I was not the man to neglect Sully's warning, and, besides, there was an added reason for being careful of dark corners, as both Zamet and Lafin knew me, and were unlikely to lose any opportunity of doing me harm that might come their way. I could do nothing but wait and exercise patience until the month was over, and it was a hard enough task. Beyond my daily visits to my ordinary, I went nowhere and saw no one. I occasionally, of course, met my landlord and his wife, but few words passed between us, and Jacques had become marvellously taciturn, so that I was alone as if I were in a desert in that vast city, where the roar of the day's traffic and the hum of voices seemed to vibrate through, and possess the stillest hours of the night. Doubtless there were men of my acquaintance in Paris, but I did not seek them, for the reasons already stated, and I lived as secluded a life as though I had taken the vows of a hermit.
In the meantime I was more than anxious that Jacques should execute my plan in regard to Marie. That I felt was a debt of honour to myself; but though I tried the threat of dismissal, he refused to go point blank, and I was weak enough to allow him his way. It was one of the many instances in which my firmness of temper failed, but it is not possible for a man always to keep his heart in a Milan corselet. I could not make out Sully's reasons for his action. It seemed to me that he had got all my information out of me without pledging himself to anything in return, and that he held me as safely as a cat does a wounded mouse. To save my own skin by quitting Paris was a thought I can honestly aver that never came to me. It could not, with the all-pervading presence of my love for Madame. It was for her sake I was here, and for her sake I would go cheerfully to the block if it need be; but it would not be without a try to save her, and if the worst came to the worst I should let all France know the infamy of her King. The hero-worship I had in my heart for him had given place to a bitter hatred for the man who was using his power to drive a woman to ruin, and inflict upon me the most bitter sorrow. All this may sound foolish, but such was my frame of mind, and I was yet to know how great the man was whom I hated—but of that on another day. In the meantime there was no news from Bidache, and I was kept on the cross with anxiety lest some danger had befallen my dear one there. Anet was not three hours' ride away, and at Anet was de Gomeron, unless indeed the conspirators had scattered, as was not at all unlikely, after the manner in which they had been discovered. My doubts in regard to Madame's safety were set at rest about three weeks after my interview with Sully. One evening Pantin knocked at my door, and, on my bidding him enter, came in with many apologies for disturbing me.
'But, chevalier,' he added, 'I have news that Monsieur will no doubt be glad to hear.'
'Then let me have it, Maître Pantin, for good news has been a stranger to me for long.'
'It is this. Our friend Palin arrives in Paris to-morrow or the day after.'
'And stays here?'
'No, for he comes in attendance on Madame de la Bidache, and will doubtless live at the Rue Varenne.'
I half turned for a moment to the window to hide the expression of joy on my face I could not conceal otherwise. Were it daylight I might have been able to see the trees in the gardens of the Rue Varenne; but it was night, and the stars showed nothing beyond the white spectral outline of the Tour de Nesle beyond the Malaquais.
'Indeed, I am glad to hear this,' I said as I looked round once more; 'though Paris will be dull for Madame.'
'Not so, monsieur, for the King comes back tomorrow, and the gossips say that before another fortnight is out there will be anothermaîtresse en titreat the Louvre.Ciel!How many of them there have been, from poor La Fosseuse to the D'Estrées.'
'Maître Pantin, I forgot myself—will you help yourself to the Frontignac?'
'A hundred thanks, monsieur le chevalier. Is there any message for Palin?Pouf!But I forget. What has a handsome young spark like you got in common with an old greybeard? You will be at court in a week; and they will all be there—bright-eyed D'Entragues, Mary of Guise, Charlotte de Givry, and——'
'Maître Pantin, these details of the court do not interest me. Tell Palin I would see him as soon as he arrives. Ask him as a favour to come here. He said you were discreet——'
'And I know that Monsieur le Chevalier is likewise.' With a quick movement of the hand the short grey goatee that Pantin wore vanished from his chin, and there was before me not the face of the notary, but that of Annette. She laughed out at the amaze in my look, but quickly changed her tone.
'Maître Palin said you were to be trusted utterly, monsieur, and you see I have done so. Your message will be safely delivered, and I promise he will see you. But have you no other?'
'None,' I answered, a little bitterly.
'I have, however, and it is this,' and she placed in my hand a little packet. 'Monsieur may open that at his leisure,' and she turned as if to go.
'One moment—I do not understand. What is the meaning of this masquerade?'
'Only this, that my husband will appear to have been at the same time at the Quartier du Marais as well as the Faubourg St. Germain. I would add that Monsieur would be wise to keep indoors as he is doing. We have found out that the house is being watched. Good-night, monsieur,' and, with a nod of her wrinkled face, this strange woman vanished.
I appeared in truth to be the sport of mystery, and it seemed as if one of those sudden gusts of anger to which I was subject was coming on me. I controlled myself with an effort, and with a turn of my fingers tore open the packet, and in it lay my lost knot of ribbon. For a moment the room swam round me, and I became as cold as ice. Then came the revulsion, and with trembling fingers I raised the token to my lips and kissed it a hundred times. There were no written words with it; there was nothing but this little worn bow! but it told a whole story to me. It had come down to me, that ribbon that Marescot said was hung too high for de Breuil of Auriac; and God alone knows how I swore to guard it, and how my heart thanked him for his goodness to me. For ten long minutes I was in fairyland, and then I saw myself as I was, proscribed and poor, almost in the hands of powerful enemies, striving to fight an almost hopeless cause with nothing on my side and everything against me. Even were it otherwise, the rock of Auriac was too bare to link with the broad lands of Pelouse and Bidache, and, love her as I did, I could never hang my sword in my wife's halls. It was impossible, utterly impossible. So I was tossed now one way, now another, until my mental agony was almost insupportable.
