +little page who was huddled at his feet. +</p> +<p> +Æsop was the first of the bravos to recover his +troubled senses and to seek to retaliate upon his +assailant. He whipped his long rapier from its +sheath, and was making for the intruder when Cocardasse +flung his strong arms around the hunchback +and restrained him. "Be easy," he cried; "it +is the little Parisian!" And at the same moment +Passepoil, with the gesture of one who salutes in a +fencing-school, exclaimed the name "Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +As for the other ruffians, they gathered together +sulkily enough about the table, staring at the stranger. +His face was familiar to all of them, and there was +not one among them bold enough to follow the +example of Æsop. Lagardere, who had taken no +notice of the threatened attack of the hunchback, +surveyed the group, and, glancing from them, addressed +himself to Cocardasse and Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +"Why, my old masters," he asked, drolling them, +"what are you doing in this desperate adventure? +You ought to be careful. The boy might have hurt +you." His eyes turned from the Gascon and the +Norman back again to the fellows at the table. +"Some of these scarecrows seem familiar." His +glance rested on Staupitz, and he questioned him: +"Where have we met?" +</p> +<p> +Staupitz saluted Lagardere very respectfully as +he answered: "At Lyons." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere seemed to search his memory and to +find what he sought. "True. You touched me once." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz made an apologetic gesture. "Only once +in twelve times." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to Saldagno, Pepe, and Pinto. +"Ah, my bandits of Madrid, who tried me, three to +one." +</p> +<p> +Saldagno was more apologetic than Staupitz, with +a Latin profusion of gesture, as he explained: "That +was for a wager, captain." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere shrugged his shoulders. "Which you +did not win." He turned to Joel de Jurgan. "Does +your head still carry my cut?" +</p> +<p> +The Breton lifted a large hand to his bullet head +and fumbled through the thick hair for a familiar +spot. "There is a scar," he admitted. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to the Italian. "Do you still," +he asked, "hold the Italian school to be superior to +the French?" +</p> +<p> +Faenza shook his head. "Not when you practise +the French method," he answered, politely. +</p> +<p> +There was a little pause, and then Æsop, who had +by this time been released from the embrace of +Cocardasse, and had sheathed his sword, came forward +and faced Lagardere. "I desire acquaintanceship, +Captain Lagardere. Men call me Æsop." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere gazed at the hunchback, and a look of +displeasure banished the mirth from his eyes. "I +have heard of you," he said, curtly. "A good sword +and a bad heart. I don’t like the blend. You may +go to the devil." +</p> +<p> +He turned away from Æsop and bent over the +lad, who still crouched at his feet. "Now, lad, you +must promise not to hurt these gentlemen, for some +of them are friends of mine." +</p> +<p> +While the bravos tried not to appear annoyed by +Lagardere’s banter, which, indeed, in its simplicity +vexed their simple natures greatly, the page rose to +his feet and whispered softly to his rescuer, "I have +a letter for you from the Duke de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere extended his hand. "Give it," he said. +</p> +<p> +The page produced the letter, of which Æsop had +been so anxious to gain possession, and handed it to +Lagardere, whispering as he did so, "Save me from +these ogres. I carry another letter to a lady." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled. "To Gabrielle de Caylus, I’ll +swear," he murmured in a low voice which was calculated +only to reach the page’s ears. Then he turned +again to the swordsmen. "Sirs, this lad, more fastidious +than I, dislikes your society. Pray respect +his prejudices." He pushed the page gently towards +the main door. "Hop, skip, jump!" +</p> +<p> +In a moment the page had glided out of the room. +Æsop made a movement as if he were inclined to +follow, but any such intention was frustrated by +Lagardere, who shut the door after the boy and +stood with his back towards it. "Stay where you +are, gentlemen," he said, and there was something +so persuasive in the way in which he said it that the +gentlemen stayed where they were. Then Lagardere, +as if he had almost forgotten their presence, slowly +walking down the room till he paused in the middle, +opened the letter and began to read it. As he seemed +absorbed by its contents, Staupitz on the one side +and Æsop on the other came cautiously towards him +with the intention of reading the letter over his +shoulder, but Lagardere’s seeming forgetfulness of +their presence instantly changed. He looked up +sharply, glancing right and left, and Æsop and Staupitz +fell back in confusion, while Lagardere spoke +to them, mocking them: "You will dub me eccentric; +you will nickname me whimsical; you will damn me +for a finicking stickler, and all because I am such an +old-fashioned rascal as to wish to keep my correspondence +to myself. There, there, don’t be crestfallen. +This letter makes me so merry that you +shall share its treasure. But, first, fill and drink +with me, a noble toast." +</p> +<p> +To suggest drinking was to forge a link between the +bravos and the man who down-faced them so masterfully. +The big jug seemed to jump from hand to +hand, every mug was full in a twinkling, and every +face was fixed steadfastly on Lagardere, waiting for +his words. Lagardere lifted his brimming beaker +with a voice of joyous mockery that carried at once +defiance and respect to a distant man. "The health +of Louis of Nevers!" he said, and drained his green +wine as cheerfully as if it had been the elixir of the +gods. +</p> +<p> +At his words blank astonishment spread over the +faces of the Gascon and the Norman. "He said +’Nevers,’" Cocardasse whispered to Passepoil, and +Passepoil whispered back, "He did." As for the +other bravos, they had been as much surprised as +Cocardasse and Passepoil by Lagardere’s request, but +they managed to conceal their surprise by lifting +their mugs, and now as they nodded and winked to +one another, they tilted their vessels and drank, +shouting, "The health of Louis de Nevers!" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse came nearer to Lagardere, and said in +a voice that was almost a whisper, "Why do you +drink the health of Louis de Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked for a moment annoyed at the +presumption of Cocardasse in questioning him, then +the annoyance gave place to his familiar air of +tolerant amusement. "I don’t love questions, but +you have a kind of right to query." He turned to +the others. "You must know, sirs, that this pair +of rapiers were my fairy godfathers in the noble art +of fence." +</p> +<p> +The Norman looked at Lagardere with a very loving +expression. "You were a sad little rag of humanity +when first you came to our fencing-academy." +</p> +<p> +"You are right there," said Lagardere. "I was +the poorest, hungriest scrap of mankind in all Paris. +I had neither kin nor friends nor pence, nothing but +a stout heart and a sense of humor. That is why +I came to your academy, old rogues." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse was reminiscent. "Faith, you looked +droll enough, with your pale face and your shabby +clothes. ’I want to be a soldier,’ says you; ’I want +to use the sword.’" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere nodded. "That was my stubborn law. +The world laughed at me, but I laughed at the world, +and I won my wish." +</p> +<p> +"Just think of it!" said Cocardasse. "Henri de +Lagardere, a gentleman born, without a decent +relative, without a decent friend, without a penny, +making his livelihood as a strolling player in the +booth of a mountebank." +</p> +<p> +While Cocardasse was speaking, Lagardere seemed +to listen like a man in a dream. He forgot for the +moment the reeking Inn room where he stood, the +beastly visages that surrounded him, the whimsy +that had drifted him thither. All these things were +forgotten, and the man that was little more than a +boy in years was in fancy altogether a boy again, +a shivering, quivering slip of a boy that stood on the +gusty high-road and knuckled his eyelids to keep his +eyes from crying. How long ago it seemed, that +time twelve years ago when a mutinous urchin fled +from a truculent uncle to seek his fortune as Heaven +might please to guide! Heaven guided an itinerant +mime and mountebank that tramped France with +his doxy to a wet hedge-side where a famished, foot-sore +scrap of a lad lay like a tired dog, trying not to +sob. The mountebank was curious, the mountebank’s +doxy was kind; both applauded lustily the boy’s resolve +to march to Paris, cost what it might cost, and +make his fortune there. The end of the curiosity and +the kindness and the applause was that the little +Lagardere found himself at once the apprentice and +the adopted son of the mountebank, with his fortune +as far off as the stars. But he learned many +things, the little Lagardere, under the care of that +same mountebank; all that the mountebank could +teach him he learned, and he invented for himself +tricks that were beyond the mountebank’s skill. +How long ago it seemed! Would ever space of time +seem so long again? So the young man mused +swiftly, while Cocardasse told his tale; but ere Cocardasse +had finished, Lagardere was back in the +tavern again, and, when Cocardasse had finished, +Lagardere caught him up: "Why not? Some actors +are as honest as bandits. I was no bad mummer, +sirs. I could counterfeit any one of you now so +that your mother wouldn’t know the cheat. And +my master made me an athlete, too; taught me every +trick of wrestling and tumbling and juggling with +the muscles. That is why I was able to tumble you +about so pleasantly just now. I should have been +a mountebank to this day but for an accident." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil was curious. "What accident?" he +asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him: "A brawl over a wench +with a bully. I challenged him, though I was more +at home with a toasting-fork than a sword. I +caught up an unfamiliar weapon, but he nicked the +steel from my hand at a pass and banged me with +the flat of his blade. The girl laughed. The bully +grinned. I swore to learn swordcraft." +</p> +<p> +"And you did," said Passepoil. "In six months +you were our best pupil." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse continued: "In twelve you were our +master." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil questioned again: "What became of your +bully?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere was laconic: "We had a chat afterwards. +I attended his funeral." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse clapped his hands. "Well begun, little +Parisian." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil pointed admiringly at Lagardere. "Look +at you now, a captain in the king’s guard." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere laughed cheerfully. "Look if you like, +but I am no such thing. I am cashiered, exiled from +Paris." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" asked Cocardasse, and Lagardere replied +with a question: "Do you remember the Baron de +Brissac?" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse nodded. "One of the best swords in +Paris." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere resumed: "Well, the late baron—" +</p> +<p> +Passepoil interrupted: "The late baron?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere explained: "Brissac had a lewd tongue +and smirched a woman. So I pulled his ears." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse grinned. "The devil you did!" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Lagardere, "they were very long +and tempting. We resumed the argument elsewhere. +It was brief. Good-bye, Brissac! But as the good +king, thanks to the good cardinal, now frowns upon +duelling, I am exiled when I ought to be rewarded." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse sighed. "There is no encouragement +for virtue nowadays." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s voice was as cheerful as if there were +no such thing in the world as exile. "Well, there I +was at my wit’s end, and my nimble wits found work +for me. ’If I must leave France,’ I said, ’I will +go to Spain, where the spirit of chivalry still reigns.’ +So I raised a regiment of adventurers like myself—broken +gentlemen, ruined spendthrifts, poor devils +out at elbow, gallant soldiers of fortune one and all. +They wait for me a mile from here. We shall find +work to do in Spain or elsewhere. The world is +wide, and it has always work for good swords to do." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse looked at him admiringly. "Your +sword will never rust for want of use," he said, with +approval. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, briskly: "Why should +it? ’Tis the best friend in the world. What woman’s +eye ever shone as brightly as its blade, what +woman’s tongue ever discoursed such sweet music?" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse took off his hat and swung it. "Hurrah +for the sword!" he shouted. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s glance applauded his enthusiasm. +"Iron was God’s best gift to man, and he God’s good +servant who hammered it into shape and gave it +point and edge. I shall never be happy until I am +master of it." +</p> +<p> +Æsop joined the conversation mockingly. "I +thought you were master of it," he said, with an +obvious sneer. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse and Passepoil looked horrified at the +hunchback’s impertinence, but Lagardere did not +seem to be vexed, and answered, quite amiably: "So +did I till lately." Then he said, addressing himself +generally to the company: "Have any of you ever +heard of the thrust of Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +A tremor of excitement ran through his audience. +Cocardasse took up the talk: "We spoke of it but +now." +</p> +<p> +"Well," said Lagardere, "what do you think of +it?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop, the irrepressible, thrust in his opinion. +"Never was secret thrust invented that cannot be +parried." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at him somewhat contemptuously. +"So I thought till I crossed swords with +Nevers. Now I think differently." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse whistled. "The devil you do," he commented. +</p> +<p> +"I will tell you all about it," said Lagardere. "It +happened three months ago. That secret thrust +piqued me. Then people talked too much about +Nevers; that irritated me. Wherever I went, from +court to camp, from tavern to palace, the name of +Nevers was dinned in my ears. The barber dressed +your hair à la Nevers. The tailor cut your coat à la +Nevers. Fops carried canes à la Nevers; ladies +scented themselves à la Nevers. One day at the inn +they served me cutlets à la Nevers. I flung the +damned dish out of the window. On the doorstep +I met my boot-maker, who offered to sell me a pair of +boots à la Nevers. I cuffed the rascal and flung him +ten louis as a salve. But the knave only said to me: +’Monsieur de Nevers beat me once, but he gave me +a hundred pistoles.’" +</p> +<p> +Passepoil sighed for the sorrows of his young pupil: +"Poor little Parisian!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere went on with his tale: "Now I am +vainglorious enough to hold that cutlets would +taste good if they were cooked à la Lagardere; that +coats à la Lagardere would make good wearing, and +boots à la Lagardere good walking. I came to the +conclusion that Paris was not big enough for the +pair of us, and that Nevers was the man to quit the +field. Like Æsop yonder, I laughed at the secret +thrust." +</p> +<p> +He paused, and Cocardasse questioned: "But you +don’t laugh now?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, gravely: "Not a laugh. +I waited for Nevers one evening outside the Louvre +and saluted him. ’Sir,’ I said, in my grandest manner, +’I rely upon your courtesy to give me a moonlight +lesson in your secret thrust.’ Lord, how he +started. ’Who the devil are you?’ says he. I made +him a magnificent bow. ’I am Henri de Lagardere, +of the king’s Light-Horse. I am always in trouble, +always in debt, always in love. These are misfortunes +a man can endure. But I am always hearing +of your merits, which is fretting, and of your irresistible +secret thrust, and that is unbearable.’" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere paused to give dramatic effect to the +point in his narrative. +</p> +<p> +"What did he say to that?" asked Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere went on: "’Ah,’ said the duke, ’you are +the fellow they call handsome Lagardere’" (Lagardere +interrupted the flow of his story with a pathetic +parenthesis—"I can’t help it, they do call me so"); +"’people talk too much about you, and that wearies +me’; which shows that he had a touch of my +complaint. Well, he was civility itself. We went +down by the church of St.-Germain, and had scarcely +crossed swords when the point of his rapier pricked +me here, just between the eyes. I was touched—I, +Lagardere—and if I had not leaped backward I +should have been a dead man. ’That is my secret +thrust,’ says the duke with a smile, and wished me +good-evening." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_PARRY_TO_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS' id='V_THE_PARRY_TO_THE_THRUST_OF_NEVERS'></a> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>THE PARRY TO THE THRUST OF NEVERS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +There was a heavy stillness in the room when +Lagardere came to the end of his tale. "This +sounds serious," Cocardasse said, gloomily, and those +about him were gloomily silent. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere resumed his story: "I pondered that +thrust for a month. At last I mastered it. I tried +it on the Baron de Brissac with perfect success." +</p> +<p> +A general laugh at this remark relieved the tension +of the bravos’ nerves. Æsop took advantage +of the more cheerful atmosphere again to address +Lagardere. "Matchless cavalier," he asked, with +a wry assumption of politeness, "would you show +me that thrust you esteem so highly?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at the speaker with a whimsical +smile. "With pleasure," he said, and drew his sword. +Æsop did likewise, and while the bravos drew back +towards the wall to allow a free space for the lesson +the two swordsmen came on guard. Lagardere explained +while he fenced, naming each feint and lunge +and circle of the complicated attack as he made it. +With the last word of his steel-illuminated lecture +his sword, that had illustrated the words of the fencer, +seemed suddenly to leap forward, a glittering streak +of light. +</p> +<p> +Æsop leaped back with a yell, and clapped his +left hand to his forehead. "Damnation!" he cried. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse, who had been following the proceedings +with the keenest attention, hurried out of the +circle of spectators. "Splendid!" he cried. "What +is the parry?" +</p> +<p> +"It is as clear as day," Lagardere answered. "This +is how the trick is done," and again, as he spoke, his +blade explained his text, gleaming and twisting in the +cunning evolutions of the riposte. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse, who had drawn his own sword, repeated +Lagardere’s words and parodied Lagardere’s +gestures faithfully. "I see," he said, and turned to +the others, who had lost nothing of the lesson. "Have +you caught it, boys? It might serve—" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere interrupted him, indifferent to the evil +appreciation on the faces of the spectators. "It +will serve at once. I am going to try it on its master." +</p> +<p> +"On Nevers?" queried Staupitz, hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere nodded. "On no less a man. I should +have told you that I plagued him until he promised +me my revenge. When I was exiled I wrote to remind +him." Lagardere drew a letter from his breast +and held it up for a moment before returning it to +its lodging. "In this letter he accepts my challenge, +names the time, the place—" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse interrupted: "What time?" +</p> +<p> +"To-night at ten," Lagardere replied. +</p> +<p> +"The place?" asked Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +"The moat of Caylus," Lagardere answered. He +pointed to the window at which Æsop had been +sitting so long. "You can see it from that window." +</p> +<p> +There was a general look of astonishment on the +faces of all the bravos. Passepoil, quick with his +Norman caution, glanced at Staupitz and the group +about him, and put his finger cautiously to his lips. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse was still inquisitive. "Why there?" +he questioned. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere explained, amiably: "Because such is +the good duke’s pleasure. When I sent him my +cartel I made it plain that I had little time on my +hands, as I was anxious, on account of the king’s +fire-new zeal against duelling, to cross the frontier as +speedily as might be. I knew the duke was staying +on his estates near by, and I suggested, with a fine +show of gravity, that possibly his highness was acquainted +with some quiet place in the neighborhood +of the Castle of Caylus where we might settle our +little difference. Oh, the words were solemnly +couched, but I swear to you that I laughed heartily +when I wrote them." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere laughed again in memory of that former +mirth as he made an end of speaking. Cocardasse +scratched an ear and glanced at Passepoil. Passepoil +scratched an ear and glanced at Cocardasse. +The rest of the bravos stared with a sullen curiosity +at Lagardere, who paid no heed to their gaze. +</p> +<p> +"Why did you laugh?" Cocardasse asked, after a +short pause. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him affably: "Because I knew +that my allusion to Caylus would fret my excellent +enemy. There is, it seems, a beauty hidden in that +gloomy castle, Gabrielle de Caylus, whom my duke +adores in spite of the ancient feud between the two +houses of Caylus and Nevers. It should please him +to fight under the eyes of his lady love, whom I can +console if I win." +</p> +<p> +The idea seemed to please Lagardere, for he again +began to laugh softly to himself after he had finished +speaking. But Cocardasse did not seem to think it +was a laughing matter, for his voice was almost +solemn as he asked: "Did you speak of the lady in +your letter to Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere interrupted his mirth to reply: "Of +course. The situation is so humorous. I suggested +playfully that there was a lovely princess imprisoned +in the castle of a wicked old ogre named Caylus, +and I hinted that if things turned out as I hoped, +I might be fortunate enough to carry solace and +freedom to the captive damsel." He paused for a +moment and then asked in wonder: "Why do you +pull such long faces?" +</p> +<p> +For, indeed, the faces of the swashbucklers were +almost funereal in their solemnity. Passepoil, relying +upon his Norman cunning, took it upon himself +to explain a ticklish situation. "It is lucky we are +here to help you," he said, knowingly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s laughter became more pronounced. +"To help me?" he cried, and he shook with amusement +at the absurdity of the words. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil insisted: "It’s no laughing matter. +Nevers is the lady’s husband." +</p> +<p> +He spoke with a portentous solemnity against +which Lagardere protested, laughing louder than +before. "On the contrary, it is more laughable than +ever. A secret marriage. A romance. Perhaps I shall +have to soothe a widow when I hoped to woo a maid." +</p> +<p> +"Better have a sword or two to back you," Cocardasse +suggested, cunningly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere frowned. "No, thank you. I do my +own fighting." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil whispered, insinuatingly: "Could I help +to carry off the lady?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s frown deepened. "No, thank you. I +do my own love-making. Clear out and leave me +alone. That is all I want of you, my friends." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse sighed. "I’d do anything in the +world to oblige you, but—" He paused and looked +helplessly at his former pupil, whom his faltering +speech, his hesitating manner began to anger. +</p> +<p> +"But what?" said Lagardere, sharply. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse made an apologetic gesture. "Every +man to his trade. We also are waiting for some one." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere raised his eyebrows. "Indeed, and +that some one?" +</p> +<p> +The bravos looked at one another uneasily, trying +to seem devil-may-care and failing wofully. Nobody +appeared to want to speak. At last Passepoil +spoke. "That some one is Louis de Nevers," he +said, and wished heartily that he did not have to +say it. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere at first appeared to be puzzled by the +answer. Then the full meaning of it seemed to +fall upon him like a blow, and his face blazed at the +insult. "Nevers! You! Ah, this is an ambuscade, +and I have sat at drink with assassins!" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse protested: "Come, captain, come." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s only answer was to spring back clear +of the nearest swordsmen and to draw his sword +again. The bravos gathered together angrily about +Staupitz, buzzing like irritated bees. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere flung his comely head back, and his +bright eyes flamed with a royal rage. His words +came quick and clear in his anger: "It was for +this you sought to learn Nevers’s thrust, and I—Oh, +it would make the gods laugh to think that I +taught it to you! You have the best of the joke +so far, excellent assassins, but if any one of you +touches a hair of Nevers’s head he will find that the +joke is two-edged, like my sword. If Nevers must +die, it shall be in honorable battle and by my hands, +but not by yours, while Lagardere lives." +</p> +<p> +Æsop commented, sneeringly: "Lagardere is not +immortal." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz grunted, angrily: "Shall one man dictate +to nine?" and made an appealing gesture to his +comrades, inciting them against their censor. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere faced their menaces with the contemptuous +indifference with which a mastiff might +have faced as many rats. He commanded, imperiously: +"Pack off, the whole gang of you, and leave +Nevers to me!" +</p> +<p> +The bravos still buzzed and grumbled: Cocardasse +rubbed his chin thoughtfully; Passepoil +pinched his long nose. The situation was becoming +critical. Lagardere was Lagardere, but he was only +one man, after all, in a narrow room, against great +odds. Truly, the odds would be diminished if the +quarrel came to actual blows, for Cocardasse was +resolved, and he knew that Passepoil was resolved +also, to side with Lagardere in such an emergency. +But even with the situation thus altered the result +could only be unnecessary bloodshed, which would be +bad, for, if Lagardere was their dear Little Parisian, +the others were also their comrades. Further, it +would mean the postponing, probably the abandonment, +of their enterprise against Nevers, which would +be much worse. Cocardasse plucked the Norman to +him with a strong finger and thumb, and whispered +in his ear: "Get the boys away and shift the keys." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil nodded, and glided discreetly among the +bravos huddled together at the table, whispering +the words of Cocardasse in the ears of each. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere frowned at this mystery. "What are +you whispering?" he asked, angrily. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse explained, plausibly. "Only that if you +wanted to keep Nevers to yourself—" +</p> +<p> +Passepoil interrupted, concluding: "It mattered little +who did the job." +</p> +<p> +By this time the bravos, who at the beginning +of the quarrel had unhooked their rapiers from the +wall, were now pulling their cloaks about them +and making for the main door. The Italian, the +Breton, the Spaniard, the Biscayan, and the Portuguese +filed out into the passage, followed by Æsop, +who turned to pay Lagardere a mocking salutation +and to say, tauntingly: "So good-night, gallant captain." +</p> +<p> +Staupitz, with an air of surly carelessness, sauntered +down to the only other door in the room, the door +that led to the domestic offices of the Inn. While +he did so, Cocardasse held out his hand to Lagardere +in sign of amity, but Lagardere refused it. "I am +no precisian," he said. "I have kept vile company. +I would not deny my hand to a hang-man. But the +most tolerant philosopher has his dislikes, and mine +are assassins." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse sighed, and made for the main door, +followed by Passepoil, who said, wistfully, "Adieu, +Little Parisian," a greeting of which Lagardere took +no notice. +</p> +<p> +Now, while Æsop had been saying his taunting +farewell to Lagardere he had been standing with +his back to the door, and with his left hand had dexterously +abstracted the key. Also, while Cocardasse +had been endeavoring to gain a clasp of the hand +from Lagardere, Staupitz had quietly locked the +door leading to the kitchen and put that key in his +pocket. Now Staupitz, Cocardasse, and Passepoil +went in their turn through the main door and drew +it behind them. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere seated himself at the table with a sigh +of relief as he heard the heavy feet trampling down +the passage, but his relief did not last long. His +quick ears caught a sound that was undoubtedly the +click of a key in a lock, followed by the shuffle of +cautiously retiring feet. He instantly sprang to his +feet, and, rushing to the main door, caught at the +handle and found the door firmly locked. +</p> +<p> +"Damn them!" he cried; "they have locked the +door." Then he began to shout, furiously, calling +first upon Cocardasse, and then upon Passepoil by +name to open the door immediately, knowing these +two to be his friends among the gang of rascals. But +no answer came to his cries, and, vigorous though he +was, his efforts had no effect upon the solid strength +of the door. Turning, he hurried to the door which +led to the kitchen and tried that, only to find that it, +too, was locked against him, and that it, too, was +impregnable. He looked about him hurriedly. He +knew it was no use calling for the people of the Inn, +who would be sure to side with their truculent customers, +and he knew also that, if he did not succeed +in making his escape from the trap into which he +had blundered, Nevers would be murdered. +</p> +<p> +He rushed to the window and looked out. The +sight was not pleasing. The rugged rock on which +the Inn was perched dropped beneath him thirty +feet to the moat below, and, though his eyes eagerly +scanned the face of the cliff, he could see no possibility, +even for one so nimble as himself, of climbing down +it successfully. To jump such a height would be to +end as a jelly and be of no service to Nevers. For +a few wild moments he cursed his folly in having +been deluded by the bravos, and then his native +high spirits and his native humor came to his assistance, +reminding him that he always made it his +business to look upon the diverting side of life, and +that it was now clearly his duty to seek for the entertaining +elements of the present predicament. Undoubtedly, +these were hard to find. The jest was +decidedly a bitter one, and could only be turned to +his taste if he succeeded in getting out. But how was +he to succeed? He tried the door again, despairingly +and unsuccessfully as before. He reflected that perhaps +there might be a rope in the room, and anxiously +he looked in every corner. No rope was to be found. +</p> +<p> +Clapping his hands to his sides in his vexation at +being thus baffled, he touched the soft substance of +his silken sash, and instantly an idea kindled at the +touch. "Perhaps this will do," he thought, and +hurriedly proceeded to unwind it. It was a long +sash, for it went from his shoulder to his waist and +then three times round his middle, where it was tied +in a large bow with long ends. It was at least fifteen +feet long, and as tough as any hemp that was ever +twisted. He fastened one end of it quickly round a +bar in the window, and let the long crimson streamer +drop down the side of the cliff. Using this as a +means of descent, it would bring him half-way down +the rock. Hanging by his arms, he would cover +much of the remaining distance, and the drop thence +to the ground would be easy. In another moment he +was outside the window, and, grasping the silk firmly +in his strong fingers, began his perilous descent. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_THE_MOAT_OF_CAYLUS' id='VI_THE_MOAT_OF_CAYLUS'></a> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h3>THE MOAT OF CAYLUS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +The descent into the moat of Caylus was rather +a ticklish business, even with the aid of an improvised +rope, for the face of the cliff was, for the +most part, smooth, and afforded little in the way of +foothold, but Lagardere was a trained athlete and +a man of great physical strength, one that could use +his feet with skill for purchase against the face of +the rock, and he made his way dexterously to the end +of his tether. Even when he had got thus far, and +was swinging by his hands from the end of his taut +sash, he was a considerable distance from the ground. +But Lagardere let go with as light a heart as if he +were a new Curtius leaping into a new gulf; and, indeed, +if he had been of a mind to make the parallel, +he would have counted his stake as great as the +safety of Rome. Dropping like a plummet, he alighted +on his hands and knees on the ground. Quickly +he picked himself up, dusted the earth from his palms, +and, after carefully feeling himself all over to make +sure that he was none the worse, save for the jar +of his tumble, he looked about him cautiously. It +was late evening now, and the hot day knew no cooler +dusk. +</p> +<p> +As he looked up from the strange vault in which +he stood, the vault that was formed by the moat of +Caylus between the rock on which the castle rose +and the rock on which the Inn of the Seven Devils +was perched, he saw above him the late evening sky +painted with the strangest pageant. To the right +of the spot where the sun had declined the purple +melancholy of the heavens was broken by a blaze of +gold, such as might have flashed from the armor of +some celestial host marshalled and marching against +the Powers of Darkness. To the left, under lowered +eyelids of sable clouds, there ran a band of red fire +that seemed as if it must belt the earth with its fury, +a red fire that might have flamed from the mouth +of the very pit. Lagardere was not over-imaginative, +but the strangeness of the contrast, the fierce splendor +of the warring colors, touched the player’s heart beneath +the soldier’s hide. "The gold of heaven," he +murmured, and saluted the sky to the right. "The +rod of hell," he thought, and pointed towards the +left, where distant trees stared, black, angry outlines +against those waves of livid fire. Was not this contest +in the clouds a kind of allegory of the quarrel in +which he was now engaged, and was not his cause +very surely, in its righteousness, its justice, its honor, +gilded and invigorated by those noble rays to strive +against and overthrow the legionaries of evil? +</p> +<p> +Even as he thought such unfamiliar thoughts, the +pageant of opposing forces dimmed and dwindled. +The darkness was gathering swiftly, investing the +world with its legion of gloom; and in the shadow +of the great Castle of Caylus, rising like a rock itself +out of the solid rock behind Lagardere, the moat +was soon very dark indeed. There was little light in +the moonless sky; there came none from the castle, +which in its dim outline of towers and battlements +might have been the enchanted palace of some fairy +tale, so soundless, so lightless, so unpeopled did it +seem. There was a faint gleam discernible in the +windows of the Inn on the other side of the gorge +from which he had just succeeded in escaping. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked up at the Inn and laughed; Lagardere +looked up at the castle and smiled. What +was she like, he wondered, that beautiful Gabrielle +de Caylus, whom it had been his impudent ambition +to woo, and whom he now knew to be married to +Nevers, his appointed antagonist? He had come all +that way with the pleasant intention of killing Nevers, +but he felt more friendly towards his enemy since he +had learned of the plot against his life, and he wondered +who was the instigator of that plot, who was +the paymaster of the, as he believed, baffled assassins. +For in a sense he believed them to be baffled, and +this for two reasons. The first was that he heard +no sound of stealthy footsteps creeping across the +bridge. The second was that when he glanced up +at the Inn window he saw that the dim glow in the +distant window was suddenly occulted, and then +as suddenly became visible again. It was plain to +Lagardere that some one had entered the room and +had looked out of the window for an instant. Therefore +some one had already discovered his absence, +probably the maid of the Inn. No doubt she would +send word to the bravos, and it might very well +chance that the bravos would not think the odds +in their favor sufficiently good when they knew that +they had to deal with Henri de Lagardere as well as +with Louis de Nevers. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere whistled cheerfully the lilt of a drinking-song +as he reflected thus, for he considered himself +quite equal to handling the whole batch of rascallions +if only he had a wall of some kind to back him. He +was fondling the possibility that they had given up +the whole business in disgust at his interruption of +their purpose, when it suddenly stabbed his fancy +that they might ambush Nevers on his way. But +he dismissed that fear instantly. He hoped and believed +that if they knew he was free they would +give him the first chance to kill Nevers for them. In +any case, all that he could do was to wait patiently +where he was and see what the creeping minutes +brought. +</p> +<p> +The moat of Caylus did not appear to him to be, +under the existing conditions, by any means the +ideal field for a duel. In the darkness it seemed to +him to be more happily adapted for a game of blindman’s-buff. +There was a half-filled hay-cart in the +moat, and bundles of hay were scattered hither and +thither on the ground and littered the place confusingly. +Lagardere began to busy himself in clearing +some of this hay out of the way, so as to afford +an untroubled space for the coming combat. While +he was thus engaged he heard for the first time a +faint sound come from the direction of the castle. +It was the sound of a door being turned cautiously +upon its hinges. Crouching in the shadow of the +rock down which he had lately descended, Lagardere +looked round and saw dimly two forms emerge +like shadows from the very side of the castle. The +new-comers had come forth from a little postern +that gave onto the moat, to which they descended +by some narrow steps cut in the rock, and they now +walked a little way slowly into the darkness. Lagardere, +all watchfulness, could hear one of the shadows +say to the other, "This way, monseigneur," and the +word "monseigneur" made him wonder. Was he +going to be brought face to face with the Marquis of +Caylus, the old ogre whose grim tyranny had been +talked of even in Paris? +</p> +<p> +The shadow addressed as monseigneur answered, +"I see no one," and the voices of both the shadows +were unfamiliar to the listener. But the voice of the +shadow that was saluted as monseigneur sounded +like the voice of a young man. +</p> +<p> +The leading shadow seemed to be peering into +the darkness in front of him. "I told them to place +a sentinel," he said to his companion; and as he +spoke he caught sight of Lagardere, who must have +looked as shadowy to him as he looked to Lagardere, +and he pointed as he added: "Yes, there is some one +there, monseigneur." +</p> +<p> +"Who is it?" the second shadow questioned, and +again the voice sounded youthful to Lagardere’s +ears. +</p> +<p> +"It looks like Saldagno," said the first shadow; +and, coming a little farther forward, he called dubiously +into the gloom: "Is that you, Saldagno?" +</p> +<p> +Now, as Saldagno was the name of one of the +swordsmen who had met at the Inn in menace of +Nevers, Lagardere came to the swift conclusion that +the two shadows now haunting him had something +to do with that conspiracy, and that, if it were +possible, it would be as well to learn their purposes. +He was, therefore, quite prepared to be Saldagno +for the occasion, and it was with a well-affected +Lusitanian accent that he promptly answered, "Present," +and came a little nearer to the strangers. +</p> +<p> +The first shadow spoke again, craning a long neck +into the darkness. "It is I, Monsieur Peyrolles. +Come here." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere advanced obediently, and the second +shadow, coming to the side of his companion, questioned +him. "Would you like to earn fifty pistoles?" +</p> +<p> +Although both the voices were strange to Lagardere, +the voice of this second shadow seemed to +denote a person of better breeding than his companion, +a person accustomed to command when the +other was accustomed to cajole. Also, it was decidedly +the voice of a young man. Whoever the +speaker might be, he certainly was not the crabbed +old Marquis de Caylus. Lagardere endeavored eagerly +but unsuccessfully to see the face of the speaker. +Night had by this time fallen completely. The moat +was as black as a wolf’s mouth, and the shadow +that was muffled in a cloak held a corner of it so +raised that it would have concealed his visage if the +gorge had been flooded with moonlight. +</p> +<p> +"Who would not?" Lagardere answered, with a +swagger which seemed to him appropriate to a light-hearted +assassin. +</p> +<p> +The shadow gave him commands. "When ten +o’clock strikes, tap at this window with your sword." +He pointed as he spoke to the wall of the castle, +and in that wall Lagardere, peering through the +obscurity, could faintly discern a window about a +man’s height from the moat. The speaker went on: +"A woman will open. Whisper very low, ’I am here.’" +</p> +<p> +Involuntarily Lagardere echoed the last words, "I +am here," and added, "The motto of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +There was annoyance in the well-bred voice as it +questioned, sharply: "What do you know of Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles respectfully answered for the sham +Saldagno: "Monseigneur, they all know whom they +are to meet. How they know I cannot tell, but they +do know. But they are to be trusted." +</p> +<p> +The shadow shrugged his shoulders and resumed +his instructions: "The woman will hand you a +child, a baby a few months old. Take it at once to +the Inn." He paused for a moment and then said, +slowly: "I trust you are not tender-hearted." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere protested with voice and gesture. +"You pain me," he declared. +</p> +<p> +Apparently satisfied, the shadow went on: "If +the girl should die in your arms, no one will blame +you, and your fifty pistoles will be a hundred. ’Tis +but a quick nip of finger and thumb on an infant’s +neck. Do you understand?" +</p> +<p> +"What I do not understand," retorted Lagardere, +"is why you do not do the job yourself and save your +money." +</p> +<p> +It was now Peyrolles’s turn to be annoyed. "Rascal!" +he exclaimed, angrily. But the man he called +monseigneur restrained him. +</p> +<p> +"Calm, Peyrolles, calm! For the very good reason, +inquisitive gentleman, that the lady in question +would know my voice or the voice of my friend here, +and as I do not wish her to think that I have anything +to do with to-night’s work—" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere interrupted, bluffly: "Say no more. +I’m your man." +</p> +<p> +Even as he spoke the plaintive sound of a horn +was heard far away in the distance. Peyrolles +spoke: "The first signal. The shepherds have been +told to watch and warn at the wood-ends and the +by-path and the causeway to the bridge. Nevers +has entered the forest." +</p> +<p> +The noble shadow gave a little laugh. "He is +riding to his death, the fool amorist. Come." +</p> +<p> +Then the two shadows flitted away in the darkness +as nebulously as they had come, and the castle +swallowed them up, and Lagardere was alone again +in the moat among the bundles of hay. +</p> +<p> +"May the devil fly away with you for a pair of +knaves!" he said beneath his breath, apostrophizing +the vanished shadows. "But I’ll save the child +and Nevers in spite of you." For in those moments +of horrid colloquy all his purpose had been transmuted. +These unknown plotters of murder had +confirmed him in his alliance to the man he had +come to slay. So long as Nevers was in peril from +these strange enemies, so long Lagardere would be +his friend, free, of course, to rekindle his promise +later. But now even Nevers’s life was not of the +first importance. There was a child threatened, a +child to be saved. Who were these devils, these +Herods, that sought to slay a baby? +</p> +<p> +Even as he asked himself this question he could +hear through the clear air the striking of a clock in +the distant village. He counted the strokes from +one to ten. This was the time that had been fixed +by the master shadow. Lagardere made his way carefully +across the moat till he stood beneath the designated +window. He drew his sword and tapped with +the blade thrice against the pane. Then he sheathed +his sword and waited upon events. