Kitabı oku: «The Chevalier d'Auriac», sayfa 15

Once more I raised myself and leaned against the edge of the opening, eyes and ears intent. There were three men in the room – Lafin, de Gomeron, and another whom I did not know, but whom I judged to be an Italian from his manner of pronouncing our language. They were all three seated round the table, poring over a number of documents and conversing in low tones. After a time it appeared to me that Lafin was urging something on de Gomeron, and the free-lance, who was short of temper, brought his clenched hand on the table in a manner to make the glasses ring, whilst he said with an oath —

'I will not – I have risked too much. I have told you before that I did not come into this for the good of my health. My prize is my own. It has nothing to do with your affair, of which I am sick.'

The other man then cut in —

'I do not see, M. de Lafin, why we should drag this matter into our discussion. If M. de Gomeron wants a wife, well – many a fair dame has had a rougher wooing than the lady you speak of. But I – I have cause for complaint. I come here expecting to meet the Marshal – and I meet you and monsieur here. I mean no offence, but I must tell you plainly my master's instructions are that I should hear M. de Biron's promises and take his demands from his own lips.

'And what about Epernon, Bouillon, and Tremouille, count?' asked de Gomeron.

The dark eyes of the stranger flashed on him for a moment.

'My master, the Duke of Savoy, knows their views.'

'Personally?'

The Italian waved his hand with a laugh. 'Gentlemen, I have given you my terms – it is for you to choose. As for my part, I would that my master dropped this business and trusted the day to his sword.'

'That is not wont to be M. de Savoye's way,' sneered Lafin, and the Italian rose.

'Very well, messieurs. I will then consider the issue is closed.'

'It matters not a rush to me,' exclaimed de Gomeron; but Lafin, who was moodily plucking at his moustache, spoke again, and the tones of his voice were full of chagrin.

'As you wish – I undertake that the Marshal sees you.'

'Where and when? My time is precious.'

'Here, at ten o'clock to-night.'

'Maledetto! This is not a place to come at that hour.'

'It is safe – and it would be safer still if you stayed here till then. The spies of the Master-General – curse him – are everywhere, and M. de Gomeron will guarantee your protection here.'

'I am deeply grateful,' the count bowed slightly, a faint tone of irony in his voice. 'Then you agree?'

'Yes.'

'This being so, perhaps you had better go over these notes that you may be in a position to exactly understand what we can do. Our terms of course are as before, but we will require money, and that at once.'

'But large advances have already been made,' objected the Italian.

'They are gone,' said Lafin.

'How? Nothing has been done; and both Velasco and Savoy are unwilling to throw more money into the business unless some action is taken. How has the money gone?'

'It is gone, and there is an end of it,' exclaimed Lafin sullenly. 'As for the action you wish taken – you have asked to see the Marshal, and he will inform you.'

'Very well! Until then, monsieur, we will not discuss this point further.'

The voices dropped again after this, and they began to pore over the papers and a map that the free-lance had spread before him, making an occasional remark which I did not follow. But I had heard enough to be convinced that the plot of Anet was still in full life. It was all important for me now to communicate what I knew at once to the Master-General. With a little ordinary care the conspirators could be trapped to a man, and if by one stroke I could effect this, as well as free Madame, anything was possible. Without further hesitation I therefore crept slowly back, and descended to my chamber as softly as a cat. Leaving the ladder swinging where it was – for I could not undo the knot – I drew on my boots, and went to the turret to reconnoitre before venturing out into the street. Imagine my chagrin and disappointment to see that three men were at the gate of the Toison d'Or, evidently on the watch, and in one of them I made out Ravaillac. I might have passed the others without discovery, but it would be impossible to escape the lynx eyes of this villain, who, though young in years, had all the craft of age, and who later on was to raise himself to an eminence so bad that I know not whom to place beside him, except perhaps those who were his aiders and abettors. I did not fear to run the gauntlet – that was an easy matter; but merely doing so would make my birds take to wing, and I found myself compelled once more to hold patience by the tail until the coast was clear.