The next day nothing would content me but that I must repair to the Rue Varenne, and, if possible, get a glimpse of Madame as she arrived. I left instructions that Palin should be asked to wait for me if he came during my absence; for my impatience was too great to admit of my staying in for him. I was not, however, in so great a hurry as to entirely neglect the warnings I had received, and dressed myself as simply as possible, removing the plumes from my hat, and wearing a stout buff coat under my long cloak. Thus altered I might be mistaken for a Huguenot, but hardly anyone would look for a former cavalier of the League in the solemnly-dressed man who was strolling to the end of the Malaquais. There I took a boat and went by river the short distance that lay between me and the jetty at the Rue de Bac. At the jetty I disembarked, and went leisurely towards the Rue Varenne. As I was crossing the Rue Grenelle, hard by the Logis de Conde, a half-dozen gentlemen came trotting by and took up the road. I stopped to let them pass, and saw to my surprise that amongst them were my old comrades in arms, de Cosse-Brissac, Tavannes, and de Gie. I was about to wave my hand in greeting, when I recognised amongst them the sinister face of Lafin riding on the far side of me. Quick as thought I pretended to have dropped something, and bent down as if to search for it. The pace they were going at prevented anyone of them, not even excepting Lafin, with his hawk's eye, from recognising me; but it did not prevent Tavannes from turning in his saddle and flinging me a piece of silver with the gibe, 'Go on all fours for that, maître Huguenot.' I kept my head low, and made a rush for the silver, whilst they rode off laughing, a laugh in which I joined myself, though with different reasons. On reaching the Rue Varenne I had no difficulty in finding the house I sought; the arms on the entrance gate gave me this information; and I saw that Madame had only just arrived, and had I been but a half-hour earlier I might have seen and even spoken with her. I hung about for some minutes on the chance of getting a glimpse of her, with no success; then finding that my lounging backwards and forwards outside the gates was beginning to attract attention from the windows of a house opposite, I took myself off, feeling a little foolish at what I had done.
I came back the way I went, and as I walked down the Malaquais met master Jacques taking an airing with two companions. In one of them I recognised Vallon, my old friend de Belin's man; the other I did not know, though he wore thesang-de-bœuflivery of the Compte de Belin. Having no particular interest in lackeys I paid him no further attention, though, could I but have seen into the future, it would have been a good deed to have killed him where he stood.
On seeing me Vallon and Jacques both stopped, and I signalled to them to cross over the road to me, as I was anxious to hear news of Belin, who was an intimate friend. This they did, and on my inquiry Vallon informed me that Belin was at his hotel in the Rue de Bourdonnais, and the good fellow urged me to come there at once, saying that his master would never forgive him were he not to insist on my coming. I was truly glad to hear Belin was in Paris. He was a tried friend, whose assistance I could rely on in any emergency; and, telling Vallon I would be at the Rue de Bourdonnais shortly, I went on to my lodging, followed by Jacques, leaving Vallon to go onwards with his companion.
On coming home I found, as might be expected, that there was no sign of Palin, and, after waiting for him until the dinner hour, gave him up for the present and rode off to the Two Ecus; and when my dinner, a very simple one, was finished, took my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais, this time mounted on Couronne, with Jacques, well armed, on the sorrel.
The hotel of the Compte de Belin lay at the west end of the Rue de Bourdonnais, close to the small house wherein lived Madame de Montpensier of dreadful memory; and on reaching it I found that it more than justified the description Belin had given of it to me, one day whilst we were idling in the trenches before Dourlens. It stood some way back from the road, and the entrance to the courtyard was through a wonderfully worked iron gateway, a counterpart, though on a smaller scale, of the one at Anet. At each corner of the square building was a hanging turret, and from the look of the windows of one of these I guessed that my friend had taken up his quarters there.
I was met by Vallon, who said he had informed his master of my coming; and, telling a servant to hold my horse, he ushered me in, talking of a hundred things at once. I had not gone ten steps up the great stairway when Belin himself appeared, running down to meet me. 'Croix Dieu!' he burst out as we embraced. 'I thought you were with the saints, and that de Rône, you and a hundred others were free from all earthly troubles.'
'Not yet, de Belin. I trust that time will be far distant.'
'Amen! But you as good as buried yourself alive, at any rate.'
'How so?'
'Vallon tells me you have been a month in Paris, and you have never once been to the Rue de Bourdonnais until now. You might have known, man, that this house is as much yours as mine.'
'My dear friend, there were reasons.'
He put a hand on each of my shoulders, looked at me in the face with kind eyes, and then laughed out.
'Reasons!Pardieu!I can hardly make you out. You have a face a half-toise in length, never a plume in your hat, and a general look of those hard-praying and, I will say, hard-fighting gentry who gave the King his own again.'
