CHAPTER XXXIV. ''TIS AN ILL WIND.'
We had made our way slowly and with much jostling as far as theprincipal street, finding the press increase as we advanced, when Iheard, as I turned a corner, my name called, and, looking up, saw ata window the face of which I was in search. After that half a minutesufficed to bring M. d'Agen flying to my side, when nothing, as Ihad expected, would do but I must dismount where I was and share hislodging. He made no secret of his joy and surprise at sight of me, butpausing only to tell Simon where the stable was, haled me through thecrowd and up his stairs with a fervour and heartiness which brought thetears to my eyes, and served to impress the company whom I found abovewith a more than sufficient sense of my importance.
Seeing him again in the highest feather and in the full employment ofall those little arts and graces which served as a foil to his realworth, I took it as a great honour that he laid them aside for thenonce; and introduced me to the seat of honour and made me known to hiscompanions with a boyish directness and a simple thought for my comfortwhich infinitely pleased me. He bade his landlord, without a moment'sdelay, bring wine and meat and everything which could refresh atraveller, and was himself up and down a hundred times in a minute,calling to his servants for this or that, or railing at them for theirfailure to bring me a score of things I did not need. I hastened to makemy excuses to the company for interrupting them in the midst of theirtalk; and these they were kind enough to accept in good part. At thesame time, reading clearly in M. d'Agen's excited face and shining eyesthat he longed to be alone with me, they took the hint, and presentlyleft us together.
'Well,' he said, coming back from the door, to which he had conductedthem, 'what have you to tell me, my friend? She is not with you?'
'She is with Mademoiselle de la Vire at Meudon,' I answered, smiling.'And for the rest, she is well and in better spirits.'
'She sent me some message? he asked.
I shook my head. 'She did not know I should see you,' I answered.
'But she--she has spoken of me lately?' he continued, his face falling.
'I do not think she has named your name for a fortnight,' I answered,laughing. 'There's for you! Why, man,' I continued, adopting a differenttone, and laying my hand on his shoulder in a manner which reassuredhim at least; as much as my words, 'are you so young a lover as to beignorant that a woman says least of that of which she thinks most?Pluck up, courage! Unless I am mistaken, you have little to be afraid ofexcept the past. Only have patience.'
'You think so?' he said gratefully.
I assured him that I had no doubt of it; and on that he fell into areverie, and I to watching him. Alas for the littleness of our natures!He had received me with open arms, yet at sight of the happiness whichtook possession of his handsome face I gave way to the pettiest feelingwhich can harbour in a man's breast. I looked at him with eyes of envy,bitterly comparing my lot with that which fate had reserved for him. Hehad fortune, good looks, and success on his side, great relations, andhigh hopes; I stood in instant jeopardy, my future dark, and every pathwhich presented itself so hazardous that I knew not which to adopt. Hewas young, and I past my prime; he in favour, and I a fugitive.
To such reflections he put an end in a way which made me blush for mychurlishness. For, suddenly awaking out, of his pleasant dream, he askedme about myself and my fortunes, inquiring eagerly how I came to be inSt. Cloud, and listening to the story of my adventures with a generousanxiety which endeared him to me more and more. When I had done--and bythat time Simon had joined us, and was waiting at the lower end of theroom--he pronounced that I must see the king.
'There is nothing else for it,' he said.
'I have come to see him,' I answered.
'Mon dieu, yes!' he continued, rising from his seat and looking at mewith a face of concern. 'No one else can help you.'
I nodded.
'Turenne has four thousand men here. You can do nothing against somany?'
'Nothing,' I said. 'The question is, will the king protect me?'
'It is he or no one,' M. d'Agen answered warmly. 'You cannot see himto-night: he has a Council. To-morrow at daybreak you may. You must liehere to-night, and I will set my fellows to watch, and I think you willbe safe. I will away now and see if my uncle will help. Can you think ofanyone else who would speak for you?'
I considered, and was about to answer in the negative, when Simon, whohad listened with a scared face, suggested M. de Crillon.
'Yes, if he would,' M. d'Agen exclaimed, looking at the lad withapprobation. 'He has weight with the king.'
'I think he might,' I replied slowly. 'I had a curious encounter withhim last night. And with that I told M. d'Agen of the duel I fought atthe inn.