CHAPTER XIX
'PLAIN HENRI DE BOURBON'

Imagine what it was to me, to whom every moment was worth its weight in gold, to see the group, and, above all, Ravaillac, standing at the door of the Toison d'Or. Was there ever such cross-grained luck? If I could but pass down that narrow street without the hawk's eye of the Flagellant falling on me I might in an hour do all and more than I had ever hoped for. I could – But tonne dieu! What was the use of prating about what might be. Through the embrasure of the turret I covered Ravaillac with my pistol, and twice half pressed the trigger and twice restrained myself. Even if he fell the shot would ruin all. It could not be risked, and I thrust the long, black barrel back into my belt with a curse, and began to walk restlessly to and fro in the passage. It was impossible for me to keep still, my nerves were so strung. In a little I began to cool and sought my room, determined to occasionally take a turn to the turret and see if the guard was gone, but not to harass myself by watching them continually. In about an hour or so I wearied of sitting and looked out of my window again in the direction of Madame's room, as I called it to myself. At the moment of my doing so the shutter that was open towards my side suddenly closed. I could just make out a flash of white fingers on the dark woodwork, and then the face I longed to see looked out from the half of the window still open and drew back again almost on the instant. Feeling sure that she would look out once more, I leaned forwards. Madame did as I expected, and I could see the astonishment on her face and hear her cry of joy. She tried to converse with me by signals on her fingers, and for the first time I had occasion to bless what I had up to now considered a foolish accomplishment that I picked up as a boy when I was with Monseigneur de Joyeuse. Enough that Madame made me understand that she was well treated, and I let my dear know that there were those at work who would soon free her, and perhaps there was a word or so besides on a subject which concerned us two alone. It was in the midst of this part of our converse that she drew back all at once with a warning finger on her lips, and though I waited again for a full hour, forgetting the watchers below in the fresh fears that began to assail me, I did not see her again. At the end of that time, however, a white kerchief waved twice from the window and was then withdrawn. I turned back into my room, and now that I was certain she was there my impatience at being penned up as I was became almost insupportable, and heaven alone knows how I held myself in from making a dash for it and risking all on the venture. To cut the matter short, it wanted but a few minutes to sundown when, to my relief, I saw a cloaked figure I could not recognise step out of the Toison d'Or, and, after giving a few orders to the guards, pass briskly down the street. They in their turn went into the house, and at last the road was clear. I hesitated no further and hurried down the stairs. At the door I was stopped by my host, who inquired whither I was hastening.

'I have just seen a friend,' I answered, and the next moment was in the street. As I pressed forwards I had two minds about keeping my appointment with Pantin in the square behind St. Martin's, but as I went on I reflected that I had to pass that way, and as I might need the notary's aid I would wait there a few minutes, and if he did not come, go straight to de Belin with my news.

Although I was not in a frame of mind to observe what was going on around me, I soon became conscious that one of those sudden fogs which extend over the city at this period of the year had arisen, as it were, out of nothing, and in the course of a few minutes I was compelled to slacken pace and pick my way slowly, and with the greatest caution in regard to landmarks, for I could not risk losing my way again. The fog was not a thick one, but it was sufficient, united with the coming evening, to almost blur out the streets and houses and make the figures of passers-by loom out like large and indistinct shadows. Carefully as I had tried to impress the way on my memory, I hesitated more than once as to the route I should take, and it was with something that was like a sigh of relief that I found myself at last behind St. Martin's, whose spire towered above me, a tall, grey phantom. Here I halted for a moment to see if one of the few shadows that flickered now and then through the haze might give some signal by which I might recognise Pantin. It was in vain, and, determining to wait no longer, I set off at a round pace, when I was suddenly arrested by hearing the rich tones of a voice singing:

 
Frère Jacques, dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous, dormez-vous?
 

The clear notes rang out through the fog, bringing with them a hundred recollections of the time when I had last heard the chorus. And the voice? That was not to be mistaken. It was de Belin, or else his ghost. Without a moment's hesitation I sang back the lines, advancing at the same time in the direction in which I had heard the voice. I had not gone fifty paces when I saw two tall shadows approaching me, and at the same time heard the verse again.

'Lisois!' I called out.