'How loyal you have become.'
'We were all wrong—the lot of us—and I own my mistake; but you—you have not turned Huguenot, have you?'
'Not yet,' I smiled; 'and is Madame de Belin in Paris?'
'Diable!and he made a wry face. 'Come up to my den, and I'll tell you everything. Vallon, you grinning ape, fetch a flask of our old Chambertin—I will show M. le Chevalier up myself.'
And linking me by the arm, he led me up the stairway, and along a noble corridor hung on each side with the richest tapestry, until we reached a carved door that opened into the rooms in the turret.
'Here we are,' Belin said, as we entered. 'I find that when Madame is away these rooms are enough for me.Tiens!How a woman's presence can fill a house. Sit down there! And here comes Vallon. Set the wine down there, Vallon, and leave us.'
He poured out a full measure for me, then one for himself, and stretched himself out in an armchair, facing me. I always liked the man, with his gay cynicism—if I may use the phrase—his kind heart and his reckless life; and I knew enough to tell that if Madame la Comptesse had been a little more forbearing she might have moulded her husband as she willed.
'Belin,' I said,' I am so old a friend, I know you will forgive me for asking why, if you miss Madame's presence, you do not have her here?'
'Oh, she has got one of her fits, and has gone to grow pears at Belin. It was all through that fool Vallon.'
'Vallon!'
'Yes. Bassompierre, de Vitry, myself, and one or two others, had arranged a little supper, with cards to follow, at More's. You don't know More's, but I'll take you there. Well, to continue: I had gone through about three weeks of my own fireside before this arrangement was made, and longed to stretch my legs a little. To tell Sophie would only cause a discussion. It is as much as I can do to get her to the Louvre accompanied by myself. So when the evening arrived I pleaded urgent business over my steward's accounts, and, giving orders that I was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, came here to my study, a duplicate key to the door of which Sophie keeps. I put Vallon in that chair there before the writing-table, after having made him throw on myrobe-de-chambre, and gave him instructions to wave his hand in token that he was not to be disturbed if Madame la Comptesse came in, and, after thoroughly drilling the rascal, vanished by the private stair—the entrance to that is just behind my wife's portrait there.'
'And then?'
'Well, we had as pleasant an evening as might be expected. I won five hundred pistoles and came home straight to my study, and on entering it imagine my feelings on seeing Sophie there—and you can guess the rest.'
'Poor devil,' I laughed, 'so your little plan failed utterly.'
'Vallon failed utterly. It appears that Sophie came up about ten, and, being waved off, went away. She returned, however, about an hour later to find Monsieur Vallon, who had got tired of his position, asleep with his mouth open in the chair in which you are sitting. She refused to believe it was only a card party—though I said I would call the Marshal and de Vitry to witness—burst into tears, and in fine, my friend, I had a bad quarter of an hour, and Sophie has gone off to Belin.'
'And the pistoles?' I asked slily.
He looked at me, and we both laughed.
'She took them,' he answered.
'Belin,' I said after a moment, 'will you ever change?'
'Ventre St. Gris!As the King swears. Why should I? After all, Sophie will come round again. I really am very happy. I have many things to be thankful for. I can always help a friend——'
'I know that,' I interrupted, 'and I want your help.'
'How much is it? Or is it a second?'
'Neither, thanks. Though in either case I would come to you without hesitation. The fact is—' and I explained to him my difficulty in providing for Marie, without, however, going into other matters, or giving him any account of my troubles.
When I ended, Belin said. 'What you want, then, is a trustworthy fellow.'
'At least that is what Jacques wants. I can get on well enough.'
'Morbleu!It is more than I could; but, as it happens, I have the very thing for you. Pull that bell-rope behind you, will you? and oblige a lazy man.'
I did so, and in a minute or so Vallon appeared, wiping his mouth suspiciously with the back of his hand.
'Vallon,' said de Belin, 'does Ravaillac continue to work satisfactorily?'
'As ever, monsieur le compte.'
'Well, I am going to lend him to the Chevalier, who has need of his services.'
'Monsieur.'
'Send him up here, and Bisson, too.'
Vallon bowed and vanished, as I said,
'I do not know how to thank you, Belin.'
'Pouf!A mere bagatelle. I thought we were going to have a little amusement in the gardens of the Tuileries. I know of a perfect spot for a meeting—ça!ça!' and he lunged twice in quarte at an imaginary adversary. As he came back from the second thrust, he said, 'By the way, I must tell you—but here they are,' and Ravaillac came in, followed by Jacques, Vallon bringing up the rear.
As they entered I recognised in Ravaillac the man who was with Jacques and Vallon on the Malaquais, and Belin, turning to Jacques, said quietly: 'Bisson, I am going to lend Ravaillac here to your master, to take your place whilst you go away to Ezy. I pledge you my word that he is a good sword.'
'True enough, monsieur le compte; we were amusing ourselves with a pass or two below, and he touched me twice to my once, and, as your lordship answers for him, I am content.'
'That is well, most excellent Bisson! Ravaillac, you understand? Here is the Chevalier d'Auriac, your new master, who will remain such until he sends you back to me.'
