In the excitement attendant in my scuffle with d'Ayen and the subsequent events, ending in my escape from the clutches of the watch, I had for the moment clean forgot Ravaillac's fit of frenzy. I slept profoundly, and towards morning was half awakened by an uneasy feeling that there was someone in the room. This passed away; but a short time after I awoke with a start, and looking around saw Ravaillac bending over some of my things which were lying in a corner of the room. As I looked at him the full recollection of his strange behaviour came back to me, and, a slight movement on my part attracting his attention, he bade me a civil good-morning. He made no mention, however, of his illness, nor did he excuse himself in any way, but set about his duties in a quiet, cat-like manner.
Whilst he moved softly about, I began to piece together the noise of the stumble I had heard outside my door when about to set out with Palin, with Madame Pantin's warning and the scene in the loft. It struck me that his seizure might after all be a blind, and I determined to question the man, and, by watching the play of his features and noting his manner of reply, try and discover if there was anything to show that my idea was correct.
Pretending, therefore, to be unaware of what had passed, I asked:
'How was it you were not in to receive me last night, Ravaillac?'
There was a quick up-and-down movement of the long grey eyes, and he answered:
'I was ill, monsieur; I trust Monsieur le Chevalier is not hurt?'
'Hurt! Why should I be?'
'Monsieur will pardon me, but I thought it possible.'
'How so?'
'Monsieur's clothes were dripping wet when I first came in, and his rapier stained full six inches from the point when I drew it out of its sheath to clean it this morning. It looked like an arm-thrust, and I thought——'
'Never mind what you thought. I had a slight affair last night, but was not hurt.' It was clear to me that he was trying to carry the war into my country, as it were, by counter-questions to mine. I therefore cut him short, and added:
'Your illness came and went very suddenly. Are you often taken that way?'
'Then Monsieur knows——'
'A great many things, perhaps; but kindly answer my question.'
It may have been fancy or not; but it seemed to me that, as once before, I saw the wraith of a smile flit stealthily along his thin lips. He was standing in front of me, holding my rapier, and his eyes were bent down on the polished steel hilt as I spoke.
At first he made no answer, and I repeated my question. This time he looked me full in the face, and the whole expression of the man changed—his cheeks paled, his eyes dilated, his voice took a shrill pitch.
'I cannot tell, monsieur. It comes and goes like the wind. There is a Fear that falls on me—a Fear and something, I know not what, beside; but all before my eyes is red—red as if it rained blood—and then a myriad of devils are whispering in my ears, and there is no safety for me but the cross and prayer. It has passed now—God be thanked! Will Monsieur not take his sword?'
His voice dropped again to its low, soft note as he ended, and handed me my rapier. I buckled it on, thinking to myself, 'My friend, you are either a lunatic at large or a finished actor. In either case you won't do for me.' I said no more, however, but when he gave me my hat he asked:
'Will Monsieur require me in attendance?'
'Yes. I go to the Hôtel de Belin, and I trust this will be the last of your attacks whilst you are with me. The Compte told me you had been a Flagellant, but had recovered.'
'I have been well for a long time, monsieur,' he answered, taking my humour—'I will try and get ill no more.'
'I am glad of that. Saddle Couronne. I go out at once—you can follow on foot.'
'Monsieur.'
The next moment he was gone, and I heard him running down the stairs. It would take a few minutes to get Couronne ready, but I followed him down at once, as I had an inquiry to make from Madame Pantin. I heard someone moving below in the kitchen, and, thinking it was dame Annette, called down the winding stair:
'Madame—Madame Pantin!'
'Madame is out; but is there anything I can do for Monsieur?' And the notary appeared below, a dim outline, clad in his dressing-gown, with a woollen cap on his head.
I went down to him and asked:
'Pantin, do you know if Ravaillac was out last night?'
'I would have told Monsieur there and then when he came in from his swim in the Seine. No, for I watched and saw him sleeping in the loft.'
'Are you sure?'
'As I am of being here.'
'Thanks! Madame is out early?'
'She has gone to the Rue Varenne; but, monsieur, be careful of that Ravaillac.'
I nodded my head, and then, raising my voice: 'I dine at the Two Ecus as usual—good day!'
'Good day, monsieur!'
Couronne was at the door, Ravaillac at her head, and, mounting, I went at a walking pace towards the Pont au Change, my servant a yard or so behind. It was my intention to see de Belin, to ask him to find out if I was in any danger owing to last night's folly or misadventure—call it what you will—and to beg his advice on the course I was to pursue.
I had been recognised by d'Ayen. My name was known to those with him, and any trouble with the Hôtel de Ville meant hopeless disaster. I had almost made up my mind to conceal myself somewhere until the day of flight; but, before taking any action, thought it advisable to consult my friend, and to return Ravaillac to his service.