'Good!' he said, his eyes sparkling. 'I wish I had been there to see. Atany rate we will try him. Crillon fears no one, not even the king.'
So it was settled. For that night I was to keep close in my friend'slodging, showing not even my nose at the window.
When he had gone on his errand, and I found myself alone in the room,I am fain to confess that I fell very low in my spirits. M. d'Agen'stravelling equipment lay about the apartment, but failed to give any butan untidy air to its roomy bareness. The light was beginning towane, the sun was gone. Outside, the ringing of bells and the distantmuttering of guns, with the tumult of sounds which rose from the crowdedstreet, seemed to tell of joyous life and freedom, and all the hopes andambitions from which I was cut off.
Having no other employment, I watched the street, and keeping myselfwell retired from the window saw knots of gay riders pass this way andthat through the crowd, their corslets shining and their voiceshigh. Monks and ladies, a cardinal and an ambassador, passed under myeyes--these and an endless procession of townsmen and beggars, soldiersand courtiers, Gascons, Normans and Picards. Never had I seen such asight or so many people gathered together. It seemed as if half Parishad come out to make submission, so that while my gorge rose against myown imprisonment, the sight gradually diverted my mind from my privatedistresses, by bidding me find compensation for them in the speedy andglorious triumph of the cause.
Even when the light failed the pageant did not cease, but, torches andlanthorns springing into life, turned night into day. From every sidecame sounds of revelry or strife. The crowd continued to perambulatethe streets until a late hour, with cries of 'VIVE LE ROI!' and 'VIVENAVARRE!' while now and again the passage of a great noble with hissuite called forth a fresh outburst of enthusiasm. Nothing seemedmore certain, more inevitable, more clearly predestinated than thattwenty-four hours must see the fall of Paris.
Yet Paris did not fall.
When M. d'Agen returned a little before midnight, he found me stillsitting in the dark looking from the window. I heard him call roughlyfor lights, and apprised by the sound of his voice that something waswrong, I rose to meet him. He stood silent awhile, twirling his smallmoustaches, and then broke into a passionate tirade, from which I wasnot slow to gather that M. de Rambouillet declined to serve me.
'Well,' I said, feeling for the young man's distress and embarrassment,'perhaps he is right.'
'He says that word respecting you came this evening,' my friendanswered, his cheeks red with shame, 'and that to countenance you afterthat would only be to court certain humiliation. I did not let him offtoo easily, I assure you,' M. d'Agen continued, turning away to evademy gaze; 'but I got no satisfaction. He said you had his good-will, andthat to help you he would risk something, but that to do so under thesecircumstances would be only to injure himself.'
'There is still Crillon,' I said, with as much cheerfulness as I couldassume. 'Pray Heaven he be there early! Did M. de Rambouillet sayanything else?'
'That your only chance was to fly as quickly and secretly as possible.'
'He thought; my situation desperate, then?'
My friend nodded; and scarcely less depressed on my account than ashamedon his own, evinced so much feeling that it was all I could do tocomfort him; which I succeeded in doin
g only when I diverted theconversation to Madame de Bruhl. We passed the short night together,sharing the same room and the same bed, and talking more than weslept--of madame and mademoiselle, the castle on the hill, and the campin the woods, of all old days en fin, but little of the future. Soonafter dawn Simon, who lay on a pallet across the threshold, roused mefrom a fitful sleep into which I had just fallen, and a few minuteslater I stood up dressed and armed, ready to try the last chance left tome.
M. d'Agen had dressed stage for stage with me, and I had kept silence.But when he took up his cap, and showed clearly that he had it in hismind to go with me, I withstood him. 'No, I said, 'you can do me littlegood, and may do yourself much harm.'
'You shall not go without one friend,' he cried fiercely.
'Tut, tut!' I said. 'I shall have Simon.'
But Simon, when I turned to speak to him, was gone. Few men are at theirbravest in the early hours of the day, and it did not surprise me thatthe lad's courage had failed him. The defection only strengthened,however, the resolution I had formed that I would not injure M. d'Agen;though it was some time before I could persuade him that I was inearnest, and would go alone or not at all. In the end he had to contenthimself with lending me his back and breast, which I gladly put on,thinking it likely enough that I might be set upon before I reached thecastle. And then, the time being about seven, I parted from him withmany embraces and kindly words, and went into the street with my swordunder my cloak.
