A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER VIII. AN EMPTY ROOM.

  Desiring to start as early as possible, that we might reach Rosny on thesecond evening, I roused Simon Fleix before it was light, and learningfrom him where the horses were stabled, went out to attend to them;preferring to do this myself, that I might have an opportunity ofseeking out a tailor, and providing myself with clothes better suited tomy rank than those to which I had been reduced of late. I found that Istill had ninety crowns left of the sum which the King of Navarre hadgiven me, and twelve of these I laid out on a doublet of black clothwith russet points and ribands, a dark cloak lined with the samesober colour, and a new cap and feather. The tradesman would fain haveprovided me with a new scabbard also, seeing my old one was worn-out atthe heel; but this I declined, having a fancy to go with my point bareuntil I should have punished the scoundrel who had made my mother'sfailing days a misery to her; a business which, the King of Navarre'sonce done, I promised myself to pursue with energy and at all costs.

  The choice of my clothes, and a few alterations which it was necessaryto make in them, detained me some time, so that it was later than Icould have wished when I turned my face towards the house again, benton getting my party to horse as speedily as possible. The morning,I remember, was bright, frosty, and cold; the kennels were dry, thestreets comparatively clean. Here and there a ray of early sunshine,darting between the overhanging eaves, gave promise of glorioustravelling-weather. But the faces, I remarked in my walk, did notreflect the surrounding cheerfulness. Moody looks met me everywhere andon every side; and while courier after courier galloped by me bound forthe castle, the townsfolk stood aloof is doorways listless and inactive,or, gathering in groups in corners, talked what I took to be treasonunder the breath. The queen-mother still lived, but Orleans hadrevolted, and Sens and Mans, Chartres and Melun. Rouen was said to bewavering, Lyons in arms, while Paris had deposed her king, and cursedhim daily from a hundred altars. En fin, the great rebellion whichfollowed the death of Guise, and lasted so many years, was already inprogress; so that on this first day of the new year the king's writscarce ran farther than he could see, peering anxiously out from thetowers above my head.

  Reaching the house, I climbed the long staircase hastily, abusing itsdarkness and foulness, and planning as I went how my mother might mosteasily and quickly be moved to a better lodging. Gaining the top of thelast flight, I saw that mademoiselle's door on the left of the landingwas open, and concluding from this that she was up, and ready to start,I entered my mother's room with a brisk step and spirits reinforced bythe crisp morning air.

  But on the threshold I stopped, and stood silent and amazed. At first Ithought the room was empty. Then, at a second glance, I saw the student.He was on his knees beside the bed in the alcove, from which the curtainhad been partially dragged away. The curtain before the window had beentorn down also, and the cold light of day, pouring in on the unsightlybareness of the room, struck a chill to my heart. A stool lay overturnedby the fire, and above it a grey cat, which I had not hitherto noticed,crouched on a beam and eyed me with stealthy fierceness. Mademoisellewas not to be seen, nor was Fanchette, and Simon Fleix did not hear me.He was doing something at the bed--for my mother it seemed.

  'What is it, man?' I cried softly, advancing on tiptoe to the bedside.'Where are the others?'

  The student looked round and saw me. His face was pale and gloomy. Hiseyes burned, and yet there were tears in them, and on his cheeks. He didnot speak, but the chilliness, the bareness, the emptiness of the roomspoke for him, and my heart sank.

  I took him by the shoulders. 'Find your tongue, man!' I said angrily.'Where are they?'

  He rose from his knees and stood staring at me. 'They are gone!' he saidstupidly.

  'Gone?' I exclaimed. 'Impossible! When? Whither?'

  'Half an hour ago. Whither--I do not know.'

  Confounded and amazed, I glared at him between fear and rage. 'You donot know?' I cried. 'They are gone, and you do not know?'

  He turned suddenly on me and gripped my arm. 'No, I do not know! I donot know!' he cried, with a complete change of manner and in a toneof fierce excitement. 'Only, may the fiend go with them! But I do knowthis. I know this, M. de Marsac, with whom they went, these friends ofyours! A fop came, a dolt, a fine spark, and gave them fine words andfine speeches and a gold token, and, hey presto! they went, and forgotyou!'