On my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais, however, I began to turn the matter of Ravaillac over again in my mind, and found myself between the hedge and the ditch. If I got rid of him, the man, if he was a spy, could watch me in secret; if I kept him with me, the same thing happened. After all, whilst with me he had greater opportunities, and the less of the two evils was to be rid of him—yes, it would be better so.
Imagine my disappointment when reaching his hotel to find that Belin was out! Vallon begged me to wait, explaining that his master had been absent for so long a time that his return would be but a matter of minutes. He had supped out the night before with de Vitry, the Captain of the Scots Guards, and M. le Grand, had come back late, and gone forth very early in the morning, and it was now full time he was back.
I determined therefore to wait, though every moment was of importance to me, and, after a half-hour of patience in an easy chair, rose and walked towards the window, to while away the time by watching what was going on below. One of the heavy brocade curtains was half drawn, and without thinking of it I came up towards that side, and looked out from behind its cover. It struck me as strange that my horse was without the gate, instead of being within the courtyard, and Ravaillac, with the reins thrown over his shoulder, was engaged in converse with a cavalier whose back was turned to me, and whose head was entirely concealed by his broad-brimmed hat and long plumes.
But the tall, straight figure, with its stretch of shoulder, could not be mistaken. It was de Gomeron to a certainty, and my doubts on the point were soon at rest. Keeping as far as possible within the shadow of the curtain, I watched them for full five minutes whilst they conversed together earnestly, and then something changed hands between them. Finally, the cavalier left Ravaillac with a nod to his salute, and crossed over to the other side of the road, where a mounted lackey was holding his horse. As he gained the saddle, he turned his face towards me for an instant. There was no shadow of doubt left. It was de Gomeron, and it was clear that there was more between the free-lance and Ravaillac than there should be, and also I was convinced, I know not how, that what had passed between them touched me, and was not for my good. What object the man had to play traitor I cannot say; but I do know that there are some natures to whom double dealing is as their skin, and whom nothing can turn from falsehood and chicane.
Be this as it may, I knew at any rate the grass where one viper lay, and made up my mind to blunt his fangs without any further delay. I gave de Belin another half-hour, and then, calling Vallon, left a message with him, begging my friend to see me at my lodging on a matter of the utmost moment. As soon as I was in the saddle, I bent forwards, and, looking Ravaillac full in the face, said: 'My friend, you have too many acquaintances for my service; I return you from this moment to Monsieur le Compte.'
'I do not understand, monsieur,' he began to stammer; but I cut him short.
'I spoke clearly enough. I do not require your services further. You are discharged. Take this,' and flinging him a couple of gold pieces, which the scoundrel swooped at like a hawk, I turned the mare's head and trotted off.
I made a short cut down a side street, and, in so doing, had an opportunity of taking a last look at my man. He was standing talking to Vallon, and moving his hands in my direction.
'Reeling out lies by the dozen,' I muttered to myself. 'If I mistake not, there will be another place lost to you by sundown.'
I let myself in by the stable entrance, and, after attending to Couronne, entered the house. There was apparently not a soul within. I sought the lower apartments in the hope of finding either the notary or his wife, to explain to them my action in regard to Ravaillac; but neither of them was visible. There was no answer to my call. There could not be a soul in the house.
I determined, therefore, to go up to my room and await de Belin's coming, and on my opening the door of my sitting-room saw, to my surprise, a man apparently dozing in my armchair. The noise of my entrance awoke him. He jumped up, and I recognised my friend.
'Belin! what good wind has blown you here? But how did you come in? There is no one in the house?'
'There was when I came in, my friend. Do you know'—and he looked me in the face—'You have made a mess of things.'
'You know already! Belin, I have just been to see you about it. The whole affair was forced on me.'
'Partly. It was lucky I was there, and sober enough to think of cutting the cord of the lamp. You vanished, as I thought you would, and I have been attending to your affairs since then; any other man would have been laid by the heels ere this, but the stars fought for you.'
'Any other man who had not a friend like you, Lisois. But do you really mean that I am safe from arrest?'
'I think so, from any count under the Edict of Blois; but I had a devil of a dance. First of all, the catchpoles insisted upon turning their attentions towards me, and I only got off on the testimony of M. le Baron, who after all is but scratched, though spoiling for revenge. Then I rushed off to de Villeroi; but he, full of his new office as governor of the Hôtel, hummed and hawed—would hear of nothing, he said, until you were provided with a lodging in Fort l'Eveque, and talked big of the law and its course. However, I had an argument to persuade him: little birds twitter odd things into the ears of a chamberlain, sometimes, and he agreed to hold over the matter for a few hours until I had seen the King.'
'The King!'