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_BROTHERSINARMS' id='VII_BROTHERSINARMS'></a> +<h2>VII</h2> +<h3>BROTHERS-IN-ARMS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +He had not long to wait. In a few moments the +window above him turned softly on its hinges, +and a head appeared in the open space. The chamber +from which the window opened was unilluminated, +and the light in the moat was so dim that Lagardere +could only perceive the vague outline of a woman’s +head and shoulders leaning forward into the darkness. +Even in that moment of tension he felt himself +stirred by a sharp regret that he should not be +able to judge for himself as to the beauty of the lady +whom the world called Gabrielle de Caylus, but whom +he knew to be the Duchess de Nevers. A very low, +sweet voice called to him through the darkness, speaking +the Christian name of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +"Louis!" the woman said, and Lagardere immediately +answered, "I am here." He spoke very low, +that his voice might not be recognized, and because +he had the mimic’s trick he made his voice as like +as he could to the voice of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +Evidently his voice was not recognized, evidently +the lady took him for her lord, for she immediately +went on speaking very low and clear, her words +falling rapidly from above on the ears of the waiting +Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +"Do not speak, Louis," she said; "do not linger. +I am watched; I fear danger. Take our dear Gabrielle." +</p> +<p> +As she spoke she leaned her body a little farther +forward into the night and extended her arms towards +her hearer. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere tingled with a sudden thrill as he realized +that this beautiful woman was nearer to him, that +she was seeking him, that she believed him to be her +lover. And he realized with a pang that he, impudent +in his libertinism, had entertained with a light +heart the light hope in some audacious way to take +by storm the love of this unknown woman. It had +seemed, in Paris, an insolently boyishly possible, plausible +adventure; but now, in his new knowledge and +in this distant, lonely place, his enterprise, that, after +all, was little more than an impish vision, seemed +no other than a tragi-comical impertinence. All +that he had known of Gabrielle de Caylus was that +she was reported fair, and that she was loved by his +enemy. All that he knew of her now was that she +was his enemy’s wife, that she had a gracious voice, +and that she loved his enemy very dearly; yet this +was enough for Lagardere, this, and to know that the +woman was all unconsciously trusting to his honor, +to his courage, to his truth. And it was with an unfamiliar +exaltation of the spirit that Lagardere swore +to himself that the unwitting confidence of Gabrielle +de Caylus should not be misplaced, and that all his +hand, his heart, his sword could do for her service +should cheerfully and faithfully be done. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere could see that she was holding something +in the nature of a bundle in her out-stretched +arms. This was the child, no doubt, of whom the +masked shadow had spoken. Lagardere took the +bundle cautiously in his hands and lowered it to a +secure resting-place in his left arm. Then the Duchess +de Nevers spoke again, and he saw that she was +holding another and smaller object in her hand. +</p> +<p> +"This packet," she said, "contains the papers recording +our marriage, torn from the register of the +chapel. I feared they would be destroyed if I did +not save them." +</p> +<p> +As she spoke she put the packet into Lagardere’s +extended right hand, and as his fingers closed upon +it the horn that he had heard before was wound again +in the distance, but this time it seemed to his keen +ears that the sound was nearer than before. +</p> +<p> +The woman in the window gave a shiver. "There +is much to say," she sighed, "but no time to say it +now. That may be a signal. Go, go, Louis. I love +you." +</p> +<p> +In another moment her head was drawn back into +the darkness of the apartment, the window closed, and +the old castle was as silent and obscure as before. +If it were not for the bundle in his left arm and the +packet in his right hand, Lagardere might well have +been tempted to believe that the whole episode was +no more than the fancy of a dream. He thrust the +packet into his breast, and then moved slowly towards +the centre of the moat, tenderly cradling his +precious charge. Peering closely down at the bundle, +he could dimly discern what seemed to be a +baby face among the encircling folds of silk which +wrapped the child. It was sleeping soundly; the +transition from its mother’s arms to the arms of the +soldier of fortune had not wakened it, and now, as +Lagardere gently rocked it in his arms, it continued +to sleep. +</p> +<p> +The whimsicality of the adventure began to tickle +Lagardere’s fancy. He seemed to be destined to +play many parts that night. A few minutes back +he had masqueraded as a bravo to deceive the mysterious +shadows. Then he had pretended to be a +husband to deceive the Duchess de Nevers. Now +he imitated a nurse in order that Nevers’s child might +sleep soundly. He looked again at the quiet morsel +of humanity, and his heart was stirred with strange +desires and melancholy imaginings. Raising his hand +to his hat, he uncovered solemnly and made the baby +a sweeping salute. +</p> +<p> +"Mademoiselle de Nevers," he whispered, "your +loyal servant salutes you! Sleep in peace, pretty +sweetheart." +</p> +<p> +Then he began to sing softly beneath his breath the +burden of an old French lullaby which he remembered +from his childhood days, with its burden of +"Do, do, l’enfant do, l’enfant dormira tantôt," and +as he sang the horn again sounded the same dreary, +prolonged note as before, but now more clearly, and +therefore plainly nearer. +</p> +<p> +"That must be the last signal," Lagardere thought, +and on the moment he heard the sound of footsteps +on the bridge, and out of the darkness beyond a +man slowly descended into the darkness of the moat. +In another instant Lagardere heard the well-known +voice of Nevers calling out: "Halloo! Is any one +here?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere advanced to meet his appointed enemy. +"This way, duke!" he cried. Then he added, reprovingly: +"You would have been wiser to carry a +lantern." +</p> +<p> +Nevers moved swiftly towards him along the kind +of path that Lagardere had made in the bundle of +hay, and as he came he spoke, and his tone was +menacing and imperious. "Let me feel your blade. +I can kill in the dark." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, ironically: "Gifted gentleman! +But I want a talk first." +</p> +<p> +He had scarcely finished when a flash like lightning +stabbed the darkness and came very near to +stabbing him. It was the sword of Nevers, who +was thrusting wildly before him into the gloom, while +he cried: "Not a word! You have insulted a woman!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere beat a rapid retreat for a few paces, +and called to him: "I apologize humbly, abjectly. I +kneel for forgiveness." +</p> +<p> +Nevers’s only answer was to follow up and thrust +rapidly at Lagardere’s retreating figure, while he +cried, fiercely: "Too late." +</p> +<p> +There was nothing for Lagardere to do but to +defend himself in order to gain time with this +passionate madman. Therefore, Lagardere drew his +sword and parried the attack which Nevers was now +making at close quarters. It was so dark in the +moat that the two antagonists could scarcely see each +other, and even the brightness of the blades was with +difficulty distinguished. In a voice that was at once +anxious and mocking, Lagardere cried to the duke: +"Unnatural parent, do you wish to kill your child?" +</p> +<p> +The last word stopped Nevers like a blow. He +lowered his sword and spoke wonderingly: "My child! +What do you mean?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, gravely: "At this moment +Mademoiselle de Nevers is nestled in my arms." +</p> +<p> +Nevers echoed him, astonished: "My daughter, +in your arms?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere came quite close to the duke and showed +him the bundle cradled in his elbow. "See for yourself; +but step gently, for the young lady’s sleep must +be respected." +</p> +<p> +Nevers gave a gasp of surprise. "What has happened?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, slowly: "Madame de +Nevers gave this little lady to me just now from +yonder window, taking me for you. There is a plot +to kill the child, to kill you." +</p> +<p> +Nevers gave a groan. "This is the hate of the +Marquis de Caylus." +</p> +<p> +"I don’t know who is doing the job," Lagardere +answered, "but what I do know is that the night +is alive with assassins. I think I have got rid of +some of them, but there may be others, wherefore +prudence advises us to be off." +</p> +<p> +He could see Nevers stiffen himself in the darkness +as he answered, proudly: "A Nevers fly?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere shrugged his shoulders. "Even I have +no passion for flight, but with a sweet young lady to +defend—" +</p> +<p> +Nevers seemed to accept his correction. "You are +right. Forgive me. Let us go." +</p> +<p> +The two men turned to leave the moat, but as they +did so they were stopped by the sound of fresh footsteps +on the bridge, and in another instant Nevers’s +page had descended the steps and ran to join them. +</p> +<p> +"My lord!" he cried to the duke as soon as he +reached the pair—"my lord, my lord, you are surrounded!" +</p> +<p> +Nevers gave an angry cry: "Too late!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him with a laugh. "Nonsense! +There are but nine rascals." +</p> +<p> +But the laugh died away upon his lips when the +page hurriedly interrupted: "Twenty at least." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere was staggered but emphatic. "Nine, +duke, nine. I saw them, counted them, know them." +</p> +<p> +The page was equally emphatic. "They have got +help since you came. There are smugglers hereabouts, +and they have recruited their ranks from +them." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere grunted. "Ungentlemanly," he protested, +and then addressed Nevers: "Well, duke, +we can manage ten apiece easily." He turned to +the boy and gave him some quick instructions. +"Creep through the wood behind the castle to the +highway. Run like the devil to the cross-roads, +where my men wait. Tell them Lagardere is in +danger. They may be here in a quarter of an hour." +</p> +<p> +The boy answered him, decisively: "They shall +be." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere patted him on the back. "Good lad," +he said, and the boy darted from his side and disappeared +into the darkness. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to the duke. "There is no +chance of escaping now without a scuffle," he said; +"we must fight it out as well as we can. You and +I, duke, ought not to think it a great matter to +handle ten rascals apiece in this fighting-place, if +only we intrench ourselves properly." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he laid his precious bundle reverently +in the hay-cart, where it seemed to sleep as peacefully +as if it were in its native cradle, and began piling up +the great masses of the bundles of hay in front of +him to form a kind of rampart. +</p> +<p> +Nevers looked at him in astonishment. "Do you +stand by me?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him cheerfully. "I came here +to fight with you. I stay here to fight for you. I +must fight somebody. I lose by the change, for it is +a greater honor to fight Monsieur de Nevers than +a battalion of bravos, but there is no help for it." +</p> +<p> +There was a little silence, and then Nevers said, +slowly: "You are a splendid gentleman." +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing to make a fuss about," Lagardere +said, lightly. "I am this little lady’s soldier. I +came here in a cutthroat humor enough, but since +I dandled her daintiness in my arms I’ve taken a fine +liking for her father." +</p> +<p> +Nevers reached out his hand to Lagardere. "Henceforward +we are comrades—brothers." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere clasped the extended hand. "Heart +and hand, for life and death, brother." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_FIGHT_IN_THE_MOAT' id='VIII_THE_FIGHT_IN_THE_MOAT'></a> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<h3>THE FIGHT IN THE MOAT</h3> +</div> + +<p> +As they stood there, hand clasped in hand, exchanging +the dateless pledge of brotherhood, +they heard the sound of many feet coming cautiously +along the road to the bridge. The practised assassins +walked catfoot, but there were others that +shuffled in their care to go warily. +</p> +<p> +Nevers said, quietly: "Here come the swords." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere gave a jolly laugh. "Now for a glorious +scrimmage!" he said, and made his sword sing in the +air. +</p> +<p> +As he spoke the words, shade after shade began to +descend the steps from the bridge and to advance +cautiously into the moat. Lagardere counted them +as they came: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, +eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, +fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. +Even in the darkness he thought he could recognize +certain figures: the twisted form of the hunchback, +the burly body of Cocardasse, the gaunt figure of +the Norman, the barrel bulk of Staupitz. This barrel +bulk came to the front of the shadows huddled +together at the base of the hill, and spoke with the +thick, Teutonic voice that Lagardere had heard so +short a time before. "There they are," Staupitz +said, and Lagardere could see a gleam in the night as +the German pointed to where the two newly bound +comrades stood together. +</p> +<p> +An instant answer came with the defiant cry of +Nevers, "I am here!" which was immediately echoed +by Lagardere. "I am here!" he shouted; and then +added for himself: "Lagardere! Lagardere!" +</p> +<p> +Among the bravos a momentary note of comedy +intruded upon the intended tragedy, as is often the +way when humanity foregathers on sinister business. +Cocardasse plucked Passepoil by the sleeve and drew +him a little away from their fellow-ruffians. "We +cannot fight against the Little Parisian," he whispered +into the Norman’s ear. "We will look on, +comrade." Passepoil nodded approval, but spoke +no word. For the rest of that red adventure into +the placid blackness of the night those two stood +apart in the shadow, with their arms folded and +their swords in their sheaths, sombrely watching the +seven men that were their friends assailing the one +man they loved. Such honor as they had forbade +them to change sides and fight for the Little Parisian. +They had been paid to range with the assailants +of Nevers. But no payment could possibly prevail +on them to attack Lagardere. So, according to +their consciences, they split the difference and held +aloof. Their abstention was not noticed by their +fellows in the excitement of the time. +</p> +<p> +Numerous as they were, the bravos and their new +recruits seemed unwilling to advance against two such +famous swordsmen. Lagardere taunted their apathy: +</p> +<p> +"Come, you crows, the eagles wait for you." He +felt that the words had a fine theatrical ring, and +he enjoyed them as he flung them forth. +</p> +<p> +Nevers cried his cry, "I am here!" and Lagardere +repeated it, "I am here!" He was longing to come +to blows with the bandits, and to show them what +two men could do against their multitude. His +sword quivered like a snake in its eagerness to feel +blades against its blade. +</p> +<p> +The barrel bulk of Staupitz spoke again addressing +his little army. "Do you fear two men?" he asked. +"Forward!" +</p> +<p> +On the word the eighteen men charged, the original +seven leading; the eleven recruits, less whole-hearted +in the business, came less alertly in the rear. The +charge of the assassins was abruptly arrested by +Lagardere’s bulwark, and over that bulwark the +swords of the two defenders flashed and leaped, and +before every thrust a man went down. It seemed an +age of battle, it seemed an instant of battle. Then +the baffled assassins recoiled, leaving two of the +smugglers for dead, while Saldagno and Faenza were +both badly wounded, and cursing hideously in Portuguese +and Italian. +</p> +<p> +Behind the intrenchments, Lagardere chuckled as +he heard. He turned to Nevers. "Are you wounded?" +he asked, anxiously. +</p> +<p> +And Nevers answered, quietly: "A scratch on the +forehead." +</p> +<p> +As he saw Nevers lift his hand for a moment to +the space between his eyes, Lagardere groaned to himself, +"My damned fencing-lesson," and mentally promised +to make his enemies pay for their readiness to +learn. He had not long to wait for an opportunity. +</p> +<p> +The discomfited bravos were rapidly gathering together +for a fresh attack. This time their leading +spirit was no longer Staupitz, disagreeably conscious +of the difficulties of the enterprise, but the hunchback +Æsop, who seemed to burn with a passion for +slaughter. Lagardere likened him in his mind to +some ungainly, obscene bird of prey, as he loomed +out of the mirk waving his gaunt arms and shrieking +in his rage and hate. "Kill them! kill them!" he +screamed, as he rushed across the intervening space, +and the bravos, heartened by his frenzy of fight, +streamed after him, flinging themselves desperately +against the piled-up hay, only to meet again the irresistible +weapons of the friends, and again to recoil +before them. Nevers held his own on one side; +Lagardere held his own on the other. Nevers delivered +his thrust at Æsop, and for the second time +that day the hunchback felt the prick of steel between +his eyes and saved himself by springing backward, +his blood’s fire suddenly turned to ice. Lagardere’s +sword was like a living fire. "Look out, +Staupitz! Take that, Pepe!" he cried, and wounded +both men. Then, while the German and the Spaniard +fell back swearing, he turned joyously to Nevers, +for his quick ear caught the sound of galloping on +the distant highway. +</p> +<p> +"Good cheer, brother! I hear horses. My men +are coming. Lagardere! Lagardere!" +</p> +<p> +Nevers responded joyously, "I am here! Victory!" +</p> +<p> +By this time the ground was strewn with the dead +and wounded of their assailants, and, save for the +slight scratch on Nevers’s forehead, the defenders +were unhurt. The galloping of horses was now distinctly +heard, and the sound was as displeasing to the +bravos as it was delightful to Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +Delightful, indeed, for the sake of his companion, +whom he was so hot to save. Otherwise, Lagardere, +so far as he had clearness enough to think coherently +at all, thought that he had never lived, had never +hoped to live, through moments so delightful. To be +in the thick of such a brawl, to be fighting side by +side with the best swordsman in all France against +what might well be considered overwhelming odds, +and to be working havoc and disaster among his +antagonists, stirred Lagardere’s blood more blithely +than ripe wine. He had fought good fights before +now, but never such a fight as this, in the black and +dark night, with the dim air thick with hostile swords, +and the night wind singing songs of battle in his +ears. To live like this was to be very much alive; +this had a zest denied to any calmly planned duello; +this had a poetry fiercer and finer than the shock of +action in the daylit lanes of war. +</p> +<p> +He called merrily to the bravos to renew their +assault, but the bravos hung back discouraged; +even the murder-zeal of Æsop had flagged. Then, +in an instant, the attacked became the attackers, +on the impulse of Nevers. Shouting anew the motto +of his house, "I am here!" he leaped lightly over the +rampart of hay, soliciting the swords of his foemen. +Lagardere followed his example in an instant, and +the pair now carried the war into the enemies’ country, +charging the staggered assassins, who scattered +before them. Lagardere drove some half a dozen +of the rogues, including Staupitz and the discomfited +Æsop, towards the bridge. Nevers, nearer to +the castle, struck down in quick succession two of +the ruffians that were rash enough to stand their +ground, and stood for the moment alone and unassailed, +the master of his part of the field. +</p> +<p> +Noiselessly behind him the little postern of Caylus +opened. Noiselessly two shadows emerged, both +masked and both holding drawn swords. Though it +was still all blackness under the walls of the castle, +there was now a little light in the sky, where a pale +moon swam like a golden ship through wave after +wave of engulfing cloud. The pair paused for a moment, +as if to make sure that indeed their auxiliaries +were being routed. Then the foremost shadow glided +quietly close to Nevers, where he stood flushed with +victory. +</p> +<p> +"I am here!" Nevers cried, exulting, as he waved his +conquering sword and looked in vain for an antagonist. +</p> +<p> +"I am here!" repeated the shadow behind him, +mockingly, and thrust his weapon deep into the +victor’s side. Nevers reeled before the suddenness +and sureness of the stroke, and fell on his knees to +the ground with a great cry that startled Lagardere +and stayed him in his triumph. Nevers, striving to +rise, turned his face against his treacherous enemy, +and seemed to recognize the shadow in spite of its +masked visage. +</p> +<p> +"You!" he gasped—"you, for whom I would have +given my life!" +</p> +<p> +"Well, I take it," the shadow whispered, grimly, +and stabbed him again. Nevers fell in a huddle to +the earth, but he raised his dying breath in a cry. +</p> +<p> +"Help, Lagardere! help! Save the child! Avenge +me!" +</p> +<p> +Then he died. Though the assassin stabbed again, +he only stabbed a corpse. Lagardere, who was brooming +his foes before him as a gardener brooms autumnal +leaves from grass, had been arrested in his course by +the first cry of the wounded Nevers. While he paused, +his antagonists, rallying a little and heartened by +their numbers, made ready for a fresh attack. Then, +swiftly, came Nevers’s last wild call for help, and +Lagardere, with a great fear and a great fury in his +heart, turned from the steps leading to the bridge +and made to join his comrade. But the clustering +swordsmen heard that cry, too, and found new courage +in the sound. It meant that one of the demi-gods +with whom, as it seemed, they were warring, +was now no more than common clay, and that there +was good hope of ending the other. They came together; +they came upon Lagardere; they strove to +stay him in his way. They might as well have tried +to stay a hurricane. Lagardere beat them back, cut +them down, and swept through their reeling line to +the spot where Nevers was lying. +</p> +<p> +"I am here!" he shouted, and faced the masked +shadow. "Murderer, you hide your face, but you +shall bear my mark, that I may know you when we +meet again." +</p> +<p> +The slayer of Nevers had stood on guard by the +side of his victim when Lagardere came towards +him. By his side the masked companion extended +a cautious blade. In one wild second Lagardere +beat down the slayer’s sword and wounded the +unknown man deeply on the wrist. The assassin’s +sword fell from his hand, and the assassin, with a +cry of rage, retreated into the darkness. Lagardere +had only time to brand the traitor; he had not +the time to kill him. Looking swiftly about him, he +saw that his vengeance must be patient if he were +to save his skin from that shambles. The sword of +the satellite defended the master; other swords +began to gleam anew. From all the quarters of +that field of fight the bravos were gathering again, +all there were left of them, and Lagardere was now +alone. With the activity of the skilled acrobat he +leaped backward to the cart, and, while he still +faced his enemies and while his terrible sword glittered +in ceaseless movement, he snatched the child +from the sheltering hay with his left hand, and, +turning, began to run at his full speed towards the +bridge. There were bravos in his path that thought +to stay him, but they gave way before the headlong +fury of his rush as if they believed him to be irresistible, +and he reached the steps in safety. +</p> +<p> +Once there he turned again and raised his sword +in triumph, while he cried, fiercely: "Nevers is dead! +Long live Nevers!" +</p> +<p> +By now the galloping of horses sounded loud as +immediate thunder, and even as Lagardere spoke +a number of shadowy horsemen had occupied the +bridge behind him, and those in the moat could see +above them the glint of levelled muskets. The +servant shadow held the postern open with a trembling +hand to harbor the survivors of the strife. But +the man that had killed Nevers, the man that Lagardere +had branded, had still a hate to satisfy. +</p> +<p> +"A thousand crowns," he cried, "to the man who +gets the child!" +</p> +<p> +Not a man of all the baffled assassins answered +to that challenge. Standing upon the steps of the +bridge, Lagardere caught it up. +</p> +<p> +"Seek her behind my sword, assassin! You wear +my mark, and I will find you out! You shall all +suffer! After the lackeys, the master! Sooner or +later Lagardere will come to you!" +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_THE_SCYTHE_OF_TIME' id='IX_THE_SCYTHE_OF_TIME'></a> +<h2>IX</h2> +<h3>THE SCYTHE OF TIME</h3> +</div> + +<p> +The years came and the years went, as had been +their way since the fall of Troy and earlier. To +the philosophic eye, surveying existence with the supreme +wisdom of the initiate into mysteries, things +changed but little through eons on the surface of +the world, where men loved and hated, bred and +slew, triumphed and failed, lorded and cringed as +had been the way since the beginning, when the +cave man that handled the heavier knuckle-bone +ruled the roost. But to the unphilosophic eye of +the majority of mankind things seemed to change +greatly in a very little while; and it seemed, therefore, +to the superficial, that many things had happened +in France and in Paris during the seventeen +years that had elapsed since the fight in the moat +of Caylus. +</p> +<p> +To begin with, the great cardinal, the Red Man, +the master of France, had dipped from his dusk to +his setting, and was inurned, with much pomp and +solemnity, as a great prince of the church should be, +and the planet wheeled on its indifferent way, though +Armand du Plessis, Cardinal de Richelieu, was no +more. His Gracious Majesty Louis the Thirteenth, +self-named Louis the Just, found himself, for the +first time in his futile career, his own master, and +did not know quite what to make of the privilege. +He mourned the deceased statesman with one eye, +as it were, while he ogled his belated goddess of freedom +with the other. It might well be that she had +paid too tardy a visit, but at least he would essay to +trifle with her charms. +</p> +<p> +Many things had happened to the kingdom over +which, for the first time, his Majesty the King held +undivided authority since the night of Caylus fight. +For one thing, by the cardinal’s order, all the fortified +castles in France had been dismantled, and +many of them reduced to ruins, owl-haunted, lizard-haunted, +ivy-curtained. This decree did not especially +affect Caylus, which had long ceased to be a possible +menace to the state, and, after the death of the grim +old marquis, was rapidly falling into decay on its +own account without aid from the ministers of Richelieu’s +will. For another thing, two very well-esteemed +gentlemen of his Majesty’s Musketeers, having been +provoked by two other very well-esteemed gentlemen +of his Eminence’s Musketeers, had responded +to the challenge with the habitual alacrity of that +distinguished body, and had vindicated its superiority +in swordcraft by despatching their antagonists. +After this victory the gentlemen of the Musketeers, +remembering the rigor of the cardinal’s antipathy +to duelling, made a vain effort to put some distance +between them and the king’s justice. They were +arrested in their flight, brought back to Paris, and +perished miserably on the scaffold by the pointless +sword of the executioner. Each of these events +proved in its degree that Monsieur de Richelieu had +very little respect for tradition, and that if he disliked +an institution, no matter how time-hallowed and +admired by gentlemen, he did away with it in the +most uncompromising and arbitrary manner. There +were many other doings during the days of the cardinal’s +glory that are of no account in this chronicle, +though they were vastly of importance to the +people of France. But many things had happened +that are of moment to this chronicle, and these, +therefore, shall be set down as briefly as may be. +</p> +<p> +News did not travel, when the seventeenth century +was still young, from one end of the kingdom +to the other with any desperate rapidity. Even +when the posts rode at a hand gallop, the long leagues +took their long time to cover, and, after all, of most +of the news that came to the capital from abroad +and afar it was generally safe to disbelieve a full +half, to discredit the third quarter, and to be justifiably +sceptical as to the remaining portion. But, +credible or incredible, all news is blown to Paris, as +all roads lead to Rome, and in the fulness of time it +got to be known in Paris that the Duke Louis de +Nevers, the young, the beautiful, the brilliant, had +come to his death in an extraordinary and horrible +manner hard by the Spanish frontier, having been, +as it seemed, deliberately butchered by a party of +assassins employed, so it was said, by his father-in-law, +the old Count of Caylus. +</p> +<p> +It was not difficult for the well-informed in Paris +to credit the ignoble rumor. The old feud between +the house of Caylus, on the one hand, and the house +of Nevers on the other, was familiar to those who +made it their business to be familiar with the movements +of high persons in high places; and when on +the top of this inherited feud you had the secret +marriage between the son of the house of Nevers and +the daughter of the house of Caylus, there was every +reason, at least, to believe in a bloody end to the +business. There was, however, no jot of definite +proof against the marquis. Nevers’s dead body was +found, indeed, in the neighborhood of the castle, with +three sword wounds on it, one inflicted from the +back and two from the front, but who inflicted or +caused to be inflicted those wounds it was impossible +to assert with knowledge, though it was easy enough +to hazard a conjecture. +</p> +<p> +Anyway, Louis de Nevers was dead. It was amazing +news enough for Paris, but there was more amazing +news to follow. To begin with, Louis de Nevers’s +young wife was now formally recognized even by the +old marquis as Louis de Nevers’s young widow. It +was true that there was no documentary evidence +of the marriage, but Prince Louis de Gonzague, who +happened to be a guest of the Marquis de Caylus at +the time of the murder, and who seemed little less +than inconsolable for the death of his friend, came +forward in the handsomest, gallantest fashion to give +his evidence. He told how he and his faithful henchman +Peyrolles had been the witnesses of the secret +wedding. He succeeded in placating the wrath of +the Marquis of Caylus. He succeeded in obtaining +the sanction of the king, and, which was more important, +the sanction of the cardinal, to the recognition +of the marriage of Mademoiselle de Caylus +with the late Duke Louis de Nevers. All this was +thrilling news enough, but news more thrilling was +to follow. The newly recognized Duchess of Nevers +soon, to the astonishment and, at first, the blank +incredulity of all hearers, took to herself a third +name, and became Madame la Princesse de Gonzague. +There was soon no doubt about it. She had consented +to marry, and had married, Prince Louis de +Gonzague, who, as all the world knew, had been the +closest friend of the dead Louis of Nevers with one +exception, and that was Louis of Bourbon, that was +King of France. People who talked of such things +said, and in this they were generally inspired in +some way, directly or indirectly, by friends of Prince +Louis de Gonzague, that the Duke de Nevers had +been murdered by an exiled captain of Light-Horse, +who was little else than a professional bully, and +who for some purpose or purposes of his own had, +at the same time, succeeded in stealing the duke’s +infant daughter. What the reasons might be for this +mysterious act of kidnapping they either were not +able or did not choose always to explain. It was an +undoubted fact that the late duke’s daughter had +disappeared, for the grief of the whilom Duchess de +Nevers and present Princess de Gonzague was excessive +for the loss of her child, and the efforts she made +and the money she spent in the hope of finding some +trace of her daughter were as useless as they were +unavailing. It was also certain that on or about the +time of the late duke’s death a certain captain of +Light-Horse, whose name some believed to be Henri +de Lagardere, had fled in hot haste from Paris to +save his audacious head from the outraged justice +of the king for fighting a duel with a certain truculent +Baron de Brissac and incontinently killing his +man. +</p> +<p> +What connection there might be between these +two events those that busied themselves in the matter +left to the imagination and intelligence of their +hearers, but after awhile few continued to busy themselves +in the matter at all. Nevers was dead and +forgotten. The fact that Nevers’s daughter had been +stolen was soon forgotten likewise by all save the +man and the woman whom it most immediately concerned. +Few troubled themselves to remember that +the Princess de Gonzague had been for a brief season +the Duchess de Nevers, and if Louis de Gonzague, +whenever the tragic episode was spoken of, expressed +the deepest regret for his lost heart’s brother and the +fiercest desire for vengeance upon his murderer or +murderers, the occasions on which the tragic episode was +referred to grew less year by year. Louis de Gonzague +flourished; Louis de Gonzague lived in Paris in great +state; Louis de Gonzague was the intimate, almost +the bosom friend, of the king; for Louis of Bourbon, +having lost one of the two Louis whom he loved, +seemed to have a double portion of affection to bestow +upon the survivor. If Louis de Gonzague did +not himself forget any of the events connected with +a certain night in the moat of Caylus; if he kept +emissaries employed in researches in Spain, emissaries +whose numbers dwindled dismally and mysteriously +enough in the course of those researches, he spoke of +his recollections to no one, save perhaps occasionally +to that distinguished individual, Monsieur Peyrolles, +who shared his master’s confidences as he shared his +master’s rise in fortunes. For Monsieur Peyrolles +knew as well as his master all about that night at +Caylus seventeen years before, and could, if he chose—but +he never did choose—have told exactly how +the Duke de Nevers came to his death, and how the +child of Nevers disappeared, and how it was that the +battered survivors of a little army of bravos had +been overawed by the muskets of a company of Free +Companions. He could have told how seven gentlemen +that were named Staupitz, Faenza, Saldagno, +Pepe, Pinto, Joel, and Æsop had been sent to dwell +and travel in Spain at the free charges of Prince +Louis de Gonzague, with the sole purpose of finding +a man and a child who so far had not been found, +though it was now seventeen years since the hounds +had been sent a-hunting. +</p> +<p> +But though a year may seem long in running, it +runs to its end, and seventeen years, as any school-boy +will prove to you, take only seventeen times the +length of one year to wheel into chaos. So these seventeen +years had been and had ceased to be, and it +was again summer-time, when many people travelled +from many parts of the world for the pleasure of +visiting Paris, and some of those travellers happened +to come from Spain. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_A_VILLAGE_FAIR' id='X_A_VILLAGE_FAIR'></a> +<h2>X</h2> +<h3>A VILLAGE FAIR</h3> +</div> + +<p> +It was a custom of old standing in the little village +of Neuilly to hold a fair every year in the full +flush of the spring. The custom of this fair went +back for ages; antiquarians declared that they could +find traces of it so far off as the reign of the good +King Dagobert of the yellow hair, who had, as immortal +song has consecrated, a trifling difficulty with his +smallclothes; at least, it was certain that it dated +from a very long time, and that year by year it had +grown in importance with the people who go to fairs +for the purposes of business, and in popularity with +the people who go to fairs for the purposes of pleasure. +Hither came half the tumblers, rope-walkers, contortionists, +balancers, bear-leaders, puppet-players, +wrestlers, strong men, fat women, bearded ladies, +living skeletons, horrible deformities, lion-tamers, +quack doctors, mountebanks, and jugglers who patrolled +Europe in those days, and earned a precarious +living and enjoyed the sweets of a vagabond freedom +in the plying of their varied trades. +</p> +<p> +At one time the fair of Neuilly had attracted only +the humbler folk from Paris to taste of its wares, +but as it had gradually grown in importance, so, accordingly, +it had increased the number of its clients. +First, the humbler burgesses came with their wives +to gape and stare at the marvels it displayed; then +their example was followed by the wealthier of their +kind, and fur and velvet moved freely among the +rabble of the fair. Now, in the year with which we +deal, it had been for some little time the fashion for +gentlefolk to drift in merry parties to Neuilly and +enjoy the fun of the fair as frankly as any sober burgess +or loose-tongued clerk. This year, however, a +greater honor still was in store for the fair and its fellowships +of vagrant playmakers. It was known to a +few, who were privileged to share the secret, and +also privileged to share the enjoyment with which +that secret was concerned, that his Sovereign Majesty +Louis of Bourbon, thirteenth of his name of the kings +of France, intended to visit incognito the fair at +Neuilly. He was to go thither accompanied by a few +of the choicest spirits of his court, the most excellent +of the rakes and libertines who had been received into +the intimacy of the king’s newly found liberty, and +those same rakes and libertines felt highly flattered +at being chosen by his highness for his companions +in an enterprise which at least was something out of +the beaten track of the rather humdrum amusements +of the Louvre. Why the king particularly wanted to +visit the fair of Neuilly on that particular day of that +particular spring-time, none of those that were in the +secret of the adventure professed to know or even +were curious to inquire. It was enough for them +that the king, in spite of his ill-health, looked now +with a favorable eye upon frivolity, and that a sport +was toward with which their palates for pleasure were +not already jaded, and they were as gleeful as children +at the prospect of the coming fun. +</p> +<p> +Neuilly knew nothing of the honor that was awaiting +it. Neuilly was busy with its booths and its +trestles and its platforms and its roped-in, canvas-walled +circuses, and its gathering of wanderers from +every corner of Europe, speaking every European +tongue. Neuilly was as busy as it well might be +about its yearly business, and could scarcely have +made more fuss and noise and pother if it had known +that not only the King of France, but every crowned +head in Christendom, proposed to pay it a visit. +</p> +<p> +A little way from Neuilly, to the Paris side of +the fair, there stood a small wayside inn, which was +perched comfortably enough on a bank of the river. +It was called, no one knew why, the Inn of the Three +Graces, and had, like many another wayside inn in +France, its pleasant benches before the doors for +open-air drinkers, and its not unpleasant darkened +rooms inside for wassail in stormy weather; also it +had quite a large orchard and garden behind it running +down to the river’s edge, where the people of +the Inn raised good fruit and good vegetables, which +added materially to the excellence of their homely +table. The high-road that skirted the Inn encountered, +a little way above it, a bridge that spanned the +river and continued its way to Neuilly and the fair +and the world beyond. At one side of the Inn was +a little space of common land, on which, at this time +of fair-making, a company of gypsies were encamped, +with their caravans and their ragged tents and their +camp-fires. On the other side of the Inn were some +agreeably arranged arbors, in whose shadow tables +and chairs were disposed for the benefit of those who +desired to taste the air with their wine and viands. +Taking it in an amiable spirit, the Inn of the Three +Graces seemed a very commendable place. +</p> +<p> +All day long on the day of which we speak, and +all day long for many days preceding it, there had +been a steady flow of folk from the direction of +Paris making in the direction of Neuilly, and not +a few of these, taken by the appearance of the little +wayside Inn, found it agreeable to refresh themselves +by slaking their thirst and staying their +stomachs inside or outside of its hospitable walls. +The most of those that so passed were sight-seers, +and these the Inn saw again as they passed homeward +in the dusk or sometimes even in the darkness +with the aid of flambeaux and lanterns. But +a certain number were, as might be said, professional +pedestrians, peddlers with their packs upon their +shoulders, anxious to dispose of ribbons and trinkets +to gaping rustics, easily bubbled burgesses, and to +the more wary histrions and mountebanks, for whom +a different scale of charges ranged. +</p> +<p> +A little after noon on the day in question the +wayside Inn of the Three Graces was quiet enough. +The last chance visitor had emptied his can and +crossed the bridge to Neuilly and its delights; the +last peddler had slung his pack and tramped in the +same direction; the gypsies, who since early morning +had sprawled upon the common land, had shaken +themselves free from their idleness into an assumption +of activity, and had marched off almost in a +body to take their share in the profits of the occasion +by a little judicious horse-coping and fortune-telling. +One of their number, indeed, they left behind in the +great, gaudy, green-and-red caravan that stood in +front of all the other caravans in the middle of the +grassy space—one of their number who would much +have preferred the merriment and the sunlight of +the fair to the confinement of the caravan, but who +remained in the caravan, nevertheless, because she +had to do what she was told. +</p> +<p> +The neighborhood of the Inn, therefore, seemed +strangely deserted when a man appeared upon the +bridge in the direction contrary to that of the general +stream of passers-by, for this man was coming from +the direction of Neuilly and was going in the direction +of Paris. He was a twisted man with a hunched +back, who was clad in black and carried a long +sword, and he came slowly down the slope of the +bridge and along the road to the Inn, looking about +him quickly and cautiously the while as he did so. +He had the air of one resolved to be alert against +possible surprises even where surprises were improbable +if not impossible; but his sinister face wore +a malign smile of self-confidence which proclaimed +that its wearer felt himself to be proof against all +dangers. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_SOP_REDUX' id='XI_SOP_REDUX'></a> +<h2>XI</h2> +<h3>ÆSOP REDUX</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Seeing that the neighborhood was vacant of +all occupants, the hunchback advanced to the +Inn, and, seating himself at a table under one of the +little arbors, drummed lustily with his clinched fist +upon the board. In answer to this summons the +landlord appeared hurriedly at the door—such a +man as had evidently been destined by heaven to +play the part of landlord of a wayside inn. +</p> +<p> +He advanced and questioned his guest obsequiously: +"Your honor wants—" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered him, roughly: "Wine, +good wine. If you bring me sour runnings I’ll break +your head." +</p> +<p> +The landlord bowed with a dipping upward projection +of apologetic hands. "Your honor shall have +my best." +</p> +<p> +The landlord went back into the Inn, and the +hunchback sprawled at his ease, tilting back his +chair and resting his lean, black legs on the table. +He sat thus wise for some little time, blinking under +the shadow of his large, black hat at the pleasant +sunlight and the pleasant grasses about him with +something of the sour air of one to whom such pleasant +things meant little. But presently his careless +eyes, that might almost have seemed to be asleep, +so much were the lids lowered, suddenly grew alert +again. A man appeared on the bridge—a lank, lean, +yellow-skinned man, with a face that seemed carved +out of old ivory, with furtive eyes and a fawning +mouth. The new-comer was gorgeously, over-gorgeously, +dressed, and his every movement affected the +manners of a grand seigneur. He carried a tall +cane with a jewelled knob, on which his left hand +rested affectionately, as if it pleased him, even in +this form, to handle and control costly things. +Precious laces extravagantly lapped his unattractive +hands. A sword with a jewelled hilt hung from his +side. The moment the new-comer saw the hunchback +he hastened towards him, but the hunchback, +for his part, for all his plain habit, showed no deference +to the splendidly dressed gentleman who saluted +him. He remained in his easy, sprawling attitude, +his chair still tilted back, his thin legs still lolling +on the table. The magnificent gentleman addressed +him with a certain air of condescension in his voice: +</p> +<p> +"Good-morning, Æsop. You are punctual. A +merit." +</p> +<p> +Æsop, without rising or showing any deference in his +manner, answered with a scarcely veiled note of insolence +in his voice: "Good-morning, Monsieur Peyrolles. +You are not punctual. A defect. Sit down." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles, apparently somewhat dashed by the coolness +of his reception, obeyed the injunction of the +hunchback and seated himself, but he still forced the +show of condescension into his manner and strove +to maintain it in his voice as he continued the conversation. +"Though it’s—let me see—why, it’s seventeen +years since we met—I knew you at once." +</p> +<p> +Æsop grunted: "Well, I knew you at once, if it +comes to that, though the time was no shorter." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles smiled awkwardly. "You haven’t +changed," he observed. +</p> +<p> +Æsop’s eyes travelled with a careful and contemptuous +scrutiny over the person of his old employer. +"You have. You didn’t wear quite such fine +clothes when I saw you last, my friend. What luck +it is to have a master who makes a rich marriage!" +</p> +<p> +As he said these words the landlord emerged +from the Inn with a tray in his hands that bore a +bottle and glasses. As he approached, Æsop swung +his legs off the table and resumed the ordinary attitude +of a feaster. The landlord placed the tray on +the table, thankfully accepted Æsop’s money, and +with many salutations returned to the shelter of the +Inn. Æsop filled two glasses with a shining white +wine and pushed one to Peyrolles. "Drink!" he +said, gruffly. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles waved his yellow fingers in polite refusal. +"I thank you. No." +</p> +<p> +In a second Æsop had sprung to his feet angrily, +and, leaning over the table, thrust his own twisted +visage close to the yellow mask in front of him. +"Damn you!" he screamed—"damn you! are you +too proud to drink with a man who has travelled all +the way from Madrid on your dirty business? Let +me tell you—" +</p> +<p> +The man’s attitude of menace, the man’s violent +words, clearly alarmed Monsieur Peyrolles, who interrupted +him nervously with a voice quavering with +protestation: "No, no, you need not. Of course, +not too proud. Delighted." +</p> +<p> +Æsop dropped into his seat again. "That’s better. +Your health." He lifted the glass to his lips as he +spoke and slowly drained it. There was no sound +of solicitation for his companion’s welfare in his +words, there was no expression of pleasure on his face +as he did so. He took the good wine as he took all +bright and kindly things, sourly. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles hastened to follow the example of his +pledge. "Your health," he said, and sipped diffidently +at the wine, and then, finding it agreeable, +finished it. +</p> +<p> +There was a little pause, and then Æsop spoke +again. +</p> +<p> +"Seventeen years," he murmured, with a chuckle—"seventeen +years since we last met, on the morning, +as I remember, after the little mishap in the moat of +Caylus." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles shivered, and seemed uneasy. Æsop paid +no heed to his evident discomfort. +</p> +<p> +"What a wild-goose chase you sent us all on, I and +Staupitz and the others—flying into Spain to find +Lagardere and the child. The others hunted for him, +as I suppose you know, with the results which, also, +I suppose you know." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles nodded feebly. His yellow face was several +tinges yellower, his teeth seemed to threaten to +chatter, and he looked very unhappy. His voice +was grave as he spoke: "Those who did find him +were not fortunate." Æsop laughed. +</p> +<p> +"They were fools," he asserted. "Well, for my +part, I said to myself that the wise course for me to +follow was not to waste my strength, my energy, and +my breath in chasing Lagardere all over a peninsula, +but to wait quietly for Lagardere to come to me. +Madrid, I reasoned, is the centre of Spain; everyone +in Spain comes to Madrid sooner or later; <i>ergo</i>, sooner +or later Lagardere will come to Madrid." +</p> +<p> +"Well, did he?" Peyrolles asked, forcing himself +to give tongue, and eying the hunchback dubiously. +He found Æsop too humorous for his fancy. Æsop +grinned like a monkey whose nuts have been filched. +</p> +<p> +"No," he said—"no, not as yet, to my knowledge, +or he would be dead. But I have a conviction that +our paths will cross one day, and when that day comes +you may be sorry for Lagardere if your heart is inclined +to be pitiful." +</p> +<p> +The unpleasant expression on Monsieur Peyrolles’s +face whenever the name of Lagardere was mentioned +now deepened sufficiently to make it quite plain that +he cherished no such inclination. Æsop went on: +</p> +<p> +"He proved himself a pretty good swordsman on +the night of the—shall we say altercation?—and he +certainly succeeded in persuading me that there was +something to be said for those secret thrusts that I +treated too lightly. When I first met Lagardere I +knew all that Italy and all that France could teach +me of sword-play. Now I know all that Spain can +teach. I tell you, friend Peyrolles, I think I am the +best swordsman alive." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles did not at all like to be hailed as friend in +this familiar manner by the hunchback, but he had +his reasons for mastering his feelings, and he showed +no signs of distaste. Perhaps he had begun to realize +that Æsop would not mind in the least if he did manifest +displeasure. +</p> +<p> +"Now, finding myself in Madrid," Æsop resumed, +"and not being inclined to follow the foolish example +of my companions, which led each of them in turn to +you know what, I cast about to make myself comfortable +in Madrid. I soon found a way. I set up +an excellent bagnio; I lured rich youths to the altars +and alcoves of play and pleasure. I made a +great deal of money, and enjoyed myself very much +incidentally. It is always a pleasure to me to see +straight, smooth, suave men killing themselves with +sweet sins." +</p> +<p> +The expression of his face was so hideous, as he +spoke in his demoniacal air of triumph over those that +were less afflicted than himself, that Peyrolles, who +was not at all squeamish, shuddered uncomfortably. +Æsop seemed for a while to be absorbed in soothing +memories, but presently he made an end of rubbing +his hands together silently, and resumed his speech: +</p> +<p> +"It was all in the way of my ancient and honorable +trade to have no small traffic with pretty women +and the friends of pretty women and the parents of +pretty women. And it was this part of my trade +which put the idea into my head which prompted +me to write to you, friend Peyrolles, and which persuaded +me to uproot myself from my comfortable +house and my responsive doxies, and jog all the way +from Madrid to Paris." +</p> +<p> +The sense of what he had sacrificed in making the +journey seemed suddenly to gall him, for he glared +ferociously at Peyrolles, and said, sharply: "Here +have I been talking myself dry while you sit mumchance. +Tell me some tale for a change. Why in the +name of the ancient devil did Nevers’s widow marry +Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles laughed feebly. "Love, I suppose." +</p> +<p> +Æsop waved the suggestion away. "Don’t talk +like a fool. I expect old Caylus made her. He was +a grim old chip, after my own heart, and our widow +had no friends. Oh yes; I expect daddy Caylus +made her marry Gonzague. What a joke!—what an +exquisite joke!" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles replied, with attempted dignity: "You +didn’t travel all the way from Madrid to talk about +my master’s marriage, I suppose." +</p> +<p> +In a moment Æsop’s manner became ferocious again. +Again he thrust forward his seamed, malicious face, +and again the yellow mask drew back from it. "You +are right, I did not. I came because I am tired of +Spain, because I lust for Paris, because I desire to +enter the service of his Highness Prince Louis de +Gonzague, to whom I am about to render a very +great service." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles looked at him thoughtfully, the yellow +mask wrinkled with dubiety. "Are you serious about +this service?" he asked. "Can you really perform +what your letter seemed to promise?" +</p> +<p> +"I should not have travelled all this way if I did +not know what I was about," Æsop growled. "I +think it matters little if I have lost Lagardere if I +have found the daughter of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles was thoroughly interested, and leaned +eagerly across the table. "Then you think you have +found her?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop grinned at him maliciously. "As good as +found her. I have found a girl who may be—come, +let’s put a bold face on it and say must be—Nevers’s +daughter. I told you so much in my letter." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles now drew back again with a cautious +look on his face as he answered, cautiously: "My +master, Prince Gonzague, must be satisfied. Where +is this girl?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop continued: "Here. I found her in Madrid, +the dancing-girl of a band of gypsies. She is the right +age. The girl is clever, she is comely, her hair is of +the Nevers shade, her color of the Nevers tint. She +is, by good-fortune, still chaste, for when I first began +to think of this scheme the minx was little more +than a child, and the gypsies, who were willing to do +my bidding, kept her clean for my need. Oh, she +has been well prepared, I promise you! She has been +taught to believe that she was stolen from her parents +in her babyhood, and will meet any fable half-way. +She will make a most presentable heiress to the gentleman +we killed at Caylus—" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles agitated his yellow hands deprecatingly. +He did not like the revival of unpleasant memories. +"My good friend!" he protested. +</p> +<p> +Æsop eyed him with disdain. "Well, we did kill +him, didn’t we? You don’t want to pretend that +he’s alive now, after that jab in the back your master +gave him fifteen years ago?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles wriggled on his chair in an agony of +discomfort. "Hush, for Heaven’s sake! Don’t talk +like that!" +</p> +<p> +Æsop slapped the table till the glasses rang. "I’ll +talk as I please." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles saw it was useless to argue with the +hunchback, and submitted. "Yes, yes; but let bygones +be bygones. About this girl?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop resumed his narrative. "I sent her and her +tribe Franceward from Madrid. I didn’t accompany +them, for I’m not fond of companionship; but +I told them to wait me here, and here they are. +What place could be more excellent? All sorts of +vagabonds come hither from all parts of the world +at fair-time. How natural that your admirable +master should amuse his leisure by visiting the +fair, and in so diverting himself be struck by a +beautiful gypsy girl’s resemblance to the features of +his dear dead friend! It is all a romance, friend +Peyrolles, and a very good romance. And I, Æsop, +made it." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback struck an attitude as he spoke, and +strove to twist his evil countenance into a look of +inspiration. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles was all eagerness now. "Let me see the +girl," he pleaded. +</p> +<p> +Æsop shook his head. "By-and-by. It is understood +that if Gonzague accepts the girl as Nevers’s +child he takes me into his service in Paris. Eh?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles nodded. "That is understood." +</p> +<p> +Æsop yawned on the conclusion of the bargain. +"Curse me if I see why he wants the child when he +has got the mother." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles again neared, and spoke with a lowered +voice: "I can be frank with you, master Æsop?" +</p> +<p> +"It’s the best plan," Æsop growled. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_FLORA' id='XII_FLORA'></a> +<h2>XII</h2> +<h3>FLORA</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Peyrolles prepared to be frank. He put up +his hand, and whispered behind it cautiously: +"The married life of the Prince de Gonzague and +the widow of Nevers has not been ideally happy." +</p> +<p> +Æsop grinned at him in derision. "You surprise +me!" he commented, ironically. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went on: "The marriage is only a marriage +in name. What arguments succeeded in persuading +so young a widow to marry again so soon I +do not, of course, know." He paused for a moment +and frowned a little, for Æsop, though saying nothing, +was lolling out his tongue at him mockingly. Then +he went on, with a somewhat ruffled manner: "At +all events, whatever the arguments were, they succeeded, +and the Duchess de Nevers became the Princess +de Gonzague. After the ceremony the Princess +de Gonzague told her husband that she lived only +in the hope of recovering her child, and that she +would kill herself if she were not left in peace." +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment. Æsop spurred him on: +"Well, go on, go on." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles cleared his throat. Being frank was +neither habitual nor pleasant. "As the princess +had absolute control of the wealth of her dead +husband, the Duke de Nevers, and as she promised +to allow my master the use of her fortune as long +as he—" +</p> +<p> +Again he paused, and Æsop interpolated: "Left +her in peace." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles accepted the suggestion. "Exactly—my +master, who is a perfect gentleman, accepted the situation. +Since that day they seldom meet, seldom +speak. The princess always wears mourning—" +</p> +<p> +Æsop shivered. "Cheerful spouse." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went on: "While the Prince de Gonzague +lives a bright life, and sets the mode in wit, dress, +vice—in every way the perfect gentleman, and now +the favorite companion and friend of his melancholy +majesty, whose natural sadness at the loss of the great +cardinal he does his best to alleviate." +</p> +<p> +Æsop laughed mockingly as Peyrolles mouthed his +approvals. "Lucky groom. But if he can spend +the money, why does he want the girl?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles answered, promptly: "To please the princess, +and prove himself the devoted husband." +</p> +<p> +Æsop was persistent: "What is the real reason?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles, with a grimace, again consented to be +frank: "As Mademoiselle de Nevers is not proved +to be dead, the law assumes her to be alive, and it +is as the guardian of this impalpable young person +that my dear master handles the revenues of Nevers. +If she were certainly dead, my master would inherit." +</p> +<p> +Æsop still required information. "Then why the +devil does he want to prove that she lives?" +</p> +<p> +There was again a touch of condescension in Peyrolles’s +manner: "You are not so keen as you think, +good Æsop. Mademoiselle de Nevers, recovered, restored +to her mother’s arms, the recognized heiress +of so much wealth, might seem to be a very lucky +young woman. But even lucky young women are +not immortal." +</p> +<p> +Æsop chuckled. "Oh, oh, oh! If the lost-and-found +young lady were to die soon after her recovery +the good Louis de Gonzague would inherit without +further question. I fear my little gypsy is not promised +a long life." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles smiled sourly. "Let me see your little +gypsy." +</p> +<p> +Æsop hesitated for a moment. It evidently went +against his grain to oblige Peyrolles—or, for that +matter, any man, in anything; but in this instance +to oblige served his own turn. He rose, and, passing +the door of the Inn, crossed the space of common +land to where the caravan stood, a deserted monument +of green and red. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback tapped at the door and whispered +through the lock: "Are you there, Flora?" +</p> +<p> +A woman’s voice answered from within—a young +voice, a sweet voice, a slightly impatient voice. +"Yes," it said. +</p> +<p> +"Come out," Æsop commanded, curtly. +</p> +<p> +Then the gaudy door of the caravan yielded, and +a pretty gypsy girt appeared in the opening. She +was dark-haired, she was bright-eyed, she was +warmly colored. She seemed to be about eighteen +years of age, but her figure already had a rich Spanish +fulness and her carriage was swaying and voluptuous. +Most men would have been glad enough to stand for +a while in adoration of so pleasing a picture, but Æsop +was not as most men. His attitude to women when +they concerned him personally was not of adoration. +In this case the girl did not concern him personally, +and he had no interest in her youth or her charms +save in so far as they might serve the business he +had in hand. +</p> +<p> +The girl looked at him with a little frown, and +spoke with a little note of fretfulness in her voice: +"So you have come at last. I have been so tired of +waiting for you, mewed up in there." +</p> +<p> +Æsop answered her, roughly: "That’s my business. +Here is a gentleman who wants to speak with you." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he beckoned to Peyrolles, who rose +from his seat and moved with what he considered +to be dignity towards the pair, making great play +of cane, great play of handkerchief, great play of +jewelled-hilted sword flapping against neatly stockinged +leg. +</p> +<p> +He saluted the gypsy in what he conceived to be +the grand manner. "Can you tell fortunes, pretty +one?" +</p> +<p> +The gypsy laughed, and showed good teeth as she +did so. "Surely, on the palm or with the cards—all +ways." +</p> +<p> +"Can you tell your own fortune?" Peyrolles questioned, +with a faint tinge of malice in the words. +</p> +<p> +Flora laughed again, and answered, unhesitatingly: +"To dance my way through the world, to enjoy myself +as much as I can in the sunshine, to please pretty +gentlemen, to have money to spend, to wear fine +clothes and do nice things and enjoy myself, to laugh +often and cry little. That is my fortune, I hope." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles shook his head and looked very wise. +"Perhaps I can tell you a better fortune." +</p> +<p> +Flora was impressed by the manner of the grand +gentleman, for to her he seemed a grand gentleman. +"Tell me, quick!" she entreated. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles condescended to explain: "Seventeen +years ago a girl of noble birth, one year old, was +stolen from her mother and given to gypsies." +</p> +<p> +Flora, listening, counted on her fingers: "Seventeen, +one, eighteen—why, just my age." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles approved. "You are hearing the voice +of Nature—excellent." +</p> +<p> +Æsop put in his word: "That mother has been +looking for her child ever since." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles summed up the situation with a malign +smile: "We believe we have found her." +</p> +<p> +Flora began to catch the drift of the conversation, +and was eager for more knowledge. "Go on—go on! +I always dreamed of being a great lady." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles raised a chastening finger. "Patience, +child, patience. The prince, my master, honors the +fair to-day in company with a most exalted personage. +I will bring him here to see you dance. If he recognizes +you, your fortune is made." +</p> +<p> +Flora questioned, cunningly: "How can he recognize +a child of one?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles lifted to his eyes the elaborately laced +kerchief he had been carrying in his right hand, and +appeared to be a prey to violent emotions. "Your +father was his dearest friend," he murmured, in a +tearful voice. "He would see his features in you." +</p> +<p> +Flora clapped her hands. "I hope he will." +</p> +<p> +Æsop, looking cynically from the girl to the man +and from the man to the girl, commented, dryly: +"I think he will." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles considered the interview had lasted long +enough. He signed to the girl to retire with the air +of a grandee dismissing some vassal. "Enough. Retire +to your van till I come for you." +</p> +<p> +Flora pouted and pleaded: "Don’t be long. I’m +tired of being in there." +</p> +<p> +Æsop snapped at her, sharply: "Do as you are told. +You are not a princess yet." +</p> +<p> +The girl frowned, the girl’s eyes flashed, but her +acquaintance with Æsop had given her the thoroughly +justifiable impression that he was a man whom it +was better to obey, and she retired into the caravan +and shut the green-and-red door with a bang behind +her. +</p> +<p> +Æsop turned with a questioning grin to Peyrolles. +"Well?" he said. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles looked approval. "I think she’ll do. +I’ll go and find the prince at once." +</p> +<p> +"I will go a little way with you," Æsop said, more +perhaps because he thought his company might exasperate +the sham grand man than for any other +reason. He knew Peyrolles would think it unbecoming +his dignity to be seen in close companionship +with the shabbily habited hunchback, hence his display +of friendship. As he linked his black arm in the +yellow-satin arm of Peyrolles, he added: "I have +taken every care to make our tale seem plausible. +The gypsies will swear that they stole her seventeen +years ago." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles nodded, looking askance at him, and +wishing that destiny had not compelled him to make +use of such an over-familiar agent, and the precious +pair went over the bridge together and disappeared +from the neighborhood of the little Inn, and the spirit +of solitude seemed again to brood over the locality. +But it was not suffered to brood for very long. As +soon as the voices and the footsteps of Peyrolles and +Æsop were no longer audible; the green-and-red door +of the caravan was again cautiously opened, and +cautiously the head of the pretty gypsy girl was +thrust out into the air. When she saw that the +pair had disappeared, she ran lightly down the steps +of the caravan, and, crossing the common, paused +under the windows of the Inn, where she began to +sing in a sweet, rich voice a verse of a Spanish +gypsy song: +</p> +<table summary='poetry'> +<col style='width:5em;' /> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +"Come to the window, dear; +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-left:2em; margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +Listen and lean while I say +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +A Romany word in your ear, +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-left:2em; margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +And whistle your heart away." +</p></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_CONFIDENCES' id='XIII_CONFIDENCES'></a> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<h3>CONFIDENCES</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Before she had finished the last line of the +verse the curtains of a window in the second +story of the Inn parted and another young girl +showed herself through the lattice. This girl was +dark-haired like the gypsy, and bright-eyed like the +gypsy, and, like the gypsy, she seemed to be some +eighteen years of age, but beyond these obvious features +resemblance ceased. The girl who looked down +from the window of the Inn was of a slenderer shape +than the gypsy, of a more delicate complexion, of a +grace and bearing that suggested different breeding +and another race than that of the more exuberant +Gitana. The girl at the window spoke in a clear, +sweet voice to the singer: "I thought it must be you, +Flora." +</p> +<p> +Flora called back to her: "Come down to me, +Gabrielle." +</p> +<p> +The girl Gabrielle shook her head. "Henri does +not wish me to go abroad while he is absent." +</p> +<p> +Flora made a little face. "Our friends do keep us +prisoners. There is not a soul about." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle smiled and consented. "I will come for +a moment." +</p> +<p> +She withdrew from the window, and in a few minutes +she appeared at the Inn door and joined her +impatient friend. Flora kissed her affectionately, +and asked, between kisses: "Are you not angry with +Henri for keeping you thus caged?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle smiled an amused denial. "How could +I be angry with Henri? He has good reasons for +his deeds. We are in great danger. We have enemies." +</p> +<p> +Flora stared at her wild-eyed. "Who are your enemies?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle looked about her, as if to be assured that +no one was within hearing, and then whispered into +Flora’s ear: "Henri will never tell me, but they hunt +us down. Ever since I was a child we have fled +from place to place, hiding. I have often been roused +at night by clash of swords and Henri’s voice, crying: +’I am here!’ But his sword is always the strongest, +and we have always escaped." +</p> +<p> +"Surely you will be safe in Paris," Flora said. +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle sighed. "Why, it seems we dare not enter +Paris yet. When we left Madrid in your company +Henri told me we were journeying to Paris, +but now we linger here outside the walls until Henri +has seen some one—I know not who; and while we +linger here I must keep in-doors." +</p> +<p> +Flora looked mischievous. "Perhaps Henri is jealous, +and tells this tale to keep you to himself." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle sighed again: "Henri only thinks of me +as a child." +</p> +<p> +Flora still was mischievous. "But you know you +are not his child, and I am sure you do not think of +him as a father." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle turned upon her friend with an air of +dainty imperiousness. "Flora, Flora, you may be +a witch, but there are some thoughts of mine you +must not presume to read." +</p> +<p> +Flora laughed. "You command like a great lady. +’Must not,’ indeed, and ’presume’! Let me tell you, +pretty Gabrielle, that I am the great lady here." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle was instantly winning and tender again. +"You are my sweet friend, and I did not mean to +command you." +</p> +<p> +Flora laughed good-humoredly. "You should have +seen your air of greatness. But I am speaking seriously. +I believe I am the long-lost daughter of a +great lord." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle stared, amazed. "Really, Flora, really? +Are you in earnest? Tell me all about it." +</p> +<p> +Flora looked like a gypsy sphinx. "Oh, but I may +not. I should not have spoken of it at all, but I am +so mad and merry at the good news that out it +slipped." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle softly patted her cheek. "I am glad of +anything that makes you happy." +</p> +<p> +Flora tried to look magnificent. "Do not you +envy me? Would not you like to be a great lady, +too? I am afraid you look more like it than I do." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle spoke again in a whisper: "I will tell +you my secret in return for yours. So long as I +can be by Henri’s side I envy no one—ask nothing +better of fortune." +</p> +<p> +Flora smiled knowingly. "Do you call that a +secret? I have known that ever since I first saw +you look at him." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle looked pained. "Am I so immodest a +minion?" +</p> +<p> +Flora protested: "No, no. But your eyes are +traitors and tell me tales." +</p> +<p> +"I must be wary," Gabrielle said, "that they +tell no tales to—to others." +</p> +<p> +Flora shrugged her pretty shoulders. "Lovers are +droll. A maid may love a man, and a man may +love a maid, and neither know that the other is sick +of the same pip, poor fowls." +</p> +<p> +"What do you mean, witch?" Gabrielle questioned. +</p> +<p> +Flora twirled a pirouette before she replied: "Nothing—less +than nothing. I dance here by-and-by to +please a grandee. Will you peep through your lattice?" +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps," Gabrielle answered, cautiously. Then +she gave a little start. "Some one is coming," she +said, and, indeed, some one was coming. A man had +just mounted the bridge from the Neuilly road and +stood there for an instant surveying the two girls. +He was a modish young gentleman, very splendidly +attired, who carried himself with a dainty insolence, +and he now came slowly towards the girls with an +amiable salutation. +</p> +<p> +"Exquisite ladies," he said, "I give you good-day." +</p> +<p> +At the sound of his voice and the sight of his figure +Gabrielle had disappeared into the Inn as quickly +as ever rabbit disappeared into its hole. Flora had +no less nimbly run down to the caravan; but when +she reached it she paused on the first step, attracted +by the appearance of the handsomely dressed young +gentleman, who appealed to her earnestly: "Why do +you scatter so rashly? I should be delighted to talk +with you." +</p> +<p> +Flora mocked him: "Perhaps we do not want +to talk to you." +</p> +<p> +The new-comer would not admit the possibility. +"Impossible," he protested. "Let me present myself. +I am the Marquis de Chavernay. I am very +diverting. I can make love to more ladies at the +same time than any gentleman of my age at court." +</p> +<p> +Flora laughed. "Amiable accomplishment," she +said, mockingly; but while she mocked her quick +eyes were carefully noting every particular of the +stranger’s appearance, from the exquisite laces at +his throat and wrists to the jewels on his fingers, +and finding all very much to her taste, and the appropriate +adornments for a young gentleman of so +gallant a carriage and so pleasantly impertinent a +face. She had never cast her eyes upon any youth +in Madrid that had captivated her fancy so mightily, +and she thought to herself that when the time came +for her to have a lover here was the very lover she +would choose. And then she remembered, with a +fluttering heart, that she was likely to become a great +lady and the peer of this fascinating dandiprat. As +for him, he returned her gaze with a bold stare of +approval. +</p> +<p> +The Marquis de Chavernay agitated his dainty +hands in delicate assurance. "Agreeable, believe +me," he asserted; and then asked: "Why has your +sister nymph retreated from the field? I could entertain +the pair of you." +</p> +<p> +As Flora’s only answer to this assurance was a +further, though perhaps not very earnest, effort to +enter the caravan, he restrained her with appealing +voice and gesture: "Please do not go." +</p> +<p> +Flora looked at him quizzically. "Why should I +stay, pretty gentleman?" +</p> +<p> +The little marquis made her a bow. "Because +you can do me a service, pretty lady. Is there an +inn hereabouts at the sign of the Three Graces?" +</p> +<p> +Flora was curious. "Why do you want to know?" +</p> +<p> +The little marquis wore a mysterious look, as if all +the political secrets of the period were shut in his +heart or head, and he lowered his voice as he answered: +"Because I am commissioned to ascertain its +whereabouts for a friend." +</p> +<p> +Flora laughed, and pointed to the Inn into which +Gabrielle had retreated. "You have not far to seek +to oblige your friend," she said. "There it stands +behind you." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay swung round on his heels, and surveyed +the modest little hostelry with amusement. "The +shelter of the fugitive nymph. Oh, now I understand +my friend’s anxiety! Pretty child, my duty +forces me to leave you when my inclination would +fling me into your arms. If I may wait upon you +later—" +</p> +<p> +This time Flora had evidently made up her mind +that it would be indiscreet of her further to prolong +the colloquy. She dipped him a courtesy, half mocking +and half respectful, wished him good-day, and, +diving into the caravan, slammed the door in his face. +The little marquis seemed at first astonished at the +austerity of the gypsy girl. +</p> +<p> +"Dido retires to her cave," he thought to himself. +"Shall Æneas pursue?" He made for a moment +as if to advance and force his company upon the +seeming reluctant damsel. Then his volatile thoughts +flickered back to the girl who had entered the Inn. +"Methinks," he reflected, "I would as soon play +Paris to yonder Helen. But I must not keep his +Majesty waiting. No wonder he seeks the Inn of +the Three Graces." For it was plain to the little +gentleman that he had now discovered the reason +why his august master and sovereign had done him +the honor to select him as scout to find out the +whereabouts of the unknown tavern. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_I_AM_HERE' id='XIV_I_AM_HERE'></a> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<h3>"I AM HERE!"</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Pleased at the success of his mission, although +disappointed at not having made further progress +in the graces of the two girls whom he was +pleased to regard as shepherdesses, he cast his eye +first to the shut door of the caravan and then to the +silent face of the tavern, and was about to rejoin his +illustrious master with all speed when his attention +was arrested by a singular figure advancing towards +him from the Paris road. This person was tall and +thin and bony, with a weakly amiable face fringed +with flaxen hair, and timid eyes that blinked under +pink eyelids. He was dressed in black clothes of +an extreme shabbiness, and the only distinguishing +feature of his appearance was a particularly long +and formidable sword that flapped against his calves. +The fellow was at once so fantastic and so ridiculous +that Chavernay, whose sense of humor was always +lively, regarded him with much curiosity and at the +same time with affected dismay. +</p> +<p> +"Is this ogre," he wondered to himself, "one of +the protecting giants who guard the fair nymphs of +this place, or is he rather some cruel guardian appointed +by the enchanter, who denies them intercourse +with agreeable mankind?" Thus Chavernay +mused, affecting the fancies of some fashionable +romance; and then, finding that his attentions appeared +strangely to embarrass the angular individual +in black, he turned on his heels to make for +the bridge, and again came to a halt, for on the +bridge appeared another figure as grotesque as the +first-comer, but grotesque in a wholly different manner. +</p> +<p> +This second stranger was as burly as the first was +lean, and as gaudy in his apparel as the first was +simple. The petals of the iris, the plumes of the +peacock seemed to have been pillaged by him for +the colors that made up his variegated wardrobe. A +purple pourpoint, crimson breeches, an amber-colored +cloak, and a huge hat with a blue feather set off a +figure of extravagantly martial presence. Where the +face of the first-comer was pale, insignificant, and +timid, that of the second-comer was ruddy, assertive, +and bold. The only point in common with his predecessor +was that he, too, swung at his side a monstrous +rapier. The sight of this whimsical stranger was too +much for Chavernay’s self-restraint, and he burst +into a hearty fit of laughter, which he made no effort +to control. +</p> +<p> +"What a scarecrow!" he muttered, looking back +at the individual in black. "What a gorgon!" he continued, +as his eyes travelled to the man in motley. +"Gog and Magog, by Heavens!" he commented, as he +surveyed the astonishing pair. +</p> +<p> +Then, still laughing, he ran across the bridge and +left the two objects of his mirth glaring after him in +indignation. Indeed, so indignant were they, and so +steadily did they keep their angry eyes fixed upon +the retreating figure of the marquis, while each continued +his original course of progression, that the +two men, heedless of each other, ran into each other +with an awkward thump that recalled to each of +them the fact that there were other persons in the +world as well as an impertinent gentleman with +nimble heels. The man in black and the man in +many colors each clapped a hand to a sword-hilt, +only to withdraw it instantly and extend it in sign +of amicable greeting. +</p> +<p> +"Passepoil!" cried the man in many colors. +</p> +<p> +"Cocardasse!" cried the man in black. +</p> +<p> +"To my arms, brother, to my arms!" cried Cocardasse, +and in a moment the amazing pair were clasped +in each other’s embrace. +</p> +<p> +"Is it really you?" said Cocardasse, when he thought +the embrace had lasted long enough, holding Passepoil +firmly by the shoulders and gazing fixedly into +his pale, pathetic face. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil nodded. "Truly. What red star guides +you to Paris?" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse dropped his voice to a whisper. "I had +a letter." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil whispered in reply: "So had I." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse amplified: "My letter told me to be +outside the Inn of the Three Graces, near Neuilly, on +a certain day—this day—to serve the Prince of Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil nodded again. "So did mine." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse continued: "Mine enclosed a draft on +the Bank of Marseilles to pay expenses." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil noted a point of difference: "Mine was +on the Bank of Calais." +</p> +<p> +"I suppose Gonzague wants all that are left of us," +Cocardasse said, thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil sighed significantly. "There aren’t +many." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse looked as gloomy as was possible for +one of his rubicund countenance and jolly bearing. +"Lagardere has kept his word." +</p> +<p> +"Staupitz was killed at Seville," Passepoil murmured, +as one who begins a catalogue of disasters. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse continued: "Faenza was killed at Burgos." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil went on: "Saldagno at Toledo." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse took up the tale: "Pinto at Valladolid." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil concluded the catalogue: "Joel at Grenada, +Pepe at Cordova." +</p> +<p> +"All with the same wound," Cocardasse commented, +with a curious solemnity in his habitually jovial +voice. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil added, lugubriously: "The thrust between +the eyes." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse summed up, significantly: "The thrust +of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +The pair were silent for an instant, looking at each +other with something like dismay upon their faces, +and their minds were evidently busy with old days +and old dangers. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil broke the silence. "They didn’t make +much by their blood-money." +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Cocardasse; "but we, who refused to +hunt Lagardere, we are alive." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil cast a melancholy glance over his own +dingy habiliments and then over the garments of +Cocardasse, garments which, although glowing enough +in color, were over-darned and over-patched to suggest +opulence. "In a manner," he said, dryly. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse drew himself up proudly and slapped +his chest. "Poor but honest." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil allowed a faint smile, expressive of satisfaction, +to steal over his melancholy countenance. +"Thank Heaven, in Paris we can’t meet Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse appeared plainly to share the pleasure +of his old friend. "An exile dare not return," he +said, emphatically, with the air of a man who feels +sure of himself and of his words. But it is the way +of destiny very often, even when a man is surest of +himself and surest of his words, to interpose some +disturbing factor in his confident calculations, to +make some unexpected move upon the chess-board +of existence, which altogether baffles his plans and +ruins his hopes. So many people had crossed the +bridge that morning that it really seemed little less +than probable that the appearance of a fresh pedestrian +upon its arch could have any serious effect +upon the satisfactory reflections of the two bravos. +Yet at that moment a man did appear upon the +bridge, who paused and surveyed Cocardasse and +Passepoil, whose backs were towards him, with a significant +smile. +</p> +<p> +The new-comer was humbly clad, very much in the +fashion of one of those gypsies who had pitched their +camp so close to the wayside tavern; but if the man’s +clothes were something of the gypsy habit, he carried +a sword under his ragged mantle, and it was plain +from the man’s face that he was not a gypsy. His +handsome, daring, humorous face, bronzed by many +suns and lined a little by many experiences—a face +that in its working mobility and calm inscrutability +might possibly have been the countenance of a strolling +player—was the face of a man still in the prime +of life, and carrying his years as lightly as if he were +still little more than a lad. He moved noiselessly +from the bridge to the high-road, and came cautiously +upon the swashbucklers at the very moment when +Passepoil was saying, with a shiver: "I’m always +afraid to hear Lagardere’s voice cry out Nevers’s +motto." +</p> +<p> +Even on the instant the man in the gypsy habit +pushed his way between the two bandits, laying a +hand on each of their shoulders and saying three +words: "I am here!" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse and Passepoil fell apart, each with the +same cry in the same amazed voice. +</p> +<p> +"Lagardere!" said Cocardasse, and his ruddy face +paled. +</p> +<p> +"Lagardere!" said Passepoil, and his pale face +flushed. +</p> +<p> +As for Lagardere, he laughed heartily at their confusion. +"You are like scared children whose nurse +hears bogey in the chimney." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse strove to seem amused. "Children!" +he said, with a forced laugh, and it was with a forced +laugh that Passepoil repeated the word "Bogey." +</p> +<p> +For a moment the good-humor faded from the face +of Lagardere, and he spoke grimly enough: "There +were nine assassins in the moat at Caylus. How +many are left now?" +</p> +<p> +"Only three," Cocardasse answered. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil was more precise. "Cocardasse and myself +and Æsop." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at them mockingly. "Doesn’t +it strike you that Æsop will soon be alone?" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse shuddered. "It’s no laughing matter." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere still continued to smile. "Vengeance +sometimes wears a sprightly face and smiles while +she strikes." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil was now a sickly green. "A very painful +humor," he stammered. +</p> +<p> +There was an awkward pause, and then Cocardasse +suddenly spoke in a decisive tone. "Captain, +you have no right to kill us," he growled, and Passepoil, +nodding his long head, repeated his companion’s +phrase with Norman emphasis. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked from one to the other of the +pair, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that reassured +them. "Are you scared, old knaves? No +explanations; let me speak. That night in Caylus, +seventeen years ago, when the darkness quivered +with swords, I did not meet your blades." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse explained. "When you backed Nevers +we took no part in the scuffle." +</p> +<p> +"Nor did we join in hunting you later," Passepoil +added, hurriedly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere’s face wore a look of satisfaction. "In +all the tumult of that tragic night I thought I saw +two figures standing apart—thought they might be, +must be, my old friends. That is why I have sent +for you." +</p> +<p> +"Sent for us?" Cocardasse echoed in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"Was it you who—" Passepoil questioned, equally +surprised. +</p> +<p> +"Why, of course it was," Lagardere answered. +"Sit down and listen." +</p> +<p> +He led the way to the very table at which, such +a short time before, Æsop had sat with Peyrolles. +Now he and Cocardasse and Passepoil seated themselves, +the two bravos side by side and still seemingly +not a little perturbed, Lagardere opposite to +them and studying them closely, resting his chin +upon his hands. +</p> +<p> +"Ever since that night I have lived in Spain, +hunted for a while by Gonzague’s gang, until, gradually, +Gonzague’s gang ceased to exist." +</p> +<p> +"The thrust of Nevers," Cocardasse commented, +quietly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled sadly. "Exactly. I had only +one purpose in life—to avenge Nevers and to protect +Nevers’s child. I abandoned my captaincy of irregulars +when the late cardinal quarrelled with Spain. +I did not like the late cardinal, but he was a Frenchman, +and so was I. Since then I have lived as best +I could, from hand to mouth, but always the child +was safe, always the child was cared for, always the +child was in some obscure hands that were kind and +mild. Well, the child grew up, the beautiful child +dawned into a beautiful girl, and still I kept her to +myself, for I knew it was not safe to let Gonzague +know that she lived. But the girl is a woman now; +she is the age to inherit the territories of Nevers. +The law will shield her from the treason of Gonzague. +The king will protect the daughter of his friend." +</p> +<p> +The Norman shook his head, and the expression +of his face was very dubious. "Gonzague is a powerful +personage." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse did not appear to be so much impressed +by the power of Gonzague, but then it must be remembered +that he came from Marseilles, while Passepoil +arrived from Calais, which is more impressed by +Paris. What the Gascon wanted to know was how +his old friend and one-time enemy had contrived to +appear so opportunely. +</p> +<p> +"How did you get here?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere explained. "There was a gypsy lass +in Madrid of whom by chance Gabrielle had made a +friend. Poor girl, she could not have many friends. +One day this girl told us that she and her tribe were +going to Paris on some secret business of their own. +Here was an opportunity for the exiles to return, +unseen, to France. As gypsies, we travelled with +the gypsies. I have been a strolling player, and as +a strolling player I helped to pay my way. Before +we left Madrid I wrote you those letters. As a result +of all this delicate diplomacy, here I am, and +here you are." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse still was puzzled. "But our letters +spoke of the service of Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere laughed as he answered the riddle. +"Because, dear dullards, I want you to enter the +service of Gonzague. If I return to France to right +a wrong, I know the risk I run and the blessing of +you two devils to help me." +</p> +<p> +Each of the two bravos extended his right hand. +"Any help we can give," protested Cocardasse—"is +yours," added Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere clasped the extended hands confidently. +"I take you at your words. Gonzague is at the fair +yonder in attendance upon the king. You may get +a chance to approach him. He can hardly refuse +you his favor." +</p> +<p> +"Hardly," said Cocardasse, grimly, and—"hardly," +echoed Passepoil, with a wry smile. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere rose to his feet. "Go now. I shall +find means to let you know of my whereabouts and +my purposes later. Till then—" +</p> +<p> +"Devotion!" cried Cocardasse. +</p> +<p> +"Discretion!" cried Passepoil, and each of the men +saluted Lagardere with a military salute. Then the +two bravos, linking arms, crossed the bridge together +and made for the fair, conversing as they went of the +wonderful chance that had brought Lagardere back +to Paris and their own good-fortune in having been +able to prove themselves innocent of complicity in +the murder of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +When they were gone, Lagardere walked slowly +up and down beneath the trees, reflecting deeply. +He had gained one point in the desperate game he +had set himself to play. He had found two adherents +upon whose hands, whose hearts, and whose +swords he could count with confidence, and he felt +that he had succeeded, in a measure, in planting adherents +of his own in the enemy’s camp. But he +had another point in his desperate game to win that +morning. He had written a letter, he had requested +a favor, he had made an appointment. Immediately +on arriving in the neighborhood of Paris he had +caused a letter to be despatched to the king’s majesty—not +to the king direct, indeed, but to the +king’s private secretary, whom Lagardere knew by +repute to be an honorable and loyal gentleman, +who could be, as he believed, relied upon, if he +credited the letter, to keep it as a secret between +himself and his royal master. It was a bold hazard, +although the letter was weighted with the talisman +of a name that must needs recall an ancient friendship. +Would that letter be answered? Would that +favor be granted? Would that appointment be +kept? +</p> +<p> +For some time Lagardere paced the grass thoughtfully; +for some time—perhaps for a quarter of an +hour—his solitude was undisturbed. At the end of +that time he emerged from the shadow of the trees, +and, standing at the foot of the bridge, surveyed the +road that led to Neuilly. What he saw upon the +road seemed to give him the greatest satisfaction. +Three gentlemen were walking together in the direction +of the Inn. One was a very dandy-like young +gentleman, very foppishly habited, who seemed to +skip through existence upon twinkling heels. Another +was a stiff, soldierly looking man of more than +middle age, whom Lagardere knew to be Captain +Bonnivet, of the Royal Guards. The third, who was +the first of the group, was a man who, though still in +the early prime of life, looked as if he were fretted +with the cares of many more years than were his lot. +He was a slender personage, with a long, pale face. +He was clad entirely in black, in emphasis of a mourning +mind, and as he walked he coughed from time to +time, and shivered and looked about him wistfully. +But at the same time he seemed to affect a gay +manner with his companions, as one that aired a +determination to be entertained. It was seventeen +years since Lagardere had seen the king, and he was +saddened at the change that the years had made in +him. He could only pray that those changing years +had wrought no alteration in the affection of Louis +of France for Louis of Nevers. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_THE_KING_S_WORD' id='XV_THE_KING_S_WORD'></a> +<h2>XV</h2> +<h3>THE KING’S WORD</h3> +</div> + +<p> +In a moment Lagardere enveloped himself in his +gypsy’s cloak and flung himself on one of the +benches of the Inn, where he lay as if wrapped in the +heavy sleep which is the privilege of those that live +in the open air and follow the stars with their feet. +When the king, accompanied by Chavernay and followed +by Bonnivet, crossed the bridge and paused +before the Inn, nothing was to be noticed save the +huddle of gray cloth which represented some tired +wayfarer. +</p> +<p> +Louis of France looked about him curiously. "Is +this the Inn of the Three Graces?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +He even allowed himself to laugh a small laugh. +</p> +<p> +The Marquis of Chavernay smiled a faint smile. +"Yes, your majesty, and since I have been privileged +to behold two of its three attendant graces in the +flesh, and found them most commendable girls and +goddesses, I think, without indiscretion, I could hazard +a guess as to your reason for this visit." +</p> +<p> +The king looked at his impudent companion with the +complaisant good-humor which, since his much-talked-of +bereavement, he was prepared to extend to those +most fortunate among his courtiers who could succeed +in diverting his melancholy. He was familiar +with Chavernay’s impertinences, for Chavernay had +soon discovered that the witticisms which would +have gained the frown of the cardinal earned the +smiles of the king. "Truly," he said—"truly, I do +come for an assignation, but it is with no woman. +You boys think of nothing in the world but women." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay made the king a most sweeping reverence. +"Your majesty would, if your majesty +deigned to condescend so far, prove the most fatal +rival of your most amorous subject." +</p> +<p> +Since the death of the cardinal, Louis liked it to +be hinted that he was still the man of gallantry, irresistible +when he pleased. So he smiled as he caught +Chavernay’s ear and pinched it. "Imp, do you think +you lads are the only gallants, and that we old soldiers +must give way to you?" +</p> +<p> +Chavernay saluted him again. "You are our general, +your majesty—we win our battles in your name." +</p> +<p> +Louis laughed and then looked grave, smiled again +and then sighed. "My dear Chavernay, when you +are my age you will think that one pretty woman +is very like another pretty woman. But there is no +pretty woman in this case." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay made a still more ironical bow. "Your +majesty!" he said, with an air that implied: "Of +course I must appear to believe you, but in reality I +do not believe you at all." Chavernay was thinking +to himself of the adorable creatures whom he had seen +disappear within the walls of the Inn and the walls of +the caravan, and he drew his conclusions accordingly, +and drew them wrong. When the king answered +him, he answered, gravely, as one who objects to have +his word questioned even by a frivolous spirit like +Chavernay. +</p> +<p> +"I come here," he said, "in reply to a letter I received +two days ago—a letter which appeals to me +by a name which compels me to consider the appeal. +That is why I come here to-day. My correspondent +makes it a condition that I come alone. Take Bonnivet +with you. Keep within call, but out of sight." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay bowed very respectfully this time. +The newest friends of Louis of France knew that they +best pleased him by appearing to presume on his +good-nature, but even the lightest and liveliest of +them felt that there was a point beyond which he +must not venture to presume. Chavernay felt instinctively +that he had reached that point now, and +his manner was a pattern to presentable courtiers. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, your majesty," he said, and turned to Bonnivet, +and Bonnivet and he went over the bridge +and out of sight among a little clump of trees on the +roadside. From here they could see the king plainly +enough, and hear him if he chose to raise his voice +loud enough to call them, but here they were out +of ear-shot of any private conversation. That their +presence in the neighborhood was scarcely necessary +they were both well aware, for there were few conspiracies +against the king’s authority and no plots +against the king’s life, and if Louis of France had +chosen to go unattended his pompous, melancholy +person would have been in no danger. +</p> +<p> +Louis walked slowly to the little table in the arbor, +and, seating himself, took out a letter from his pocket +and read it thoughtfully over. Then he drew a watch +looped in diamonds from his pocket and looked at the +hour. As he did so the huddled, seeming sleeping +figure on the bench stiffened itself, sat up erect, and +cast off its cloak. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere rose and advanced towards the king. +"I am here," he said, in a firm, respectful voice. +</p> +<p> +Louis turned round and looked with curiosity +but without apprehension at the man who addressed +him, the man who was dressed like a gypsy, but who +clearly was no gypsy. "Are you the writer of this +letter?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere saluted him with a graceful reverence. +"Yes, your Majesty. I know that you are the King +of France." +</p> +<p> +Louis slightly inclined his head. "I could not refuse +a summons that promised to tell me of Louis de +Nevers. Are you Lagardere?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere made a gesture as of protest. "I am +his ambassador. Have I the privilege of an ambassador?" +</p> +<p> +The king frowned slightly. "What privilege?" +</p> +<p> +"Immunity if my mission displeases you," Lagardere +answered. +</p> +<p> +The king looked steadily at the seeming gypsy, +who returned his glance as steadily. "You are bold, +sir," he said. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered him, with composure. "I am +bold because I address Louis of France, who never +broke his word—Louis of France, who still holds dear +the memory of Louis of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +The king signed to him to continue. "Speak +freely. What do you know of Louis of Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere went on: "Lagardere knows much. He +knows who killed Nevers. He knows where Nevers’s +child is. He can produce the child. He can denounce +the murderer." +</p> +<p> +"When?" asked the king, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +"To-morrow," Lagardere answered. Then he hastened +to add: "But he makes his conditions." +</p> +<p> +Louis frowned as Lagardere mentioned the word +"conditions," and asked: "What reward does he +want?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled at the question. "You do not +know Lagardere. He asks for a safe-conduct for +himself." +</p> +<p> +The king agreed. "He shall have it." +</p> +<p> +But Lagardere had more to ask. "He also wants +four invitations for the ball your majesty gives at +the Palais Royal to-morrow night." +</p> +<p> +Perhaps Lagardere showed himself something of a +courtier in this speech. The great Richelieu had bequeathed +to the little Louis his splendid dwelling-house, +and Louis was indeed giving a stately entertainment +there, avowedly in order to do honor to the +memory of him who had made so munificent a gift, +but in reality to prove to himself that he was master +where he had been slave, and that he could, if he +pleased, amuse himself to his heart’s content in the +house that had been the dwelling of his tyrant. What +Louis, always dissimulative, feigned to be an act of +gracious homage to dead generosity was in truth +an act of defiant and safe self-assertion. Perhaps +Lagardere guessed as much. Certainly he played +agreeably upon the king’s susceptibilities when he +gave to Richelieu’s bequest the name of Palais Royal, +which was still quite unfamiliar, instead of the name +of Palais Cardinal, which it had worn so long and +by which name almost every one still called it. Certainly +the king’s pale cheeks reddened with satisfaction +at the phrase; it assured him soothingly of +what he was pleased to consider his triumph. But +he allowed a slight expression of surprise to mingle +with his air of complacency, and Lagardere hastened +to give the reason for what was on the face of it a +sufficiently strange request. +</p> +<p> +"There, before the flower of the nobility of France, +Lagardere will denounce Nevers’s assassin and produce +Nevers’s child." +</p> +<p> +The king agreed again. "He shall have his wish. +Where shall the invitations be sent?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere bowed low in acknowledgment of the +promise. "Sire," he said, "an emissary from Lagardere +will wait upon your secretary to-morrow morning +He will say that he has come for four invitations +promised by your majesty for to-morrow night, +and he will back his demand with the password +’Nevers.’" +</p> +<p> +The king bowed his head. "It shall be done as +you wish," he answered. "Is there anything more?" +he asked, and Lagardere replied: "This much more: +that your majesty speak nothing of this to any one +till midnight to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +The king agreed a third time. "Lagardere has +my word." +</p> +<p> +"Then," said Lagardere, "Lagardere will keep his +word." +</p> +<p> +Louis rose to his feet, and signed that the interview +was ended. "If he does, I am his friend for +life. But if he fail, let him never enter France +again, for on my word as a gentleman I will have +his head." +</p> +<p> +He saluted Lagardere slightly, and turned and +crossed the bridge. A few paces beyond it he was +joined by Chavernay and Bonnivet. The three +stood together for a few moments; then the king +and Bonnivet continued their journey towards Neuilly, +leaving Chavernay behind them, lingering in the +shade of the trees. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_SHADOWS' id='XVI_SHADOWS'></a> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<h3>SHADOWS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Lagardere looked thoughtfully after the departing +monarch. "God save your majesty for +a gallant man," he murmured to himself. "Now +we may enter Paris in safety. Why, who is this?" +He was about to enter the Inn, when he suddenly +stopped and looked back sharply over the Neuilly +road. To his surprise he saw that the light-heeled +fop who had accompanied the king was retracing +his steps in the direction of the bridge. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere asked himself what this could mean. +Did the king suspect him? Was he sending this +delicate courtier to question him, to spy upon him? +He moved a little way across the stretch of common +land, and stood at the side of the caravan so that he +was concealed from any one crossing the bridge from +Neuilly. As a matter of fact, Chavernay’s return +had nothing whatever to do with the business which +had brought the king to the Inn of the Three Graces. +He had asked and gained permission to be free to +pursue a pastime of his own, and that pastime was +to try and learn something of the pretty lady whom +he had frightened into the seclusion of the Inn, a +pastime that he felt the freer to pursue now that +the king’s assurance that he had visited the Three +Graces for the sake of no woman. +</p> +<p> +So, dreaming of amorous possibilities, Chavernay +came daintily across the bridge, very young, very +self-confident, very impudent, very much enjoying +himself. As he neared the Inn he looked about him +nonchalantly, and, seeing that no one was in sight, +he stooped and caught up a pebble from the roadway +and flung it dexterously enough against the +window above the Inn porch. Then he slipped, +smiling mischievously, under the doorway of the +Inn, and waited upon events. In a moment the +window was opened, and Gabrielle looked out. "Is +that you, Henri?" she asked, softly. +</p> +<p> +Instantly Chavernay emerged from his hiding-place, +and stood bareheaded and bending almost +double before the beautiful girl. "It was I," he +said, with a manner of airy deference. +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle drew back a little. "You? Who are +you?" she asked, astonished. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay again made her a reverence. "Your +slave," he asserted. +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle remembered him now, and looked annoyed. +"Sir!" she said, angrily. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay saw her anger, but was not dismayed. +He was familiar with the feigned rages +of pretty country girls when it pleased great lords +to make love to them. "Listen to me," he pleaded. +"Ever since I first saw you I have adored +you." +</p> +<p> +He meant to say more, but he was not given the +time in which to say it, for Lagardere came forth +from his shelter beside the caravan and interrupted +him. At the sight of Lagardere, Gabrielle +gave a little cry and closed the window. Lagardere +advanced to Chavernay, who stared in astonishment +at the presumption of the gypsy fellow—a +gypsy fellow that carried a sword under his +mantle. +</p> +<p> +"That young girl is under my care, little gentleman," +Lagardere said, mockingly. +</p> +<p> +But Chavernay was not easily to be dashed from +his habitual manner of genial insolence, and he +answered, as mockingly as Lagardere: "Then I tell +you what I told her: that I adore her." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere eyed him whimsically, grimly. He felt +disagreeably conscious of the contrast between himself +in his shabby habit and the gilded frippery of +this brilliant young insolence. He speculated with +melancholy as to the effect of this contrast on the +young girl that witnessed it. "You imp, you deserve +to be whipped!" he said, sharply. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay stared at him with eyes wide with astonishment, +and explained himself, haughtily: "I am +the Marquis de Chavernay, cousin of the Prince de +Gonzague." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere changed his phrase: "Then you come +of a bad house, and deserve to be hanged!" +</p> +<p> +In a second the little marquis dropped his daffing +manner. "If you were a gentleman, sir," he cried, +"and had a right to the sword you presume to carry, +I would make you back your words!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled ironically. "If it eases your +mind in any way," he said, quietly, "I can assure +you that I am a gentleman, although a poor one, and +have as good right to trail a sword as any kinsman +of the Prince de Gonzague." He paused, and then +added, not unpityingly: "I would rather beat you +than kill you." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay was scarcely to be appeased in this +fashion. Something in Lagardere’s carriage, something +in his voice, convinced the little marquis that +his enemy was speaking the truth, and that he was, +indeed, a gentleman. "Braggart!" he cried, and, +drawing his sword, he struck Lagardere across the +breast with the flat of his blade. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere was quite unmoved by the affront. +Leisurely he drew his sword and leisurely fell into +position, saying, "Very well, then." +</p> +<p> +The swords engaged for a moment—only for a moment. +Then, to the surprise and rage of Chavernay, +his hand and his sword parted company, and the +sword, a glittering line of steel, leaped into the air +and fell to earth many feet away from him. Even +as this happened, Gabrielle, who had been watching +with horror the quarrel from behind her curtains, +came running down the Inn stairs and darted through +the door into the open. +</p> +<p> +She turned to Lagardere, appealing: "Do not hurt +him, Henri; he is but a child." +</p> +<p> +The little marquis frowned. He disliked to be +regarded as a pitiable juvenile. "If the gentleman +will return me my sword," he said, "I will not lose +it again so lightly." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at him with kind-hearted compassion. +"If I returned you your sword twenty +times," he said, "its fate would be twenty times +the same. Take your sword and use it hereafter to +defend women, not to insult them." +</p> +<p> +While he was speaking he had stepped to where +Chavernay’s blade lay on the sward, and had picked +it up, and now, as he made an end of speaking, he +handed Chavernay the rapier. Chavernay took it, +and sent it home in its sheath half defiantly. "Fair +lady, I ask your pardon," he said, bowing very +reverentially to Gabrielle. "Let me call myself +ever your servant." He turned and gave Lagardere +a salutation that was more hostile than amiable, and +then recrossed the bridge in his airiest manner as one +that is a lord of fortune. Lagardere stood silent, +almost gloomy, looking at the ground. Gabrielle +regarded him for a moment timidly, and then, advancing, +softly placed a hand upon his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"You are not angry with me?" she whispered. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to her and forced himself to +smile cheerfully. "Angry—with you? How could +that be possible?" He was silent for a moment, then +he asked: "Do you know that gentleman?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle shook her head. "I saw him for the first +time to-day, not very long ago, when I was speaking +to Flora. I had come out for a moment when she +called to me, and he came over the bridge and took +us unawares." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at her thoughtfully. "Could +you love such a man as he?" he asked, gravely. "He +is young, he is brave, he is witty; he might well win +a girl’s heart." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle returned Lagardere’s earnest look with a +look of surprise. "He is a noble. I am a poor girl." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled wistfully. "How if you were no +longer to be a poor girl, Gabrielle? How if this visit +to Paris were to change our fortunes?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle looked at him curiously. "Why have we +come to Paris, Henri? I thought there was danger +in Paris?" +</p> +<p> +"There was danger in Paris," Lagardere said, slowly—"grave +danger. But I have seen a great man, +and the danger has vanished, and you and I are coming +to the end of our pilgrimage." +</p> +<p> +"The end of our pilgrimage?" echoed Gabrielle. +"What is going to happen to us?" +</p> +<p> +"Wonderful things," Lagardere said, lightly—"beautiful +things. You shall know all about them +soon enough." To himself he whispered: "Too soon +for me." Then he addressed the girl again, blithely: +"When I took you to Madrid you saw the color of +the court, you heard the music of festivals. Did you +not feel that you were made for such a life?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle answered instantly: "Yes, for that life—or +any life—with you." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere protested: "Ah, but without me." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle’s graceful being seemed to stiffen a little, +and her words gave an absolute decision: "Nothing +without you, Henri." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere seemed to tempt the girl with his next +speech: "Those women you saw had palaces, had +noble kinsfolk, had mothers—" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle was not to be tempted from her faith. +"A mother is the only treasure I envy them," she +said, firmly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at her strangely, and again questioned +her. "But suppose you had a mother, and +suppose you had to choose between that mother and +me?" +</p> +<p> +For a moment Gabrielle paused. The question +seemed to have a distressing effect upon her. She +echoed his last words: "Between my mother and +you." Then she paused, and her lips trembled, but +she spoke very steadily: "Henri, you are the first +in the world for me." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere sighed. "You have never known a +mother, but there are graver rivals to a friendship +such as ours than a mother’s love." +</p> +<p> +"What rivals can there be to our friendship?" +Gabrielle asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered her sadly enough, though he +seemed to smile: "A girl’s love for a boy, a maid’s +love for a man. That pretty gentleman who was +here but now, and swore he adored you—if you +were noble, could you love such a man as he?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle began to laugh, as if all the agitations of +the past instants had been dissipated into nothingness +by the jest of such a question. "I swear to you, +Henri," she said, softly, "that the man I could love +would not be at all like Monsieur de Chavernay." +</p> +<p> +In spite of himself, Lagardere gave a sigh of relief. +It was something, at least, to know whom Gabrielle +de Nevers could not love. He essayed to laugh, too. +</p> +<p> +"What would he be like," he asked—"the wonder +whom you would consent to love?" +</p> +<p> +He spoke very merrily, but it racked his heart +to speak thus lightly of the love of Gabrielle. He +wished that he were a little boy again, that he might +hide behind some tree and cry out his grief in bitter +tears. But being, as he reminded himself, a weather-beaten +soldier of fortune, it was his duty to screen +his misery with a grin and to salute his doom with +amusement. As for Gabrielle, she came a little nearer +to Lagardere, and her eyes were shining very +brightly, and her lips trembled a little, and she +seemed a little pale in the clear air. +</p> +<p> +"I will try to paint you a picture," she said, hesitatingly, +"of the man I"—she paused for a second, +and then continued, hurriedly—"of the man I could +love. He would be about your height, as I should +think, to the very littlest of an inch; and he would +be built as you are built, Henri; and his hair would +be of your color, and his eyes would have your fire; +and his voice would have the sound of your voice, +the sweetest sound in the world; and the sweetest +sound of that most sweet voice would be when it +whispered to me that it loved me." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at her with haggard, happy +eyes. He could not misunderstand, and he was +happy; he dared not understand, and he was sad. +</p> +<p> +"Gabrielle," he said, softly, "when you were a +little maid I used to tell you tales to entertain you. +Will you let me spin you a fable now?" +</p> +<p> +The girl said nothing; only she nodded, and she +looked at him very fixedly. Lagardere went on: +</p> +<p> +"There was once a man, a soldier of fortune, an +adventurous rogue, into whose hands a jesting destiny +confided a great trust. That trust was the life +of a child, of a girl, of a woman, whom it was his +glory to defend for a while with his sword against +many enemies." +</p> +<p> +"I think he defended her very well," Gabrielle interrupted, +gently. Lagardere held up a warning finger. +</p> +<p> +"Hush," he said. "What I am speaking of took +place ages ago, when the world was ever so much +younger, in the days of Charlemagne and Cæsar and +Achilles and other great princes long since withered, +so you can know nothing at all about it. But this +rogue of my story had a sacred duty to fulfil. He +had to restore to this charge, this ward of his, the +name, the greatness, that had been stolen from her. +It was his mission to give her back the gifts which +had been filched from her by treason. For seventeen +years he had lived for this purpose, and only for this +purpose, crushing all other thoughts, all other hopes, +all other dreams. What would you say of such a +man, so sternly dedicated to so great a faith, if he +were to prove false to his trust, and to allow his own +mad passion to blind him to the light of loyalty, to +deafen him to the call of honor?" +</p> +<p> +He was looking away from her as he spoke, but the +girl came close to him and caught his hands, and made +him turn his face to her, and each saw that the other’s +eyes were wet. Gabrielle spoke steadily, eagerly: +</p> +<p> +"You say that what you speak of happened very +long ago. But we are to-day as those were yesterday, +and if I were the maid of your tale I would say +to the man that love is the best thing a true man can +give to a true woman, and that a woman who wore +my body could lose no wealth, no kingdom, to compare +with the rich treasure of her lover’s heart." +</p> +<p> +There was no mistaking the meaning of the girl, +the meaning ringing in her words, shining in her eyes, +appealing in her out-stretched arms. To Lagardere +it seemed as if the kingdom of the world were offered +to him. He had but to keep silence, and his heart’s +desire was his. But he remembered the night in the +moat of Caylus, he remembered the purpose of long +years, he remembered his duty, he remembered his +honor, and he grappled with the dragon of passion, +with the dragon of desire. Very calmly he touched +for a moment, with caressing hand, the hair of Gabrielle. +Very quietly he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"We are taking my fairy tale too gravely," he +said. "It all happened long ago, and has nothing +to do with us. Our story is very different, and our +story is coming to a wonderful conclusion. This +day is your last day of doubt and ignorance, of solitude +and poverty." He turned a little away from +her and murmured to himself: "It is also my last +day of youth and joy and hope." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle pressed her hands against her breasts +for a moment, like one in great dismay. The tears +welled into her eyes. Then she gave a little moan +of wonder and protest, and sprang towards him with +out-stretched hands. "Do you not understand?" she +cried. "Henri, Henri, I love you." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere grasped the out-stretched hands, and +in another moment would have caught the girl in +his arms, but a dry, crackling laugh arrested him. +Gently restraining Gabrielle’s advance, he turned +his head and saw standing upon the bridge surveying +him and Gabrielle a sinister figure. It was +Æsop, returning from his stroll with Monsieur Peyrolles, +who had paused on the bridge in cynical +amusement of what he conceived to be a lovers’ +meeting between countryman and countrymaid, but +whose face now flushed with a sudden interest as he +recognized the face of the man in the gypsy habit. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned again to Gabrielle, and his face +was calm and smiling. "Go in-doors," he said, pleasantly, +"I will join you by-and-by." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle, in her turn, had glanced at the sinister +figure on the bridge, and, seeing the malevolence of +its attitude, of its expression, had drawn back with +a faint cry. "Henri," she said—"Henri, who is that +watching us? He looks so evil." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere had recognized Æsop as instantly as +Æsop had recognized Lagardere. Æsop now came +slowly towards them, addressing them mockingly: +"Do not let me disturb you. Life is brief, but love +is briefer." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere again commanded Gabrielle: "Go in, +child, at once." +</p> +<p> +"Are you in danger?" Gabrielle asked, fearfully. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere shook his head and repeated his command: +"No. Go in at once. Wait in your room +until I come for you." +</p> +<p> +Æsop looked at him with raised eyebrows and a +wicked grin. "Why banish the lady? She might +find my tale entertaining." +</p> +<p> +At an imperative signal from Lagardere, Gabrielle +entered the Inn. Lagardere then advanced towards +Æsop, who watched him with folded arms and his +familiar malevolent smile. When they were quite +close, Æsop greeted Lagardere: +</p> +<p> +"So the rat has come to the trap at last. Lagardere +in Paris—ha, ha!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at him ponderingly. "The +thought amuses you." +</p> +<p> +Æsop’s grin deepened. "Very much. Before nightfall +you will be in prison." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere seemed to deny him. "I think not. +You carry a sword and can use it. You shall fight +for your life, like your fellow-assassins." +</p> +<p> +Æsop looked about him. "I have but to raise +my voice. There must be people within call even in +this sleepy neighborhood." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere still smiled, and the smile was still provocative. +"But if you raise your voice I shall be reluctantly +compelled to stab you where you stand. +Ah, coward, can you only fight in the dark when +you are nine to one?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop gave his hilt a hitch. "You will serve my +master’s turn as well dead as alive. I wear the best +sword in the world, and it longs for your life." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere pointed to the tranquil little Inn. "Behind +yonder Inn there is a garden. To-day, when all +the world is at the fair, that garden is as lonely as a +cemetery. At the foot of the garden runs the river, +a ready grave for the one who falls. There we can +fight in quiet to our heart’s content." +</p> +<p> +Æsop glared at Lagardere with a look of triumphant +hatred. "I mean to kill you, Lagardere!" +he said, and the tone of his voice was surety of his +intention and his belief in his power to carry it out. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere only laughed as lightly as before. "I +mean to kill you, Master Æsop. I have waited a +long time for the pleasure of seeing you again." +</p> +<p> +Then the pair passed into the quiet Inn and out of +the quiet Inn into the quiet Inn’s quiet garden, and +down the quiet garden to a quiet space hard by the +quiet river. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_IN_THE_GARDEN' id='XVII_IN_THE_GARDEN'></a> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<h3>IN THE GARDEN</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Beyond the Inn there ran, or rather rambled, +a long garden, the more neglected part of which +was grown with flowers, while the better-attended +portion was devoted to the cultivation of vegetables. +Where the garden ceased a little orchard of +apple-trees, pear-trees, and plum-trees began, and +this orchard was followed by a small open space of +grassed land which joined the river. Here a diminutive +landing-stage had been built, which was now +crazy enough with age and dilapidation, and attached +to this stage were a couple of ancient rowing-boats, +against whose gaunt ribs the ripples lapped. +Sometimes this garden and orchard had their visitors: +the landlord and his friends would often smoke their +pipes and drink their wine under the shade of the +trees, and even passing clients would occasionally +indulge themselves with the privilege of a stroll in +the untidy garden. But to-day the place was quite +deserted—as desolate as a garden in a dream. +Every one who could go had gone to the fair, and +those travellers who paused to drink in passing +took their liquor quickly and hurried on to share +in the fair’s festivity. The landlord was kept busy +enough attending to those passers-by in the early +part of the day, and, now that the stream had ceased +and custom slackened, he was glad enough to take +his ease in-doors and leave his garden to its loneliness. +</p> +<p> +When, therefore, Lagardere and Æsop entered the +garden they found it as quiet and as uninhabited as +any pair of swordsmen could desire. They walked +in silence along the path between the flowers and +the vegetables, Lagardere only pausing for a moment +to pluck a wild rose which he proposed in the serenity +of his confidence to present to Gabrielle, and while +he paused Æsop eyed him maliciously and amused +himself by kicking with his heel at a turnip and +hacking it into fragments. Lagardere put his flower +into the lapel of his coat, and the pair resumed their +silent progress through the orchard till they came +to a halt upon the river-bank. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked about him and seemed pleased +with what he saw. There was no one in sight, either +hard by or upon the opposite bank of the river, and +he felt that it might be taken for granted that there +was no one within hearing. He turned to Æsop and +addressed him, very pleasantly: "This, I think, will +serve our purpose as well as any place in the world." +</p> +<p> +Æsop grinned malignly. "It would suit my purpose," +he said, "to get you out of the way in any +place in the world." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere laughed softly and shook his head. +"One or other of us has to be got out of the way," he +said, quietly, "but I think, Master Æsop, that I am +not the man. I have been waiting a long time for +this chance; but I always felt sure that the time +would bring the chance, and I mean to make an end +of you." +</p> +<p> +Æsop scowled. "You talk very big, Little Parisian," +he said, "but you will find that in me you deal +with a fellow of another temper to those poor hirelings +you have been lucky enough to kill. They were common +rogues enough, that handled their swords like +broom-handles. I was always a master, and my +skill has grown more perfect since we last met at +Caylus. I think you will regret this meeting, Captain +Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +Now, Lagardere had been listening very patiently +while Æsop spoke, and while he listened a thought +came into his mind which at first seemed too fantastic +for consideration, but which grew more tempting +and more entertainable with every second. To thrust +Æsop from his path was one thing, and a thing that +must be done if Lagardere’s life-purposes were to +be accomplished. But to get rid of Æsop and yet +to use him—at once to obliterate him and yet to +recreate him, so that he should prove the most deadly +enemy of the base cause that he was paid to serve—here +was a scheme, a dream, that if it could be made +a reality would be fruitful of good uses. It was therefore +with a strange smile that he listened while Æsop +menaced him with regret for the meeting, and it was +with a strange smile that he spoke: +</p> +<p> +"I do not think so," he answered, maturing his +plan even while he talked, and finding it the more +feasible and the more pleasing. "You are a haggard +rascal, Master Æsop, and the world should have no +use for you. I believe that by what I am about to +do I shall render the world and France and myself +a service. You are nothing more than a rabid wild +beast, and it is well to be quit of you." As he spoke +he drew his sword and came on guard. +</p> +<p> +Something in the composed manner and the mocking +speech of Lagardere seemed to bid Æsop pause. +He let his weapon remain in its sheath and began +to parley. +</p> +<p> +"Come, come, Captain Lagardere," he began, "is +it necessary, after all, that we should quarrel? You +have got Nevers’s girl—there is no denying that—but +we do not want her. We have a girl of our own. +Now I know well enough, for I have not studied love +books and read love books for nothing," and he grinned +hideously as he spoke, "that you are in love with +the girl you carry about with you. Well and good. +How if we call a truce, make a peace? You shall keep +your girl, and do as you please with her; we will produce +our girl, and do as we please with her. You +shall have as much money as you want, I can promise +that for the Prince of Gonzague, and you can live in +Madrid or where you please with your pretty minion. +Make a bargain, man, and shake hands on it." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere eyed the hunchback with something of +the compassion and curiosity of a surgeon about to +deal with an ugly case. He saw now his enemy’s +hand and the strength of his enemy’s cards and the +cleverness of his enemy’s plan, and was not in the +least abashed by its audacity or his own isolation. +</p> +<p> +"Master Æsop," he said, briefly, "if it ever came +to pass that I should find myself making terms or +shaking hands with such as you, or the knave that +uses you for his base purpose, I should very swiftly +go and hang myself, I should be so ashamed of my +own bad company. We have talked long enough; +it is time for action." He saluted quickly as he +spoke, according to the code of the fencing-schools. +</p> +<p> +And Æsop, in answer to the challenge, drew his +own sword and answered the salutation. "Gallant +captain," he sneered, "I have been in training for +this chance these many years, and I think I will +teach you to weep for your heroics." As he spoke +he came on guard, and the blades met. +</p> +<p> +The place that had been chosen for the combat +was suitable enough, quite apart from its solitude. +The morning air was clear and even; the sun’s height +caused no diverting rays to disturb either adversary; +the grass was smooth and supple to the feet; there +was ample ground to break in all directions. +</p> +<p> +The moment that Lagardere’s steel touched that +of Æsop’s, he knew that Æsop’s boast had not been +made in vain. Though it was a long time now since +that afternoon in the frontier Inn when he and +Æsop had joined blades before, he remembered the +time well enough to appreciate the difference between +the sword he then encountered and the sword he +encountered now. Clearly Æsop had spoken the +truth when he had talked of his daily practice and his +steady advance towards perfection. But, and Lagardere +smiled as he remembered this, Æsop had forgotten +or overlooked the possibility that Lagardere’s own +sword-play would improve with time—that Lagardere’s +own sword-play was little likely to rust for +lack of usage. +</p> +<p> +The few minutes that followed upon the encounter +of the hostile steels were minutes of sheer enjoyment +to Lagardere. Æsop was a worthy antagonist, that +he frankly admitted from the first, and he wished, as +he fought, that he could divide his personality and +admire, as a spectator, the passage at arms between +two such champions. Of the result, from the first, +Lagardere had not the slightest doubt. He was honestly +convinced, by his simple logic of steel, that it was +his mission to avenge Nevers and to expiate his murder. +He was, as it were, a kind of seventeenth century +crusader, with a sealed and sacred mission to follow; +and while, as a stout-hearted and honest soldier of fortune, +he had no more hesitation about killing a venomous +thing like Æsop than he would have had about +killing a snake, he was in this special instance exulted +by the belief that in killing one of the men of the +moat of Caylus his sword was the sword of justice, +his sword was the sword of God. +</p> +<p> +If, therefore, it was soon plain to him that the boast +of the hunchback was true enough, and that his skill +with his weapon had greatly bettered in the years +that had elapsed since their previous encounter, Lagardere +was rejoiced to find it so, as it gave a greater +difficulty and a greater honor to his achievement. It +was clear, too, from the expression on Æsop’s face, +after the first few instants of the engagement, that +he was made aware that his skill was not as the skill +of Lagardere. He fought desperately, and yet warily, +knowing that he was fighting for his life, and trying +without success every cunning trick that he had +learned in the fencing-schools of Spain. The thrust +of Nevers he did not attempt, for of that he knew +Lagardere commanded the parry, but there were +other thrusts on which he relied to gain the victory, +and each of these he tried in succession, only to be +baffled by Lagardere’s instinctive steel. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere, watching him while they fought, hated +his adversary for his own sake apart from his complicity +in the crime of Caylus. Æsop was the incarnation +of everything that was detestable in the eyes +of a man like Lagardere. A splendid swordsman, his +sword was always lightly sold to evil causes. He +prostituted the noble weapon that Lagardere idolized +to the service of the assassin, the advantage of the +bully, and the revenge of the coward. He would have +felt no scruple about slaying him, even if Æsop had +not been, as now he was, a dangerous and unexpected +enemy in his path. +</p> +<p> +Æsop, unable to make Lagardere break ground, +and unable to get within Lagardere’s guard, now began +to taunt his antagonist savagely, calling him a +child-stealer and a woman-wronger, with other foul +terms of abuse that rolled glibly from his lips in the +ugliness of his rage and fear. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere listened with his quiet smile, and when +the hunchback made a pause he answered him with +scornful good-humor. "You waste your breath, Master +Æsop," he said, "and you should be saving it +for your prayers, if you know any, or for your fighting +wind, if there is nothing of salvation in you. You +are a very base knave. I do not think you ever did +an honest, a kindly, or a generous deed in your life. +I know that you have done many vile things, and +would do more if time were given to you; but the +time is denied, Master Æsop, and yet you may serve +a good cause in your death." +</p> +<p> +Even as he spoke Lagardere’s tranquillity of defence +suddenly changed into rapidity of attack. His +blade leaped forward, made sudden swift movements +which the bravo strove in vain to parry, and then +Æsop dropped his sword and fell heavily upon the +grass. He was dead, dead of the thrust in the face, +exactly between the eyes, the thrust of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere leaned over his dead enemy and smiled. +His account against the assassins of Caylus was being +slowly paid; but never had any item of that account +been annulled with less regret. The others—Staupitz, +Saldagno, Pinto, and the rest—had been ruffianly +creatures enough, but there was a kind of honesty, a +measure of courage in their ruffianism. They were, +at least some of them, good-hearted in their way, true +to their comrades and their leaders; but of the ignoble +wretch that now lay a huddle of black at his feet, +Lagardere knew nothing that was not loathsome, and +he knew much of Master Æsop. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere stooped and gathered a handful of grass, +wiped his sword and sheathed it. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," he said, apostrophizing the dead body, "you +shall serve a good cause now, Master Æsop, if you +have never served a good cause yet." +</p> +<p> +He looked anxiously about him as he spoke to make +sure that the solitude was still undisturbed. There +was not a human being within sight on either bank +of the river. This quiet, this isolation, were very welcome +to his temper just then, for the purpose that +had come into Lagardere’s mind at the commencement +of the combat had matured, had ripened during +its course into a feasible plan. It had its risks, but +what did that matter in an enterprise that was all +risk; and if it succeeded, as, thanks to its very daring, +it might succeed, it promised a magnificent reward. +That it involved the despoiling of a dead body in no +way harassed Lagardere. He was never one to let +himself be squeamish over trifles where a great cause +was at stake, and, though much that was inevitable +to the success of his scheme was repellent to him, he +choked down his disgust and faced his duty with a +smile. Quickly he dragged the body of his dead +enemy into the shelter and seclusion of the orchard-trees. +There, rolling Æsop on his face, he proceeded +nimbly and dexterously to strip his clothes from his +body. Soon the black coat, black vest, black breeches, +black stockings, black boots, and black hat lay in a +pile of sable raiment on the orchard grass. As he garnered +his spoil, a little book dropped from the pocket +of the black coat and lay upon the grass. Lagardere +picked it up and opened it with a look of curiosity +that speedily changed to one of aversion, for the book +was a copy in Italian of the <i>Luxurious Sonnets</i> of +Messer Pietro Arentino, which Lagardere, who knew +Italian, found at a glance to be in no way to his taste, +and the little book had pictures in it which pleased +him still less. With a grunt of disgust at this strange +proof of the dead man’s taste in literature, Lagardere +stepped to the edge of the orchard, and, holding the +volume in his finger and thumb, pitched it over the +open space into the river, where it sank. Having +thus easily got rid of the book, Lagardere began to cast +about him for some way to dispose of the body. +</p> +<p> +The boats that lay alongside of the little landing-stage +caught his eye. Lifting Master Æsop’s corpse +from the ground, he trailed it to the crazy structure, +and placed it in the oldest and most ramshackle of the +two weather-worn vessels. After untying the rope +that fastened the boat to its wharf, Lagardere caught +up a boat-hook that lay hard by, and, raising it as if +it were a spear, he drove it with all his strength +against the bottom of the boat and knocked a ragged +hole in its rotting timbers. Then, with a vigorous +push, he sent the boat out upon the smooth, swift +river. +</p> +<p> +The vigor of its impetus carried the boat nearly out +to the middle of the stream before the river could +take advantage of the leak. Then, in a few minutes, +Lagardere saw the strangely burdened craft slowly +sink and finally settle beneath the surface of the +stream. +</p> +<p> +When the boat and its burden were out of sight, and +the water ran as smoothly as if it were troubled with +no such secret, Lagardere turned, and, gathering up +the garments of his antagonist as a Homeric hero +would have collected his fallen enemy’s armor, rolled +them into as small a bundle as possible, and, putting +them under his arm, made his way cautiously back +to the Inn. +</p> +<p> +He gained its shelter unperceived. Unperceived +and noiselessly he ascended the stairs which led to +his room, and, opening the door, flung his bundle upon +the ground. He then closed the door again, and, +going a little farther down the corridor, knocked at +an adjoining door, which immediately opened, and +Gabrielle stood before him looking pale and anxious. +Lagardere smiled cheerfully at her, and, taking from +his coat the white rose which he had plucked in the +garden, offered it to her. +</p> +<p> +The girl caught it and pressed it to her lips, and +then asked, eagerly: "The man—where is the man? +What has become of him?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere affected an air of surprise, and then, +with the manner of one who thought the matter of +no importance, answered her: "You mean my friend +in black who spoke to me just now?" +</p> +<p> +The girl nodded. "Yes," she said, "he seemed +evil, he seemed dangerous." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere smiled reassuringly. "Evil he may be," +he said, "but not dangerous—no, not dangerous. Indeed, +I am inclined to think he will be more useful to +us than otherwise." +</p> +<p> +"But he seemed to threaten you," the girl protested. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere admitted the fact. "He was a little +threatening at first," he agreed, "but I have managed +to pacify him, and he will not trouble us any +more." +</p> +<p> +He took the girl’s cold hand and kissed it reverentially. +"Gabrielle," he said, "we go to Paris to-day, +but till I come for you and tell you it is time for us +to depart I want you to remain in this chamber. +You will do this for me, will you not?" +</p> +<p> +"I will always do whatever you wish," the girl answered, +and her eyes filled with tears. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere was filled with the longing to clasp her +in his arms, but he restrained himself, again kissed +her hand with the same air of tender devotion, and +motioned to her to enter her room. When she had +closed the door he returned to his own room, and +there, with amazing swiftness, divested himself of +his outer garments and substituted for them those +of the dead Æsop. +</p> +<p> +Producing a small box from a battered portmantle +that stood in a corner, he produced certain pigments +from it, and, facing a cracked fragment of unframed +looking-glass that served for a mirror, proceeded with +the skill of an experienced actor to make certain +changes in his appearance. +</p> +<p> +His curiously mobile face he distorted at once into +an admirable likeness to the hunchback, and then, +this initial likeness thus acquired, he heightened and +intensified it by few but skilful strokes of coloring matter. +Then he dexterously rearranged his hair to resemble +the hunchback’s dishevelled locks, compelling +its curls to fall about his transformed face and shade +it. Finally he surmounted all with the hunchback’s +hat, placed well forward on his forehead. He gave a +smile of satisfaction at the result of his handiwork, +and the smile was the malign smile of Æsop. +</p> +<p> +"That is good enough," he murmured, "to deceive +a short-sighted fellow like Peyrolles, and as for his +Highness of Gonzague, he has not seen me for so +many years that there will be no difficulty with him." +</p> +<p> +He glanced at his new raiment with an expression +of distaste. "When I get to Paris," he mused, "I +will shift these habiliments. It is all very well to +play the bird of prey, but it is somewhat unpleasant +to wear the bird’s own feathers." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_THE_FACTION_OF_GONZAGUE' id='XVIII_THE_FACTION_OF_GONZAGUE'></a> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE FACTION OF GONZAGUE</h3> +</div> + +<p> +A little later in the day a company of joyous +gentlemen made their way from the fair of +Neuilly and came to a halt opposite the tavern whose +green arbors seemed inviting enough after the heat +of the dusty road. All of the company were richly +dressed, most of the company were young—the joyous +satellites of the central figure of the party. This +was a tall, graceful Italianate man, who carried his +fifty years with the grace and ease of thirty. He had +a handsome face; those that admired him, and they +were many, said there was no handsomer man at the +court of the king than the king’s familiar friend +Louis de Gonzague. A man of the hour and a man +of the world, Gonzague delighted to shine almost +unrivalled and quite unsurpassed in the splendid +court which the cardinal had permitted the king to +gather about him. Something of a statesman and +much of a scholar, Gonzague delighted to be the patron +of the arts, and to lend, indirectly, indeed, but no +less efficaciously, his counsels to the service of the +cardinal during the cardinal’s lifetime, and to the +king now that the cardinal was gone. A man of +pleasure, Gonzague was careful to enjoy all the delights +that a society which found its chief occupation +in the pursuit of amusement afforded. Even the +youngest cavalier in Paris or Versailles would have +regretted to find himself in rivalry with Gonzague +for the favors of the fair. But in his pleasures, as in +his policy, Gonzague was always discreet, reserved, +even slightly mysterious, and though rumor had linked +his name time and time again with the names of +such gracious ladies as the cardinal had permitted to +illuminate the court of the king, Gonzague had always +been far too cautious, or too indifferent, to drift +into anything that could in the least resemble an enduring +entanglement. Indeed, there was an element +of the Oriental in his tastes, which led him rather to +find his entertainment in such light love as came and +went by the back ways of palaces or could be sequestered +in cheerful little country villas remote from +curious eyes. This, however, was a matter of gossip, +rumor, speculation. What was certainly known about +Louis de Gonzague was that he delighted always to be +surrounded by young gentlemen of blood and spirit, +with whom his exquisite affability seemed at once to +put him on a footing of equal age, and whose devotion +to himself, his person, and his purposes he was always +careful to acquire by a lavish generosity and that powerful +patronage which his former friendship with the +cardinal and his present influence over the king allowed +him to extend. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the most remarkable proof of Gonzague’s +astuteness, of Gonzague’s suppleness, was afforded by +the manner in which he had succeeded in holding +the favor of the great cardinal through all the long +years of Richelieu’s triumph, and yet at the same +time in retaining so completely the friendship of the +king. When the cardinal died, and many gentlemen +that served the Red Robe found themselves no longer +in esteem, Gonzague passed at once into the circle of +the king’s most intimate friends. Gonzague, as the +comrade of a ruling potentate, proved himself a master +of all arts that might amuse a melancholic sovereign +newly redeemed from an age-long tutelage, and +eager to sate those many long-restrained pleasures +that he was at last free to command. Gonzague’s +ambition appeared to be to play the Petronius part, +to be the Arbiter of Elegancies to a newly liberated +king and a newly quickened court. +</p> +<p> +Very wisely Gonzague had never made himself a +politician. He had always allowed himself to appear +as one that was gracefully detached, by his Italianate +condition, from pledge to any party issues, and so in +his suave, affable fashion he went his way, liked by +all men who knew him slightly, counted on by the +few men who believed they knew him well, and hugely +admired by that vast congregation of starers and +gapers who passionately display their approval of an +urbane, almost an austere, profligacy. +</p> +<p> +In the long years in which Gonzague had contrived +to establish for himself the enviable reputation of +the ideal of high gentlehood, he had very quietly and +cautiously formed, as it were, a kind of court within +a court—a court that was carefully formed for the +faithful service of his interests. He managed, by +dexterously conferring obligations of one kind or another, +to bind his adherents to him by ties as strong +as the ties of kinship, by ties stronger than the ties +of allegiance to an unsettled state and a shadowy +idea of justice. There was a Gonzague party among +the aristocracy of the hour, and a very strong party +it promised to be, and very ably guided to further +his own ends by the courteous, so seeming amiable +gentleman who was its head. +</p> +<p> +About him at this moment were grouped some of +the joyous members of that jovial sodality. There +was Navailles, the brisk, the dissolute, the witty, always +ready to risk everything, including honor, for +a cast of the dice, for a kiss, for a pleasure or a revenge. +There was Nocé, pleasure-loving, pleasure-giving, +always good-tempered, always good-humored, +always serenely confident that the world as it existed +was made chiefly for his amusement and the amusement +of his friends. There was Taranne, a darker +spirit, as ready as the rest of the fellowship to take the +wine of life from the cup of joy in the hands of the +dancing-girl, but a less genial drinker, a less cheerful +and perhaps more greedy lover and feaster, as one +who dimly and imperfectly appreciates that the conditions +of things about him might not be destined to +endure forever, and was, therefore, resolved to get as +much of his share of the spoil of the sport while it +lasted as any bandit of them all. There, too, was +Oriol, the fat country gentleman, at once the richest +and most foolish of the company. There, too, was +Albret, who loved women more than wine; and Gironne, +who loved wine more than women; and Choisy, +who never knew which to love the best, but with +whom both disagreed. +</p> +<p> +At the present moment the party was extremely +hilarious. Its members had ransacked the toy-shops +of the fair, and every man was carrying some plaything +and making the most of it, and extolling its +greater virtues than the playthings of his fellows. +Taranne carried a pea-shooter, and peppered his +companion’s legs persistently, grinning with delight +if any of his victims showed irritation. Oriol had got +a large trumpet, and was blowing it lustily. Nocé +had bought a cup-and-ball, and was trying, not very +successfully, to induce the sphere to abide in the hollow +prepared for it. Navailles had got a large Pulcinello +doll that squeaked, and was pretending to treat +it as an oracle, and to interpret its mechanical utterances +as profound comments on his companions +and prophecies as to their fortunes. Albret was tripping +over a skipping-rope; Gironne puffed at a spinning +windmill; Choisy played on a bagpipes, and +Montaubert on a flute. In the background Monsieur +Peyrolles watched all this mirthfulness with indifference +and his master’s face with attention. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked round upon his friends with the +indulgent smile of a still youthful school-master surrounded +by his promising pupils. "Well, gentlemen, +does the fair amuse you?" he asked, urbanely. +</p> +<p> +Navailles turned to his doll for inspiration, made it +give its metallic squeak, and then, as if repeating +what Pulcinello had whispered to him, replied: "Enormously." +</p> +<p> +Oriol trumpeted his approval loudly, and the expressions +of the others bore ample testimony to their +enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +"Well, gentlemen," said Gonzague, "I hope and +think that I reserved the best for the end." He made +a sign to Peyrolles, who approached him. "Where is +the girl?" he questioned, in a low voice. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles pointed to the caravan. "Shall I bring +her?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague nodded. Peyrolles crossed the grass, his +course followed curiously by the eyes of Gonzague’s +friends, till he halted at the caravan and knocked at +the door. Flora put out her head, and, recognizing +Peyrolles, greeted him with an eager smile. +</p> +<p> +"The time has come," said Peyrolles, in a low voice, +"for you to dance to this gentleman." +</p> +<p> +Flora touched him eagerly on the arm. "Which is +my prince?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles gave a jerk of his head in the direction of +Gonzague, and answered: "He in black with the star." +</p> +<p> +In a moment Flora had retired within the caravan, +and emerged again with a pair of castanets in her +hands. She advanced to Gonzague and made him a +reverence. "Shall I dance for you, pretty gentleman?" +she asked. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague watched her curiously, seeing in one +swift, incisive glance that she might very well serve +for his purpose. "With all my heart," he answered, +courteously. +</p> +<p> +He seated himself at a table under the trees, with +his little court grouped about him, and Flora began +to dance. It was such a dance as only a Spaniard +trained in the gypsy school could dance—a dance whose +traditions go back to days when the Roman Empire +was old, to days when the Roman Empire was young. +Now active, now languid, by turns passionate, daring, +defiant, alluring, a wonderful medley of exquisite contradictions, +the girl leaped hither and thither, clicking +her castanets and sending her bright glances like +arrows towards the admiring spectators. She moved +like a flame fluttered by the wind, like a butterfly, +like a leaf, like any swift, volatile, shifting, shimmering +thing. She seemed as agile as a cat, as tireless as +a monkey, as free as a bird. Suddenly the dance that +was all contradiction ended in a final contradiction. +At the moment when her exuberance seemed keenest, +her vitality fiercest, her action most animated, when +her eyes were shining their brightest, her lips smiling +their sweetest, and her castanets clicking their +loudest, she suddenly became rigid, with arms extended, +like one struck motionless by a catalepsy, her face +robbed of all expression, her limbs stiff, her arms extended. +She stood so for a few seconds, then a smile +rippled over her face, her arms dropped to her sides, +and she seemed to swoon towards the ground in a +surrendering courtesy. The dance was at an end. +</p> +<p> +The delighted gentlemen applauded enthusiastically. +All would have been eager to seek closer acquaintance +with the gypsy, but all refrained because Gonzague +himself rose from his seat and advanced towards +the girl, who watched him, respectful and excited, +with lowered lids. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague laid his hand on her shoulder with a caress +that was almost paternal while he spoke: "I know +more about you than you know yourself, child. Go +back now. I have long been looking for you." +</p> +<p> +Flora could scarcely find breath to stammer: "For +me?" She ventured to look up into the face of this +grave and courtly gentleman, and she found something +very attractive in the dark eyes that were fixed upon +her with a look of so much benevolence. Gonzague +pointed to Peyrolles, who was standing a little apart +from the group of gentlemen. +</p> +<p> +"Peyrolles will come for you presently," he said. +"Peyrolles will tell you what to do. Obey him implicitly." +</p> +<p> +Flora made him another courtesy. "Yes, monseigneur," +she faltered, and, turning, ran swiftly to the +caravan and disappeared within its depths. Each of +the young gentlemen gladly would have followed her, +but, as before, they were restrained by the action of +Gonzague, who seemed to have taken the girl under +his protection, and no one of them was foolhardy +enough to dream of crossing Gonzague in a pleasure +or a caprice. +</p> +<p> +But during the progress of the dance there had been +an addition to the little group of gentlemen. Chavernay +had come over the bridge, with, curiously enough, +Cocardasse and Passepoil at his heels. When he saw +that a dance was toward, he made a sign to his followers +to remain upon the bridge, while he himself +mingled with his habitual companions. When the +dance was over and Flora had disappeared, Chavernay +advanced to Gonzague. He, at least, was foolhardy +enough for anything. "I give you my word, +cousin," he said, "that I have already lost the half of +my heart to your dancer. Are we rivals with the +gypsy lass, cousin?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked urbanely and yet gravely at his +impudent kinsman. "You must look for love elsewhere," +he said, decisively. "I have reasons, though +not such reasons as yours; but you will oblige me." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay laughed contentedly. "My faith! there +are plenty of pretty women in the world, and plenty +of ugly men, as it would seem. I have brought you +some friends of yours." +</p> +<p> +He made a signal as he spoke, and Cocardasse +and Passepoil, descending from their post upon the +bridge, advanced towards the brilliant group, bowing +grotesquely as they did so, with their big hats in their +hands and their long rapiers tilting up their ragged +cloaks. All the party gazed in amazement at the +whimsical apparitions, to the great indignation of +Cocardasse, who whispered angrily to his companion: +"Why the devil do they stare at us so?" While +to him his companion replied, soothingly: "Gently, +gently." +</p> +<p> +The gentlemen were screaming with laughter. Taranne +fired a volley of peas, which rattled harmlessly +against the long boots of Passepoil. Navailles consulted +his oracle, and declared that he liked the big +one best. Oriol, with a flourish of his trumpet, announced +that he preferred the smug fellow. Peyrolles, +with a look of horror on his face, rushed forward +and attempted to intercept the new-comers, +but he was too late. Cocardasse was already in front +of Gonzague, and had made him a tremendous obeisance. +"We have the honor to salute your highness," +he said, sonorously. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague observed him with well-restrained astonishment, +and questioned Chavernay: "Who are +these—gentlemen?" +</p> +<p> +Chavernay was eager to explain that he had come +across them in the fair, and had taken a great fancy +to them. After some conversation he found that they +were seeking the Prince de Gonzague, and thereupon +he had consented to be their guide and to present +them. At this point Peyrolles interposed. Coming +close to Gonzague, he whispered something to him +which caused for a moment a slight expression of dislike, +almost of dread, to disturb the familiar imperturbability +of his countenance. Then he looked at +the bravos. "Gentlemen," he said, "I believe it is +your wish to serve me. A man can never have too +many friends. Gentlemen, I accept your services." +He turned to his familiar, and ordered: "Peyrolles, +get them some new clothes." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles hurriedly beckoned Cocardasse and Passepoil +apart, and could be seen at a little distance transferring +money from his pocket to their palms, giving +them instructions, and finally dismissing them. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay looked at Gonzague. "I congratulate +you on your new friends." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague shook his head. "Judge no man by his +habit. Hearts of gold may beat beneath those tatters." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay smiled. "I dare say they are no worse +than most of your friends." +</p> +<p> +Taranne, Nocé, Navailles, Oriol, Albret, Choisy, +Gironne, and Montaubert caught him up angrily. +They seemed offended at the suggestion. Gonzague +placated them with a phrase: "Our dear Chavernay +includes himself, no doubt." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay accepted the suggestion. "Oh yes; +there is devilishly little to choose between any of us." +</p> +<p> +The impertinence of the answer and the impertinence +of the speaker’s carriage were not calculated to +smooth the ruffled feelings of the gentlemen, but +Chavernay was never one to bridle his speech in deference +to the susceptibility of his cousin’s satellites. +He now eyed them mockingly, even provokingly, full +of amusement, while they fumed and fretted, and +hands crept to hilts. Cheerfully courageous, Chavernay +was prepared at any moment to back his words +with his sword. Gonzague, studying the lowering +faces of his adherents, and smiling compassionately +at the boyish insolence of Chavernay, interposed and +stifled the threatened brawl. "Come, gentlemen," he +said, graciously, "let there be no bickering. Chavernay +has a sharp tongue, and spares no one, not even +me, yet I am always ready to forgive him his impudence." +</p> +<p> +A word of Gonzague was a command—a wish, a +law—to his faithful followers, and their countenances +cleared as he spoke. Gonzague went on: "His Gracious +Majesty the King will be leaving the fair soon, +though I am glad to think that it seems to have diverted +his majesty greatly. Let us attend upon him, +gentlemen." Gonzague emphasized his words by +leading the way across the bridge, and Chavernay +and the others followed at his heels, a laughing, chattering, +many-colored company of pleasure-seekers. +Only Peyrolles remained behind. +</p> +<p> +When the last of them had crossed the bridge and +was far away upon the road to Neuilly, a man came +to the door of the Inn and looked thoughtfully after +them. +</p> +<p> +The man was clad in black from head to foot, and +his body was heavily bowed. As he moved slowly +across the grass, Peyrolles hastened towards him, +seeming to recognize him. "I was looking for you, +Master Æsop," he cried; "I have good news for you." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered, quietly: "Good news is +always welcome." And to the ears of Peyrolles the +voice was the voice of Æsop, and to the eyes of Peyrolles +the form and the face of the speaker were the +form and the face of Æsop. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went on: "His highness the Prince de +Gonzague is delighted with the girl you have found; +she will pass admirably for the girl of Nevers." +</p> +<p> +The seeming Æsop nodded his head and said, quietly: +"I am glad to hear it." +</p> +<p> +"The Prince wishes to see you," Peyrolles continued. +"The Prince wishes you to enter his service. +Master Æsop, Master Æsop, your fortune is +made, thanks to me." +</p> +<p> +"Thanks to me, I think," the hunchback commented, +dryly. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles shrugged his shoulders. "As you please," +he said. "Come to the Hôtel de Gonzague to-morrow, +and ask for me." +</p> +<p> +"I will come," the hunchback promised. Then +Peyrolles hastened over the bridge, and made all speed +to rejoin his master. +</p> +<p> +When he was well on his way the hunchback drew +himself into a chair, laughing heartily. "Oh, Æsop, +Æsop," Lagardere murmured to himself, "how vexed +you would be if you knew how useful you prove to +me!" +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_THE_HALL_OF_THE_THREE_LOUIS' id='XIX_THE_HALL_OF_THE_THREE_LOUIS'></a> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<h3>THE HALL OF THE THREE LOUIS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +One of the handsomest rooms in the Palace of +Gonzague, as the Palace of Nevers was now called, +was known as the Hall of the Three Louis. It was +so called on account of the three life-sized portraits +which it contained. The first was the portrait of the +late duke, Louis de Nevers, in all the pride of that +youth and joyousness which was so tragically extinguished +in the moat of Caylus. His fair hair fell +about his delicate, eager face; his left hand rested +upon the hilt of the sword he knew how to use so +well; his right hand, perhaps in the pathos, perhaps +in the irony of the painter’s intention, was pressed +against his heart, for Louis de Nevers had been a +famous lover in his little day, but never so true a +lover as when he wooed and won the daughter of the +hostile house of Caylus. A heavy curtain by the +side of the picture masked an alcove sacred to the +memory of Nevers. +</p> +<p> +Facing the portrait of the dead duke was the portrait +of his successor, of the present master of the +house. Louis de Gonzague, in all other things a +contrast to Louis de Nevers, contrasted with him most +flagrantly in appearance. Against the fair, boyish +face of Nevers you had to set the saturnine Italianate +countenance of Gonzague. The brilliancy of Louis +de Nevers was all external, bright as summer is bright, +gay as summer is gay, cheerful as summer is cheerful. +The brilliancy of Louis de Gonzague showed more +sombrely, as melting gold flows in a crucible. No one +who saw the picture could fail to deny its physical +beauty, but many would deny it the instant, the +appealing charm which caught at the heart of the +spectator with the first glance he gave to the canvas +that portrayed Louis de Nevers. In contrast, too, +were the very garments of the two men, for the dead +duke affected light, airy, radiant colors—clear blues, +and clear pale-yellows, and delicate reds with subtle +emphasis of gold and silver; but the splendor of Gonzague’s +apparel was sombre, like his beauty, with +black for its dominant note, and only deep wine-colored +crimsons or fierce ambers to lighten its +solemnity. +</p> +<p> +The third picture, which was placed between Louis +de Nevers and Louis de Gonzague, was the portrait of +Louis, not as he now looked, being King of France in +reality, but as he looked some seventeen years earlier, +when the cardinal was beginning his career, and when +the peevishness of youth had not soured into the yellow +melancholy of the monarch of middle age. +</p> +<p> +It was in this room, consecrated to the memory of +his dead friend, to the honor of his living friend, and +to the glory of his own existence, that Louis de Gonzague +loved to work. It was a proof of his well-balanced +philosophy that he found nothing to trouble +him in the juxtaposition of the three pictures. The +great double doors at one end of the room served to +shut off a hall devoted for the most part to the private +suppers which it was Louis de Gonzague’s delight to +give to chosen friends of both sexes, and when, as +often happened, supper ended, and a choice company +of half-drunken women and wholly drunken men +reeled through the open doors into the room where +the three Louis reigned, Gonzague, who himself kept +always sober, was no more than cynically amused by +the contrast between the noisy and careless crew +who had invaded the chamber and the sinister gravity +with which the portraits of the three Louis regarded +one another. +</p> +<p> +The king himself, who sometimes since his freedom +surreptitiously made one at these merry gatherings, +where a princely fortune and a more than princely +taste directed all that appealed to all appetites—the +king himself, coming flushed from one of these +famous suppers into the sudden coolness and quiet +of the great room, would appear to be more impressed +than his host at the sudden sight of the three canvases. +Then, in a voice perhaps slightly unsteady, +but still carrying in its flood the utterance of a steady +purpose, Louis of France would catch Louis de Gonzague +by the wrist, and, pointing to the bright, smiling +image of Louis de Nevers, would repeat for the twentieth, +the fiftieth, the hundredth time his oath of +vengeance against the assassin of his friend if ever +that assassin should come into his power. And hearing +this oath for the twentieth, the fiftieth, the hundredth +time, Louis de Gonzague would always smile +his astute smile and incline his head gravely in sign +of sympathy with the king’s feelings, and allow his +fine eyes to be dimmed for an instant with a suggestion +of tears. +</p> +<p> +The room was an interesting room to any one curious +as to the concerns of the Prince de Gonzague for other +reasons than the presence of the three pictures, for +to any one who knew anything about the arrangements of +the palace this room represented, as it were, +a kind of debatable land between the kingdom of +Gonzague on the one side and the kingdom of Nevers +on the other. A door on the left communicated with +the private apartments of Louis de Gonzague. Cross +the great room to the right, and you came to a +door communicating with the private apartments of +Madame the Princess de Gonzague. The Prince de +Gonzague never passed the threshold of the door that +led to the princess’s apartments. The Princess de +Gonzague never passed the threshold of the door that +led to the prince’s apartments. Ever since their +strange marriage the man and the woman had lived +thus apart; the man, on his part, always courteous, +always deferential, always tender, always ready to +be respectfully affectionate, and the woman, on her +part, icily reserved, wrapped around in the blackness +of her widowhood, inexorably deaf to all wooing, immovably +resolute to be alone. +</p> +<p> +What rumor said was, for once, quite true. The +young Duchess de Nevers, on the night of her marriage +to Prince Louis de Gonzague, had warned him +that if he attempted to approach her with the solicitations +of a husband she would take her life, and Louis +de Gonzague, who, being an Italian, was ardent, but +who, being an Italian, was also very intelligent, saw +that the young wife-widow meant what she said and +would keep her word, and desisted discreetly from +any attempt to play the husband. After all, he had +his consolations: he controlled the vast estates of +his dead friend and kinsman, and though he felt for +the lady he had married a certain animal attraction, +which easily cooled as the years went on, his passion +for the wealth of Nevers was more pronounced than +his passion for the wife of Nevers, and he contented +himself easily enough with the part assigned to him +by his wife in the tragi-comedy. Every day he +requested, very courteously, through Monsieur Peyrolles, +permission to wait upon the princess, and every +day the princess, also through a servant, expressed +her regret that the state of her health would not allow +her the pleasure of receiving his highness. So it +had been through the years since Louis de Nevers +was done to death in the moat of Caylus. +</p> +<p> +On the day after the fair at Neuilly, Louis de Gonzague +was seated in the room of the Three Louis +busily writing at a table. By his side stood Peyrolles, +his gorgeous attire somewhat unpleasantly +accentuating the patent obsequiousness with which +he waited upon his master’s will. For a while Gonzague’s +busy pen formed flowing Italian characters +upon the page before him. Presently he came to an +end, reread his letter, shook over the final writings +some silver sand, then folded it and sealed it leisurely. +When he had done he spoke to Peyrolles: +</p> +<p> +"This letter is to go to his majesty. Send Doña +Flora here. Stay! Who is in the antechamber?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles answered with a bow: "The Chevalier +Cocardasse and the Chevalier Passepoil, monseigneur." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague made a faint grimace. "Let them wait +there." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles inclined profoundly. "Yes, monseigneur," +he said, and waited. The long knowledge of +his master’s manner, the long study of the expression +on his master’s face, told him he had not done with +him, and he was right, for in a moment Gonzague +spoke to him again: +</p> +<p> +"This gypsy girl will serve the turn to perfection. +She is dark, as Gabrielle de Caylus was dark. She is +beautiful, not so beautiful as Gabrielle de Caylus indeed, +but, bah! filia pulchra, matre pulchrior. Before +the king to-day I will produce her. The princess cannot +but accept her. If afterwards a charming young +girl should die of a decline—many die so—the fortune +of Louis de Nevers becomes the fortune of Louis de +Gonzague, who will know very well what to do with +it, having the inestimable advantage of being alive." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles indulged in the privilege of a faint little +laugh at this witticism of his master, but apparently +the applause did not please Gonzague, who gave him +a gesture of dismissal. "Send the girl to me at once," +he said; and with a still more humble salute Peyrolles +quitted the apartment. When Gonzague was +alone he sat for a few minutes staring before him like +one who dreams waking. Then he turned and glanced +at the picture of Louis de Nevers, and an ironical smile +wrinkled, more than time had ever done, his handsome +face. Evidently the contemplation of the picture +seemed to afford him a great deal of satisfaction, +for he was still looking at it, and still wearing the same +amused smile, when the door behind him opened and +Flora came timidly into the room. She was not in +appearance the same Flora who had dwelt in the +caravan and danced for strangers on the previous day. +She was now richly and beautifully dressed as a great +lady should be, but she seemed more awkward in her +splendid garments than she had ever seemed in the +short skirts of the gypsy. Gonzague, whose every +sense was acute, heard her come in, though she stepped +very softly, and abandoned his contemplation of +the picture of Louis de Nevers. He turned round and +rose to his feet, and made her one of his exquisite +salutations. The girl drew back with a little gasp +and pressed her hands to her bosom. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled paternally. "Are you afraid of +me?" +</p> +<p> +The girl shook her head dubiously, and there was +suspicion in her dark eyes as she asked: "What do +you want of me?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled more paternally than before. "I +want you to love me," he said; and then, seeing that +the gypsy lifted her brows, he continued, leisurely: +"Do not misunderstand me. Women still are sometimes +pleased to smile on me. I do not want such +smiles from you, child. There is another fate for +you. Are you content with your new life?" +</p> +<p> +Flora answered him with a weary tone in her voice +and a weary look on her pretty face. "You have +given me fine clothes and fine jewels. I ought to be +content. But I miss my comrades and my wandering +life." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague was still paternal as he explained: "You +must forget your wandering life. Henceforward you +are a great lady. Your father was a duke." +</p> +<p> +Flora gave a little gasp, and questioned: "Is my +father dead?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague allowed his chin to fall upon his breast +and an expression of deep gloom to overshadow his +face. "Yes," he said, and his voice was as a requiem +to buried friendship. +</p> +<p> +Flora’s heart was touched by this display of friendship. +"And my mother?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague’s face lightened. "Your mother lives." +</p> +<p> +Flora questioned again, this time very timorously: +"Will she love me?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague seemed to look at the girl sympathetically, +but really looked at her critically. He found her +so pleasing to his eye that he almost regretted that +she had been chosen for the part she had to play, +but also he found her on the whole so suited to that +part that he felt bound to stifle his regret. "Surely," +he said, and smiled kindly upon her. +</p> +<p> +Flora gave a little sigh of satisfaction. "I have +always dreamed that I should be a great lady. And +dreams come true, you know—the dreams that gypsies +dream." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague raised his hand to check her speech. +"Forget the gypsies. Forget that the gypsies called +you Flora. Your name is Gabrielle." +</p> +<p> +Flora gave a start of surprise. "Gabrielle!" she +said. "How strange! That is the name of my dearest +friend." +</p> +<p> +It was Gonzague’s turn to be surprised, but he never +was known to betray an emotion. It was with an air +of complete indifference that he asked: "Who is she?" +</p> +<p> +And Flora answered, simply: "A girl I knew and +loved when we were living in Spain." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague knew that he was agitated; and that he +had every reason to be agitated, but he knew also +that no one beholding him would know of his agitation. +"What became of her?" he asked, still with +the same apparent indifference. +</p> +<p> +And Flora answered as readily as before: "We +travelled to France together." +</p> +<p> +"Travelled to France together!" echoed Gonzague. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps, in spite of himself, some hint of keenness +was betrayed in the voice he was so studious to keep +indifferent, for this time Flora gave question for +question, suspiciously: "Why does all this interest +you?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague’s voice was perfectly indifferent when he +replied: "Everything that concerns you interests me. +Tell me; was this other Gabrielle a Spaniard like you?" +</p> +<p> +Flora shook her head. "Oh no. She was French." +</p> +<p> +"Was she, too, an orphan?" Gonzague asked. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Flora; "but she had a guardian who +loved her like a father." +</p> +<p> +The gypsy girl could not guess what raging passions +were masked by the changeless serenity of Gonzague’s +face. "Who was that?" he asked, as he might have +asked the name of some dog or some cat. +</p> +<p> +And he got the answer he expected from the girl: +"A young French soldier." +</p> +<p> +Perhaps, again, Gonzague’s voice was keener with +his next question: "Whose name was—" +</p> +<p> +In this case Flora, suddenly recalling her conversation +with Gabrielle on the previous day, became as +suddenly cautious. "I have forgotten his name," +she said, and looked as if nothing could rekindle her +memory. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague affected to be busy with some of the +papers that lay before him, and then, at a venture, +and as if with no particular purpose in his thoughts, +he said: "I wish I could get this Gabrielle to be your +companion, child." +</p> +<p> +Flora clapped her hands, and forgot her caution in +her joy at the prospect. "Well, that might be done. +I will tell you a secret. Gabrielle and her guardian +are in Paris." +</p> +<p> +Underneath the table, and hidden from the girl’s +sight, Gonzague’s hands clinched tightly, as if they +were clinching upon the throat of an enemy; but his +face was still quite tranquil as he said, carelessly: +"Where are they?" +</p> +<p> +Flora’s voice was full of regret. "Ah! I do not +know; but they were at the fair where we were playing, +and I know that they are coming to Paris." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague rose to his feet and took both the girl’s +hands affectionately in his. His eyes looked affectionately +into hers, and his voice was full of kindness. +"If your friend can be found, be sure that I will find +her for you. And now go. I will send for you when +the time comes for the meeting with your mother." +</p> +<p> +Flora clasped her hands nervously. "My mother! +Oh, what shall I say to her?" she cried. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague’s smile soothed her fears. "Hide nothing +from her, for I am sure you have nothing to hide. +Speak the loving words that a mother would like to +hear." +</p> +<p> +With a grateful look at her newly found protector, +Flora darted from the room, and Gonzague was left +alone. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_A_CONFIDENTIAL_AGENT' id='XX_A_CONFIDENTIAL_AGENT'></a> +<h2>XX</h2> +<h3>A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Gonzague was left alone, indeed, only in a +sense, for on a sudden the great hall with its +famous pictures had become the theatre of fierce +emotions and menacing presences. Just at the moment +when Gonzague believed his schemes to be at +their best and his fortunes to be nearing their top, +he was suddenly threatened with the renewal of the +old terror that had been kept at bay through all the +years that had passed since the night of Caylus. +Through all these years Lagardere had been kept from +Paris, at the cost, indeed, as he believed, of many +lives, but that was a price Louis de Gonzague was +always prepared to pay when the protection of his +own life was in question. Now it would seem as if +Lagardere had broken his exile, had forced his way +through the thicket of swords, and was again in Paris. +Nor was this the worst. Just when Gonzague, after +all his failures to trace the missing child of his victim, +just when he had so ingeniously found a substitute +for that missing child, it would really seem as if the +child herself, now a woman, had come to Paris to +defy him and to destroy his plans. He sat huddled +with black thoughts for a time which seemed to him +an age, but was in reality not more than a few moments; +then, extending his hand, he struck a bell and +a servant entered. +</p> +<p> +"Tell Peyrolles I want him," the prince commanded, +and was again alone with his dreads and his dangers +until Peyrolles appeared. Gonzague turned to his +factotum. "I have reason to suspect that Lagardere +is in Paris. If it be true, he will come too late. The +princess will have accepted the gypsy as her child, +the mother’s voice will have spoken. If Lagardere +is in Paris, he and the girl must be found, and once +found—" +</p> +<p> +The ivory-like face of Peyrolles was quickened with +a cunning look. "I have a man who will find him if +any one can." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned upon him sharply. "Who is it?" +</p> +<p> +"Monseigneur," said Peyrolles, "I have at my disposal, +and at the disposal of your highness, a very +remarkable man, the hunchback Æsop. He was in +the moat of Caylus that night. He, with those two +you saw yesterday, are the only ones left, except—" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles paused for a moment, and his pale face +worked uncomfortably. Gonzague interpreted his +thought. "Except you and me, you were going to +say." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles nodded gloomily. "As Æsop," he said, +"has been in Spain all these years hunting Lagardere—" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Gonzague interrupted, "and never finding +him." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles bowed. "True, your highness, but at +least up to now he has kept Lagardere on the Spanish +side of the frontier, kept Lagardere in peril of his life. +Æsop hates Lagardere, always has hated him. When +the last of our men met with"—he paused for a moment +as if to find a fitting phrase, and then continued—"the +usual misfortune, I thought it useless to leave +Æsop in Spain, and sent for him. He came to me +to-day. May I present him to your highness?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague nodded thoughtfully. Any ally was welcome +in such a crisis. "Yes," he said. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went to the door that communicated +with the prince’s private apartments, and, opening it, +beckoned into the corridor. Then he drew back into +the room, and a moment later was followed by a +hunchbacked man in black, who wore a large sword. +The man bowed profoundly to the Prince de Gonzague. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles introduced him. "This is the man, monseigneur." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked fixedly at the man. He could see +little of his face, for the head was thrust forward from +the stooping, misshapen shoulders, and his long, dark +hair hung about his cheeks and shaded his countenance. +The face seemed pale and intelligent. It was +naturally quite unfamiliar to Gonzague, who knew +nothing of Æsop except as one of the men who had +played a sinister part in the murder at Caylus. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague addressed him. "You know much, they +tell me?" +</p> +<p> +The man bowed again, and spoke, slowly: "I know +that Lagardere is in Paris, and with the child of +Nevers." +</p> +<p> +"Do you know where he is?" Gonzague questioned. +</p> +<p> +The man answered, with laconic confidence: "I will +find out." +</p> +<p> +"How?" asked Gonzague. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laughed dryly. "That is my secret. +Paris cannot hold any mystery from me." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague questioned again: "Is it to your interest +that Lagardere should die?" +</p> +<p> +"Indeed, yes," the hunchback answered. "Has he +not sworn to kill every man who attacked Nevers that +night? Has he not kept his word well? I am the +last that is left—I and Monsieur Peyrolles, for, of +course, I except your Excellence. I promise you I +will find him, but I shall need help." +</p> +<p> +"Help?" Gonzague echoed. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback nodded. "He is a dangerous fellow, +this Lagardere, as six of us have found to our +cost. Are there not two of our number newly in +your highness’s service?" +</p> +<p> +"Cocardasse and Passepoil," Peyrolles explained. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback rubbed his hands. "The very men. +Will your highness place them under my orders?" +</p> +<p> +"By all means," Gonzague answered, and, turning +to Peyrolles, he said: "They are in the antechamber; +bring them in." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles turned to obey, when the hunchback delayed +him with a gesture. "Your pardon, highness," +he said; "but I think there is another service I can +render you to-day." +</p> +<p> +"Another service?" Gonzague repeated, looking at +the hunchback with some surprise. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback explained: "Your highness, as I +understand, has summoned for this afternoon a small +family council, ostensibly for the purpose of considering +the position of affairs between madame the princess +and yourself." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback paused. Gonzague nodded, but +said nothing, and the hunchback resumed: "Your +real purpose, however, as I understand, is to present +to that council the young lady, the daughter of Nevers, +whom I have been fortunate enough to discover in +Spain. You wish this discovery to come as a surprise +to madame the princess." +</p> +<p> +Still Gonzague nodded, still Gonzague kept silence. +</p> +<p> +"I believe that you have requested madame the +princess to attend this family council, and that up +to the present you have not succeeded in obtaining +her assent." +</p> +<p> +"That is so," said Gonzague. +</p> +<p> +"I was about to suggest," the hunchback went on, +"if your highness will permit me, that you should +employ me as your ambassador to madame the princess. +I believe I could persuade her to be present +at the family gathering." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked at the man in astonishment. +"What persuasions could you employ," he asked, +"which would be likely to succeed where mine have +failed?" +</p> +<p> +Again Æsop made an apologetic gesture as he +pleaded his former excuse. "That is my secret," he +repeated; "but, prince, if you employ me you must +let me attain my ends by my own means, so long as +you find that those ends give you satisfaction and +are of service to your purposes. Though I am by no +means"—here he laughed a little, bitter laugh—"an +attractive person, I believe I have a keen wit, and I +think I have a clever tongue, thanks to which I have +often succeeded in difficult enterprises where others +have failed ignominiously—at least, it will be no +harm to try." +</p> +<p> +"Certainly," Gonzague agreed, "it will be no harm +to try. If the princess persists, I could, of course, +in the end compel her by a direct order from the king +himself, who is good enough to honor us with his +presence to-day." +</p> +<p> +"But," the hunchback interrupted, "it would be +far more agreeable to you if the princess could be +induced to come of her own accord?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly," Gonzague agreed. +</p> +<p> +"Then," said the hunchback, "have I permission +to approach madame the princess and endeavor to +persuade her to act in conformity to your wishes?" +</p> +<p> +"You have," said Gonzague, decisively. Something +in the hunchback’s manner attracted him. The +suggestion of mysterious influences appealed to his +Italian spirit, and the confidence of the hunchback +inspired him with confidence. He pointed to the +curtained alcove. +</p> +<p> +"Madame the princess," he said, gravely, "comes +every day at this hour to spend some moments in +contemplation and in prayer beside the picture of her +former husband. That alcove shrines his sword. By +virtue of a mutual understanding, this room is always +left empty daily at this same time, that madame the +princess may fulfil her pious duty untroubled by the +sight of any who might be displeasing to her." +</p> +<p> +Here Gonzague sighed profoundly and summoned +to his face the expression of a much-wronged, grievously +misappreciated man. After an interval, which +the hunchback silently respected, Gonzague resumed: +</p> +<p> +"If she were to find you here the princess might +be, would be, pained; but if, indeed, you think you +have any arguments that would serve to influence +her mind, you could explain your presence as owing +to ignorance due to the newness of your service here." +</p> +<p> +Æsop nodded sagaciously. "I understand," he +said. "Leave it to me. And now if your highness +will place those two fellows at my disposal, I will +give them their instructions." +</p> +<p> +The prince rose and turned to Peyrolles. "Send +the men to Master Æsop," he commanded. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went to the door of the antechamber, and +returned in an instant with Cocardasse and Passepoil, +now both gorgeously dressed in an extravagantly +modish manner, which became them, if possible, +less than their previous rags and tatters. Both men +saluted Gonzague profoundly, and both started at +seeing the hunchback standing apart from them with +averted face. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague pointed to the hunchback. "Obey Master +Æsop, gentlemen, as you would obey me." The +two bravos bowed respectfully. Gonzague turned to +the hunchback and spoke in a lower tone: "Find +this Lagardere for me, and we will soon break his +invincible sword." +</p> +<p> +"How?" the hunchback questioned, with a faint +note of irony in his voice. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague continued: "By the hands of the hang-man, +Master Æsop. Do your best. Those who serve +me well serve themselves." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered, slowly: "Whenever you +want me, I am here." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague, in spite of himself, started at the hunchback’s +last words, but the demeanor of Æsop was so +simple and his bearing so respectful that Gonzague +was convinced that their use was purely accident. +He looked at his watch. "I must prepare for the +ceremony," he said. "Come with me, Peyrolles," +and the prince and his henchman quitted the apartment. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback muttered to himself: "The sword +of Lagardere has yet a duty to perform before it be +broken." Then he turned to Cocardasse and Passepoil +where they stood apart: "Well, friends, do you +remember me?" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse answered him, thoughtfully: "’Tis a +long time since we met, Æsop." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil, as usual, commented on his comrade’s +remark: "It might have been longer with advantage." +</p> +<p> +Indifferent to the bravos’ obvious distaste for his +society, the hunchback continued: "I have news for +you. Lagardere and I met yesterday." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse whistled. "The devil you did!" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback coolly continued: "We fought, and +I killed him." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse’s air of distaste was suddenly transmuted +into a raging, blazing air of hatred. He swore +a great oath and sprang forward. "Then, by the +powers, I will kill you!" +</p> +<p> +"So will I!" cried Passepoil, no less furious than +his friend, and advanced with him. But when the +pair were close upon the hunchback he suddenly +drew himself up, flung back the hair from his face, +and faced them, crying, "I am here!" +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse and Passepoil paused, gasping. Both +had one name on their lips, and the name was the +name of Lagardere. In another moment Lagardere +was stooping again, the long hair was falling about +his face, and the two men could scarcely believe that +Æsop was not standing before them. "Hush! To +you both, as to all the world, I am Æsop, Gonzague’s +attendant devil. Now I have work for you. Go +to-night at eleven to No. 7, Rue de Chantre." As he +spoke he drew a letter from his coat and gave it to +Cocardasse. "Give this letter to the young lady +who lives there. I have warned her of your coming. +I have told her what she is to do. She will accompany +you unquestioningly. I have to trust to you +in this, friends, for I have my own part to play, and, +by my faith, it is the hardest part I have ever played +in my life." He laughed as he spoke; then he drew +from his breast another packet and handed it to +Passepoil. "Here," he said, "are three invitations +for the king’s ball to-night—one for the girl you will +escort, one for each of you. When you go to the +house you will wait till the girl is ready, and then you +will escort her to the king’s ball in the Palais Royal +at midnight, and bring her into the presence of the king +by the royal tent near the round pond of Diana." +</p> +<p> +"I will do that same," said Cocardasse, cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +"Never let her out of your sight at the ball," Lagardere +insisted. +</p> +<p> +"Devil a minute," Passepoil affirmed. +</p> +<p> +"Let no one speak to her," Lagardere continued. +</p> +<p> +"Devil a word," said Cocardasse. +</p> +<p> +As the hunchback seemed to have no further instructions +for them, the pair made to depart, but +Lagardere restrained them, saying: "Ah, wait a moment. +We are all the toys of fate. If any unlucky +chance should arise, come to me in the presence of +the king and fling down your glove." +</p> +<p> +"I understand," said Cocardasse. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere dismissed them. "Then, farewell, old +friends, till to-night." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_THE_PRINCESS_DE_GONZAGUE' id='XXI_THE_PRINCESS_DE_GONZAGUE'></a> +<h2>XXI</h2> +<h3>THE PRINCESS DE GONZAGUE</h3> +</div> + +<p> +When Lagardere was left alone he placed himself +at the table where Gonzague had been sitting +so short a time before, and, taking pen and paper, +wrote rapidly a short letter. When he had folded +and sealed this, he rose, and, crossing the room, went +to the door which opened on the antechamber to +the princess’s apartments. Here he found a servant +waiting, wearing the mourning livery of Nevers, +to whom he gave the letter, telling him that it was +urgent, and that it should be delivered to the princess +at once. When he had done this he returned to +the great room and walked slowly up and down it, +surveying in turn each of the three pictures of the +three friends who had been called the Three Louis. +He paused for a moment before the picture of Louis +de Nevers. "Louis de Nevers," he said, softly, "you +shall be avenged to-night." +</p> +<p> +He moved a little away, and paused again before +the portrait of the king. "Louis of France," he +said, "you shall be convinced to-night." +</p> +<p> +A third time he resumed his walk, and a third time +he paused, this time before the portrait of the Prince +de Gonzague. Here he stood a little while longer in +silence, studying curiously the striking lineaments of +his enemy, that enemy who, through all the change +of years, had retained the grace and beauty represented +on the canvas. "Louis de Gonzague," he +murmured, "you shall be judged to-night." +</p> +<p> +Then he resumed his steady pacing up and down +the room, with his hands clasped lightly behind his +humped shoulders, busy in thought. For, indeed, he +had much to think of, much to plan, much to execute, +and but little time in which to do what he had to do. +Fortune had greatly favored him so far. The friends +he had summoned had come at his call. One more of +his enemies had been swept from his path, and by the +destruction of that enemy he had been able, thanks +to his old training as a play-actor, to enter unsuspected +into the household and the councils of the man +who most hated him, of the man whom he most hated. +But, though much was done, there was yet much to +do, and it needed all his fortitude, all his courage, and +all his humor to face without hesitation or alarm the +problems that faced him. +</p> +<p> +His reflections were interrupted by the opening of +a door, and, turning rapidly, he found himself in the +presence of a woman clad entirely in black, whom he +knew at once, in spite of the ravages that time and an +unchanging grief had wrought upon her beauty, to +be the Princess de Gonzague, the widow of Nevers. +The princess was accompanied by a lady-in-waiting, +a woman older than herself, and, like herself, clad +wholly in black, on whose arm she leaned for support. +Lagardere bowed respectfully to the woman he had +last seen so many years before in the short and terrible +interview in the moat at Caylus. +</p> +<p> +"You requested to see me," the princess said, +gravely and sternly. +</p> +<p> +"I requested permission to wait upon you," Lagardere +answered, deferentially. +</p> +<p> +"You are," the princess continued, "I presume, +in the service of the Prince de Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere bowed in silence. +</p> +<p> +"It is not my custom," the princess said, "to receive +messengers from his highness, but it is my custom +daily to visit these rooms for a few moments at +this time to look at one of the pictures they contain, +and at this time his highness leaves the room at my +disposal. From the earnestness of your letter, I have, +therefore, consented to see you here in the course of +this, my daily pilgrimage. What have you got to say +to me?" +</p> +<p> +"Your highness," said Lagardere, "I am, as you +imagine, in the service of his highness the Prince de +Gonzague, but I have been out of France for many +years, and know little or nothing of the events which +have taken place in my absence. I understand, however, +that there is to be a family council held in the +palace to-day, and that it is my master’s earnest wish +that you should be present at that council." +</p> +<p> +The princess drew herself up and surveyed the +hunchback coldly. "There is no need," she said, "for +any such council nor any need for my presence. I +have told your master so already, and do not see why +I should be importuned to repeat my words." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere bowed again, and made as if to retire. +Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, he drew +from his breast a small, sealed package. "As I was +coming to the Hôtel de Gonzague this morning," he +said, "a man whom I do not know stopped me in the +street and gave me this package, with the request that +I should deliver it to your highness. I explained to +the man that I was in the service of his highness the +Prince de Gonzague, and had not the honor of being +included among your highness’s servants. But the +man still pressed me to take charge of this packet, +asking me to deliver it to the care of one of your highness’s +women, and I should have done so but that I +thought upon reflection it might be better, if possible, +to deliver it into your own hands." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he extended the package, which the +princess received in silence and scrutinized carefully. +It was addressed to her in a handwriting that was +wholly unfamiliar, and carefully sealed with seals in +black wax, that bore the impression of the word +"Adsum." The princess looked keenly at the hunchback, +who stood quietly before her with bent head +in an attitude of respectful attention. +</p> +<p> +"Do you know anything further respecting this +package?" the princess asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere shook his head. "I have told your highness," +he said, "all I know of the matter. I never +saw the man who gave it to me. I do not think I +should know him again." +</p> +<p> +The princess again examined the packet closely, +and then, advancing to the table, seated herself for +a moment and broke the seals. The contents of the +packet seemed to startle her, for she suddenly turned +to her waiting-woman and beckoned her to her side. +Then, with a gesture, she motioned to Lagardere to +stand farther apart. Lagardere withdrew to the remotest +corner of the apartment, and seemed lost in +contemplation of the portrait of Louis de Gonzague. +</p> +<p> +The princess spoke to her companion in low, hurried +tones. "Brigitte," she said, "here is something +strange." And she showed her a little book which +she had taken from the packet. "This is the prayer-book +which I gave to my husband at Caylus seventeen +years ago, and see what is written in it." And +she pointed to some words which were written on the +blank page inside the cover in the same handwriting +as that in which the packet was addressed. These +words the princess read over to her companion: +</p> +<p> +"’God will have pity if you have faith. Your child +lives and shall be restored to you to-day. Distrust +Gonzague more than ever. Remember the motto of +Louis de Nevers. During the council sit near his +picture, and at the right time, for you and for you +alone, the dead shall speak.’" These words were +signed, "Henri de Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +The princess turned and beckoned to the hunch-back, +who immediately approached her. "You are +my husband’s servant," she said. "Are you much in +his confidence?" +</p> +<p> +"Madame," Lagardere replied, "I am too new to +Paris to consider myself in any sense the confidential +servant of his highness, but I can assure you that I +hope to serve him as he deserves to be served." +</p> +<p> +The princess seemed thoughtful, then she asked +again: "Did you ever hear of a man named Henri de +Lagardere?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback appeared agitated. "Madame," he +replied, "Henri de Lagardere is the enemy of my master, +and he is my enemy. I have been seeking him +unsuccessfully for many years, both in my master’s +interests and in my own." +</p> +<p> +The princess rose. "Enough, sir," she said. "I +will consider his highness’s wishes. Come, Brigitte." +</p> +<p> +Holding the packet in her hand and leaning on her +companion’s arm, she went towards the picture of +Louis de Nevers and knelt for a moment in prayer. +Then she rose and silently quitted the room, still +leaning on Brigitte’s arm. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_THE_FAMILY_COUNCIL' id='XXII_THE_FAMILY_COUNCIL'></a> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<h3>THE FAMILY COUNCIL</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Lagardere remained alone for a while in the +room, pensively contemplating the portraits of +the Three Louis. Then the sound of footsteps came +to his ears, footsteps advancing from many directions, +footsteps all making towards the great hall. He +smiled as a man smiles who is prepared to encounter +cheerfully great odds, and then, as if there were observing +eyes upon him, though indeed no eyes beheld +him save those that were painted in the canvases of +the three friends, he slouched across the room, more +markedly the hunchback than ever, till he came to +the curtained door by the side of the picture of Louis +de Nevers. He lifted the curtain, glanced round him +for a moment at the empty room, and then dipped +behind the curtain. +</p> +<p> +The curtain fell, the room was empty, save for the +painted presences of the Three Louis. But the room +was not empty long. A few moments later Gonzague +entered the room respectfully escorting his +illustrious master and friend, Louis of France. At +their heels followed a little crowd of notabilities, +eminent lawyers, eminent ecclesiastics, all of whom +had claim, by virtue of their kinship or by virtue of +their authority on delicate, contested family matters, +to a seat and a voice in the council that Louis +of Gonzague had been pleased to summon. After +these again came Gonzague’s own little tail of partisans, +Navailles and Nocé, Taranne and Oriol, Choisy +and Gironne, Albret and Montaubert, with Chavernay +fluttering about them like an impudent butterfly, +laughing at them, laughing at his august cousin, +laughing at the king, laughing at himself—laughing +at everything. To him such a family gathering as +this which he attended was almost the most ridiculous +thing imaginable on the face of the whole world, and +therefore deserving of consideration, if not of serious +consideration. +</p> +<p> +The king took his place upon the kind of little +throne which had been set apart for him. The rest +of the company arranged themselves with instinctive +sense of precedence upon the chairs that were ranged +behind it. To Chavernay the whole thing looked like +a pompous parody of a trial where there was nobody +to be tried, and he made unceasing jokes to his neighbors, +which compelled them to laugh. This earned +for him a disapproving glance from the dark eyes of +Gonzague, which had no effect whatever in depressing +his spirits. +</p> +<p> +When all the guests were duly seated, Gonzague +gravely rose, and, turning towards the king, saluted +him respectfully. "I thank your majesty," he said, +"for honoring us on this occasion, when matters of +great moment to me and to the lady whom I am proud +to call my wife, and to the great family with which +I am associated at once by ties of blood and alliance, +are in question. Your majesty will readily understand +that nothing but the gravest sense of duty +could have urged me to bring together so learned, so +just, so brilliant an assembly of men to deal with +delicate matters which have perhaps been too long left +undealt with. Such differences of opinion as may perhaps +be admitted to exist between madame the Princess +de Gonzague and myself, however trivial in the +beginning, have in a sense grown with the passing of +time into an importance which calls imperatively for +some manner or form of adjustment." +</p> +<p> +He paused in his speech, as if to control his emotions +and to collect his thoughts. The king leaned forward +and addressed him. "Does any one," he asked, "appear +here for madame the Princess de Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked about him with a melancholy +glance. "I had hoped, sire," he said, "that madame +the princess would have chosen some one to represent +her." But even as he spoke he paused, for the door +that led to the princess’s apartment was thrown open, +and the Princess de Gonzague appeared, clad in black +as usual, and as usual leaning upon the arm of her +faithful Brigitte. +</p> +<p> +As the princess entered the room, every one rose, +and all eyes were fixed upon the stately figure and +melancholy features of the still beautiful, if prematurely +aged, widow of Nevers. The princess made +a deep inclination to the king, and then spoke: +"Your majesty, I need no one to represent me. I +am here." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague allowed his features to betray the satisfaction +he felt at the presence of his consort. He hastened +to advance to her as she seated herself close to +the curtained alcove, saying as he did so: "Madame, +you are indeed welcome." And there was a sincerity +in his tone not always characteristic of his utterances. +</p> +<p> +The king bowed in his courtliest manner to the +unhappy lady, and addressed her: "Princess, you +know why we are assembled here?" +</p> +<p> +Slowly the princess inclined her head. "I do," +she said, and said no more, but sat looking fixedly +before her, the image of a patience that shielded a +strong purpose and a resignation that was now +kindled by a new hope. +</p> +<p> +The king turned to his friend and host: "Prince +de Gonzague, we await your pleasure." +</p> +<p> +Louis de Gonzague rose to his feet and surveyed +his assembled guests with a grave countenance that +seemed to suggest boldness without effrontery and a +grief nobly borne. All present admired his beauty, +his dignity, the proud humility of his carriage towards +the great lady who was in name his wife. Many +sympathized with him in what they knew to be his +strange position, and felt that the princess was indeed +to blame in refusing friendship and sympathy to such +a man. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague bowed respectfully to the king, and his +eyes travelled over the whole range of his audience +as he spoke. "Sire," he said, "I have to speak to-day +of the sorrow that has haunted me, as it has +haunted your majesty, for seventeen years. Louis de +Lorraine, Duke de Nevers, was my cousin by blood, +my brother by affection. His memory lives here, +eternal as is the grief of his widow, who has not disdained +to wear my name after wearing his." +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment, and in that pause the +princess spoke in a voice that was shaken with emotion, +in spite of her determination to be firm: "Do +not speak of that. I have passed those seventeen +years in solitude and in tears." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague paid to her and her sorrow the homage +of a bow; then he resumed: "When madame the princess +did me the honor to accept my name, she made +public her secret but legitimate marriage with the +late Duke de Nevers and the birth of a daughter of +that union. This child disappeared on the night of +Nevers’s death. The registration of its birth is torn +out of the chapel register and lost. For seventeen +years the princess has patiently sought for her lost +child, and has sought in vain." +</p> +<p> +The princess sighed: "Alas!" Gonzague paused for +a moment as if to allow the princess to say more, and +then, seeing she kept silent, he continued: "Calumniators +have hinted that it was my wish that +the child should not be found. Have they not, +madame?" +</p> +<p> +"Such things have been said," the princess replied, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +Again Gonzague spoke: "There were even those +who hinted that my hand might strike at a child’s life. +Is not that so?" +</p> +<p> +Again the princess repeated her former phrase: +"Such things have been said." +</p> +<p> +Now Gonzague questioned her directly: "And you +believed the accusation?" +</p> +<p> +The princess inclined her head: "I believed it." +</p> +<p> +At this reply a murmur not to be repressed ran +through the assembly. Those that sympathized with +Gonzague before now sympathized more deeply on +hearing such an answer come so coldly from his wife’s +lips. Gonzague allowed himself the luxury of a little, +patient sigh, the privileged protest of the good +and just under an intolerable suspicion. +</p> +<p> +"I am not surprised. The princess does not know +me. For seventeen years the princess and I have +been strangers. Now, for the first time, I can show +myself to my wife as I am." He addressed himself +directly to the princess: "Through all these seventeen +years I, too, have been seeking what you sought; +but, more fortunate than you, I have succeeded where +you have failed." +</p> +<p> +He turned to Peyrolles, who was standing close to +his master’s side, and commanded: "Bring in Mademoiselle +Gabrielle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +In a moment Peyrolles had vanished from the room, +leaving every man in the assembly impressed and +startled by Gonzague’s statement. The king looked +from Gonzague, whose face he had been studying +while he spoke with admiration and approval, and +fixed his keen gaze upon the princess. She alone, of +all those in the room, seemed unmoved by the momentous +tidings that her husband had communicated. +The younger men whispered among themselves, the +elders kept silence, but it was plain that their curiosity +was very great. +</p> +<p> +In a few moments Peyrolles returned to the room +escorting Flora, now very beautifully attired in a +dress of simple richness. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay could not restrain his surprise as she +entered. "The little dancing-girl," he whispered to +his right-hand neighbor, Choisy, but he said no more. +Even his airy nature was impressed by the stillness +of the company and the gravity of the situation. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague took the hand of Flora and conducted +her across the room to the princess. "Madame," he +said, "I restore your child." +</p> +<p> +The princess looked fixedly at the girl, her thin +hands clasping the arms of her chair convulsively, +and it could be seen that she was trembling from head +to foot. She was waiting for a voice, she was wondering +if she would hear a voice, and as she waited and +wondered she heard a voice from behind the curtain +near where she sat apart, a voice which reached +her ears, a voice with a mysterious message—"I am +here." +</p> +<p> +The princess clasped her hand to her heart. "Ah!" +she murmured, "will the dead speak? Is this my +child?" And again the voice spoke and answered: +"No." +</p> +<p> +By this time Gonzague and the girl had reached +the princess, who now rose to her feet and confronted +the pair as she spoke. "My child should have with +her a packet containing the page torn away from the +register of the chapel of Caylus, torn away with my +own hands." She turned to Flora and questioned +her: "Have you that packet?" +</p> +<p> +Flora dropped on her knees and stretched out her +hands with a pretty, pathetic air of supplication. +"Madame, I have nothing. Ah, madame, the poor +little gypsy girl asks of you neither wealth nor station; +she only entreats you to love her as she loves +you." +</p> +<p> +The princess prayed silently: "Oh, Heaven help +me! Heaven inspire me!" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague was startled by this sudden hostility to +his scheme, but spoke with respectful earnestness: +"Madame," he said, slowly, "we have depositions, +sworn to and duly attested in Madrid, that this girl, +then a year-old child, was given to a band of gypsies +by a man whose description coincides exactly with +that of one of the men believed to have been concerned +in the attack upon Louis de Nevers in the +moat of Caylus. We have their statements that in +their hearing the man called the child Gabrielle, +that he said to the head gypsy that she was of noble +birth, and that he gave her up to them because he +wished the child to suffer for the hate he bore her +father. All this and more than this we can prove. +For my part, I say that in this girl’s lineaments I seem +to see again the features of my dear dead friend. +Madame, to reject the child whom we believe to be +the daughter of Nevers, you must have reasons grave +indeed—the strongest proofs. Have you such reasons, +such proofs?" +</p> +<p> +From behind the curtain a voice travelled to the +princess’s ears, murmuring, "Yes," and the princess +repeated, "Yes," confidently. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague drew himself up with a look of pain and +sorrow. "I understand, madame. Some impostor, +speculating upon your sorrow, has told you that he +has found your child." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay whispered behind his hand to Navailles: +"Our cousin is losing his temper." +</p> +<p> +As the princess kept silent, Gonzague pressed his +question: "Is that not so, madame? Speak! Is this +not so? Some one has told you that she is alive?" +</p> +<p> +The princess heard the voice behind the curtain +whisper: "She lives." Looking steadily at Gonzague, +she said: "She lives, in spite of you, by the +grace of God." +</p> +<p> +The agitation of the audience was very great. The +king directly addressed the princess: "Can you produce +her?" +</p> +<p> +Again the voice whispered to the Princess, "Yes," +and again the Princess repeated, "Yes," as confidently +as before. +</p> +<p> +"When?" asked the king, to whom Gonzague had +at once yielded the privilege of question. +</p> +<p> +The voice whispered, "To-night," and the princess +repeated the words. +</p> +<p> +The voice whispered again, "At the ball in the +Palais Royal," and again the Princess echoed it, +"At the ball in the Palais Royal." +</p> +<p> +The king had no more to say; he was silent. Gonzague +groaned aloud as he turned to Flora. "My +poor child, only God can give you back the heart of +your mother." +</p> +<p> +The girl, with the quick impulsiveness of her race, +again flung herself on her knees before the princess, +while she cried: "Madame, whether you are my mother +or not, I respect you, I love you!" +</p> +<p> +The princess laid her hand gently on the girl’s +dark hair. "My child, my child, I believe you are +no accomplice of this crime. I wish you well." +</p> +<p> +Flora was now sobbing bitterly, and seemed unable +to rise. Peyrolles hastened to her side, hastened to +lift her to her feet, and hurriedly conducted the weeping +girl from the room. The princess, holding her +head high, turned and addressed the king: "Your +majesty, my mourning ends to-day. I have recovered +my daughter. I shall be your guest to-night, +sire." +</p> +<p> +The king bowed profoundly. "Believe that we +shall be most proud to welcome you." +</p> +<p> +The princess made him a reverence and turned to +leave the room. The king quitted his chair, hastened +to her side, and gave her his arm to the door. When +she had departed, Louis of France hastened to Gonzague +where he stood alone, the centre of wondering +eyes. "What is the meaning of this double discovery?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague shook his head with the air of one who +is faced by a shameful conspiracy, but who is not +afraid to face it. "I have found Nevers’s child. Who +the impostor is I do not know, but I shall know—and +then—" +</p> +<p> +He paused, but his menacing silence was more +impressive than any speech. The king wrung his +friend’s hand warmly. "I hope you may. Till to-night, +gentlemen." +</p> +<p> +All were standing now. The king embraced the +company in a general salutation and went out, followed +by his friends. The lawyers, the ecclesiastics +took their leave. Only the friends of Gonzague +remained in the room, and they stood apart, eying +their master dubiously, uncertain whether he would +wish them to go or to stay. Chavernay took it upon +himself, with his usual lightness of heart, to play +their spokesman. He advanced to Gonzague and +addressed him. +</p> +<p> +"Can we condole with you on this game of cross-purposes?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned to Chavernay, and his countenance +was calm, bold, almost smiling. "No. I shall +win the game. We shall meet to-night. Perhaps I +shall need your swords." +</p> +<p> +"Now, as ever, at your service," Navailles protested, +and the rest murmured their agreement with +the speaker. Then Gonzague’s partisans slowly filed +out of the room, Chavernay, as usual, smiling, the +others unusually grave. Gonzague turned to Peyrolles, +who had returned from his task of convoying +Flora to her apartments. "Who has done all this?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +He thought he was alone with his henchman, but +he was mistaken. Æsop had quietly entered the +room, and was standing at his side. Æsop answered +the question addressed to Peyrolles. "I can tell you. +The man you can neither find nor bind." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague started. "Lagardere?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop nodded. "Lagardere, whom I will give into +your hands if you wish." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague caught at his promise eagerly. "When?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +"To-night, at the king’s ball," Æsop answered. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_THE_KING_S_BALL' id='XXIII_THE_KING_S_BALL'></a> +<h2>XXIII</h2> +<h3>THE KING’S BALL</h3> +</div> + +<p> +The gardens of the Palais Royal made a delightful +place for such an entertainment as the king’s +ball. In its contrasts of light and shadow, in its +sombre alleys starred with colored lights, in its blend +of courtly pomp and sylvan simplicity, it seemed the +fairy-like creation of some splendid dream. Against +the vivid greenness of the trees, intensified by the +brightness of the blazing lamps, the whiteness of the +statues asserted itself with fantastic emphasis. Everywhere +innumerable flowers of every hue and every +odor sweetened the air and pleased the eye, and +through the blooming spaces, seemingly as innumerable +as the blossoms and seemingly as brilliant, +moved the gay, many-colored crowd of the king’s +guests. The gardens were large, the gardens were +spacious, but the king’s guests were many, and +seemed to leave no foot of room unoccupied. Hither +and thither they drifted, swayed, eddied, laughing, +chattering, intriguing, whispering, admiring, wondering, +playing all the tricks, repeating all the antics +that are the time-honored attributes and privileges +of a masquerade. Here trained dancers executed +some elaborate measure for the entertainment of +those that cared to pause in their wandering and behold +them; there mysterious individuals, in flowing +draperies, professed to read the stars and tell the fortunes +of those that chose to spare some moments +from frivolity for such mystic consultations. +</p> +<p> +In the handsomest part of the garden, hard by the +Pond and Fountain of Diana, a magnificent tent had +been pitched, which was reserved for the accommodation +of the king himself and for such special friends +as he might choose to invite to share his privacy. +Around this tent a stream of mirth-makers flowed +at a respectful distance, envying—for envy is present +even at a masquerade—those most highly favored +where all were highly favored in being admitted into +the sovereign’s intimacy. +</p> +<p> +At the door of this tent, Monsieur Breant, who +had been one of the cardinal’s principal servants, and +who still remained the head custodian of the palace, +was standing surveying the scene with a curiosity +dulled by long familiarity. He was unaware that a +sombrely clad hunchback, quite an incongruous figure +in the merry crowd, was making for him, until the +hunchback, coming along beside him, touched him on +the arm and called him by name: "Monsieur Breant!" +</p> +<p> +Breant turned and gazed at the hunchback with +some surprise. "Who are you?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laughed as he answered: "Don’t +you know me? Why, man, I am Æsop the Second. +My illustrious ancestor laughed at all the world, and +so do I. He loved the Greek girl Rhodopis, who built +herself a pyramid. I am wiser than he, for I love +only myself." +</p> +<p> +Breant shrugged his shoulders and made to turn +upon his heel. "I have no time for fooling." +</p> +<p> +Æsop detained him. "Don’t leave me; I am good +company." +</p> +<p> +Breant did not seem to be tempted by the offer. +"That may be, but I must attend on his majesty." +</p> +<p> +Æsop still restrained him. "You can do me a +favor." +</p> +<p> +Breant eyed the impertinent hunchback with disfavor. +"Why should I do you a favor, Æsop the +Second?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback explained, gayly: "In the first +place, because I am the guest of his Majesty the King. +In the second place, because I am the confidential +devil of his Highness the Prince de Gonzague. But +my third reason is perhaps better." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he took a well-filled purse from his +pocket and tossed it lightly from one hand to the other, +looking at Breant with a sneering smile. Breant +would have been no true servant of the time if he +had not liked money for the sake of the pleasure that +money could give; Breant would have been no true +servant of the time if he had not been always in want +of money. He eyed the purse approvingly, and his +manner was more amiable. +</p> +<p> +"What do you want?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Æsop made his wishes clear. "There is a little +lodge yonder in the darkness at the end of that alley, +hard by the small gate that is seldom used. You +know the gate, for you sometimes used to wait in +that little lodge when a late exalted personage chose +to walk abroad incognito." +</p> +<p> +Breant frowned at him. "You know much, Master +Æsop." +</p> +<p> +Æsop shrugged his shoulders. "I am a wizard. +But it needs no wizard to guess that, as the exalted +personage is no longer with us, he will not walk +abroad to-night, and you will not have to yawn and +doze in the lodge till he return." +</p> +<p> +"What then?" asked Breant. +</p> +<p> +Æsop lowered his voice to a whisper. "Let me +have the key of the little lodge for to-night." +</p> +<p> +Breant lifted his hands in protest. "Impossible!" +he said. +</p> +<p> +Æsop shook his head. "I hate that word, Monsieur +Breant. ’Tis a vile word. Come now, twenty +louis and the key of the lodge for an hour after midnight." +</p> +<p> +Breant looked at the purse and looked at the +hunchback. "Why do you want it?