The Chevalier d'Auriac

CHAPTER X

AN OLD FRIEND

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 another maîtresse en titre at 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 the sang-de-bœuf livery 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 my robe-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 the mignons, 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 that croquemort de 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!'