'Why not,mon ami?With the first streak of light I went to see a friend who shall be nameless, but is a power in the land. An hour later I was at the Louvre and at his Majesty's bedside. Henry was in high good humour. He had won nine thousand crowns last night from the invincible Portuguese, de Pimental. Almost as great a victory as Arques, he said. I related the whole of the circumstances without mentioning your name, and, pledging my word that d'Ayen would be about by this afternoon, begged for a pardon.'
'But the King of course asked for my name.'
'Of course he did, and, in reply, I said I would bring you in person to the Louvre this afternoon: then by good chance Sully himself came in. His lands of Muret march with mine, and Monseigneur is my very good friend. The King began to put him the case, to which Sully listened without a movement, except an occasional glance at a roll of documents in his hand, and when Henry finished said, with a smile—
"'A trifle, sire, that may well be left to M. de Villeroi; perhaps, however, sire, your Majesty might agree to de Belin's petition. There is a spice of mystery about it, which even interests me. I have, however, brought these papers on the Gabelle."
"'Diable!Salty, but hardly a relish—let it be as you wish, Belin; and now for my salt without any soup." I took the hint, as may be imagined, and went straight back to Villeroi, and the matter being now in the hands of the King, he will of course take no action.'
'You have been goodness itself.'
'My dear fellow, let that rest! All that you have to do now is to come with me this afternoon, put your case to the King, and I lay a hundred crowns to a tester you hear no more—of the little affair of last night.'
As he said this, looking me full in the face, with a peculiar stress on the last words of his speech, a sudden light came upon me. Sully's lands marched with those of de Belin. They were friends. Sully did not, for reasons of his own, wish it known that he took an interest in my mission, and the rest was easy to guess.
'Pardieu!That little thrust through the sword arm of M. le Baron is, after all, not so unlucky—eh! Belin? At least, for our very good lord of Muret and Villebon.'
But Lisois only laughed in reply, as he said: 'Add a cat falling on its feet from a church steeple to your scutcheon, d'Auriac. Shall I get Rouge Croix to prick the new coat of arms?'
'As you will; you have made my heart, which was heavy as lead, light once more—I feel now that I am not playing a hopeless game.'
'The proper feeling to have, whatever the hazard be. With all your northern blood, d'Auriac, you should not have so many nerves.'
'You forget my mother was of the south.'
'True, of the Foix Candale. You will die a Huguenot. But I must be going. Meet me at the Rue de Bourdonnais at one, exactly, and I will take you to the Louvre, and now good-bye!' He rose and gave me his hand.
'But, surely, there is no need for you to go now? Dine with me at my ordinary; I have much to tell you.'
Tap!tap!tap!It was dame Annette's little knock at my door, and I knew it was something of import that had brought her to my room.
'One moment, Belin!' and, opening the door, I saw Madame Pantin standing there in breathless agitation.
'What is it, madame? Come in, and speak freely; there is only my friend the Compte de Belin here.'
'It is nothing, monsieur,' she said loudly, and then, dropping her voice to a whisper, 'Ravaillac was out last night. Pantin was deceived. I have come up to tell you so at once: be rid of him. I am asked to tell you this by a friend.'
'A hundred thanks! I have parted with him, and he will not trouble us more. But who is this friend who takes so great an interest in me?'
'You have company, monsieur,' she answered, with a bobbing courtesy, 'I will not intrude longer.' And, without another word, she turned and went away.
When I looked back, Belin was smoothing the plumes in his hat and laughing. 'I heard every word, d'Auriac. So Ravaillac is a mouchard, is he? And you have sent him back to me.'
'I have,' I answered, and then I told my friend what had happened.
His face was grave enough when I ended.
'So that explains one thing,' he muttered to himself, tapping the point of his boot with the end of his sheathed rapier, and then, looking up, said slowly, 'You were right, and he shall sleep in Fort l'Eveque to-night. No, I cannot stay. Be punctual—and see here.' He came close up to me, and rested his hand on my shoulder.
'Though you do not know it, your game forms part of a bigger game played for higher stakes. There are those who love France, and would have no more madness such as that over poor Gabrielle—we are helping you with heart and soul. Be punctual—and adieu. No, I can go out by myself; do not trouble to come down.'
He was gone, and I paced up and down for a quarter of an hour, feeling like a pawn that some unseen hand was moving hither and thither on the chessboard of intrigue. And then I went to my solitary dinner at the Two Ecus.
It wanted full ten minutes to the hour when I rode through the gates of the Hôtel de Belin, and a moment or so after was with my friend. He was standing in the great hall as I entered, in the midst of a small but brilliantly dressed group of cavaliers. On my being announced, however, he came forward to meet me with outstretched arms.
'Pardieu!' he exclaimed, stepping back a half-pace after our greeting, 'so you have dropped the Huguenot? We poor devils will have but a bad time of it if you turn courtier.'
'Is that likely?' I asked, a little bitterly, and then, in a low tone, 'have you made Ravaillac safe?'