Ravaillac bowed without reply. He was quite young, barely twenty, and very tall and thin; yet there was great breadth of shoulder, and I noticed that he had the framework of a powerful man: his appearance was much beyond that of his class, but there was a sullen ferocity in his pale face—the eyes were set too close together, and the mouth too large and straightly cut to please me. Nevertheless, I was practically bound to accept Belin's recommendation, and after a few orders were given, the men were dismissed.
'What was I about to say before these men came in?' asked Belin.
'I'm afraid I cannot help.'
'Of course not—oh, yes! I recollect. I was about to tell you how I got Ravaillac's service. I lay you five crowns to a tester you would never guess.'
'You have already told me with your wager. You must have won him.'
'Exactly. You've hit it, and it was in this way. About three months ago I was returning to Paris attended but by Vallon, and with only a small sum with me. At an inn at Neuilly I met an acquaintance, a Baron d'Ayen, one of the last of themignons, and a confirmed gambler.'
'I know him,' I said, my heart beginning to beat faster at the very thought of d'Ayen.
'Then it makes the story more interesting. We dined together, and then had a turn at the dice, with the result that d'Ayen won every ecu that I had.
'"It would be a pity to stop now," he said, as I rose, declaring myself broken. "Suppose we play for your horse, compte?'"
'"No, thanks," I replied; "luck is against me, and I have no mind to foot it to my hotel. But I'll tell you what, I have rather taken a fancy to your man, since I once saw him handle a rapier. I'll lay Vallon against him; what do you call him?"
'"Ravaillac. He is of Anjouleme, and has been a Flagellant. Will he suit you?"
'"I shall have to find that out. Do you accept the stakes?"
'"Mon ami, I would play for my soul in this cursed inn."
'"Very well, then—throw."
'The upshot of it was that I won, and from that moment the blind goddess smiled on me, and after another hour's play I left d'Ayen with nothing but the clothes he stood in. What he regretted most was the loss of his valise, in which lay some cosmetiques he valued beyond price: he got them from Coiffier. I earned his undying friendship by giving him back his valise, lent him his horse, which I had won, and came off with fifty pistoles and a new man. Of course, you know that d'Ayen has fallen on his feet?'
'I do not.'
'I'll tell you. Where the devil have you been burying yourself all these months? You must know that the King is looking forward for another Liancourt for a lady whom he destines for a very high place, and d'Ayen is to be the happy man. It is an honour he fully appreciates, and he has been kind enough to ask me to stand as one of his sponsors at the wedding, which by the King's orders comes off in a fortnight.'
'And you have promised?'
'Yes, it was a little amusement. They say, however, that Madame is furious, and that her temper is worse than that of Mademoiselle d'Entragues—who, by the way, literally flung herself at the King, without avail. Her time will come soon enough, no doubt—but, good gracious, man! what is the matter? You are white as a sheet.'
'It is nothing, Belin—yes, it is more than I can bear. Belin, old friend, is there nothing that can save this lady?'
He looked at me and whistled low to himself. 'Sets the wind that way? I did not know you had even heard of the lily of Bidache. Are you hard hit, d'Auriac?' And he rose from his seat and put a kind hand on my shoulder.
I jumped up furiously. 'Belin, I tell you I will stop this infamy if I die for it! I swear before God that I will kill that man, king though he be, like a mad dog——'
'Be still,' he said. 'What bee has stung you? You and I, d'Auriac, come of houses too old to play the assassin.Croix Dieu, man! Will you sully your shield with murder? There, drink that wine and sit down again. That's right. You do not know what you say. I have fought against the King, and I serve him now, and I tell you, d'Auriac, he is the greatest of Frenchmen. And there is yet hope. Remember, a fortnight is a fortnight.'
I ground my teeth in silent agony.
'Wait a moment,' he continued; 'a chamberlain of the court knows most of its secrets, and I can tell you that it is not such plain sailing as you think for d'Ayen. The death of that unhappy Gabrielle has affected the King much. He is but now beginning to recover, and Biron, who was hurrying to his government of Burgundy, has been ordered to remain in close attendance on the King. Whether Biron knew of the King's intentions or not, I do not know; but he has strongly urged the suit of one of his gentlemen for the hand of Madame—it is thatcroquemortde Gomeron, with all his faults a stout soldier. It is said that the Marshal has even pressed de Gomeron's suit with Madame, and that rather than marry d'Ayen, and clinging to any chance for escape, she has agreed to fall in with his views. This I heard from the Vidame and the Chevalier de Lafin—good enough authority.'
'One alternative is as bad as the other.'
'There is no satisfying some people. Why, man! don't you see it would be the best thing in the world for you if it was settled in favour of our friend from the Camargue.'
'That low-born scoundrel?'
'Mon ami, we don't know anything about that. Give the devil his due; he is a better man than d'Ayen. I know there is ill blood between you, and wonder that some has not been spilt before now.'
'There will be, by God! before this is ended!'
'Tenez!Let but the King agree to de Gomeron's suit—and he is hard pressed, I tell you, for Sully even is on Biron's side in this matter, and after that——'
'What?'
'Henry's mind will have turned another way. There are many who would like to play queen, and few like Mesdames de Guercheville and Bidache.'
'But in any case, Belin, I lose the game.'
'You have become very clever in your retreat, my friend. You win your game if de Gomeron is accepted; and then——'
'And then, my wise adviser?'