'It is he,' I heard de Belin say.

Then the shadows stopped for a moment, and another and slighter figure joined them. Finally, one came forwards, and, when within a yard or so of me, spoke:

'D'Auriac, is it you?'

'Yes. I was hastening to you. Man, I have discovered all!'

'Morbleu!' exclaimed the Compte; 'the chanson was a happy thought, else we had missed you in this fog.'

'Is Pantin here? We have not a moment to lose.'

'He is. It was he who guided us here. I have brought a friend with me. Do not ask his name; but speak freely before him, and tell us exactly what you have discovered.'

With these words he took me by the arm and led me up to the two. In the shorter there was no difficulty in recognising Pantin. What with the mist, the mask on his face, and the roquelaure that enveloped him to the ears, I could make out nothing of the stranger, who did not even answer my salutation except by a slight inclination of his head. I need not say I wasted no time, but laid the matter before them, and wound up with:

'And now, gentlemen, we are three swords; let Pantin hasten and bring half a dozen of the Compte's people, and I guarantee that we not only free Madame, but take the whole brood of vipers.'

'These cards won't win,' said de Belin. 'We must have more witnesses than ourselves, who are known to be enemies of the Marshal. The King plays at More's this evening. He is like to be there now, or else very soon, for he is bound on a frolic to-night. We will go straight there. Villeroi and Sully are both to be in attendance, and also the Marshal.'

'The Marshal will not be there,' I interrupted.

'If SO I wager the King asks for him, and I will take it on my head to explain. In half an hour we could be back with Sully and Villeroi, and then the game is ours. Do you not agree, monseigneur?' and he turned to the stranger. All the answer was another grave inclination of the head.

'Come,' went on de Belin, slipping his arm into mine. 'Put yourself in my hands, d'Auriac, and I pledge you success. My God!' he broke off suddenly, 'to think we should win so completely.'

There was so much in what he said that I agreed without demur, and Belin hurried me onwards, the stranger and Pantin following a few steps behind. As we went on Belin whispered:

'Ask no questions, d'Auriac; say nothing until you see Sully, and ten minutes after I promise you twenty swords.'

'If I do not get them in an hour,' I said grimly, 'I will go back myself and try what my own sword can do.'

'And I will go back with you, too – there, is that not enough? Come, man!' and we hurried along through the mist as fast as we could walk, keeping on the left side of the road.

As we came up to St. Merri, de Belin stopped and blew sharply on a whistle. There was an answering call, and from under the Flamboyant portico of the church the figure of a man, with a led horse, slipped out into the fog, now yellow with the light of the street lamps. Without a word the stranger mounted, and the two passed us at a trot.

'What the devil does that mean!' I exclaimed. 'Your Monseigneur has left us!'

'To return again,' answered the Compte drily. And then added, 'It will be a gay party at More's to-night, and it is time we were there.'

I made no answer, but, as we went on, could not help feeling uneasy in my mind at the thought of being recognised at More's; for after what de Belin had said of the King's temper towards me, I made sure that I would have scant mercy were I once arrested. And again, I would say that it was not for myself I was in dread, but for the probable consequence to Madame did any harm happen to me at this juncture.

But I had put my foot in the stirrup, and was bound to ride now; and then there was de Belin's word. At last we reached More's, and as we entered the hall I could not help wondering if the good Parisians knew that their King was playing at primero in an ordinary of the city, and would be later on, perhaps, pursued by the watch. More, whom I had not seen since my affair with d'Ayen, was in the hall, and at a word from de Belin conducted us himself up the stairway, though looking askance at me. We at length gained a long corridor, at the beginning of which Pantin was left. We stopped before the closed doors of a private dining-room from within which we could hear shouts of laughter.

'His Majesty and M. de Vitry arrived scarce a half-hour ago,' whispered More as we approached the door.

'We will not trouble you further,' replied the Compte; 'it is the rule at these little parties to enter unannounced.'