'He has made himself safe,' he whispered, 'he is gone.'
'Gone?'
'Yes—vanished. It is, perhaps, best so. We will discuss him later,' and, raising his voice, 'come, let me present you to my friends,' and he led me up to his companions, who, gathered in a little knot near the huge fireplace, stood surveying us with a well-bred curiosity.
'Gentlemen, permit me to introduce my old comrade, the Chevalier d'Auriac—the Duc de Bellegarde, whom we all call M. le Grand, the Vicompte de Vitry, the Seigneur de Valryn, and the Chevalier d'Aubusson, who, like you, d'Auriac, is new to the court.'
'And who is delighted to meet with an old acquaintance, and trusts that M. de Preaulx is in as good a way.'
'As the company from Paradise—eh, chevalier?' I put in.
'Fairly hit,' exclaimed the lieutenant, and then he must needs tell the story of our little adventure, at which there was much laughter, and it was easy to see that the Marshal and Zamet had no friends in the Rue de Bourdonnais.
'Come, gentlemen,' said de Belin, 'if we delay longer we shall miss the cinque-pace—one health round, and let us start.'
As he spoke, a number of long-necked glasses filled with the wine of Champagne were brought to us. Holding his glass high above his head, de Belin called out:
'Gentlemen—the King.'
The toast was drunk with a cheer in which my voice alone was still; but I joined with the others in shivering my glass to fragments on the white marble of the floor, and then, a gay, laughing crowd, we took horse for the Louvre.
As we trotted along, I could not help wondering to myself at my own outward gaiety, and whether the same bright mask covered thoughts as dark as mine in my companions' hearts. Who, on looking at de Belin and hearing the frivol of his talk, or on casting a glance at the red and honest face of de Vitry, would imagine that these men were hilt-deep in the intrigues of the court? Perhaps the stately Bellegarde, the cynical lord of Valryn, the Thersites of his day, whose ribald tongue had silenced even de Sancy, and that devil-may-care d'Aubusson, were up to the elbows in the same pie!
Absorbed for a moment or so in these reflections I became silent, and was only aroused by Bellegarde riding up alongside of me and calling out—
'A tester for your thoughts, chevalier, and three hundred pistoles for your nag.'
'My thoughts would be expensive at that price, duc, and the pistoles will not buy Couronne.'
'Morbleu!Then name your own price. 'Tis just such a horse as that I have dreamed of to lead the King's House against M. de Savoye.'
'I may need her for the Italian war myself, monseigneur. No, Couronne is not for sale. She bears too heavy a stake for us to part.'
Bellegarde looked at me curiously on my speech, and I half repented of my last words; but he said no more, and a second or so later we were past the Magasins and approaching the main entrance to the Louvre.
The sight before us was gay beyond description. All the good commons of Paris had thronged to see the court re-open, and to catch a glimpse, and perhaps a wave of the hand, from the King, whom they now loved with their whole hearts. They came all in their gayest, and as the cheerful crowd swayed backwards and forwards beyond the long line of guards that kept the entrance to the palace free, it was for all the world like a bank of flowers stirred by the wind.
But it was not the commons alone that had gathered there. From within the palace itself we caught the continual flashes of silvered armour, the sheen of silk and satin, the waving of plumes and the glitter of jewels, and, far as the eye could stretch along the river-face, there was an apparently endless cavalcade approaching the Louvre. In that great heaving crowd, wherein all the strength of France was gathered, we saw, as the wind caught the banners and spread them to the sunlight, that there was hardly a house in France but was represented here, from the lordly seigneurs of Champagne and Guienne, with their splendid followings, to the poor knights of Gascony and Bearn, who had not a tower that was not in ruins amongst them, and could barely maintain the brace of starveling lackeys that rode at the heels of each of these lean-pursed but long-sworded gentlemen. Here one saw the white shield of Couci, the lilies of Conde, the griffins of Epernon, there the cross of Croye, the star of d'Andelot, the red hand of d'Auvergne, and the black wolves on the golden shield of La Roche-Guyon, the proudest lord of Burgundy, who traced his descent far back into the mists beyond the middle ages.
Absorbed as I was in my own troubles, I could not restrain a feeling of pride that rose within me at the scene. Down through that roaring crowd that cheered them again and again as they passed, it was as if all the old historic names of France had gathered to do honour to the day. And I felt, too, as I looked at the endless sea of heads, that this was no longer a France at murderous war with itself, but a united and powerful nation that was being led onwards to its destiny by the strong hand of a man who had quenched a fratricidal struggle; and for the moment I forgot how small he could be who was yet so great.
I had yet to learn how great he could be; and here, as I write these lines in my study in the watch tower of Auriac, round which the sea-gulls circle and scream, my old eyes grow dim, and I lay down my pen and wonder for a moment at His will, which did not shield that brave heart from an assassin's blow.