  'What!' I cried, beginning to understand, and snatching fiercely at theone clue in his speech. 'A gold token? They have been decoyed away then!There is no time to be lost. I must follow.'

  'No, for that is not all!' he replied, interrupting me sternly, whilehis grasp on my arm grew tighter and his eyes flashed as they lookedinto mine. 'You have not heard all. They have gone with one who calledyou an impostor, and a thief, and a beggar, and that to your mother'sface--and killed her! Killed her as surely as if he had taken a sword toher, M. de Marsac! Will you, after that, leave her for them?'

  He spoke plainly. And yet, God forgive me, it was some time before Iunderstood him: before I took in the meaning of his words, or couldtransfer my thoughts from the absent to my mother lying on the bedbefore me. When I did do so, and turned to her, and saw her still faceand thin hair straggling over the coarse pillow, then, indeed, the sightovercame me. I thought no more of others--for I thought her dead; andwith a great and bitter cry I fell on my knees beside her and hid myface. What, after all, was this headstrong girl to me? What were evenkings and king's commissions to me beside her--beside the one humanbeing who loved me still, the one being of my blood and name left, theone ever-patient, ever-constant heart which for years had beaten onlyfor me? For a while, for a few moments, I was worthy of her; for Iforgot all others.

  Simon Fleix roused me at last from my stupor, making me understand thatshe was not dead, but in a deep swoon, the result of the shock she hadundergone. A leech, for whom he had despatched a neighbour, came in as Irose, and taking my place, presently restored her to consciousness. Buther extreme feebleness warned me not to hope for more than a temporaryrecovery; nor had I sat by her long before I discerned that this lastblow, following on so many fears and privations, had reached a vitalpart, and that she was even now dying.

  She lay for a while with her hand in mine and her eyes closed, but aboutnoon, the student, contriving to give her some broth, she revived, and,recognising me, lay for more than an hour gazing at me with unspeakablecontent and satisfaction. At the end of that time, and when I thoughtshe was past speaking, she signed to me to bend over her, and whisperedsomething, which at first I could not catch. Presently I made it out tobe, 'She is gone--The girl you brought?'

  Much troubled, I answered yes, begging her not to think about thematter. I need not have feared, however, for when she spoke again shedid so without emotion, and rather as one seeing clearly somethingbefore her.

  'When you find her, Gaston,' she murmured, 'do not be angry with her. Itwas not her fault. She--he deceived her. See!'

  I followed the direction rather of her eyes than her hand, and foundbeneath the pillow a length of gold chain. 'She left that?' I murmured,a strange tumult of emotions in my breast.

  'She laid it there,' my mother whispered. 'And she would have stoppedhim saying what he did'--a shudder ran through my mother's frame at theremembrance of the man's words, though her eyes still gazed into minewith faith and confidence--'she would have stopped him, but she couldnot, Gaston. And then he hurried her away.'

  'He showed her a token, madame, did he not?' I could not for my liferepress the question, so much seemed to turn on the point.

  'A bit of gold,' my mother whispered, smiling faintly. 'Now let mesleep.' And, clinging always to my hand, she closed her eyes.

  The student came back soon afterwards with some comforts for which I haddespatched him, and we sat by her until the evening fell, and far intothe night. It was a relief to me to learn from the leech that she hadbeen ailing for some time, and that in any case the end must havecome soon. She suffered no pain and felt no fears, but mee
ting myeyes whenever she opened her own, or came out of the drowsiness whichpossessed her, thanked God, I think, and was content. As for me, Iremember that room became, for the time, the world. Its stillnessswallowed up all the tumults which filled the cities of France, andits one interest the coming and going of a feeble breath--eclipsed theambitions and hopes of a lifetime.