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Æsop laughed mockingly. "Vanity. I wish to +walk this ball like a gentleman. I have fine clothes; +they lie now in a bundle on the lodge step. If I had +the key I could slip inside and change and change +again and enjoy myself, and no one the worse or the +wiser." +</p> +<p> +The purse seemed to grow larger to Breant’s eyes, +and his objections to dwindle proportionately. "A +queer whim, crookback," he said. +</p> +<p> +Æsop amended the phrase: "A harmless whim, +and twenty louis would please the pocket." +</p> +<p> +Breant slipped his hand into a side-pocket, and, +producing a little key, he handed it to Æsop. +"There’s the key, but I must have it back before +morning." +</p> +<p> +Æsop took the key, and the purse changed owners. +"You shall," he promised. "Good. Now I shall +make myself beautiful." +</p> +<p> +Breant looked at him good-humoredly. "Good +sport, Æsop the Second." He turned and disappeared +into the tent. +</p> +<p> +Æsop, looking at the key with satisfaction, murmured +to himself: "The best." +</p> +<p> +As he moved slowly away from the king’s tent a +little crowd of Gonzague’s friends—Chavernay, Oriol, +Navailles, Nocé, Gironne, Choisy, Albret, and Montaubert—all +laughing and talking loudly, crossed his +path and perceived the hunchback, who seemed to +them, naturally enough, a somewhat singular figure +in such a scene. "Good Heavens! What is this?" +cried Navailles. +</p> +<p> +Nocé chuckled: "A hunchback brings luck. May +I slap you on the back, little lord?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop answered him, coolly: "Yes, Monsieur de +Nocé, if I may slap you in the face." +</p> +<p> +Nocé took offence instantly. "Now, by Heaven, +crookback!" he cried, and made a threatening gesture +against Æsop, who eyed him insolently with a +mocking smile. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay interposed. "Nonsense!" he cried. +"Nonsense, Nocé, you began the jest." Then he +added, in a lower voice: "You can’t pick a quarrel +with the poor devil." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback paid him an extravagant salutation. +"Monsieur de Chavernay, you are always chivalrous. +You really ought to die young, for it will take so +much trouble to turn you into a rogue." +</p> +<p> +Fat Oriol, staring in amazement at the controversy, +questioned: "What does the fellow mean?" +</p> +<p> +Chavernay burst into a fit of laughing, and patted +Oriol on the back. "I’m afraid he means that you +are a rogue, Oriol." +</p> +<p> +While the angry gentlemen stood together, with +the hunchback apart eying them derisively, and +Chavernay standing between the belligerents as peace-maker, +Taranne hurriedly joined the group. He was +evidently choking with news and eager to distribute +it. +</p> +<p> +"Friends, friends," he cried, "there is something +extraordinary going on here to-night!" +</p> +<p> +"What is it?" asked Chavernay. +</p> +<p> +Taranne answered him, with a voice as grave as an +oracle: "All the sentinels are doubled, and there are +two companies of soldiers in the great court." +</p> +<p> +Navailles protested: "You are joking!" +</p> +<p> +Taranne was not to be put down. "Never more +serious. Every one who enters is scrutinized most +carefully." +</p> +<p> +"That is easy to explain," said Chavernay; "it is +just to make sure that they really are invited." +</p> +<p> +Taranne declined to admit this interpretation of +his mystery: "Not so, for nobody is allowed on any +pretext to leave the gardens." +</p> +<p> +Oriol flushed with a sudden wave of intelligence: +"Perhaps some plot against his majesty." +</p> +<p> +"Heaven knows," Navailles commented. +</p> +<p> +Æsop interrupted the discussion with a dry laugh, +dimly suggestive of the cackle of a jackdaw. "I +know, gentlemen." +</p> +<p> +Oriol stared at him. "You know?" +</p> +<p> +Nocé gave vent to an angry laugh. "The hunchback +knows." +</p> +<p> +While this conversation was going on a group of +middle-aged gentlemen had been moving down the +avenue that led to the Pond of Diana. These were +the Baron de la Hunaudaye, Monsieur de Marillac, +Monsieur de Barbanchois, Monsieur de la Ferte, and +Monsieur de Vauguyon. They had been taking a +peaceful interest in the spectacle afforded them, had +been comparing it with similar festivities that they +recalled in the days of their youth, and had been enjoying +themselves tranquilly enough. Perceiving a +group of young men apparently engaged in animated +discussion, the elders quickened their pace a little to +join the party and learn the cause of its animation. +</p> +<p> +When they arrived Æsop was speaking. "Something +extraordinary is going on here to-night, Monsieur +de Navailles. The king is preoccupied. The +guard is doubled, but no one knows why, not even +these gentlemen. But I know, Æsop the Wise." +</p> +<p> +"What do you know?" asked Navailles. +</p> +<p> +Æsop looked at him mockingly. "You would +never guess it if you guessed for a thousand years. +It has nothing to do with plots or politics, with foreign +intrigues or domestic difficulties—" +</p> +<p> +Oriol thirsted for information. "What is it for, +then?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop answered, gravely, with an amazing question: +"Gentlemen, do you believe in ghosts?" And +the gravity of his voice and the strangeness of his +question forced his hearers, surprised and uneasy, +in spite of themselves, to laugh disdainfully. +</p> +<p> +Æsop accepted their laughter composedly. "Of +course not. No one believes in ghosts at noonday, +on the crowded street, though perhaps some do at +midnight when the world is over-still. But here, to-night, +in all this glitter and crowd and noise and color, +the king is perturbed and the guards are doubled +because of a ghost—the ghost of a man who has been +dead these seventeen years." +</p> +<p> +The Baron de la Hunaudaye, bluff old soldier of the +brave days of the dawning reign, was interested in the +hunchback’s words. "Of whom do you speak?" he +asked. +</p> +<p> +Æsop turned to the new-comers, and addressed +them more respectfully than he had been addressing +the partisans of Gonzague: "I speak of a gallant +gentleman—young, brave, beautiful, well-beloved. I +speak to men who knew him. To you, Monsieur de +la Hunaudaye, who would now be lying under Flemish +earth if his sword had not slain your assailant; to +you, Monsieur de Marillac, whose daughter took the +veil for love of him; to you, Monsieur de Barbanchois, +who fortified against him the dwelling of your lady +love; to you, Monsieur de la Ferte, who lost to him +one evening your Castle of Senneterre; to you, Monsieur +de Vauguyon, whose shoulder should still remember +the stroke of his sword." +</p> +<p> +As Æsop spoke, he addressed in turn each of the +elder men, and as he spoke recognition of his meaning +showed itself in the face of each man whom he addressed. +</p> +<p> +Hunaudaye nodded. "Louis de Nevers," he said, +solemnly. +</p> +<p> +Instantly Æsop uncovered. "Yes, Louis de Nevers, +who was assassinated under the walls of the Castle of +Caylus twenty years ago." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay came over to Æsop. "My father was +a friend of Louis de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Æsop looked from the group of old men to the group +of young men. "It is the ghost of Nevers that +troubles us to-night. There were three Louis in +those days, brothers in arms. Louis of France did +all he could to find the assassin of Nevers. In vain. +Louis de Gonzague did all he could to find the assassin +of Nevers. In vain. Well, gentlemen, would you believe +it, to-night Louis of France and Louis de Gonzague +will be told the name of the assassin of Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +"And the name?" asked Chavernay. +</p> +<p> +Choisy plucked him impatiently by the sleeve. +"Don’t you see that the humpbacked fool is making +game of us?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop shrugged his shoulders. "As you please, +sirs, as you please; but that is why the guards are +doubled." +</p> +<p> +He turned on his heel, and walked leisurely away +from the two groups of gentlemen. The elders, having +little in common with Gonzague’s friends, followed +his example, and drifted off together, talking to one +another in a low voice of the gallant gentleman whose +name had suddenly been recalled to their memories +at that moment. Gonzague’s gang stared at one another, +feeling vaguely discomfited. +</p> +<p> +"The man is mad," said Gironne. +</p> +<p> +"There seems a method in his madness," said Chavernay, +dryly. +</p> +<p> +Albret interrupted them. "Here comes his majesty." +</p> +<p> +"And, as I live, with the Princess de Gonzague!" +Montaubert cried, amazed. +</p> +<p> +Oriol elevated his fat palms. "Wonders will never +cease!" +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_THE_ROSECOLORED_DOMINO' id='XXIV_THE_ROSECOLORED_DOMINO'></a> +<h2>XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE ROSE-COLORED DOMINO</h3> +</div> + +<p> +All the party bowed respectfully as the king +came slowly down the great walk, giving his arm +to the Princess de Gonzague. Then, anxious to avoid +any appearance of intruding upon the privacy of the +monarch, they drifted off in search of fresh amusement. +</p> +<p> +Louis addressed the princess, indicating the gayety +around him with a wave of his arm. "After so long +an absence from the world, all this folly must worry +you a little." +</p> +<p> +The princess looked at him sadly. "The world and +I have little more to say to each other. I come here +to-night to meet one who has promised to tell me of +my husband, of my child." +</p> +<p> +"Lagardere?" said the king, gravely. +</p> +<p> +And as gravely the princess answered: "Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +"At midnight?" asked the king. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said the princess. +</p> +<p> +The king looked at his watch. It was half-past +eleven. "Will you rest in my pavilion, princess, +until the time comes?" +</p> +<p> +Louis conducted the princess into the tent, where +he was followed by his escort. As they did so, Gonzague, +coming slowly down the avenue, watched them +thoughtfully. It was strange, indeed, to see his wife +in such a place and in such company. It was strange +to feel that her passive hostility through all these +years was now turned suddenly into action. +</p> +<p> +"Bah!" he said to himself; "it is my word against +that of an adventurer who has hidden for twenty +years." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles, pushing his way through the crowd and +peering to right and left, caught sight of his master +and hurriedly joined him. "Well," said Gonzague, +"have you found the girl?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles made a gesture of despair. "We have +searched Paris without success. Not a sign of her, +nor of him." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague frowned. "She must be here. If she +be the real child, the princess may recognize her." +</p> +<p> +"And all is lost," said Peyrolles, with a groan. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague almost smiled. "No. We will charge +Lagardere with having assassinated the father and +stolen the child for his own ends. He shall be hanged +out of hand. Doña Flora will seem the commendable +error of my over-zealous heart, and as for the new +princess—well, even princesses are mortal." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles had always admired his master, but never +perhaps so much as now. "Your Excellency is a man +of genius," he said, enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled. "Forethought, my good Peyrolles—only +forethought. But it would save trouble +if the girl were out of the way." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles bowed. "I will do my best, monseigneur." +</p> +<p> +"Good," said Gonzague. "I must wait upon his +majesty. And upon the princess," he added. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague, whose intimacy with the king always +made him the first to be bidden to any special festivity, +entered the tent unchallenged, and was warmly +welcomed by Louis. Peyrolles remained outside, +walking up and down, immersed in distasteful reflections. +He had failed to find the girl; he had failed +to get on the traces of Lagardere; he had seen nothing +of Æsop. The ball, so pleasant to everybody +else, seemed to him full of menace, and he eyed with +some disapproval the jolly, noisy folk that thronged +the alleys and shook the night with laughter. Swollen +with sour humors, he leaned against a tree, cursing +in his heart the folly of those swordsmen who had +failed to get rid of a cursed enemy. Enveloped, as +it were, in bitterness, he failed to notice a not unnoticeable +group that detached itself from the crowd +beyond and came slowly down the alley towards the +Fountain of Diana. The group was composed of a +woman in a rose-colored domino and mask, accompanied +by two tall, masculine figures muffled from +head to heels in black dominos, and their features +completely hidden by bearded black masks. The +pink domino and the twin black dominos seemed +to be seeking their way. +</p> +<p> +"This," said the bigger of the black dominos, and +his voice was the voice of Cocardasse—"this must be +the Fountain of Diana." +</p> +<p> +The second of the black dominos pointed to the +statue shining in the many-tinted water, and spoke +with the voice of Passepoil: "There’s some such +poor heathen body." +</p> +<p> +The woman in the rose-pink domino turned to +Cocardasse and asked: "Is Henri here?" And her +voice was the voice of Gabrielle. +</p> +<p> +"I don’t see him yet, mademoiselle," Cocardasse +answered. +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle sighed. "I wish he were come. All this +noise and glitter bewilder me." And the trio proceeded +slowly to make the tour of the fountain. +</p> +<p> +But if Peyrolles, propped against his tree, was too +preoccupied to notice the not unnoticeable group, +light-hearted Chavernay was more alert. Drifting, +as every one drifted that night, again and again, towards +the Fountain of Diana as the centre of festivity, +he turned to Navailles and pointed to Gabrielle. +"Who is that mask in the rose-colored domino? She +seems to seek some one." +</p> +<p> +Navailles laughed. "She goes about with two +giants like some princess in a fairy tale." +</p> +<p> +Nocé was prepared with an explanation. "It is +Mademoiselle de Clermont, who is looking for me." +</p> +<p> +Taranne pooh-poohed him. "Nonsense. It is Madame +de Tessy, who is looking for me." +</p> +<p> +"It might be Mademoiselle Nivelle, looking for +me," Oriol suggested, fatuously. +</p> +<p> +Choisy, Gironne, Albret, Montaubert—each in turn +offered a possible name for the unknown. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay would have none of their suggestions. +"No, no. That is not any one we know. She is +neither court lady nor a play actress; she is some +goddess in disguise, and I am going to reveal divinity." +</p> +<p> +Then he tripped daintily forward and intercepted +Gabrielle and her companions as they accomplished +their first tour of the pond. "Fair lady," said Chavernay, +with a graceful bow, "are you looking for +some one?" +</p> +<p> +The large arm of Cocardasse was interposed between +Chavernay and Gabrielle, and the large voice +of Cocardasse counselled Chavernay: "Stand aside, +little man." +</p> +<p> +Quite indifferent to the counsels of the mighty +mask, Chavernay persisted: "Fair lady, dismiss this +monster and accept my arm." +</p> +<p> +This time it was Passepoil’s turn to intervene. +"Out of the way!" he commanded, and gave Chavernay +a little push. +</p> +<p> +Instantly Chavernay’s hot blood was in a flame, +and he clapped his hand to his sword. "How dare +you, fellow—" he began. +</p> +<p> +But now Gabrielle, greatly alarmed at the prospect +of a brawl in such a place, and perfectly recognizing +the marquis, removed her mask from her face +for a moment while she spoke: "Monsieur de Chavernay, +you will let me pass." +</p> +<p> +It was only for a moment, but it was long enough +to give Chavernay time to recognize her, and he +fell back with a respectful salutation. It was long +enough, also, for Peyrolles, leaning against his tree +and at last roused from saddened thoughts to contemplation +of the outer world, to get a glimpse of the +girl’s face and to recognize its extraordinary resemblance +to the dead duke. He gave a start of surprise. +Was fortune playing into his hands, after all? +</p> +<p> +Chavernay bowed. "Your pardon, lady; your path +is free," he said, and stood aside while Gabrielle +moved slowly forward with her escort on a second +tour of the fountain. Navailles and the others had +seen, indeed, the lady unmask, but were not near +enough to descry her features. +</p> +<p> +"Well," said Navailles, eagerly, to Chavernay—"well, +who was the lady?" +</p> +<p> +Chavernay answered, coolly: "I do not know." +</p> +<p> +At this moment the lean form and yellow face of +Monsieur de Peyrolles intruded itself into the group +of Gonzague’s friends. +</p> +<p> +"Monsieur de Chavernay," he said, "my illustrious +master is looking for you. He is with his +majesty." +</p> +<p> +"I will join him," Chavernay answered, readily. +He was, like his kinsman, a privileged person with +the sovereign, and he, too, was permitted to enter +the tent unchallenged. He entered it with a graver +demeanor than he had worn that evening, for he was +strangely perplexed by the presence at the king’s +ball this night of the girl whom he had seen at the +country Inn. As soon as Chavernay had disappeared, +Peyrolles, hurriedly beckoning, gathered about him +Navailles, Nocé, and the others, and addressed them +in an eager whisper: +</p> +<p> +"Gentlemen, you are all devoted to the interests +of the Prince de Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Nocé spoke for himself and his comrades: "We are." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles went on: "Then, as you value his friendship, +secure the person of that girl whom Monsieur +de Chavernay spoke to just now." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" Navailles questioned. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles answered him, sharply: "Don’t ask; act. +To please our master it should be done at once." +</p> +<p> +"How is it to be done?" asked Taranne. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles looked about him. "Is there no other +woman here who wears a rose-colored domino?" +</p> +<p> +Navailles pointed to a group in an adjacent arbor. +"Cidalise, yonder, is wearing a rose-colored domino. +She will do anything for me." +</p> +<p> +"Bring her," Peyrolles said, in a tone of command +which he sometimes assumed when he was on his +master’s business, and which no one of his master’s +friends ever took it upon himself to resent. Navailles +went towards the arbor and came back with Cidalise +upon his arm. Cidalise was a pretty, young actress, +wearing just such a pink domino as that worn by +Gabrielle. +</p> +<p> +Navailles formally presented her to Peyrolles. +"Monsieur Peyrolles, this is the divine Cidalise. +What do you want of her?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles unceremoniously took the actress by the +wrist, and pointed to where Gabrielle and her escort +were wandering. +</p> +<p> +"You see that girl in rose-color, escorted by two +giants? Your friends will gather about them and +begin to hustle the giants. In the confusion you +will slip between the pair, who will then be left to +march off, believing that you are their charge, who +will, however, be in the care of these gentlemen. Do +you understand?" +</p> +<p> +Cidalise nodded. "Perfectly. And if I do this?" +</p> +<p> +"You may rely upon the generosity of the Prince +of Gonzague," Peyrolles answered. If he said little, +he looked much, and Cidalise understood him as she +accepted. +</p> +<p> +"It will be rare sport. Come, gentlemen." +</p> +<p> +By this time Gabrielle and her companions, having +completed their second circumnavigation of the +pond, were going slowly across the open space again. +The crowd was very great about them, the noise +and laughter made everything confused. Gonzague’s +friends took advantage of the crowd and the confusion. +They huddled around Gabrielle and her +escort, laughing and chattering volubly. They hustled +Cocardasse, they hustled Passepoil, treading on +their toes and tweaking their elbows, much to the +indignation of the Gascon and the Norman, each of +whom tried angrily and unavailingly to get hold of one +of his nimble tormentors. In the jostling and confusion, +Cidalise slipped neatly between the two bravos, +suddenly abandoned by their plaguers; while Gabrielle, +surrounded by the dexterous gentlemen, was, against +her will but very steadily, edged towards a side alley. +Cocardasse and Passepoil, drawing deep breaths such +as Io may have drawn when freed from her gadfly, +looked down and saw, as they believed, Gabrielle +standing between them. The seeming Gabrielle moved +on, on a third journey round the Pond of Diana, +and her escort accompanied her, confident that all +was well. +</p> +<p> +In the mean time, Gabrielle was appealing to the +gentlemen who surrounded her. "Gentlemen, stand +aside!" she said, in a tone partly of entreaty, partly +of command. +</p> +<p> +At that moment Peyrolles came to her side and +saluted her respectfully. "Do not be alarmed. We +come from him." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle stared in amazement at the unfamiliar face. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles bent to her ear and whispered: "From +Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle gave a cry. "Ah! Where is he?" +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles pointed to the far end of the alley in +which they were standing. It was a dimmer alley +than the others, for, in obedience to a suggestion +of Peyrolles, Oriol had been busily engaged in putting +out the lights. "At the end of this alley. He is +waiting for you." +</p> +<p> +He offered her his arm as he spoke, and Gabrielle, +believing indeed that Lagardere had sent for her, +accepted his guidance down the alley, and so she +disappeared from the noise and mirth and light and +color of the royal ball. +</p> +<p> +As the domino in pink and the dominos in black +completed their third turn round the Fountain of +Diana, the domino in pink plucked off her mask, and, +looking up at her accompanying giants, showed to +them, amazed, the pretty, impudent, unfamiliar face +of Cidalise. "May I ask, gentlemen, why you follow +me?" she said, merrily. +</p> +<p> +At the sight of her face, at the sound of her voice, +at her question, Cocardasse and Passepoil reeled as if +they had been struck. Cidalise went on: "I have many +friends here, and no need for your company." Then +she laughed and ran away out of sight in a moment +in the shifting crowd, leaving Cocardasse and Passepoil +staring at each other in staggered amazement. +</p> +<p> +"The devil!" said Cocardasse. +</p> +<p> +"That’s what I’m thinking," said Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse groaned. "What will Lagardere say?" +</p> +<p> +"Well, we did our best," Passepoil sighed. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse groaned again. "What’s the good, if +we didn’t do what he wanted?" +</p> +<p> +"Where shall we find him?" asked Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse consulted the watch which he owed to the +bounty of the Prince de Gonzague. "He will be here at +midnight. It is nearly that now. Come, man, come." +And the baffled, bewildered, angry pair plunged despairingly +into the thickness of the crowd about them, +hoping against hope to find their lost charge for the +moment when Lagardere was to make his appearance. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_THE_GLOVE_OF_COCARDASSE' id='XXV_THE_GLOVE_OF_COCARDASSE'></a> +<h2>XXV</h2> +<h3>THE GLOVE OF COCARDASSE</h3> +</div> + +<p> +For a little longer the noise and revelry continued, +until the moment came when the king’s +hospitality, offering supper to his wearied guests, +emptied the gardens of many of their frequenters. +Inside his tent the sovereign was supping with his +friends. By his side sat the Princess de Gonzague, +who neither ate nor drank, but waited with an aching +heart for midnight. At a quarter to twelve Bonnivet +entered the tent and advanced towards the king. +</p> +<p> +"Sire," he said, "there is a gentleman here who +insists on immediate speech with you. He says you +have appointed this time and place to meet him." +</p> +<p> +Louis turned to the Princess de Gonzague, whose +pale face had suddenly flushed. "It is he," he said; +and then turned to Bonnivet. "Introduce the gentleman." +</p> +<p> +Bonnivet went to the entrance of the tent, and a +moment later Lagardere entered. He was wearing +his old white coat of the Royal Light-Horse, and he +advanced composedly, with head erect, towards the +king. +</p> +<p> +"I am here," he said, as he saluted the duke, and +all present gazed on him with curiosity. Only three +knew who he was or why he was there. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague muttered to himself: "Now for the death-struggle." +</p> +<p> +The king looked at his visitor. "Who are you?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +And Lagardere answered: "I am Henri de Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +At that moment Peyrolles, privileged as his master’s +henchman, entered the tent and made his way +to Gonzague’s side. "All is well," he whispered. +"We have got the girl, and the papers are upon her." +</p> +<p> +The king was addressing Lagardere. "You are +here at our pleasure—free to come, free to go, free +to speak." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered, firmly: "I mean to speak." +</p> +<p> +The princess turned to him. "Will you give me +back my daughter?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere made her a bow. "In a few moments +she will be in your arms." +</p> +<p> +At this moment Gonzague rose and interrupted. +"Sire," he said, "I can tell you something of this +man." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere glanced scornfully at Gonzague. "Sire," +he said, "I can tell you something of this man." He +advanced towards Gonzague and addressed him in +a low tone: "On that September night I told you +that if you did not come to Lagardere, Lagardere +would come to you. You did not come. I am here." +Then he turned to the princess. "Madame, here, as +in the moat of Caylus Castle; here, as by the picture +in your palace, I am wholly in your service." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned to the king with an appealing +gesture. "I implore your majesty to let no one leave +this place. If Monsieur de Lagardere is desirous of +darkness and mystery, I ask only for light and +truth." +</p> +<p> +The king spoke, decisively: "If the attack has been +secret, the justification shall be public." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague addressed Lagardere: "Where is the +woman who calls herself the daughter of Louis de +Nevers?" +</p> +<p> +The king also questioned: "Why is she not with +you?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered, composedly: "Mademoiselle +de Nevers will be here at midnight, and will herself +present to your Royal Highness the papers that +prove her birth." +</p> +<p> +"What papers?" asked the king. +</p> +<p> +And Lagardere answered: "The pages torn from +the parish register by her mother, and confided to +me in the moat of Caylus Castle." +</p> +<p> +The princess leaned forward. "What do you say?" +she asked, eagerly, and the king echoed her question. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere replied: "The princess gave those papers +to me when she placed her child in my arms, believing +that I was her husband, Louis de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague questioned, with a sneer: "Why should +she think you were her husband?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked him full in the face. "Because, +thanks to you, I gave the signal agreed upon—her +husband’s motto, ’I am here.’" +</p> +<p> +The princess clasped her hands. "My God, sire, +it is true." +</p> +<p> +"And these papers are in your hands?" the king +asked. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered, quietly: "They are in the +hands of Mademoiselle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked triumphantly from Lagardere to +the king. "Then why is this pretended Mademoiselle +de Nevers not here?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere replied, composedly: "She is to be here +at midnight." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked at his watch. "It is midnight +now—she is not here. Your majesty sees the worth +of this man’s word." +</p> +<p> +Louis gazed curiously at Lagardere, whose bearing, +in spite of the king’s prejudices as a friend of Gonzague, +impressed him as that of an honest man. "Had +you not better send for this lady?" he questioned. +</p> +<p> +On Lagardere’s face now some anxiety was depicted, +and he answered, anxiously: "She will be here; she +must be here. Ah!" +</p> +<p> +In the excitement consequent upon the extraordinary +scene that was passing in the king’s presence, +the attention of all the guests was riveted upon their +host and upon the amazing altercation between Louis +of Gonzague and the unknown adventurer, and the +entrance of the tent was left unheeded and unguarded. +At this moment the curtains were parted, and the +figure of Cocardasse appeared for a moment in the +opening. As Lagardere saw him, Cocardasse lifted +his glove in the air and let it fall to the ground. Then, +in a moment, he had vanished before any one had noticed +the episode. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere gave a sharp cry of pain as he turned to +the princess. "Madame, your child is not here; your +child must be in danger!" he cried. +</p> +<p> +The princess clasped her hands as she cried: "My +child! My child!" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague pointed mockingly at Lagardere. "The +impostor is already exposed!" he cried, exultingly. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned towards him, fiercely. "Liar! assassin!" +he cried, and advanced towards Gonzague, +but was stopped by Bonnivet. +</p> +<p> +The king looked at him sternly. "Sir, you have +made charges you could not prove, promises you could +not keep. You shall answer for this before your +judges." +</p> +<p> +Bonnivet made as if to arrest Lagardere, but Lagardere +held up his hand. "Stop!" he cried; "let no +man dare to touch me. I have here your majesty’s +safe-conduct, signed and sealed—’free to come, free to +go’—that was your promise, sire." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague protested. "A promise won by a trick +does not count." +</p> +<p> +The king shook his head. "I have given my word. +The man has forty-eight hours to cross the frontier." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere bowed to the king. "I thank you, +sire. You are a true and honorable gentleman. But, +sire, I give you back your word." As he spoke he +tore the safe-conduct in two and flung it at his feet. +"I ask but four-and-twenty hours to unmask the +villain who now triumphs over truth and justice, and +to give back a daughter to her mother. Nevers shall +be avenged! Make way for me!" +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he turned upon his heel and passed +rapidly from the king’s presence, the amazed and +bewildered guests giving ground before him as he +passed. Instantly Gonzague turned and whispered to +Peyrolles: "He must not leave this place alive." +</p> +<p> +And Peyrolles answered, confidently: "He shall not. +Every gate is guarded by my spies." +</p> +<p> +The king rose gravely and addressed the assembly. +"Let us disperse, friends. What we have seen and +heard leaves us in little mood for merrymaking." +Then he gave his hand to the now weeping princess, +and, followed by his immediate escort, quitted the +tent. It was soon deserted; it was soon empty. The +king departed in the direction of his palace. News +that the ball was ended spread rapidly, and in a short +while the gardens that had been so thronged and brilliant +became deserted and desolate. The departing +guests found that every exit was guarded by soldiers, +and that their faces were carefully scanned before they +were suffered to leave the precincts of the Palais Royal. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague remained alone in the solitude by the +Fountain of Diana, waiting for Peyrolles, who presently +joined him. +</p> +<p> +"Well?" Gonzague asked, anxiously. +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles looked disappointed. "He has not left +by any of the gates. He must be hiding in the gardens." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague commanded, sharply: "Bid your men +seek till they find, and kill when they find." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles bowed. "Yes, your excellency," he said, +and disappeared down one of the silent alleys. As he +departed, the hunchback emerged from the shadow +of a tree and approached Gonzague noiselessly. Gonzague +started a little as he suddenly became aware of +the hunchback’s presence. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback bowed. "Is your highness content +with the night’s work?" +</p> +<p> +"So far, yes," Gonzague replied. "We have got +the girl and got the papers safe in my palace." +</p> +<p> +"Ah! And Lagardere?" the hunchback asked. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague answered: "Peyrolles is looking for him, +with six of the best swords in Paris." +</p> +<p> +Æsop spoke, contemptuously: "Peyrolles is a bungler. +Leave it to me. I will find Lagardere for you +and deal with him as he deserves before an hour has +passed." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague caught at his words eagerly. "You +promise?" +</p> +<p> +Æsop answered, proudly: "On the word of a hunchback. +Before two o’clock I will bring you the news +you wish for." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague gave a cry of triumph. "Then ask and +have your own reward." Then he turned and hurriedly +left the gardens, his breast swelled with exultation. +When he was out of sight, the hunchback +whistled softly, and Cocardasse and Passepoil came +out of the shadow of the trees. The lights were now +rapidly dying out, and the gardens lay in darkness +checkered by the moonlight. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to his friends. "She is in Gonzague’s +palace. We must rescue her at once." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil appealed to him, pathetically: "Can you +ever forgive us?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Lagardere answered—"yes, on one condition. +There is a snake in this garden. Kill him for +me." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse gave a grin of appreciation. "Peyrolles +it is." +</p> +<p> +Even as he spoke there was a tramp of feet and +a flare of light in a side alley, and Peyrolles came towards +them followed by half a dozen men, each of +whom carried a torch in his left hand and a naked +sword in his right. Peyrolles came towards the +hunchback. +</p> +<p> +"Well, Æsop, we cannot find him anywhere." +</p> +<p> +"That," the hunchback answered, coldly, "is because +you don’t know where to look." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles turned to his followers. "Seek in all +directions," he said, and the men with the swords +and torches dispersed in twos down the adjacent +alleys. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laid his hand on Peyrolles’s shoulder. +"I know where to find him." +</p> +<p> +Peyrolles turned in astonishment. "You do?" +</p> +<p> +"I am here!" the hunchback said, sternly. He +drew himself up erect and menacing, and flung back +the long hair from his face. Peyrolles gave a gasp +of horror as he recognized the man whom he had seen +such a short while before in the presence of the +king. +</p> +<p> +"Lagardere!" he cried, and was about to scream +for help when Cocardasse grasped him by the throat. +There was a short struggle, and then Cocardasse flung +the dead body of Peyrolles at the feet of Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere bent over him and spoke his epitaph: +"The last of the lackeys. Now for the master." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_THE_REWARD_OF_SOP' id='XXVI_THE_REWARD_OF_SOP'></a> +<h2>XXVI</h2> +<h3>THE REWARD OF ÆSOP</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Paris lay quiet enough between the midnight +and the dawn. All the noise and brilliance and +turbulence, all the gayety and folly and fancy of the +royal ball had died away and left the Palais Royal +and the capital to peace. Little waves of frivolity +had drifted this way and that from the ebbing sea to +the haven of this great house and that great house, +where certain of those that had made merry in the +king’s gardens now made merrier still at a supper as +of the gods. The Palace of Gonzague was one of those +great houses. The hall where the Three Louis gazed +at one another—one so brave, one so comely, one so +royal—was indeed a brilliant solitude where the lights +of many candles illuminated only the painted canvases +throned over emptiness. But from behind the +great gilded doors came the sound of many voices, +men’s voices and women’s voices, full of mirth and +the clatter of glasses. His Highness Prince Louis +de Gonzague was entertaining at supper a chosen +company of friends—flowers from the king’s garland +carefully culled. There were the brilliant, insolent +youths, who formed the party of Gonzague; there were +the light, bright, desirable women whom the party +of Gonzague especially favored among the many of +their kind in Paris. Nocé was there, and Oriol and +Taranne and Navailles and the others, and the dainty, +daring, impudent Cidalise and her sisters of the +opera, and Oriol’s flame, who made game of him—all +very pretty, all very greedy, as greedy of food and +wine as they were greedy of gold and kisses, and all +very merry. One face was wanting from the habitual +familiars of Gonzague. The little, impertinent Marquis +de Chavernay was not present. Gonzague had +not thought fit to include him in the chosen of that +night. Chavernay was getting to be too critical of +his kinsman’s conduct. Chavernay was not as sympathetic +with his kinsman’s ambitions and wishes as +his kinsman would have had him be. +</p> +<p> +At the head of the table sat the illustrious host, +beaming with an air of joyousness that astonished +even his friends. It was as though the sun that had +shone for so long upon all their lives, and in whose +light and heat they had prospered, had suddenly taken +upon himself a braver radiance, a fiercer effulgence, in +the glow of which they all, men and women alike, +seemed to feel their personal fortunes patently flourishing. +No one knew why Louis de Gonzague was so +gladsome that night; no one, of course, ventured to +ask the reason of his gayety. It was enough for those, +his satellites, who prospered by his favor and who +battened on his bounty that the prince, who was their +leader, chose on this occasion to show a spirit of careless +mirth that made the thought of serving him, and +of gaining by that service, more than ever attractive. +</p> +<p> +Outside, in the deserted hall, the Three Louis stared +at one another, heedless of the laughter behind the +gilded doors, indifferent to the hilarity, regardless of +the license characteristic of a supper-party in such a +house at such an hour. For long enough the Three +Louis kept one another company, while the great +wax candles dwindled slowly, and the noise and +laughter beyond seemed interminable. Then the door +of the antechamber opened, and the hunchback entered +the hall and paused for a moment, glancing at +each of the Three Louis, with a look of love for one, +a look of hate for the other, and a look of homage +for the third. At the hunchback’s heels came Cocardasse +and Passepoil, waiting on events. The hunchback +stood for a moment listening to the noise and +jollity beyond the doors. Then he turned to his followers: +</p> +<p> +"My enemy makes merry to-night. I think I shall +take the edge off his merriment by-and-by. But the +trick has its risks, and we hazard our lives. Would +you like to leave the game? I can play it alone." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse answered with his favorite salute: "I +am with you in this if it ends in the gallows." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil commented: "That’s my mind." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere looked at them as one looks at friends +who act in accordance with one’s expectation of them. +</p> +<p> +"Thanks, friends," he said. Then he sat at Gonzague’s +table, dipped pen in ink, and wrote two hurried +letters. One he handed to Cocardasse. "This +letter to the king, instantly." The other he handed +to Passepoil. "This to Gonzague’s notary, instantly. +Come back and wait in the anteroom. When you +hear me cry out, ’Lagardere, I am here,’ into the +room and out with your swords for the last chance +and the last fight." +</p> +<p> +Cocardasse laid his hand on the sham hump of the +sham Æsop. "Courage, comrade, the devil is dead." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere laughed at him, something wistfully. +"Not yet." +</p> +<p> +Passepoil suggested, timidly: "We live in hopes." +</p> +<p> +Then Cocardasse and Passepoil went out through +the antechamber, and Lagardere remained alone +with the Three Louis. He rose again and looked at +them each in turn, and his mind was hived with +memories as he gazed. Before Louis de Nevers he +thought of those old days in Paris when the name of +the fair and daring duke was on the lips of all men +and of all women, and when he met him for the first +time and got his lesson in the famous thrust, and +when he met him for the second and last time in the +moat at Caylus and gave him the pledge of brotherhood. +Looking now on the beautiful, smiling face, +Lagardere extended his hand to the painted cloth, +as if he almost hoped that the painted hand could +emerge from it and clasp his again in fellowship, and +so looking he renewed the pledge of brotherhood and +silently promised the murdered man a crown of revenge. +</p> +<p> +He turned to the picture of Louis de Gonzague, and +he thought of his speech in the moat of Caylus with +the masked shadow, and of the sudden murder of +Nevers, and of his own assault upon the murderer, +and how he set his mark upon his wrist. The expression +on Lagardere’s face was cold and grave and +fatal as he studied this picture. If Gonzague could +have seen his face just then he would not have made +so merry beyond the folded doors. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to the third Louis, the then +solemn, the then pale, Louis of France, and gave +him a military salute. "Monseigneur," he murmured, +"you are an honest man and a fine gentleman, and I +trust you cheerfully for my judge to-night." Turning, +he advanced to the doors that shut him off from the +noisy folk at supper, and listened for a moment, with +his head against the woodwork, to the revelry beyond, +an ironical smile on his face. Then, as one who recalls +himself abruptly to work that has to be done, +he who had been standing straight when he contemplated +the images now stooped again into the +crippled form of the hunchback and shook his hair +about his face. Raising his hand, he tapped thrice +on a panel of the doors, then moved slowly down to +the centre of the hall. A moment later the doors +parted a little, and Gonzague entered the room, closing +the doors behind him. +</p> +<p> +He advanced at once to where the hunchback +awaited him. "Your news?" he cried. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback made a gesture of reassurance. +"Sleep in peace. I have settled Lagardere’s business." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague gave a great sigh of satisfaction. "He +is dead?" he questioned. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback spoke, warmly. "As dead as my +hate could wish him." +</p> +<p> +"And his body?" Gonzague questioned. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered: "I have concealed his +body very effectively." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague brought his palms together silently in +silent applause. "Excellent Æsop! Where is Peyrolles?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback paused for a moment before replying. +"He sends his excuses. The events of the night +have upset him. But I think he will be with you soon." +</p> +<p> +The indisposition of Peyrolles did not seem to affect +his master very profoundly. What, indeed, did it +matter at such a moment to a man who knew that +his great enemy was harmless at last and that his +own plans and ambitions were safe? Gonzague came +nearer to the hunchback. +</p> +<p> +"Æsop, there is no doubt that Lagardere’s girl is +Nevers’s daughter. She has his features, his eyes, +his hair. Her mother would recognize her in a moment +if she saw her, but—" +</p> +<p> +He paused, and the hunchback repeated his last +word interrogatively: "But—?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled, not enigmatically. "She never +will see her. Nevers’s daughter is not destined to +live long." +</p> +<p> +Well at ease now, and more than ever in the mood +for joyous company, Gonzague turned to re-enter the +supper-room, but the hunchback clawed at him and +brought him to a halt. Gonzague stared at his follower +in a bewilderment which the hunchback proceeded +partially to enlighten. "You have forgotten +something." +</p> +<p> +"What?" asked Gonzague, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback made a little, appealing gesture. +"Little Æsop wants his reward." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague thought he understood now. "True. +What is your price?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback, more bowed than ever, with his +hair more than ever huddled about his face, swayed +his crippled body whimsically, and when he spoke +he spoke, apologetically: "I am a man of strange +fancies, highness." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague was annoyed at these preliminaries to a +demand, this beating about the bush for payment. +"Don’t plague me with your fancies. Your price?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback spoke, slowly, like a man who +measures his words and enjoys the process of measurement: +"If I killed Lagardere, it was not solely +to please you. It was partly to please myself. I +was jealous." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled slightly. "Of his swordsmanship?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback protested, vehemently. "No, I was +his equal there. I was jealous of his luck in love." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague laughed. "Æsop in love!" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback seemed to take the laugh in good +part. "Æsop is in love, and you can give him his +heart’s desire. She was in Lagardere’s keeping. She +is now in yours. Give her to me." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague almost reeled under the amazing impudence +of the suggestion. "Gabrielle de Nevers! +Madman!" +</p> +<p> +He laughed as he spoke, but the hunchback interrupted +his laugh. "Wait. You have to walk over +two dead women to touch the wealth of Nevers. I +offer to take one woman out of your way. Do not +kill Gabrielle; give her to me." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague stared for a while at the hunchback in +silence. "I believe the rogue is serious," he said, +more as a reflection addressed to himself than as a +remark addressed to the hunchback. +</p> +<p> +But the hunchback answered it: "Yes, for I love +her. Give her to me, and I will take her far away +from Paris, and you shall never hear of her again. +She will no longer be the daughter of Nevers; she +will be the wife of Æsop the hunchback." +</p> +<p> +The proposition was not unpleasing to Louis of +Gonzague. It certainly seemed to offer a way of +getting rid of the girl without the necessity of killing +her, and Gonzague was too fastidious to desire to +commit murder where murder was wholly unnecessary, +but the thing seemed impossible. "She would +never consent," he protested. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laughed softly, a low laugh of self-confidence. +"Look at me, monseigneur," he said, +"Æsop the hunchback, but do not laugh while you +look and damn me for an impossible gallant. Crooked +and withered as I am, I have power to make +women love me. Let me try. If I fail to win the +girl, do what you please with her, and I will ask no +more." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked keenly at the bowed, supplicating +figure. "Are you thinking of playing me false?" he +murmured. "Do you dream of taking the girl to +give her to her mother?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laughed—a dry, strident laugh. +"Would Æsop be a welcome son-in-law to the Princess +de Gonzague?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague seemed to feel the force of the hunchback’s +reasoning. To marry the girl to this malformed +assassin was to destroy her more utterly, she still +living, than to destroy her by taking her life. "Well," +he said—"well, you shall try your luck. If she marries +you, she is out of my way. If she refuses you, you +shall be avenged for her disdain. We can always +revert to my first intention." +</p> +<p> +A slight shudder seemed to pass over the distorted +form of the hunchback, but he responded with familiar +confidence: "She will not disdain me." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague laughed. "Confident wooer. When do +you mean to woo?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback came a little nearer to him and +spoke, eagerly: "No time like the present, highness. +I thought that on this night of triumph for you I +could provide for you and your friends such an entertainment +as no other man in all Paris could command. +I have ventured to summon your notary. +Let your supper be my wedding-feast, your guests +my witnesses. Bring the girl and I will win her. I +am sure of it—sure." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague was too well-bred, too scholarly a man +not to have a well-bred, scholarly sense of humor. +His nimble Italian fancy saw at once the contrasts +between his noisy company of light men and loose +women and the withered hunchback who was a murderer +and the beautiful girl whom he had robbed +of her birthright and was now ready to rob of her +honor. "It will be a good jest," he murmured. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback indorsed his words: "The best +jest in the world. You will laugh and laugh and +laugh to watch the hunchback’s courtship." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned again towards the doors. "I +must rejoin my guests," he said; "but you look something +glum and dull for a suitor. You should have +fine clothes, fellow; they will stimulate your tongue +when you come to the wooing. Go to my steward for +a wedding-garment. Your bride will be here when +you return." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback’s bowed head came nearer still to +earth in his profound inclination. "You overwhelm +me with kindness." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague paused, with his hand on the door, to +look at him again. "You kill Lagardere; you marry +Gabrielle. Do I owe you most as bravo or bridegroom?" +</p> +<p> +Again the hunchback abased himself. "Your highness +shall decide by-and-by." Then he turned and +went out through the antechamber and left Gonzague +alone. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague rubbed his hands. "Æsop is my good +genius." Then he touched a bell and a servant entered, +to whom he gave instructions. "Tell Madame +Berthe to come with the girl who was placed in her +charge to-night." +</p> +<p> +The servant bowed and disappeared. Gonzague +went to the golden doors and threw them open. +Standing in the aperture, he summoned his friends to +join him. Instantly there was a great noise of rising +revellers, of chairs set back, of glasses set down, of fans +caught up, of fluttered skirts and lifted rapiers. Men +and women, the guests of Gonzague, flooded from the +supper-room into the great hall, and under the gaze +of the Three Louis, Oriol with his fancy, Navailles +with Cidalise, Taranne, Nocé, and the others, each +with his raddled Egeria of the opera-house and the +ballet. As they fluttered and flirted and laughed and +chattered into the great hall, Gonzague held up his +hand for a moment, as one that calls for silence, and +in a moment the revellers were silent. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague spoke: "Friends, I have good news. +Lagardere is dead." +</p> +<p> +A wild burst of applause greeted these words. The +pretty women clapped their hands as they would +have clapped them in the theatre for some dance or +song that took their fancy. The men were not less +enthusiastic. The difference between the men and +the women was that the men applauded because they +knew why their master was pleased; the women applauded +because their master was pleased without asking +the reason why. The name of Lagardere meant +little or nothing to them. +</p> +<p> +Nocé spoke a short funeral oration: "The scamp +has cheated the gallows." +</p> +<p> +When the applause had died down, Gonzague spoke +again: "Also I have good sport for you. To-night +you shall witness a wedding." +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_SOP_IN_LOVE' id='XXVII_SOP_IN_LOVE'></a> +<h2>XXVII</h2> +<h3>ÆSOP IN LOVE</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Again the applause broke forth. Oriol, his round +eyes growing rounder, echoed the last words as a +question: "A wedding?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague nodded. "A wonderful wedding. The +bride is a beauty, and the bridegroom is Æsop." +</p> +<p> +Navailles looked round over his companions and +sighed for the absence of a choice spirit. "How +Chavernay would have laughed!" he said. "I wish +he were here." +</p> +<p> +"I did not invite Chavernay," Gonzague replied, +coldly. +</p> +<p> +And even as he spoke the door of the antechamber +opened and Chavernay made his appearance unannounced, +as briskly impudent, as cheerfully self-confident +as ever. He shook a finger in playful reproof +at Gonzague as he advanced, wholly unimpressed by +the slight frown which knitted the brows of his unexpected +host. "It was most unkind of you; but another +makes good your neglect, whose invitation I +really had not the strength of purpose to refuse." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague’s irritation was not altogether dissipated +by the coolness of his kinsman, but he judged that +any show of anger was unbefitting so felicitous an +occasion, so he smiled slightly as he asked: "Who invites +you?" +</p> +<p> +Chavernay looked all around him, scanning the +faces of the men in the brilliant group of Gonzague’s +guests, as if seeking there a countenance he failed +to find. Then he answered, in a tone of voice that +was unusually grave for the light-hearted marquis: +"Henri de Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +At the sound of that name a thrill ran through the +guests, and all echoed with astonishment the name +of Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked at Chavernay with a pitying +smile. "You come too late," he said, "if you come +at the summons of such a host. Lagardere is dead." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay gave a little start of surprise, while the +others, to whom the news had been good news some +little while ago, but was no news at all now, laughed +boisterously at his expected discomfiture. But Chavernay +did not seem to be discomfited, and seemed +inclined to doubt the tidings. "Dead?" he said. +"Why, he wrote to me to meet him here at two +o’clock." +</p> +<p> +As he spoke he drew from his breast a folded piece +of paper and extended it to Gonzague, who took it +with a reluctance, even with a repugnance, which he +controlled because it was so clearly unreasonable. +The paper contained a few words written in a bold, +soldierly hand. They ran thus: +</p> +<table summary='poetry'> +<col style='width:5em;' /> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +"Meet me to-night at two o’clock at the palace of the +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td><p style='margin-top:0.0em; margin-bottom:-0.25em'> +Prince de Gonzague. <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Henri de Lagardere.</span>" +</p></td></tr> +</table> +<p> +Gonzague returned the paper to Chavernay with +an ironical smile. "Somebody has been hoaxing +you," he said. "You will not meet Lagardere here." +</p> +<p> +Taranne consulted his watch. "It is now two +o’clock," he said, and showed the dial to Chavernay, +who looked puzzled, but also unconvinced. +</p> +<p> +"No one will come," said Navailles, mockingly. +</p> +<p> +At that moment Chavernay’s quick ear caught the +sound of footsteps in the private passage outside, +and called attention to the sound. "Some one is +coming. Is it Lagardere?" +</p> +<p> +As he spoke all eyes were fixed upon the door. So +firmly had the fear of Lagardere emanated from the +consciousness of Gonzague to impress the hearts of +his party that even then, when all present had the +assurance from their leader that Lagardere was dead +and done with, their conviction not unsettled, indeed, +but somewhat disturbed by Chavernay’s words and +Chavernay’s strange message, waited with uneasy +expectation for what might happen. Then the door +opened fully, and the hunchback came into the +room, dressed now with a splendor of attire which +seemed to contrast more grotesquely than his wonted +sable with his twisted, withered figure. All present, +including Gonzague, had for the moment forgotten +the existence of the hunchback. All present, +with the exception of Chavernay, burst into the +loud laughter of relieved nerves as they beheld +him. +</p> +<p> +"This is not Lagardere," said Oriol, holding his +fat sides. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback laughed a mocking laugh in answer +to the amusement of the company and the amazement +of Chavernay. "Who speaks of Lagardere? +Who remembers Lagardere? Æsop is the hero of +this feast; Æsop is a gentleman to-night, with a silk +coat on his back and a lace kerchief in his fingers. +He woos a beauty, and the chivalry of France shall +witness his triumph. Lagardere is dead! Long live +Æsop, who killed him!" +</p> +<p> +The little marquis advanced towards the jesting +hunchback with clinched hands and angry eyes. +"Assassin!" he cried, and seemed as if he would take +the hunchback by the throat, but Gonzague came between +his kinsman and his servant, saying, coldly: +"Whoever insults Æsop, insults me. Æsop marries +the girl whom Lagardere called Gabrielle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay folded his arms and looked fiercely +around him. "Now I know why Lagardere sent for +me—to defend a helpless woman." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback drolled at him: "She will not need +your championship. She will accept with joy the +hunchback’s hand." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay shook his head scornfully. "That will +never happen." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered him, coolly: "That will +happen, Monsieur de Chavernay." +</p> +<p> +At that moment the door opposite to the antechamber +opened, and the figure of a fair girl appeared. +</p> +<p> +"Your bride approaches," said Gonzague, and +moved towards the new-comer, suddenly pausing +with an angry frown as he perceived that she was not +alone, for Gabrielle, very pale, but with courage in +her eyes and determination on her lips, entered the +room accompanied by the gypsy girl Flora. To Flora +Gonzague spoke, angrily: "Why are you here? This +is no place for you." +</p> +<p> +The gypsy looked at him defiantly. "This is my +place," she said, "for I have found my friend, and I +think she needs my friendship." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague spoke, imperiously: "Retire, Mademoiselle +de Nevers!" +</p> +<p> +The gypsy girl gave him no answer, but held her +ground mutinously. Gabrielle moved a little away +from her friend’s side. She asserted her right firmly. +"I am Gabrielle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +Again Gonzague addressed Flora: "Mademoiselle +de Nevers," he said, "have you not undeceived this +unfortunate, this misguided girl?" +</p> +<p> +Flora answered him, steadily: "No, highness, for I +believe her." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague began to lose his patience. He was +bound, in the presence of his friends, to keep up the +assumption of belief in the gentility of Flora, in her +heirship to Nevers. He addressed her, harshly: +"Mademoiselle de Nevers, if you are mad enough +to wish to abandon your rights to an impostor, I am +here to protect you, and I order you at once to retire." +</p> +<p> +Flora gave no sign of obedience, and Gabrielle +spoke again: "I am Gabrielle de Nevers. Why have +I been brought here?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned to her, and his manner was that +of a judge coolly courteous to one whom he professed +to believe possibly innocent of complicity in sin: +"You have been brought here because I did not wish +to deliver you to the stern justice of the law. Your +offence is grave, but the fault lies with your accomplice, +and his alone the penalty." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle looked all about her, sustaining bravely +the bold stares of the dancing-women and the evil +admiration of the men. "Where is Henri de Lagardere?" +she asked; and then, as only silence followed +upon her question, she cried: "Ah, he must be dead, +since he is not here to defend me." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague confirmed her fears: "He is dead." +</p> +<p> +Chavernay, who had kept resolutely apart from the +rest of the guests, now advanced to the beautiful +girl who stood there alone and friendless, save for +Flora, and made her a respectful bow. "I will defend +you in his name," he said, simply. +</p> +<p> +Flora clapped her hands. "Bravo, little man!" +she cried. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague, with a stern gesture, motioned to Chavernay +to stand back. "You presume," he said. "I +offer this deluded girl protection. It is for me to +see that she is properly provided for." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle gave him a glance that pierced through +his specious protestations. "You wish the daughter +of Nevers to die. If you have killed Lagardere, I +have no wish to live." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague answered her, urbanely: "You take the +matter too seriously. You have shared an imposture. +I propose to shield you from punishment. You shall +tramp the highways no longer. Here is an honest +gentleman ready to marry you, to forgive and to forget. +Advance, Æsop." +</p> +<p> +At that command the hunchback, who had been +leaning against a chair an apparently amused spectator +of the not untragic scene, shambled slowly forward +more ungainly than ever in his finery, his long +sword swinging grotesquely against his legs. +</p> +<p> +Flora gave a cry of indignation. "Are you mad? +That monster!" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback’s answer to her words was a comic +bow, which made Gonzague’s friends laugh. Gabrielle +looked at the laughing gentlemen, and there was something +so brave, so stately in her gaze that the laughter +died away. +</p> +<p> +"Gentlemen," she said, "you bear honorable names, +you wear honorable swords. Gentlemen, the daughter +of Nevers appeals to you to protect her from insult." +</p> +<p> +Even Gonzague’s band, hardened by the influence +of long association with their master, could not hear +that appeal unmoved, though no man among them +made any motion of responding to it. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay, however, rested his hand lightly upon +his sword-hilt. "Rely on me," he said, boldly. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague looked at him contemptuously. "No +heroics, sir. The lady is free to choose between the +husband I offer and the law that chastises impostors." +He turned to the hunchback, who stood near +him. "I fear your love affair goes ill, Æsop." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback did not seem at all disheartened. +"It will go better when I take it in hand myself. Let +me speak to the lady alone." +</p> +<p> +Flora fiercely protested: "No, no, no!" +</p> +<p> +But Gonzague turned to her with a look so menacing +that even her courage quailed before it. "For +your friend’s sake, be quiet, Mademoiselle de Nevers," +he said. Taking Flora by the hand, he drew her, +partly by main force and partly by strength of his +dominating influence, away from Gabrielle. Then he +turned to his friends. "Ladies and gentlemen," he +said, "our good Æsop desires to speak to the lady +of his love in private. We are all, I am sure, too +sympathetic with his amorous ambition to interfere +with his wishes. Let him ply his wooing untroubled. +Stand apart, please, and give Æsop a fair +field." +</p> +<p> +Wondering, laughing, whispering, Gonzague’s guests +drew back and ranged themselves against the golden +doors, and Gabrielle was left standing alone in the +middle of the room. The hunchback caught up a +chair and carried it to where she stood, making a +gesture which requested her to be seated. +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle looked at him scornfully. "I have nothing +to say to you. I trust to the justice of France." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback spoke to her in a low voice, so evenly +calculated that every syllable of what he said was +clear to the girl’s ears, though no syllable reached the +others: "Do not start; do not show surprise." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle had the strength of spirit to control the +wonder, the joy, the hope at the sound of the loved +voice thus brought her so suddenly; but she trembled, +and her strength seemed to fail her. She sank into +the chair which the hunchback had offered her. "My +God!" she murmured, and then said no more, but +sat with clasped hands and rigid face. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback spoke again, in the same low, measured +tones: "Seem to listen against your will. A +sign may betray us both." +</p> +<p> +"Henri!" Gabrielle murmured. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback went on: "Seem as if you were enchanted +at my words, by my gestures. They are +watching us." +</p> +<p> +Now the hunchback walked slowly in a circle round +the chair on which Gabrielle was seated, making as +he did so fantastic gestures with his hands over her +head—gestures which suggested to the amazed spectators +some wizard busy with his horrid incantations. +</p> +<p> +Taranne nudged Oriol. "She listens." +</p> +<p> +"She seems pleased," Oriol answered. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay muttered, angrily: "This must be witch-craft." +</p> +<p> +Nocé, leaning forward a little, called to the hunchback: +"How speeds your suit?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback paused for a moment in his round +to make a motion for silence. "Famously, gentlemen, +famously. But you must not disturb my incantations." +</p> +<p> +Navailles touched Nocé on the shoulder. "Let the +dog have his day." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback was again at the side of Gabrielle, +still indulging in extravagant antics of gesticulation, +speaking softly the while. "Gabrielle, they think me +dead, but I live and hope to save you. But we +face danger, dear, but we face death, and must be +wary. Will you do whatever I tell you to do?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Gabrielle answered. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback went on: "God knows how this +night will end. I have told them that I can make +you love me." +</p> +<p> +Almost Gabrielle smiled. "You have told them +the truth." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback continued: "I have told them that +I can persuade you to marry me." +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle said again: "You have told them the +truth." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback sighed. He was still cutting his +strange capers, waving his extended fingers over the +girl’s head and making grotesque genuflections, but +he spoke, and his voice was full of passion and his +voice was full of pain as he whispered: "Gabrielle, +Gabrielle, I have always loved you, shall always love +you. But you must not love me, that would never +do. Nevers’s daughter cannot, may not, love the soldier +of fortune." +</p> +<p> +"Yet you ask me to marry you?" Gabrielle said. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback answered: "To save you from Gonzague. +You would have died to-night but for this +mad plan of mine. Once you are safe, you can easily +be set free from me." +</p> +<p> +There was that in Gabrielle’s eyes which the hunchback +could not see. There was that in Gabrielle’s +heart which the hunchback could not read. Gabrielle +appreciated the nobility of the man who was +trying to save her, but Gabrielle also understood the +strength of her own love and her own determination, +but she showed nothing of this in her words. All she +said was: "Well, I am not safe yet. What do you +want me to do?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback instructed her. "Just say yes to +the questions I shall ask you now aloud. Speak as +if you were in a dream." +</p> +<p> +He drew back now a little from the girl, and turned +triumphantly to the others, with the air of one who +has accomplished a very difficult task. Then he approached +Gabrielle again. +</p> +<p> +"Do you love me?" he asked, in a clear voice which +carried to all parts of the room. +</p> +<p> +And the girl, looking straight before her like one +that spoke in a trance, answered, clearly: "I love you +with all my heart, for ever and ever and ever." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague, who had been watching the proceedings +with cynical curiosity, was the most amazed of the +amazed spectators. "Here is a miracle." +</p> +<p> +"I’ll not believe it," Chavernay protested. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback made an angry gesture to command +silence. "Hush!" he said, and then again addressed +the girl: "Will you be my wife?" +</p> +<p> +Gabrielle answered as clearly as before: "I will be +your wife gladly. In joy and in sorrow, I will be +your wife so long as I live." +</p> +<p> +The hunchback turned triumphantly to the company. +"Gentlemen, gentlemen, you see that my +suit prospers. The poor hunchback was no boaster." +</p> +<p> +Flora, seated near to Gonzague, and conquered by +his domination and by the horror of the scene, covered +her face with her hands and shuddered. "It’s +too horrible," she moaned. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback nodded to her ironically. "You +are severe," he said, dryly. Then he turned to Gonzague. +"There is a friend of mine at the door," he +said. "May I introduce him?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague nodded, and the hunchback advanced to +the door of the antechamber. +</p> +<p> +Chavernay looked after him with haggard eyes. +"What spell has the devil got?" he muttered. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague shrugged his shoulders. "I am amazed; +but the knave has my faith, and, if the lady’s taste +limps, shall we say her nay?" +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_THE_SIGNATURE_OF_SOP' id='XXVIII_THE_SIGNATURE_OF_SOP'></a> +<h2>XXVIII</h2> +<h3>THE SIGNATURE OF ÆSOP</h3> +</div> + +<p> +By this time the hunchback had opened the door +and introduced to the company a dapper, affable +gentleman who was habited, as became his calling, +for the most part in black; but he lent an air of smartness +to his notarial garb by reason that the black of +his coat and breeches was of silk, and that he wore a +quantity of costly lace. This was Master Griveau, +one of the principal notaries of Paris, and a man that +had been employed not a little by the Prince de +Gonzague. For this reason his face was familiar to +most of those present, and the faces of most of those +present were familiar to Master Griveau, and Master +Griveau nodded and bowed and smirked and smiled, +and showed in a hundred little ways with a hundred +little airs and graces that he was quite the man of the +world and quite at home in fashionable circles. He +was accompanied by two of his clerks, who seemed +as anxious to efface themselves as their master was +to assert his personality. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback patted the notary on the back with +a pat that made him give at the knees and look somewhat +ruefully about him as if an earthquake had +occurred, and introduced him to the company: "Here, +sirs, is my Cupid—nay, better than Cupid, for Cupid +had no pockets, whereas Maître Griveau has, and +my marriage contract in one of them." +</p> +<p> +Master Griveau, with the air of one who could take +a joke as well as any man if the joke were proffered +in august company, produced a large, folded paper +bound about with green ribbon. He bowed profoundly +to Gonzague. "In accordance," he said, "with +monseigneur’s instructions, as conveyed to me by +monseigneur’s"—he halted for a moment, and then +continued—"Monseigneur’s friend, the deed is prepared +and ready for signature. Have I monseigneur’s +permission to make a few preparations for the interesting +ceremony?" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague nodded, and the brisk little man, with +the aid of his two clerks, pushed a table into place, +arranged writing materials, and, seating himself with +a great air of formality, investigated a quill pen, +spread out his contract, and surveyed the company +with the air of one who should say: "I have done, +and done well, all that it becometh me to do; it is now +for you to play your part in this ceremony." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague addressed the notary: "Have you entered +the names of groom and bride?" +</p> +<p> +Master Griveau gave a little, protesting cough. "I +do not know them, your highness. I have left blank +spaces for the names." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague pointed to Gabrielle, where she sat +apart. "The lady is Mademoiselle de Lagardere." +Then he turned to the hunchback. "And you, what +is your lawful name, Æsop?" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback made an appeal to Gonzague. +"Highness, humor my jest to the end. I have kept +my real name a secret long enough; let me keep it +secret a little longer. Will you and your friends +honor me by signing as witnesses? Then I will fill +in the blanks and set down my own name—a name +that will make you laugh." +</p> +<p> +Oriol gave a grin. "Æsop is comic enough." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere nodded to him. "Æsop is a nickname. +My true name will divert you more. Sign, sirs, sign." +</p> +<p> +Master Griveau, with due solemnity, unfolded the +contract and spread it before him. Then he dipped +a pen in the ink, and stood waiting for the illustrious +company to sign the contract. +</p> +<p> +"Give me the pen," said Gonzague. He was beginning +to tire a little of the comedy, in spite of its +element of marvel, and to wish the girl well out of his +sight with her hunchback husband. He signed his +name and held up the pen. It was eagerly sought +for. Taranne gained the privilege of taking it from +the fingers of his master. Taranne signed, Nocé +signed, Oriol signed, Gironne signed, Choisy signed, +Albret signed, Montaubert signed. When the pen +was offered to Chavernay, Chavernay put his hands +behind his back and shook his head. It came to +Navailles to sign last. +</p> +<p> +"Now for the happy pair," Navailles said. As he +spoke he turned to where the hunchback and Gabrielle +stood together silent, a strangely contrasted +bride and bridegroom—youth and age, so it seemed, +beauty and ugliness, sin and purity. Truly, it appeared +to be what Chavernay thought it and called +it—a damnable alliance. +</p> +<p> +While the signing had been toward the hunchback +had spoken softly one sentence to his bride. "Gabrielle," +he said, "if I die here, I die as I have lived—your +lover." +</p> +<p> +And Gabrielle had answered him in the heart of +her heart: "I love you, my lover." +</p> +<p> +Now, when Navailles addressed him, the hunchback +moved forward, and waved away the little, +glittering crowd of gentlemen that gathered about +Master Griveau at the table, ordering them to move. +"Make space, sirs, for my wife and me. I need +elbow-room for my signature." +</p> +<p> +He advanced to the table, holding Gabrielle by +the hand, and still, though the humor of the situation +had endured so long, even the wine-flushed men and +the wine-flushed women seemed almost as conscious +as Chavernay of the tragedy that underlay the humor +of the play. All fell back and left a free table +for the hunchback and his bride. Master Griveau +settled himself comfortably in his seat and took up +his pen. Turning to the hunchback, he began: "Give +me your names, your surnames, your birthplaces—" +</p> +<p> +The hunchback interrupted him: "Have you +signed?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly," Master Griveau answered, something +astonished at being thus carelessly treated. +</p> +<p> +"Then, by your leave," said the hunchback, and +dexterously edged the indignant notary out of the +chair. "Leave the rest to me. Back, friends, till +I finish." Pushing the chair aside, he restrained with +a sweep of his arm the advancing crowd of gentlemen +eager to see the name that Æsop would acknowledge. +</p> +<p> +While Master Griveau, with a very much offended +air, edged himself into the circle of Gonzague’s friends +as one that had earned the right to move freely in +such company, the hunchback began rapidly to fill +in the blank spaces on the parchment before him. +</p> +<p> +Master Griveau felt it his duty to say a few words +of protest on behalf of the slightly offended majesty of +the law. "A very extraordinary ceremony, highness." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague smiled ironically, but cared nothing for +the offended majesty of the law, so long as his own +purposes were being served. "Æsop is an extraordinary +man," he said. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback, who had overheard this conversation, +pointed with the feather of the pen he had just +been using to Gonzague. "You are right, prince," +he said. Then he gave the pen to Gabrielle and +whispered to her, so low that no one heard him: "Sign +Gabrielle de Nevers." +</p> +<p> +The girl took the pen from his hand and signed boldly, +though she signed that signature for the first time +in her young life. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback took the pen from her fingers. +"Now my turn." Deliberately and swiftly he signed +his name and flung down the pen. Then he moved +back a little way from the table and drew Gabrielle +behind him. He turned to the expectant company. +"Come and see, sirs. You will stare, I promise you." +</p> +<p> +All were eager to press forward and read the signature, +but all restrained their desire until the curiosity +of the master of the house was satisfied. Gonzague +advanced leisurely to the table, relieved to think the +comedy had come to an end, and that he had satisfactorily +rid himself of an incubus. He bent carelessly +over the parchment, and then sprang back with +face as pale and eyes as wild and lips as trembling +as if on the pitiful piece of sheepskin he had seen some +terror as dread as the face of Medusa. His twitching +mouth whispered one word, but that word was +"Lagardere!" and that word was repeated on the lips +of every man and woman that watched him. +</p> +<p> +Before the eyes of all present a new miracle happened, +more marvellous than its predecessor, for the +hunchback suddenly stiffened himself and became +erect and soldierly; the hunchback swept back the +grizzled locks that had so long served to conceal his +features; the hunchback stood before them a strong +and stalwart man, with drawn sword in his hand. +Stretching out his arm, he extended the sword between +Gonzague and the parchment and touched with +its point the signature that was still wet upon its surface. +</p> +<p> +In a terrible voice he cried: "Lagardere, who always +keeps his tryst! I am here!" +</p> +<p> +For a moment that seemed sempiternal a kind of +horrible silence reigned over the room. It was hard +to understand what had happened. The startled +guests stared at one another, terrified by the terror +on Gonzague’s face, amazed at the metamorphosis of +the hunchback, shuddering at the name of Lagardere. +The first to recover courage, composure, and +resolution was Gonzague himself. He sprang from +the table to where his friends stood together and drew +his sword. +</p> +<p> +Pointing to where Lagardere stood, with Gabrielle +clinging to his arm, he cried: "He must not escape! +Your swords, friends! It is but one man!" +</p> +<p> +But even as he spoke, and while Lagardere was +waiting with lifted sword for the inevitable attack, +Chavernay crossed the room and stood at Lagardere’s +side. "We shall be two!" he cried, and drew his +sword. +</p> +<p> +At the same moment the doors of the antechamber +opened, and Cocardasse and Passepoil, with their +naked swords in their hands, entered and ranged +themselves on the side of Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +"We shall be three!" said Cocardasse. +</p> +<p> +"We shall be four!" said Passepoil. +</p> +<p> +The situation was changed, but the situation was +still perilous. On the one side of the splendid room +stood Lagardere, with Chavernay, Cocardasse, and +Passepoil, their gleaming weapons ready for attack. +On the other side, with a great gap of space between +the two parties, stood Gonzague and his cluster of +light friends, every man of whom had bared his rapier +and was ready to obey the summons of his chief. +Behind these the women huddled together, some +screaming, but the most part too frightened to scream. +Flora, overstrained, had fainted. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere taunted Gonzague. "Come, monseigneur," +he said, "are you afraid? The odds are not so +favorable as they were at Caylus." +</p> +<p> +With a writhing face Gonzague screamed to his +friends: "Charge!" +</p> +<p> +And Lagardere answered with a ringing cry: "I +am here!" +</p> +<p> +In another moment the two parties would have met +and blended in battle; but before Gonzague’s followers +could obey his command and follow his lead, they +were stiffened into immobility by a sudden knocking +at the golden doors. At that unexpected sound every +sword was lowered, and then from beyond a stern +voice came, commanding: "Open, in the king’s name!" +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX_THE_DEAD_SPEAKS' id='XXIX_THE_DEAD_SPEAKS'></a> +<h2>XXIX</h2> +<h3>THE DEAD SPEAKS</h3> +</div> + +<p> +Immediately the golden doors were flung open, +and Bonnivet entered from the supper-room, followed +by a company of soldiers. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned to Bonnivet, indignant and bewildered. +"What does this mean?" he gasped. +</p> +<p> +Bonnivet’s answer was to salute with his sword, +as he announced: "His majesty the king!" And +through the double line of soldiers Louis of France +entered the room with the Princess de Gonzague on +his arm. +</p> +<p> +The king looked with astonishment at the strange +scene before him—the fainting women, the two camps +of armed men, the scattered furniture. The Princess +de Gonzague looked only at the girl, who now hung +so lovingly upon the arm of Lagardere. +</p> +<p> +"Why have I been sent for?" the king asked. +</p> +<p> +And instantly Lagardere answered him: "To witness +my restoration of Mademoiselle Gabrielle de +Nevers to her mother." As he spoke he moved towards +the princess, and gave Gabrielle to her out-stretched +arms. +</p> +<p> +The Princess gave a cry of joy. "She has the face +of Louis! She is my child!" +</p> +<p> +Gonzague tried to speak, and failed; tried to speak +again, and succeeded: "Your highness, I again declare +that I gave the true Gabrielle de Nevers to her +mother. I have the page torn from the register of +the chapel of Caylus in this sealed packet." As he +spoke he held out a small sealed packet, which he +had drawn from his breast. +</p> +<p> +The king turned to Lagardere. "What do you +say to this?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere answered: "That I have kept my word. +I have given back her daughter to the princess. I +will now unmask the murderer." +</p> +<p> +Again the king questioned him: "Where are your +witnesses?" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned and pointed with his drawn +sword to Gonzague: "You are the first." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague, trying hard to recover his composure, +raged at him: "Madman!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to the king and spoke more solemnly: +"The second is in the grave." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague laughed. "The dead cannot speak." +</p> +<p> +Lagardere still looked menacingly at Gonzague. +"To-night the dead will speak. The proofs of your +guilt are in that sealed packet, stolen from me by +assassins in your pay." +</p> +<p> +Gonzague turned to the king, protesting: "Sire!" +</p> +<p> +Lagardere interrupted him: "Monseigneur, he is +going to say that that packet contains only the birth-lines +of Mademoiselle de Nevers—but there is more +than that." +</p> +<p> +Louis of Orleans turned his steady gaze on Louis +of Gonzague, and read little to comfort him in the +twitching face of his life-long friend. "Break the +seals, Louis," he commanded. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere spoke, exultingly: "Yes, break the seals +and read your doom, assassin. The packet contains +only the birth-lines of Mademoiselle de Nevers, but +still it contains the proof I ask. As Nevers lay dying +in my arms, he dipped his finger in his blood and +traced on the parchment the name of his murderer. +Open the packet and see what name is there." +</p> +<p> +Now, while he was speaking, Gonzague began to +tremble like a man that has the trembling sickness; +but as Lagardere continued he seemed by a desperate +effort to stiffen himself, and, moving slowly, unobserved +by those present, who were for the most part +busy with looking upon Lagardere, he neared a +candelabrum. As Lagardere uttered his last command, +Gonzague thrust the packet that he held into +the flame of the candle, and in a moment the flame +ran along the paper, lapping it and consuming it. +The king and Lagardere both saw the despairing +deed. +</p> +<p> +The king was the first to speak. "Louis!" he +cried, and could say no more. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague dropped the burning paper from his +fingers, and it fell in ashes upon the floor. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere lifted his sword in triumph. "The dead +speaks! There was nothing written on that paper. +His name was not there, but his own deed has set it +there." +</p> +<p> +The eyes of all were fixed upon the face of Gonzague, +and the face of Gonzague was an ugly sight +to see. Hatred and despair struggled there for mastery—hatred +and despair, and the hideous sense of +hopeless, ignominious, public failure after a lifetime +of triumphant crime. +</p> +<p> +"Louis!" cried the king again. "Louis! Assassin!" +</p> +<p> +In a moment Gonzague’s sword was unsheathed, +and he leaped across the space that divided him from +Lagardere, striking furiously for Lagardere’s heart. +But Lagardere was ready for him, and, with a familiar +trick of the fencing-schools, wrenched Gonzague’s +weapon from his fingers and flung it to the floor. A +dozen hands seized Gonzague—the hands of those +that once had been proud to call themselves his +friends. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere turned to the king, appealingly: "Monseigneur, +I cry a favor. Let me support this quarrel +with my sword, and God defend the right." +</p> +<p> +The king was silent for a few seconds, trying to set +himself right with a world that had suddenly changed +for him. Surely, it would be better to let it end so, +whatever came of it. He turned to Lagardere, and +bowed his head in silent approval: "As you will." +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, then, the Princess de Gonzague, clinging +to the child in her arms, cried out, calling to Chavernay: +"Monsieur de Chavernay, in yonder alcove lies +the sword of my dead husband. Fetch it, and give +it to Monsieur de Lagardere." +</p> +<p> +In a frightful silence Chavernay crossed the room, +entered the alcove, and came forth holding the sword +of Louis de Nevers in his hand—the sword that Louis +de Nevers had used so valiantly on the night of +Caylus. Silently he offered it to Lagardere, and +silently Lagardere, giving the weapon he held to +Cocardasse, took the sword of Nevers from the hands +of Chavernay. Thereafter Lagardere stooped and +picked up the fallen sword of Gonzague. Then, advancing +towards his enemy, he made a sign to those +that held him to release their captive—a sign that was +immediately obeyed. He held out the weapon by +its blade to Gonzague, who caught it. In another +moment the two men were engaged in combat. +</p> +<p> +On the walls the impassive portraits of the Three +Louis looked on while one of the Three Louis fought +for his shameful life, while another of the Three Louis +sat in heart-broken judgment upon him, and while +the widow of another of the Three Louis sat clasping +in her arms the child she had surrendered in the moat +of Caylus so many years ago. +</p> +<p> +Gonzague was a fine swordsman, and Gonzague +fought for his life, but he did not fight long. Suddenly +Lagardere’s arm and Lagardere’s sword seemed +to extend, the blade gleamed in the flare of the flambeaux, +and Gonzague reeled and dropped. +</p> +<p> +"Nine," said Cocardasse, thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +Passepoil placed his forefinger between his brows. +"The thrust of Nevers," he murmured. +</p> +<p> +Lagardere lifted his blood-dyed sword and saluted +the picture of Louis of Nevers. "After the lackeys +the master. Nevers, I have kept my word." +</p> +<p> +Then he let fall his weapon, for the soft arms of +Gabrielle were about his neck. +</p> +<p style='text-align: center'> +THE END +</p> +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.74 --> +<!-- timestamp: Mon Mar 02 12:22:23 -0800 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Duke's Motto, by Justin Huntly McCarthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUKE'S MOTTO *** + +***** This file should be named 28266-h.htm or 28266-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/2/6/28266/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Tim Krajcar and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/28266-h/images/printer.png b/28266-h/images/printer.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e75e32 --- /dev/null +++ b/28266-h/images/printer.png |