The throng was so thick that for a time we were unable to gain a passage, and were compelled to go at a walking pace, and Belin, reining in his fretting beast, exclaimed, 'Faith! 'tis the largest gathering I have ever seen.'
'All France is here to-day,' said de Valryn. 'There go d'Ossat, and his Eminence fresh from the Quirinal.'
'I wonder d'Ossat did not win his red hat as well as Monseigneur of Evreux,' said de Vitry.
'Ah! he is so unlike the Cardinal,' replied de Valryn.
'How do you mean?'
'In this way. His Eminence deceives but he never lies; the Bishop, on the other hand, lies, but he never deceives.'
'It would cost you your regiment if the King heard that, de Valryn.'
'On the contrary, I am sure it will get to his ears, and then I could almost hope for the vacant baton, though 'tis said that is already in Ornano's hand—see, there is the Constable's banner!'
'And Bouillon too—the stormy petrel is back from Sedan—I almost sniff war in the air.'
'Oh, he has taken to himself a wife—See! He has quartered the arms of La Marck on his scutcheon.'
'Si dieu ne me vult, le diable me prye,' said d'Aubusson, reading the scroll on the banner of Turenne; and then, the crowd giving way for a moment, we took the opportunity and passed through the gates of the Louvre. So full did we find the Petite Galerie on our entrance, that it was impossible to see or to observe who was there, and all that I was conscious of, as I slowly made my way forwards at the heels of de Belin, was the sound of music, the murmur of voices, and the rippling of gay laughter. In front of us was the noble stairway that led to the Galerie d'Apollon, and between the silent and statue-like figures of the King's House who lined the steps, and who still wore their violet sashes in token of mourning for the death of Gabrielle, there seemed an endless train of men and women advancing upwards. Amongst the jewelled clusters of fair and dainty dames, my eye sought in vain for the face of Madame; but my glance was, for the moment, arrested by the graceful figure of the celebrated La Noirmoutiers, as, with one arched and scarlet-shod foot resting on the white marble of the topmost step of the stairway, she turned to address some laughing remark to the cavalier who was her escort. I had not seen her since I was a boy of fifteen; but years had not changed her—her eyes were as lustrous, her cheeks as pink and dimpled as when she trailed the honour of Lorraine in the dust, and broke the heart of Joyeuse. I could not restrain a feeling of pity for the man upon whom she was now turning the light of her cruel beauty, for there was that in his honest eyes that showed he would do for her what Mornay, what Joyeuse, what Francis of Lorraine had done.
'Who is the man?' I bent forward and whispered to de Belin.
'Poor de Réthelois, who held La Fère so well against us. I fear he will find holding his heart a harder task.'
'He has capitulated already, I think,' I answered, and then she rested one small gloved hand on her escort's arm and they passed out of sight.
By this time I had collected myself to some degree, and began to try and rapidly rehearse in my mind what I should say when I came face to face with the King, but I am not ashamed to confess that at each attempt I found myself getting more and more hopelessly confused, and finally, dropping the effort, determined to let the occasion find its own words. At last we were on the stairway, and in twenty steps had entered the great hall which Henry had built himself, and which was known as the Galerie d'Apollon. Except for the vacant space round the still empty throne, the full length of its seventy yards was almost as much crowded as the hall below; but here the music was much louder, though the laughter and talk was not less merry and incessant. There was not, of course, nearly so much movement, and the people were more or less gathered in little knots or groups, though there were many gay butterflies flitting from one of these to the other.
'Keep by me,' said de Belin, and almost as he spoke we came face to face with Tavannes, de Gie, and de Cosse-Brissac, all dressed in the extreme of fashion. Belin saluted coldly, but my heart warmed towards my old comrades in arms, and I stretched out my hand. This de Gie took limply, but Tavannes and de Cosse-Brissac contented themselves with bows of the politest ceremony. The Vicompte de Gie was, however, effusive in speech if chill in manner.
'It is not everyone who could tear a hole in the Edict as you have done, d'Auriac,' he said; and then added with a smile, 'but who made your cloak? 'Tis a trifle longer than we wear it here.'
'It is short enough for me to see the King in,' I answered a little crisply.
'The King!' exclaimed both Tavannes and Brissac, a marked interest in their tones.
'My dear fellow,' said de Gie, interrupting my reply, 'I knew you would fall on your feet; see here,' and stepping right up to me, he threw open my cloak slightly with a turn of his wrist, 'wear it so, d'Auriac; it shows your cross of St. Denis now.' Then dropping his voice, 'friend or foe? Are you for the Marshal or the Master-General?'
'I am here for a short time,' I replied. 'I have come to see the King. I neither understand nor care about your intrigues.'
'I understand perfectly, monsieur,' he said, falling back, a half-smile on his lips, and, bowing to each other, we passed on in different ways, they down, and I up the hall to join de Belin, who had gone a few paces ahead.