'She need not marry the Camarguer. You can run him through under the limes in the Tuileries, wed Madame, and grow cabbages at Auriac ever after.Pouf!The matter is simple!'
Miserable as I was, I fairly laughed out at Belin's plot. Nevertheless, the hopefulness of the man, his cheery tone and happy spirit, had their effect upon me, and if it turned out that the King was wavering, there was more than a straw of hope floating down-stream to me. My courage grew also when I put together Sully's words with Belin's news that Biron was detained by the side of the King. It surely meant that this was done to prevent the Marshal doing mischief elsewhere. If so, I was nevertheless on the horns of a dilemma, for by telling of the plot I would, if my story were believed, make matters hopeless, and advance d'Ayen's cause, to the misery of the woman I loved.
On the other hand, by keeping silent I was in an equally hard position. My pledge to Sully prevented me from taking Belin fully into my confidence, and, hardly knowing what I was doing, I poured myself out another full goblet of the Chambertin, and drained it at a draught.
'Excellent,' said Belin. 'There is nothing like Burgundy to steady the mind; in another moment you will be yourself again, and think as I do in this matter. Courage, man! Pick your heart up! A fortnight is a devil of a long time, and——'
'Monsieur le Baron d'Ayen,' and Vallon threw open the door, and at its entrance stood the coldblooded instrument of the King. He looked older and more shrivelled than ever, but the paint was bright upon his cheeks, his satin surcoat and puffed breeches were fresh from the tailor's, and his hat, which he carried in his left hand, was plumed with three long crimson marabout feathers, held in a jewelled clasp.
'My dear de Belin,' he said, bowing low, 'I trust my visit is not inopportune? I had no idea you were engaged.'
'Never more welcome, baron. I think Monsieur le Chevalier is known to you; sit down and help yourself to the Chambertin.'
D'Ayen bowed slightly to me, but I took no notice, and rose to depart.
'I will say good day, Belin, and many thanks for what you have done.'
'Do not retire on my account, monsieur le chevalier,' said d'Ayen in his mocking voice. 'I come to give news to my friend here, which will doubtless interest you. The fact is, his Majesty insists on my marriage taking place as soon as possible, and has given instructions for the chapel in the Louvre to be prepared for the ceremony. You still hold good to your promise of being one of my sponsors, de Belin?'
'If the wedding comes off—certainly.'
'Ha! ha! If it comes off! I would ask you too, monsieur,' and he turned to me, 'but I know you have pressing business elsewhere.'
'Whatever my business may be, monsieur, there is one thing I must attend to first, and I must request the pleasure of your company to discuss it.'
'Ah!' he said, stroking the marabout feathers in his hat, 'that difference of opinion we had about the woods of Bidache, eh? I see from your face it is so. I had almost forgotten it.'
'Monsieur's memory is convenient.'
He bowed with a grin; 'I am old, but shall take care not to forget this time——'
'Come, gentlemen,' and Belin interposed, 'the day is too young to begin to quarrel, and if this must come to a meeting allow your seconds to arrange the time and place. One moment, baron,' and taking me by the arm he led me to the door. 'Malheureux!' he whispered, 'will you upset the kettle! See me to-morrow, and adieu!' He pressed my hand and I went out, preceded by Vallon, who must have caught Belin's words, but whose face was as impassive as stone.
Swearing he would be back again in a week, Jacques set out for Ezy within an hour of our return to the Rue des Deux Mondes, and his going had removed one weight from my mind. I knew full well that, unless something beyond his control happened, my business would be faithfully discharged, though I felt I was losing a tower of strength when I needed support most, as I watched him riding along the Malaquais, mounted on the sorrel and leading the grey.
He went out of sight at last, and, now that the momentary bustle caused by his departure had ceased, I had leisure to think of what I had heard from de Belin; and those who have read the preceding pages, and have formed their judgment as to what was my character at that time, can well imagine that I was mentally on the rack.
The trouble with d'Ayen was bad enough, but united to that was Belin's statement, that she—she was prepared, no matter what the consequences were, to give her hand to de Gomeron! Had I been in her place death would have been preferable to me rather than this alternative; and then I thought of the token she had sent back to me—felt that I was being trifled with, and gave full rein to my jealous and bitter temper.
To all intents and purposes I was alone in my chamber, and yet I could swear that there was an invisible presence at my ear that whispered, 'Fooled! Tricked! She is but as other women are, and you have played the quintain for her practice.'
By heaven! If it was so, I would end it all at once, and not waste another moment of my life on a heartless coquette! It must be so. It was so. By this time I had got beyond power of reason, and jumped to my conclusions like the thrice blind fool I was. Snatching forth the bow from its resting place over my heart, I tore the ribbons asunder, and flung them on the floor before me, with a curse at the vanity of womankind that could make a plaything of a heart. I would be gone that moment. I would leave this country of intrigue and dishonour. In an hour I could catch Jacques up, and in ten days we would be on the seas, and in that New World, which had not yet time to grow wicked, make for myself a fresh life. By God! I would do it! My hand was on the bell-rope, when there came a sharp tap at the door, and the next moment Ravaillac announced in his low voice:
'Maître Palin to wait on Monsieur le Chevalier.'
I pulled myself together with an effort, and advanced to meet my old friend as he came in.
'At last! I have been expecting you hourly for some time.'