  Before it grew light Simon Fleix stole out to attend to the horses. Whenhe returned he came to me and whispered in my ear that he had somethingto tell me; and my mother lying in a quiet sleep at the time, Idisengaged my hand, and, rising softly, went with him to the hearth.

  Instead of speaking, he held his fist before me and suddenly unclosedthe fingers. 'Do you know it?' he said, glancing at me abruptly.

  I took what he held, and looking at it, nodded. It was a knot of velvetof a peculiar dark red colour, and had formed, as I knew the moment Iset eyes on it, part of the fastening of mademoiselle's mask. 'Wheredid you find it?' I muttered, supposing that he had picked it up on thestairs.

  'Look at it!' he answered impatiently. 'You have not looked.'

  I turned it over, and then saw something which had escaped me atfirst--that the wider part of the velvet was disfigured by a fantasticstitching, done very roughly and rudely with a thread of white silk.The stitches formed letters, the letters words. With a start I read, 'AMOI!' and saw in a corner, in smaller stitches, the initials 'C. d. l.V.'

  I looked eagerly at the student. 'Where did you find this?' I said.

  'I picked it up in the street,' he answered quietly, 'not three hundredpaces from here.'

  I thought a moment. 'In the gutter, or near the wall?' I asked.

  'Near the wall, to be sure.'

  'Under a window?'

  'Precisely,' he said. 'You may be easy; I am not a fool. I marked theplace, M. de Marsac, and shall not forget it.'

  Even the sorrow and solicitude I felt on my mother's behalf--feelingswhich had seemed a minute before to secure me against all other cares oranxieties whatever--were not proof against this discovery. For I foundmyself placed in a strait so cruel I must suffer either way. On theone hand, I could not leave my mother; I were a heartless ingrate to dothat. On the other, I could not, without grievous pain, stand still andinactive while Mademoiselle de la Vire, whom I had sworn to protect, andwho was now suffering through my laches and mischance, appealed to mefor help. For I could not doubt that this was what the bow of velvetmeant; still less that it was intended for me, since few save myselfwould be likely to recognise it, and she would naturally expect me tomake some attempt at pursuit.

  And I could not think little of the sign. Remembering mademoiselle'sproud and fearless spirit, and the light in which she had alwaysregarded me, I augured the worst from it. I felt assured that noimaginary danger and no emergency save the last would have induced herto stoop so low; and this consideration, taken with the fear I feltthat she had fallen into the hands of Fresnoy, whom I believed to bethe person who had robbed me of the gold coin, filled me with a horribledoubt which way my duty lay. I was pulled, as it were, both ways. I feltmy honour engaged both to go and to stay, and while my hand went to myhilt, and my feet trembled to be gone, my eyes sought my mother, and myears listened for her gentle breathing.

  Perplexed and distracted, I looked at the student, and he at me. 'Yousaw the man who took her away,' I muttered. Hitherto, in my absorptionon my mother's account, I had put few questions, and let the matter passas though it moved me little and concerned me less. 'What was he like?Was he a big, bloated man, Simon, with his head bandaged, or perhaps awound on his face?'

  'The gentleman who went away with mademoiselle, do you mean?' he asked.

  'Yes, yes, gentleman if you like!'

  'Not at all,' the student answered. 'He was a tall young gallant, verygaily dressed, dark-haired, and with a rich complexion, I heard him tellher that he came from a friend of hers too high to be named in publicor in Blois. He added that he brought a token from him; and whenmademoiselle mentioned you--she had just entered madame's room with herwoman when he appeared--'

  'He had watched me out, of course.'

  'Just so. Well, when she mentioned you, he swore you were an adventurer,and a beggarly impostor, and what not, and bade her say whether shethought it likely that her friend would have entrusted such a mission tosuch a man.'

  'And then she went with him?'

  The student nodded.

  'Readily? Of her own free-will?'

  'Certainly,' he answered. 'It seemed so to me. She tried to prevent himspeaking before your mother, but that was all.'