'The King is still in his cabinet,' he said, pointing to a closed door, before which a sentry stood on guard. 'I go in at once. When I come out let it be the signal for you to join me. I will then present you; and mind—speak freely.'
'I mean to,' I answered, and with a nod he passed up through the press. I leaned against the pillar near which I was standing and surveyed the crowd. Madame was nowhere there, or else I had missed her. Perhaps it was better so, for did I see her I might be unnerved; and here Bellegarde joined me.
'Do you see her?' he asked.
'See whom?' I answered, with a start and an eager look around.
'La belleHenriette. See, there she stands! A little court around her, with the brightest eyes and the sharpest tongue in France. I wager a hundred pistoles she will rule us all some day.'
As events showed, Bellegarde was right, though that concerns not this story. I followed his glance, and saw Mademoiselle d'Entragues surrounded by a group of admirers, with whom she was bandying jest and repartee. I saw before me a tall, slight woman, beautiful in a wicked, imperious way, her eyes as black as night, and her features exquisite, but marred in every line, to my mind, by their look of pride. I never saw her again but once, and that was at Bois Lancy, where the once-powerful Marquise de Verneuil had gone to hide her shame.
It was a pleasanter sight to turn from this girl, who was even then weighing the price of her honour, to the cluster of fair faces around the tabouret of Madame Catherine, the King's sister, now the Duchesse de Bar. Close to the Princess was Mary of Guise, and within a few feet of her were the wives and daughters of Rohan, de Pangeas, de Guiche, and d'Andelot. I did not, of course, know who they were, but Bellegarde pointed them out one by one, and then suddenly waved his hand in greeting to a man.
'Ah, there is Pimental! one moment, chevalier,' and he left me to join his friend. I was again alone, and resigned myself to patience, when a voice seemed to whisper over my shoulder:
'If M. le Chevalier will kindly survey the other side of the room, perhaps he will be equally interested.'
I turned round sharply. There was no one whom I could recognise as the person who had addressed me. On the other hand, however, I blessed him in my heart, for not ten feet away was Madame, radiant and beautiful, with Palin by her side, and M. d'Ayen, with his arm in a silken sling, bowing before her. He was pressing the tips of her fingers to his lips when our eyes met, and, drawing away her hand, she made a half-movement towards me. I was by her side in a moment, and as we shook hands she said with a smile:
'So we have met again, chevalier! In the Louvre, above all places! 'This with a slight rising of colour.
'I thought I had missed you. I was looking for you everywhere, and had given you up. I of course knew you were in Paris.'
'But the Rue Varenne was too distant a land to journey to? Come,' she added as I began to protest, 'give me your arm and take me there'—she indicated the upper end of the room—'the crush is not so great there. It is frightful here. M. d'Ayen will, I know, excuse me.'
Here d'Ayen, who stood glaring at me and biting at the red feathers in his hat which he held in his hand, interposed:
'I was in hopes that Madame would give me the pleasure,' he began.
'Another day, perhaps, baron,' I cut in rudely enough. 'I trust,' I added in a kinder tone, 'that your arm does not incommode you?'
'It will heal soon,' he said in a thick voice, and turned away abruptly.
'He is very angry,' Madame said, following him with her eyes.
'That will heal too, I hope. This way is easiest, I think,' and I moved onwards with my charge, still, however, keeping an eye on the door of the cabinet.
'Do you know,' I said a moment or so later, 'I am indebted to an unknown friend for finding out you were here?'
'Indeed!' she replied seriously enough, though her eyes were smiling; 'perhaps I ought not to tell you, but I saw you and told Coiffier to let you know I was here.'
'Coiffier, the astrologer!'
'Yes—do you not see him there? He is a brother of Pantin, and devoted to my house; a strange man though, and at times I almost fear him.'
I looked in the direction she indicated, and saw a tall man, dressed like any ordinary cavalier of the court, except for his cloak, which was of extreme length, and fell almost to his heels. He, however, wore no sword, but held in his hand a small rod of ebony, with a golden ball at the end. This was the celebrated astrologer Coiffier, who had foretold the death of Henry III., and who, it is said, never died, but was taken away bodily by the Evil One. How far this is true I know not, but it was common report when he disappeared for ever.
'He is much unlike Pantin,' I remarked; 'no one would take them for brothers.'
'And yet they are—and Pantin always says he is the younger, too.'
And now, as we made our way slowly towards the upper end of the room, I began to get tongue-tied, and Madame, too, said nothing. Finally, I blurted out, 'I am to see the King in a few minutes.'
She looked down and half-whispered, 'God give you success.'
'Amen!' I echoed to her prayer.
And then, in a way that people have when their hearts are full of grave things, we began to talk of matters light as air.