'I could not come, chevalier. I will explain in a moment.'
'First sit down. Take that chair there near the window; it commands a good view.'
'Monsieur does not need this?'
It was Ravaillac's voice that broke in upon us, and he himself stood before me, holding out on a salver the ribbons of the torn bow. Civil as the question was, there was something in his tone that made me look at him sharply. It seemed to me, as I looked up, that a faint smile vanished between his bloodless lips like a spider slipping back into a crevice.
I could, however, see no trace of impertinence in the long sallow face, and the whole attitude of my new follower was one of submissive respect. I fancied, therefore, that I had made a mistake, and put it down to the state of mental agitation I was in at the time.
'No,' I answered him; 'you can fling it away. And in future you need not ask me about such trifles.'
'Very well, monsieur, I will remember,' and with a bow he moved towards the door, the salver in his hand.
'Ravaillac,' I called out after him.
'Monsieur.'
'On second thoughts do not throw that away. I did not—I mean, please leave it there on the table.'
'Monsieur,' and, laying down the salver, he stepped out of the room.
'I see you have changed your livery with your old servant, chevalier,' said Palin, sipping at his wine, as the man went out, closing the door carefully and softly behind him.
'Not so. Jacques has merely gone away temporarily on some business of importance. In fact he left to-day, shortly before you came, and this man, or rather youth, has been lent to me by a friend.'
'And his name is Ravaillac?'
'Yes.'
'An uncommon name for a man of his class.'
'Perhaps—but these men assume all kinds of names. He is, however, better educated than the usual run of people in his position, and bears an excellent character, although he has been a Flagellant, from which complaint he has recovered.'
'Most of them do. And now, my good friend, let us dismiss Ravaillac and tell me how you progress.'
For a moment it was in me to tell him all, to say that I had abandoned a worthless cause, and that I could do no more as I was leaving France at once. Mechanically I stretched out my hand towards the tags of ribbon on the table, and my fingers closed over them. What was I to say? I could not answer Palin. Through the now darkening room I could see his earnest features turned towards me for reply, and behind it there moved in the shadow the dim outline of a fair face set in a mass of chestnut hair, and the violet light from its eyes seemed to burn through my veins. My tongue was stilled, and I could say nothing. At length he spoke again.
'Do I gather from your silence that you have failed?'
'No—not so—but little or nothing could be done, as the King has only just come, and then——' I stopped.
'And then—what?'
'It seems that Madame has changed her mind.'
'I do not follow you. Do you know what you are saying?' His tone was coldly stern.
My temper began to rise at this. I put down the ribbons and said: 'Yes, I think I do—or else why has Madame come to Paris, and what is this story I hear about a Monsieur de Gomeron? If that is true it ends the matter.'
I got up as I spoke, and began to pace the room in my excitement.
'Had I been twenty years younger. Monsieur d'Auriac, I would have paraded you for what you have said; but my cloth and my age forbid it. My age, not because it has weakened my arm, but because it has taught me to think. My young friend, you are a fool.'
'I know I have been,' I said bitterly, 'but I shall be so no longer.'
'And, in saying so, confirm yourself in your folly. Are you so beside yourself that you condemn unheard! Sit down, man, and hear what I have to say. It will not keep you long. You can leave Paris five minutes after, if you like.'
I came back to my seat, and Palin continued: 'You appear to be offended at Madame de la Bidache's coming to Paris?'
'I am not offended—I have no right to be.'
'Well, it will interest you to hear that her coming to Paris was forced. That practically we are prisoners.'
'You mean to say that he—the King—has gone as far as that!'
'I mean what I say—Madame cannot leave her hotel, except to go to the Louvre, without his permission.'
'But this is infamous!'
'In an almost similar case this was what the daughter of de Cœuvres said, and yet she died Duchesse de Beaufort. But are you satisfied now?'
'I am,' I said in a low tone, and then, with an effort, 'but there is still the other matter.'
'You are exacting—are you sure you have a right to ask that?'
Luckily, it was too dark for Palin to see my eyes turn to the tangle of crushed ribbons on the table. How much did the Huguenot know? I could not tell, and after all I had no right to ask the question I had, and said so.
'I have no right, but, if it is true, it means that the affair is at an end.'
'If it is true?'
'Then it is not?' My heart began to beat faster.
'I did not say so. Remember that the alternative is Monsieur le Baron d'Ayen.'
'There is another.'
'And that is?'
'Death.'
'We are Huguenots,' he answered coldly, 'and believe in the word of God. We do not kill our souls.'
'Great heavens! man! Tell me if it is true or not? Do not draw this out. In so many words, is Madame de la Bidache pledged to de Gomeron?'
'Most certainly not, but Biron and her nearest relative, Tremouille, have urged it on her as a means of escape. She has, however, given no answer.'
'Then de Belin was wrong?'
'If you mean that the Compte de Belin said so, then he had no authority for the statement.'
I took back the ribbons from the table and thrust them into their old resting-place, my face hot with shame at my unworthy suspicions.
'Palin,' I said, 'you were right. I am a fool.'
'You are,' he answered, 'exactly what your father was before you at your age.'
'My father—you knew him?'
'Yes—Raoul de Breuil, Sieur d'Auriac, and Governor of Provence. We were friends in the old days, and I owed him my life once, as did also Henry the Great, our King and master—in the days of his youth.'