With these words he put his hand to the door and went in, I following at his heels. There were at least ten or a dozen men in the room standing round a table, at which sat the King engaged at play with M. de Bassompierre. Neither the King nor Bassompierre, who seemed absorbed in the game, took the least notice of our entrance, nor did they seem in the least disturbed by the constant laughter and converse that went on. The others, however, stopped, and then burst out in joyous greetings of de Belin and very haughty glances at me. M. le Grand, indeed, bent forward from his great height, and whispered audibly to the Compte:

'What scarecrow have you brought here, de Belin!'

'Our captain for to-night, duc – see, there is the Grand-Master looking as if each crown the King loses was the last drop of blood in the veins of Béthune.' And as he said this, Sully and he glanced at each other, and a light, like that in an opal, flamed in the great minister's eyes.

M. le Grand, however, seemed to be inclined for converse with me, and, stepping up, asked, 'And where do you lead us to-night, monsieur?'

I was about to make some answer when de Vitry interposed, 'My dear duc, there is plenty of time to ask that. I wager you fifty pistoles that d'Ayen there throws higher than you five times out of six.'

'Done,' replied Bellegarde – and then those who were not round the King and Bassompierre, gathered to watch Bellegarde and d'Ayen, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement as he threw with his left hand, the right being still in a sling.

In the meantime the King played on, taking no notice of anyone, his beaked nose dropping lower towards his chin as he lost one rouleau after another to Bassompierre.

'Ventre St. Gris!' he exclaimed at last, 'was ever such luck; at this rate I shall not have a shirt to my back in half an hour.'

'If the Marshal were only here,' said Sully, 'we could start off at once. Sire, instead of risking any more. I see de Belin has brought our guide.'

'Yes; where is Biron? I am sick of this;' and the King, who was a bad loser, rose from his seat impatiently, at the same time forgetting to hand over the last rouleau of pistoles he had lost to Bassompierre, and thrusting them back into his pocket with an absent gesture.

As if in answer to his question the door opened, admitting the slight figure and handsome face of de Gie.

'Where is the Marshal? Where is Biron?' asked ten voices in a breath.

'Yes, M. de Gie,' put in the King; 'where is Biron?'

'Sire, the Marshal is indisposed. He has begged me to present his excuses and to say he is too ill to come to-night;' and as he spoke I saw de Gie's jewelled fingers trembling, and his cheek had lost all colour.

'This is sorry news to spoil a gay evening,' said the King; and the Master-General, pulling a comfit box from his vest pocket, toyed with it in his hand as he followed, 'Biron must be ill, indeed, to stay away. Sire. What does your Majesty think? Shall we begin our rambles by calling on Monseigneur?'

'The very thing, Grand-Master; we will start at once.'

'But, Sire, the Marshal is too ill to see anyone – even your Majesty,' said de Gie desperately, and with whitening lips.

I thought I heard de Vitry mutter 'Traitor' under his thick moustache, but the Guardsman parried my glance with an unconcerned look. There was a silence of a half-minute at de Gie's speech, and the King reddened to the forehead.

'If it is as you say, M. le Vicompte, I know the Marshal too well not to feel sure that there are two persons whom he would see were he dying – which God forbid – and one of these two is his King. Grand-Master, we will go, but – and his voice took a tone of sharp command, and his eyes rested first on de Gie, and then on the figure of a tall cavalier, at whose throat flashed the jewel of the St. Esprit – 'but I must first ask M. de Vitry to do his duty.'

As for me I was dumb with astonishment, and half the faces around me were filled with amaze. Then de Vitry's voice broke the stillness:

'My lord of Epernon, your sword – and you too, M. le Vicompte.'

The duke slipped off his rapier with a sarcastic smile and handed the weapon to the Captain of the Guard; but we could hear the clicking of the buckles as de Gie's trembling fingers tried in vain to unclasp his belt. So agitated was he that de Vitry had to assist him in his task before it was accomplished.

The King spoke again in the same grating tones:

'M. de Bassompierre and you, de Luynes, I leave the prisoners in your charge. In the meantime, messieurs, we will slightly change our plans. I shall not go myself to the Marshal's house; but I depute you, Grand-Master, and these gentlemen here, all except de Vitry, who comes with me, to repair there in my name. Should M. de Biron not be able to see you, you will come to me – the Grand-Master knows where.'