  On the impulse of the moment I took a step towards the door;recollecting my position, I turned back with a groan. Almost besidemyself, and longing for any vent for my feelings, I caught the lad bythe shoulder, where he stood on the hearth, and shook him to and fro.

  'Tell me, man, what am I to do?' I said between my teeth. 'Speak! think!invent something!'

  But he shook his head.

  I let him go with a muttered oath, and sat down on a stool by the bedand took my head between my hands. At that very moment, however, reliefcame--came from an unexpected quarter. The door opened and the leechentered. He was a skilful man, and, though much employed about theCourt, a Huguenot--a fact which had emboldened Simon Fleix to apply tohim through the landlord of the 'Bleeding Heart,' the secret rendezvousof the Religion in Blois. When he had made his examination he was forleaving, being a grave and silent man, and full of business, but at thedoor I stopped him.

  'Well, sir?' I said in a low tone, my hand on his cloak.

  'She has rallied, and may live three days,' he answered quietly. 'Four,it may be, and as many more as God wills.'

  Pressing two crowns into his hand, I begged him to call daily, which hepromised to do; and then he went. My mother was still dozing peacefully,and I turned to Simon Fleix, my doubts resolved and my mind made up.

  'Listen,' I said, 'and answer me shortly. We cannot both leave; that iscertain. Yet I must go, and at once, to the place where you found thevelvet knot. Do you describe the spot exactly, so that I may find it,and make no mistake.'

  He nodded, and after a moment's reflection answered,

  'You know the Rue St. Denys, M. de Marsac? Well, go down it, keeping the"Bleeding Heart" on your left. Take the second turning on the same sideafter passing the inn. The third house from the corner, on the leftagain, consists of a gateway leading to the Hospital of the Holy Cross.Above the gateway are two windows in the lower story, and above themtwo more. The knot lay below the first window you come to. Do youunderstand?'

  'Perfectly,' I said. 'It is something to be a clerk, Simon.'

  He looked at me thoughtfully, but added nothing; and I was busytightening my sword-hilt, and disposing my cloak about the lower partof my face. When I had arranged this to my satisfaction, I took outand counted over the sum of thirty-five crowns, which I gave to him,impressing on him the necessity of staying beside my mother should I notreturn; for though I proposed to reconnoitre only, and learn if possiblewhether mademoiselle was still in Blois, the future was uncertain, andwhereas I was known to my enemies, they were strangers to me.

  Having enjoined this duty upon him, I bade my mother a silent farewell,and, leaving the room, went slowly down the stairs, the picture of herworn and patient face going with me, and seeming, I remember, to hallowthe purpose I had in my mind.

  The clocks were striking the hour before noon as I stepped from thedoorway, and, standing a moment in the lane, looked this way and thatfor any sign of espionage. I could detect none, however. The lane wasdeserted; and feeling assured that any attempt to mislead my opponents,who probably knew Blois better than I did, must fail, I made none, butdeliberately took my way towards the 'Bleeding Heart,' in the Rue St.Denys. The streets presented the same appearance of gloomy suspensewhich I had noticed on the previous day. The same groups stood about inthe same corners, the same suspicious glances met me in common withall other strangers who showed themselves; the same listless inactioncharacteris
ed the townsfolk, the same anxious hurry those who came andwent with news. I saw that even here, under the walls of the palace, thebonds of law and order were strained almost to bursting, and judged thatif there ever was a time in France when right counted for little, andthe strong hand for much, it was this. Such a state of things was notunfavourable to my present design, and caring little for suspiciouslooks, I went resolutely on my way.

  I had no difficulty in finding the gateway of which Simon had spoken,or in identifying the window beneath which he had picked up the velvetknot. An alley opening almost opposite, I took advantage of this toexamine the house at my leisure, and remarked at once, that whereas thelower window was guarded only by strong shutters, now open, that in thestory above was heavily barred. Naturally I concentrated my attentionon the latter. The house, an old building of stone, seemed sufficientlyreputable, nor could I discern anything about it which would havearoused my distrust had the knot been found elsewhere. It bore the armsof a religious brotherhood, and had probably at one time formed theprincipal entrance to the hospital, which still stood behind it, but ithad now come, as I judged, to be used as a dwelling of the better class.Whether the two floors were separately inhabited or not I failed todecide.