'The King is late to-day,' Madame said, glancing at the still closed door of the cabinet, near which a curious crowd had gathered; 'perhaps the cinque-pace will not come off,' she ran on, 'Monsieur de Guiche told me that the King was to open it with Mademoiselle d'Entragues. Do you not see her there? That lovely, black-eyed girl, talking to half-a-dozen people at once.'
'Is she so very beautiful?'
'What a question to ask! I do not see a woman in the room to compare with her.'
'To my mind her profile is too hard.'
'Indeed!' Madame's face, with its soft though clear outlines, was half turned from me as she spoke. 'I suppose, then, you do not care for her—a man never thinks with a woman in the matter of beauty. But I did think you would admire Mademoiselle.'
'Why should I, even supposing she was beautiful? To my mind there are two kinds of beauty.'
And here I was interrupted by the sound of cheering from the Petite Galerie, and the sudden hush that fell on the room. As we moved down to see for whom the crush was parting on either side, we discovered that it was the Marshal himself, and close at his heels were Lafin, with his sinister smile, and a dozen gentlemen, amongst whom I observed the grim figure of Adam de Gomeron. Madame saw the free-lance, too, and then turned her eyes to mine. She read the unspoken question in my look, her eyes met mine, and through her half-parted lips a low whisper came to me—'Never—never.'
'They are coming straight towards us,' I said, 'we will stand here and let them pass,' and with her fingers still resting on my arm we moved a pace or so aside. As Biron came up there was almost a shout of welcome, and he bowed to the right and left of him as though he were the King himself. He was then the foremost subject in France, and in the heyday of his strength and power. In person he was of middle height, but carried himself with unexampled grace and dignity of manner. His short beard was cut to a peak, and from beneath his straight eyebrows, his keen and deep-set eyes, those eyes which Marie de Medici said hall-marked him for a traitor,avec ses yeux noirs enfoncés, seemed to turn their searchlights here, there, and everywhere at once. His dress, like all about the man, was full of display. He wore a suit of grey satin, a short black velvet cloak held by a splendid emerald and diamond clasp, and carried a hat plumed with white and black feathers. His sword hilt and the buckles on his shoes flashed with gems. As he came onwards, making straight for the door of the cabinet, Coiffier stepped out of the crowd and held him lightly by his cloak. The Marshal turned on him sharply: 'Let me go, I have no time for mummeries.' 'Very well, my lord, only I should advise Monseigneur never again to wear a suit such as he is attired in at present.'
Biron stopped, and we all gathered closer.
'Why, Coiffier?' he asked, in a tone of affected gaiety, but with a nervous manner.
'Because, monseigneur, I dreamed that I saw you early one morning standing, dressed as you are just now, by the block in the yard of the Bastille.'
One or two of the women almost shrieked, and a murmur went up from those who heard the words. As for the Marshal, his face grew pale and then flushed darkly.
'You are mad, my friend,' he said hoarsely, and then, with his head down, went straight to the door of the cabinet. It seemed to open of its own accord as he came up to it, and, leaving his suite behind, he passed in to the King.
Little did I think of the prophecy until that August dawn, when I stood by the side of the Lieutenant of Montigny and saw the head of Charles de Gontaut, Duc de Biron, and Marshal of France, held up to the shuddering spectators in the red hand of Monsieur of Paris.
'It almost seems as if I shall not have my interview,' I said to Madame a minute or so later, when the commotion caused by Coiffier had ceased.
'When were you to go in?' she asked.
'As soon as ever M. de Belin came out to summon me.'
'Then here he is,' and as she spoke I saw the door open, and Belin looked out. 'Go,' she said, and then our eyes met and I stepped up to the cabinet.
'Courage,' whispered Belin, and I was before the King. In the first two steps I took on entering the room, I perceived that there had been a scene; Sully was standing against the open window, his back to the light, and gravely stroking his beard. The Marshal was pacing backwards and forwards in an agitated manner, and the King himself was leaning against a high desk, beating a tattoo with his fingers on the veneer.
As de Belin presented me, I bent to my knee, and there was a dead silence, broken only by Henry renewing the quick, impatient tapping of his fingers on the woodwork of the desk. He was, what was unusual with him when in Paris, in half armour, and perhaps in compliment to the King of Spain, for it was the anniversary of the treaty of Vervins, wore the scarlet and ermine-lined mantle of theToison d'Or. In the silence my eyes unconsciously caught the glitter of the collar, and I could almost read the device, 'Pretium non vile laborum,' on the pendant fleece.
'You may rise, monsieur,' the King said at last coldly, and added, 'and you may speak. It is because I understand that you broke the laws unwittingly that I have for the moment excused you—now what have you to say?'
As he spoke his piercing eyes met me full in the face, and for the moment I could not find words.