'You will be careful, Sire,' said Sully.

'Mordieu! Yes – go, gentlemen.'

I was about to follow the others, but Belin caught me by the arm as he passed out. 'Stay where you are,' he whispered, and then we waited until the footsteps died away along the corridor, the King standing with his brows bent and muttering to himself:

'If it were not true – if it were not true.'

Suddenly he roused himself. 'Come, de Vitry – my mask and cloak; and you, too, sir,' he said, turning on me with a harsh glance. He put on his mask, drew the collar of his roquelaure up to his ears, and in a moment I recognised the silent stranger who had ridden off so abruptly from under the portico of St. Merri. I could not repress my start of surprise, and I thought I caught a strange glance in de Vitry's eyes; but the King's face was impassive as stone.

'We go out by the private stair, Sire; d'Aubusson is there with the horses.' With these words he lifted the tapestry of the wall and touched a door. It swung back of its own accord, and the King stepped forward, the Captain of the Guard and myself on his heels. When we gained the little street at the back of More's, we saw there three mounted men with three led horses.

De Vitry adjusted the King's stirrup, who sprang into the saddle in silence, and then, motioning me to do likewise, mounted himself.

'Monsieur,' said the King to me, reining in his restive horse, 'you will lead us straight to your lodging, next to the Toison d'Or.'

'Sire,' I made answer, 'but it will be necessary to leave the horses by St. Martin's, as their presence near the Toison d'Or might arouse curiosity and suspicion.'

'I understand, monsieur; have the goodness to lead on.'

I rode at the head of the small troop, nosing my way through the fog with my mind full of feelings it was impossible to describe, but with my heart beating with joy. Neither d'Aubusson nor de Vitry gave a sign that they knew me, and, but for an occasional direction that I gave to turn to the right or left, we rode in silence through the mist, now beginning to clear, and through which the moon shone with the light of a faint night lamp behind lace curtains. At St. Martin's we dismounted. There was a whispered word between the lieutenant and de Vitry, and then the King, de Vitry, and myself pressed forwards on foot, leaving d'Aubusson and the troopers with the horses. It would take too long, if indeed I have the power, to describe the tumult in my mind as we wound in and out of the cross streets and bye lanes towards the Toison d'Or. At last we came to the jaws of the blind passage, and I whispered to de Vitry that we were there. Henry turned to de Vitry and asked:

'Are you sure the signals are understood, de Vitry?'

'Yes, Sire.'

There was no other word spoken, and keeping on the off side of the road, to avoid passing immediately before the door of the Toison d'Or, where it was possible a guard might be set, we went onward towards my lodging. Favoured by the mist, which still hung over the passage, we got through without accident; but I perceived that not a light glimmered from the face of Babette's house, though I could hear the bolts of the entrance-door being drawn, as if some one had entered a moment or so before we came up. My own lodging was, however, different, and through the glaze of the window we could see the sickly glare of the light in the shop, where Monsieur and Madame were no doubt discussing the business of the day.

'We must quiet my landlord and his wife,' I whispered to Vitry as we came up to the door.

'Very well,' he said, and then I knocked.

The fence, who was alone, himself opened the door. 'Ah, captain,' he exclaimed, 'we thought you were lost; but I see you have friends.' He said no more, for I seized his throat with a grip of iron, whilst de Vitry laced him up with his own belt. An improvised gag put a stop to all outcry, and in a thrice he was lying like a log amongst his own stolen wares.

'Madame is doubtless in bed,' I said to him, and a sharp scream interrupted my words, for the woman, doubtless hearing the scuffle, had rushed into the room. M. de Vitry was, however, equal to the occasion, and she, too, was deposited beside her husband.

The King, who had taken no part in these proceedings, now said:

'I trust that woman's cry will not raise an alarm —Ventre St. Gris if it does!'

'Have no fear. Sire,' I said in a low tone; 'the cries of women in this part of your capital are too frequent to attract the least notice. They will but think that there has been a little conjugal difference.'

'So far, so good. De Vitry, you will stay here. At the first sound of the Grand-Master's whistle you will answer it, and they will know what to do. I have something to say to M. d'Auriac. Take me to your room, sir.'