  After watching it for some time without seeing anyone pass in or out, oranything occurring to enlighten me one way or the other, I resolved toventure in, the street being quiet and the house giving no sign of beingstrongly garrisoned. The entrance lay under the archway, through a dooron the right side. I judged from what I saw that the porter was probablyabsent, busying himself with his gossips in matters of State.

  And this proved to be the case, for when I had made the passage of thestreet with success, and slipped quietly in through the half-open door,I found only his staff and charcoal-pan there to represent him. A singlelook satisfied me on that point; forthwith, without hesitation, Iturned to the stairs and began to mount, assured that if I would effectanything single-handed I must trust to audacity and surprise rather thanto caution or forethought.

  The staircase was poorly lighted by loopholes looking towards the rear,but it was clean and well-kept. Silence, broken only by the sound of myfootsteps, prevailed throughout the house, and all seemed so regularand decent and orderly that the higher I rose the lower fell my hopesof success. Still, I held resolutely on until I reached the second floorand stood before a closed door. The moment had come to put all to thetouch. I listened for a few seconds but hearing nothing, cautiouslylifted the latch. Somewhat to my surprise the door yielded to my hand,and I entered.

  A high settle stood inside, interrupting my view of the room, whichseemed to be spacious and full of rich stuffs and furniture, but lowin the roof, and somewhat dimly lighted by two windows rather wide thanhigh. The warm glow of a fire shone on the woodwork of the ceiling,and as I softly closed the door a log on the hearth gave way, with acrackling of sparks, which pleasantly broke the luxurious silence. Thenext moment a low, sweet voice asked, 'Alphonse, is that you?'

  I walked round the settle and came face to face with a beautiful womanreclining on a couch. On hearing the door open she had raised herself onher elbow. Now, seeing a stranger before her, she sprang up with a lowcry, and stood gazing at me, her face expressing both astonishment andanger. She was of middling height, her features regular though somewhatchildlike, her complexion singularly fair. A profusion of golden hairhung in disorder about her neck, and matched the deep blue of her eyes,wherein it seemed to me, there lurked more spirit and fire than thegeneral cast of her features led one to expect.

  After a moment's silence, during which she scanned me from head to footwith great haughtiness--and I her with curiosity and wonder--she spoke.'Sir!' she said slowly, 'to what am I to attribute this--visit?'

  For the moment I was so taken aback by her appearance and extraordinarybeauty, as well as by the absence of any sign of those I sought, that Icould not gather my thoughts to reply, but stood looking vaguely at her.I had expected, when I entered the room, something so different fromthis!

  'Well, sir?' she said again, speaking sharply, and tapping her foot onthe floor.

  'This visit, madame?' I stammered.

  'Call it intrusion, sir, if you please!' she cried imperiously. 'Onlyexplain it, or begone.'

  'I crave leave to do both, madame,' I answered, collecting myself by aneffort. 'I ascended these stairs and opened your door in error--that isthe simple fact--hoping to find a friend of mine here. I was mistaken,it seems, and it only remains for me to withdraw, offering at the sametime the humblest apologies,' And as I spoke I bowed low and prepared toretire.

  'One moment, sir!' she said quickly, and in an altered tone. 'You are,perhaps, a friend of M. de Bruhl--of my husband. In that case, if youdesire to leave any message I will--I shall be glad to deliver it.'

  She looked so charming that, despite the tumult of my feelings, I couldnot but regard her with admiration. 'Alas! madame, I cannot pleadthat excuse,' I answered. 'I regret that I have not the honour of hisacquaintance.'

  She eyed me with some surprise. 'Yet still, sir,' she answered, smilinga little, and toying with a gold brooch which clasped her habit, 'youmust have had some ground, some reason, for supposing you would find afriend here?'

  'True, madame,' I answered, 'but I was mistaken.'