'And you never told me this?'
'I have told you now. I owe the house of Auriac my life twice over, and I recognise in this, as in all things, the hand of God. Young man, I have watched you, and you are worthy—be of good courage.' He stretched out his hand, and I grasped it in silence.
'See here,' he continued, 'I have come to you like a thief in the twilight, because I have that to say which is for you alone. It is useless to appeal to the King. Our only chance is flight, and we have no one to rely on but you. Will you help us—help Madame?'
'Why need to ask? Have I not already said so? Am I not ready to die, if need be, to save her?'
'You are now,' he said, 'but I will not press that point. Then we, or rather I, can count on you?'
'To the end of my sword; but does not Madame know of this?'
'Not yet. Should it fall through, there would be only another bitter disappointment for her. It is, moreover, an idea that has but shaped itself with me to-day.'
'Where do you propose going?'
'To Switzerland. There we would be safe, and there they are of our faith.'
'Remember, Maître Palin, that I am not'
'Look into your own heart and tell me that again at another time. Can you count on a sword or two?'
'If Jacques were only here!' I exclaimed.
And then, remembering my new man's reputation, 'They say Ravaillac is good, and I have a friend'—I bethought me of Belin—'upon whom I think I could rely.'
'Better one blade of steel than two of soft iron, chevalier. We must do what we can with what we have.'
'When do you propose starting?'
'On the night of the fête at the Louvre.'
'And we meet?'
'Under the three limes in the Tuileries at compline.'
'I have but one horse at present—we must have more.'
'That is not hard—I will settle that with Pantin. He knows the spot exactly, and will have horses in readiness and guide you there, if need be.'
'I know it too, and will not fail you. God grant us success.'
'Amen!'
There was a silence of a moment, and then Palin arose. 'It grows darker and darker,' he said; 'I must go now—adieu!'—and he held out his hand.
'Not yet good-bye,' I said. 'I will accompany you to the end of the Malaquais at any rate. Ho! Ravaillac! My hat and cloak!'
There was no answer; but it seemed as if there was the sound of a stumble on the stairs outside the closed door, and then all was still.
'Diable!That sounds odd,' I exclaimed; 'and 'tis so dark here I can hardly lay hands on anything. Oh! Here they are—now come along.'
As I opened the door to lead the way out I saw a flash of light on the staircase, and Madame Pan-tin appeared, bearing a lighted candle in her hand.
'I was coming to light your room, monsieur,' she said.
'It is good of you; but what is my new knave doing?'
'If Monsieur will step towards the loft, near Couronne's stall, he will see that Ravaillac is absorbed in his devotions—perhaps Maître Palin would care to see also?'
'Not I,' said Palin.
'But, at any rate, his devotions should not interfere with his duties,' I burst out; 'it will take but a minute to bring him to his senses. Excuse me for a moment, Palin—Madame will see you as far as the door, and I will join you there.'
And without waiting for a reply I ran down towards the stables, and on coming there heard the voice of some one groaning and sobbing. Peering up into the darkness of the loft above me, I could see nothing, but heard Ravaillac distinctly, as he writhed in a mental agony and called on God to save him from the fires of hell. The first thought that struck me was that the youth was ill, and, clambering up the ladder that led to the loft, I found him there in the dim light, kneeling before a crucifix, beating at his heart, and calling on himself as the most miserable of sinners.
'Ravaillac!'—and I put my hand on his shoulder—'what ails you, man? Are you ill?' He turned his face up towards me; it was paler than ever, and he screamed out, 'My hour is come—leave me—leave me! Our Lady of Sorrows intercede for me, for I know not how to pray,' and with a half-smothered howl he fell forwards on his face before the crucifix, and, clasping it with both hands, began to sob out his entreaties to God anew. I saw that it was useless wasting further time on him, and that he had been taken with one of those frenzy fits that had before driven him to the Flagellants. I left him, therefore, to come to himself, and muttering that Belin might have told me of this foible, came backwards down the ladder to find that Palin and Madame Pantin had followed me, and were but a few yards away.
'Did you hear?' I asked, as I joined them; 'is it not strange?'
'He is wrestling with the enemy,' said Palin. 'Let him be.'
'He is a traitor,' burst out Annette. 'Monsieur le chevalier, I would send him packing tonight.'
'I can hardly do that,' I said, 'and, besides, agony such as that young man is passing through does not mark a traitor.'
'As Monsieur pleases,' she answered, and then rapidly in my ear, 'Were it not for someone else's sake I would let you go your own way. Beware of him, I say.'
'Corbleu!dame Annette! why not speak plainly? We are all friends here.'
But she only laughed mirthlessly, and led the way towards the door.
I accompanied Palin to the end of the Malaquais, speaking of many things on the way, and finally left him, as he insisted on my coming no further. So much had happened during the day, however, that I determined to cool my brain with a walk, and my intention was to cross the river and return to my lodging by the Pont aux Meunniers.