'Ventre St. Gris!' and Henry picked up a melocotin from a salver that was by him and played with it between his fingers; 'you could not have been born under the two cows on a fieldor, else you would have found tongue ere this, M. d'Auriac. You are not of the south, are you?'
'No, sire, though my father was Governor of Provence, and married into the Foix Candale.'
'If so, you should be a perfect Chrysostom. What have you to say?'
I had regained my courage by this and took the matter in both hands. 'Your Majesty, I will speak—I charge the Marshal, Duc de Biron, with being a traitor to you and to France, I charge him with conspiring——'
'You liar!'
It was Biron's voice, furious and cracked with rage, that rang through the room; but Henry stopped him with a word, and then I went on repeating exactly what is known, and what I have described before. When it was over the King turned to the Marshal, who burst out in a passion of upbraiding, calling God and his own services to witness that his hands were clean, 'and is the word of this man to be believed?' he concluded, 'this man who was openly in arms against his King, who is known as a brawler in the streets, who is even now trying to win the hand of a royal ward with not a penny piece to line his doublet pockets, who is excluded from the King's Peace—is his oath to be taken before the word of a peer of France? Sire, my father died by your side—and I—I will say no more. Believe him if you will. Here is my sword! It has served you well,' and unbuckling his sword the Marshal flung himself on his knees before the King and presented him with the hilt of his blade.
Astonished and silenced by this audacious outburst, I could say nothing, but saw Sully and de Belin exchange a strange smile. The King, however, was much moved. Putting his hands on Biron's shoulders, he lifted him to his feet. 'Biron, my old friend,' he said, 'the oaths of this man and of a hundred such as he are but as a feather weight against your simple word. Messieurs, it is because I wished the Marshal to know that I would hear nothing behind a man's back that I would not repeat to his own face that I have allowed M. d'Auriac a free rein to his tongue. In fine, I believe no word of this incredible tale. M. d'Auriac,' and he turned to me, 'I give you twenty-four hours to quit France, and never cross my path again.' And here the reckless Biron interposed hotly, 'But I must have satisfaction, sire.'
'Is it not satisfaction enough to know that the King believes your word?' said Sully.
'That may do for the house of Béthune, but not for Biron.'
The taunt told. It was the one tender point with the great minister. 'The house of Béthune,' he began.
'Was old with the Ark, duc—we all know that,' said Henry; 'but truly I know not what satisfaction the Marshal wants.'
'If not for me, sire, for my friends. There is M. de Gomeron who has been much wronged too.'
'I see, you are coming to the old point again. I tell you, Biron, plainly, and once for all, I will not have it—my word is given to d'Ayen. And now let us go.'
When the King had warned me out of France, I had made a half-movement to bow and retire and then glanced round to Belin for a hint as to what I should do. I could not see him, and not knowing whether to leave the cabinet or not, I remained standing irresolutely where I was, and thus was a witness to the little passage described above. As Henry refused Biron's request he, however, at the same time linked his arm in that of the Marshal, and stepped towards the door of the cabinet. Sully followed immediately behind, and I brought up the rear.
In this manner we entered the Galerie d'Apollon, and as we passed in the King looked round and saw me. He stared hard for a moment, and then said in loud tones, 'Twenty-four hours is a short time to reach the frontier, M. d'Auriac,' and then he turned his back on me.
Everyone heard the words, and I caught de Gie's mocking voice as he spoke to Mademoiselle d'Entragues, 'His cloak was short enough to see the King in, I observe,' and then there was a feminine titter.
With my heart boiling with rage I made for the stairway. I did not dare to look for Madame. There was enough despair on my face to enable her to read it like a book were she to see me, and I had no doubt she had. I felt I had miserably failed. There was one chance, however, and that was to urge her to instant flight, and I determined to ride straight to the Rue Varenne and there await either Madame's or Palin's return and induce them to adopt this course.
At this moment someone came in my way, and, stepping aside to let him pass, I caught sight of Madame with both de Belin and the Huguenot at her side. She was not three feet from me, and held out her hand saying, 'Courage; I know all.' I held her small fingers for a moment, and then the ribbon by which her fan was slung to her wrist somehow slipped and the fan fell to the ground. I picked it up, and, on handing it to her, caught a whisper, 'Coiffier, to-night,' and then with a bow I went on. Ten steps more brought me to the head of the stairway, and Coiffier was standing there. 'Would you have your fortune told, monsieur?' he asked.
'Will to-night suit you?' I answered, taking his humour.
'To-night will be too late, monsieur le chevalier. Look in that as you ride home and you will see—and now go.'
With a turn of his wrist he produced a small red ball of polished wood and placed it in my hands, and then moved backwards amongst the crowd.
It did not take me five minutes more to find Couronne, but as I turned her head on reaching the gates of the town towards the river face, I heard de Belin's quiet voice behind:
'Not that way, d'Auriac; you come with me.'