The town, late in rising after its orgy, lay very still and quiet. Themorning was grey and warm, with a cloudy sky. The flags, which had madeso gay, a show yesterday, hung close to the poles, or flapped idly andfell dead again. I walked slowly along beneath them, keeping a sharplook-out on every side; but there were few persons moving in thestreets, and I reached the Castle gates without misadventure. Here wassomething of life; a bustle of officers and soldiers passing in and out,of courtiers whose office made their presence necessary, of beggars whohad flocked hither in the night for company. In the middle of these Irecognised on a sudden and with great surprise Simon Fleix walking myhorse up and down. On seeing me he handed it to a boy, and came up tospeak to me with a red face, muttering that four legs were better thantwo. I did not say much to him, my heart being full and my thoughtsoccupied with the presence chamber and what I should say there; butI nodded kindly to him, and he fell in behind me as the sentrieschallenged me. I answered them that I sought M. de Crillon, and sogetting by, fell into the rear of a party of three who seemed bent onthe same errand as myself.
One of these was a Jacobin monk, whose black and white robes, byreminding me of Father Antoine, sent a chill to my heart. Thesecond, whose eye I avoided, I knew to be M. la Guesle, the king'sSolicitor-General. The third was a stranger to me. Enabled by M. laGuesle's presence to pass the main guards without challenge, the partyproceeded through a maze of passages and corridors, conversing togetherin a low tone; while I, keeping in their train with my face cunninglymuffled, got as far by this means as the ante-chamber, which I foundalmost empty. Here I inquired of the usher for M. de Crillon, andlearned with the utmost consternation that he was not present.
This blow, which almost stunned me, opened my eyes to the precariousnature of my position, which only the early hour and small attendancerendered possible for a moment. At any minute I might be recognisedand questioned, or my name be required; while the guarded doors of thechamber shut me off as effectually from the king's face and grace asthough I were in Paris, or a hundred leagues away. Endeavouring to thebest of my power to conceal the chagrin and alarm which possessed me asthis conviction took hold of me, I walked to the window; and to hide myface more completely and at the same time gain a moment to collect mythoughts, affected to be engaged in looking through it.
Nothing which passed in the room, however, escaped me. I markedeverything and everyone, though all my thought was how I might get tothe king. The barber came out of the chamber with a silver basin, andstood a moment, and went in again with an air of vast importance. Theguards yawned, and an officer entered, looked round, and retired. M. laGuesle, who had gone in to the presence, came out again and stood nearme talking with the Jacobin, whose pale nervous face and hasty movementsreminded me somehow of Simon Fleix. The monk held a letter or petitionin his hand, and appeared to be getting it by heart, for his lips movedcontinually. The light which fell on his face from the window showed itto be of a peculiar sweaty pallor, and distorted besides. But supposinghim to be devoted, like many of his kind, to an unwholesome life, Ithought nothing of this; though I liked him little, and would haveshifted my place but for the convenience of his neighbourhood.
Presently, while I was cudgelling my brains, a person came out and spoketo La Guesle; who called in his turn to the monk, and started hastilytowards the door. The Jacobin followed. The third person who had enteredin their company had his attention directed elsewhere at the moment; andthough La Guesle called to him, took no heed. On the instant I graspedthe situation. Taking my courage in my hands, I crossed the floor behindthe monk; who, hearing me, or feeling his robe come in contact withme, presently started and looked round suspiciously, his face wearing ascowl so black and ugly that I almost recoiled from him, dreaming fora moment that I saw before me the very spirit of Father Antoine. But asthe man said nothing, and the next instant averted his gaze, I hardenedmy heart and pushed on behind him, and passing the usher, found myselfas by magic in the presence which had seemed a while ago as unattainableby my wits as it was necessary to my safety.
It was not this success alone, however, which caused my heart to beatmore hopefully. The king was speaking as I entered, and the gay tonesof his voice seemed to promise a favourable reception. His Majesty sathalf-dressed on a stool at the farther end of the apartment, surroundedby five or six noblemen, while as many attendants, among whom I hastenedto mingle, waited near the door.
La Guesle made as if he would advance, and then, seeing the king'sattention was not on him, held back. But in a moment the king saw himand called to him. 'Ha, Guesle!' he said with good-temper, 'is it you?Is your friend with you?'