I hailed a boat, therefore, and was soon on the other side of the Seine, and, flinging my cloak over my arm, set off at a round pace, Annette's warning about Ravaillac buzzing in my head with the insistence of a fly. As I passed the Louvre I saw that the windows were bright with lights, and heard the strains of music from within. They were as merry within as I was sad without, and I did not linger there long. Keeping to the right of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, I passed by the Magasins de Louvre, and then, slackening my pace, strolled idly down the Rue de St. Antoine. Down this great street it seemed as if the coming of the King had awakened the good citizens to life again, for there were lights at nearly all the windows, though the street itself was in darkness, except at the spots where a lantern or two swung on ropes stretched across the road, and lit up a few yards dimly around them. A few steps further brought me almost opposite a large house, over the entrance to which was a transparent signboard with a row of lamps behind it, and I saw I had stumbled across More's, the eating and gaming house kept by the most celebratedtraiteurin Paris. I had a mind to step in, more out of curiosity than anything else, when, just as I halted in hesitation before the door, two or three masked cavaliers came out singing and laughing, and in the foremost of them I had no difficulty in recognising the old reprobate, d'Ayen. Much as I would have avoided a quarrel, it could not be helped, for I had the door, and it was certainly my right to enter. They, however, ranged themselves arm-in-arm before me, and, being in wine, began to laugh and jeer at my sombre attire.
'Does Monsieur le Huguenot think there is aprêchehere?' said d'Ayen, bowing to me in mockery as he lifted his plumed hat.
I determined to show in my answer that I knew them.
'Let me pass. Monsieur d'Ayen,' I said coldly. 'We have too much between us to quarrel here.'
He knew me well enough, but pretended surprise.
'Corbœuf!Monsieur le chevalier, and so it is you! Gentlemen, allow me to present to you Monsieur le Chevalier d'Auriac, with whom I have an argument that we never could bring to a conclusion. We disagreed on the subject of landscape gardening.'
It was a hard pill to swallow, but I had made up my mind to retreat. The Edict was fresh; a conflict there would have meant complete disaster; and there would be no chance for escape, as the passage was getting crowded.
'I remember perfectly,' I said, carrying on d'Ayen's feint, 'but I am not prepared to discuss the matter now. I must go back to take some notes to refresh my memory.'
The man was blown with wine. He thought I feared him, and my words, which roused his companions to scornful laughter, made him do a foolish thing.
'At least take a reminder with you,' and he flung his soft, musk-scented glove in my face.
'A ring! a ring!' roared twenty voices, and, before I knew where I was, I was in the centre of a circle in the passage, the slight figure of d'Ayen before me, and the point of his rapier glinting like a diamond—now in quarte, now in tierce.
He was of the old school of Dominic, and came at me with aça!ça!' and a flourish, springing back like a cat to avoid the return. Had I been taught the use of the small sword by any less master than Touchet it would have gone hard with me, but, as it was, the third pass showed me the game was mine. The din around us was beyond description, for whilst More and his men were struggling to get close enough to separate us, the onlookers kept thrusting the hotel people back, and oaths, shrieks, wagers, screams for the watch, and half-a-hundred different exclamations and challenges were shouted out at once. I had no time to look around me, for, old as he was, my opponent displayed uncommon activity, and I could not but admire his courage. Coxcomb and fool, dishonoured though he was, under his flowered vest was no craven heart, and I spared him once for his age and twice for his spirit. But now came the warning cry of 'Watch! the watch!' behind me. D'Ayen thrust low in tierce; the parry was simple and I pinked him through the shoulder-joint—I could have hit him where I liked at that moment. He dropped his sword with a curse, and I found myself the next moment in a generalmelée, for the watch were using no mild measures to force an entrance, and there was a fine to-do in consequence.
Someone—I know not who—at this juncture cut the silken cord by which a huge ornamental lantern was hung above our heads. It fell with a crash, and in a moment we were in semi-darkness. I took the opportunity to dash forwards, flatten myself against the wall, and, by dint of a little management and more good luck, succeeded in getting within a yard or so of the door. Here, taking my occasion, I made a sudden spring forwards, upsetting a man in front of me, and dashed off down the street. Unfortunately, I was not so quick but that I was seen and instantly pursued by a portion of the watch on guard outside.
There was nothing for it but to run. Fast as I went, however, there were good men behind me, and I could not shake them off, though the streets were in gloom. The worst of the matter, however, was that the watch was being constantly reinforced by amateur guardians of the peace. Everyone who happened to be passing, or heard the noise, seemed to think it his duty to join in the chase, and it was with a fine following that I headed towards the river. Heaven knows how I cursed my folly at having put my nose into More's, and I redoubled my pace as I heard, from the shouts to the right and to the left of me, that I was practically hemmed in, and that my only chance was to take to the river. They were close up to me when I reached the bank a few yards below the Pont aux Meunniers, and without further hesitation I plunged in, and the bubbling and seething of the water brought the yell of disappointment from the bank faintly to my ears. The set of the stream was towards the opposite shore, and in five seconds I was in pitch darkness, though, looking back over my shoulder as I struck out, I could see, by the lanterns that some carried, the watch and the volunteer brigade dancing with anger at my escape, but none of them dared to follow.
I had to swim with a will, for the current was swift; but at length I reached my own side of the river—drenched, it is true, but safe for the present. When I reached my lodging Pantin opened the door to me.
'Ciel!' he exclaimed, as he saw me wet and dripping. 'What has happened?'
'I have had a swim in the Seine, Pantin; say nothing about it.'