I bowed, and, lighting a taper that stood in a holder of moulded brass – a prize that had doubtless come to my landlord through one of his clients – led the way up the rickety stairs, and stopping at the door of my chamber, opened it to let the King pass. For an instant he hesitated, fixing his keen and searching eyes on me – eyes that flashed and sparkled beneath the mask that covered half his features, and then spoke:

'M. d'Auriac, are you still an enemy of your King?'

I could make no answer; I did not know what to say, and stood, candle in hand, in silence. Then Henry laughed shortly and stepped into the room. I shut the door as I followed, and turned up the lamp on my table. Then, facing the King, I said, 'Sire, I await your orders.'

He had flung off his cloak and mask, and was leaning against the wardrobe, one hand on the hilt of his sword, and at my words he spoke slowly: 'I desire to see this room in the Toison d'Or, and to look upon the assembly that has met there with my own eyes.'

'Now, Sire?'

'Yes, now.'

'Your Majesty, it is not now possible!'

'Ventre St. Gris!– not possible!'

'Permit me, Sire – the only way is by this window. If your Majesty will step here, you will see the risk of it. I will go and see if they have met; but I conjure you not to make the attempt. The slightest accident would be fatal.'

'Do you think I have never scaled a rock before?' he said, craning out of the window. 'Am I a child, M. d'Auriac, or mille tonnerres! because my beard is grey, am I in my dotage? I will go, sir, and thank God that for this moment I can drop the King and be a simple knight. You can stay behind, monsieur, if you like. I go to test the truth of your words.'

'Your Majesty might save yourself the trouble. I again entreat you; your life belongs to France.'

'I know that,' he interrupted haughtily. 'No more prating, please. Will you go first, or shall I?'

There was no answer to this. It flashed on me to call to de Vitry for aid to stop the King, but one look at those resolute features before me convinced me that such a course would be useless. I lowered the light, and then testing the ends of the ladder again and again, made the ascent as before. Leaning through the embrasure, I saw the dark figure of the King already holding on to the ladder, and he followed me, as agile as a cat. Making a long arm, I seized him by the shoulder, and with this assistance he clambered noiselessly over the parapet and lay beside me.

'Cahors over again,' he whispered; 'and that is the skylight. They burn bright lamps.'

'The easier for us to see, Sire. Creep forward softly and look.'

One by one we stole up to the skylight, and the King, raising himself, glanced in, my eyes following over his shoulders. For full five minutes we were there, hearing every word, seeing every soul, and then the King bent down softly, and, laying a hand on my shoulder, motioned me back. It was not until we reached the parapet that he said anything, and it was as if he were muttering a prayer to himself.

When we got back I helped him to dress. He did not, however, resume his roquelaure or hat, but stood playing with the hilt of his sword, letting his eye run backward and forward over the vacant space in my room. At last he turned to me:

'Monsieur, you have not answered the question I put you a moment before.'

'Sire,' I answered boldly, 'is it my fault?'

He began to pull at his moustache, keeping his eyes to the ground and saying to himself, 'Sully will not be here for a little; there is time.' As for me, I took my courage in both hands and waited. So a half-minute must have passed before he spoke again.

'Monsieur, if a gentleman has wronged another, there is only one course open. There is room enough here – take your sword and your place.'

'I – I – ,' I stammered. 'Your Majesty, I do not understand.'

'I never heard that monsieur le chevalier was dense in these matters. Come, sir, time presses – your place.'

'May my hand wither if I do,' I burst out 'I will never stand so before the King.'

'Not before the King, monsieur, but before a man who considers himself a little wronged, too. What! is d'Auriac so high that he cannot stoop to cross a blade with plain Henri de Bourbon?'

And then it was as if God Himself took the scales from my eyes, and I fell on my knees before my King.

He raised me gently. 'Monsieur, I thank you. Had I for one moment led a soul to suspect that I believed in you from the first, this nest of traitors had never been found. St. Gris – even Sully was blinded. So far so good. It is much for a King to have gained a friend, and hark! if I am not mistaken, here is de Vitry.'