  I saw her colour suddenly. With a smile and a faint twinkle of the eyeshe said, 'It is not possible, sir, I suppose--you have not come here,I mean, out of any reason connected with a--a knot of velvet, forinstance?'

  I started, and involuntarily advanced a step towards her. 'A knot ofvelvet!' I exclaimed, with emotion. 'Mon Dieu! Then I was not mistaken!I have come to the right house, and you--you know something of this!Madame,' I continued impulsively, 'that knot of velvet? Tell me what itmeans, I implore you!'

  She seemed alarmed by my violence, retreating a step or two, and lookingat me haughtily, yet with a kind of shame-facedness. 'Believe me, itmeans nothing,' she said hurriedly. 'I beg you to understand that, sir.It was a foolish jest.'

  'A jest?' I said. 'It fell from this window.'

  'It was a jest, sir,' she answered stubbornly. But I could see that,with all her pride, she was alarmed; her face was troubled, and therewere tears in her eyes. And this rendered me under the circumstancesonly the more persistent.

  'I have the velvet here, madame,' I said. 'You must tell me more aboutit.'

  She looked at me with a weightier impulse of anger than she had yetexhibited. 'I do not think you know to whom you are speaking,' she said,breathing fast. 'Leave the room, sir, and at once! I have told you itwas a jest. If you are a gentleman you will believe me, and go.' And shepointed to the door.

  But I held my ground, with an obstinate determination to pierce themystery. 'I am a gentleman, madame,' I said, 'and yet I must know more.Until I know more I cannot go.'

  'Oh, this is insufferable!' she cried, looking round as if for a way ofescape; but I was between her and the only door. 'This is unbearable!The knot was never intended for you, sir. And what is more, if M. deBruhl comes and finds you here, you will repent it bitterly.'

  I saw that she was at least as much concerned on her own account as onmine, and thought myself justified under the circumstances in takingadvantage of her fears. I deliberately laid my cap on the table whichstood beside me. 'I will go madame,' I said, looking at her fixedly,'when I know all that you know about this knot I hold, and not before.If you are unwilling to tell me, I must wait for M. de Bruhl, and askhim.'

  She cried out 'Insolent!' and looked at me as if in her rage and dismayshe would gladly have killed me; being, I could see, a passionate woman.But I held my ground, and after a moment she spoke. 'What do you want toknow?' she said, frowning darkly.

  'This knot--how did it come to lie in the street below your window? Iwant to know that first.'

  'I dropped it,' she answered sullenly.

  'Why?' I said.

  'Because--' And then she stopped and looked at me, and then again lookeddown, her face crimson. 'Because, i
f you must know,' she continuedhurriedly, tracing a pattern on the table with her finger, 'I saw itbore the words "A MOI." I have been married only two months, and Ithought my husband might find it--and bring it to me. It was a sillyfancy.'

  'But where did you get it?' I asked, and I stared at her in growingwonder and perplexity. For the more questions I put, the further, itseemed to me, I strayed from my object.

  'I picked it up in the Ruelle d'Arcy,' she answered, tapping her footon the floor resentfully. 'It was the silly thing put it into my headto--to do what I did. And now, have you any more questions, sir?'

  'One only,' I said, seeing it all clearly enough. 'Will you tell me,please, exactly where you found it?'

  'I have told you. In the Ruelle d'Arcy, ten paces from the Rue deValois. Now, sir, will you go?'

  'One word, madame. Did--'

  But she cried, 'Go, sir, go! go!' so violently, that after making onemore attempt to express my thanks, I thought it better to obey her. Ihad learned all she knew; I had solved the puzzle. But, solving it,I found myself no nearer to the end I had in view, no nearer tomademoiselle. I closed the door with a silent bow, and began to descendthe stairs, my mind full of anxious doubts and calculations. The velvetknot was the only clue I possessed, but was I right; in placing anydependence on it? I knew now that, wherever it had originally lain, ithad been removed once. If once, why not twice? why not three times?