The Solicitor went forward with the monk at his elbow, and I had leisureto remark the favourable change which had taken place in the king, whospoke more strongly and seemed in better health than of old. Hisface looked less cadaverous under the paint, his form a trifle lessemaciated. That which struck me more than anything, however, was theimprovement in his spirits. His eyes sparkled from time to time, and helaughed continually, so that I could scarcely believe that he was thesame man whom I had seen overwhelmed with despair and tortured by hisconscience.
Letting his attention slip from La Guesle, he began to bandy words withthe nobleman who stood nearest to him; looking up at him with a roguisheye, and making bets on the fall of Paris.
'Morbleu!' I heard him cry gaily, 'I would give a thousand pounds to seethe 'Montpensier this morning! She may keep her third crown forherself. Or, PESTE! we might put her in a convent. That would be a finevengeance!'
'The veil for the tonsure,' the nobleman said with a smirk.
'Ay. Why not? She would have made a monk of me,' the king rejoinedsmartly. 'She must be ready to hang herself with her garters thismorning, if she is not dead of spite already. Or, stay, I had forgottenher golden scissors. Let her open a vein with them. Well, what does yourfriend want, La Guesle?'
I did not hear the answer, but it was apparently satisfactory, for ina minute all except the Jacobin fell back, leaving the monk standingbefore the king; who, stretching out his hand, took from him a letter.The Jacobin, trembling visibly, seemed scarcely able to support thehonour done him, and the king, seeing this, said in a voice audibleto all, 'Stand up, man. You are welcome. I love a cowl as some love alady's hood. And now, what is this?'
He read a part of the letter and rose. As he did so the monk leanedforward as though to receive the paper back again, and then so swiftly,so suddenly, with so unexpected a movement that no one stirred until allwas over, struck the king in the body
with a knife! As the blade flashedand was hidden, and His Majesty with a deep sob fell back on the stool,then, and not till then, I knew that I had missed a providential chanceof earning pardon and protection. For had I only marked the Jacobin aswe passed the door together, and read his evil face aright, a word, oneword, had done for me more than the pleading of a score of Crillons!
Too late a dozen sprang forward to the king's assistance; but beforethey reached him he had himself drawn the knife from the wound andstruck the assassin with it on the head. While some, with cries ofgrief, ran to support Henry, from whose body the blood was alreadyflowing fast, others seized and struck down the wretched monk. As theygathered round him I saw him raise himself for a moment on his knees andlook upward; the blood which ran down his face, no less than themingled triumph and horror of his features, impressed the sight onmy recollection. The next instant three swords were plunged intohis breast, and his writhing body, plucked up from the floor amid atransport of curses, was forced headlong through the casement and flungdown to make sport for the grooms and scullions who stood below.
A scene of indescribable confusion followed, some crying that theking was dead, while others called for a doctor, and some by name forDortoman. I expected to see the doors closed and all within secured,that if the man had confederates they might be taken. But there was noone to give the order. Instead, many who had neither the ENTREE norany business in the chamber forced their way in, and by their cries andpressure rendered the hub-bub and tumult a hundred times worse. In themidst of this, while I stood stunned and dumbfounded, my own risks andconcerns forgotten, I felt my sleeve furiously plucked, and, lookinground, found Simon at my elbow. The lad's face was crimson, his eyesseemed, starting from his head.
'Come,' he muttered, seizing my arm. 'Come!' And without furtherceremony or explanation he dragged me towards the door, while his faceand manner evinced as much heat and impatience as if he had been himselfthe assassin. 'Come, there is not a moment to be lost,' he panted,continuing his exertions without the least intermission.
'Whither?' I said, in amazement, as I reluctantly permitted him toforce me along the passage and through the gaping crowd on the stairs.'Whither, man?'
'Mount and ride!' was the answer he hissed in my ear. 'Ride for yourlife to the King of Navarre--to the King of France it may be! Ride asyou have never ridden before, and tell him the news, and bid him lookto himself! Be the first, and, Heaven helping us, Turenne may do hisworst!'
I felt every nerve in my body tingle as I awoke to his meaning. Withouta word I left his arm, and flung myself into the crowd which filled thelower passage to suffocation. As I struggled fiercely with them Simonaided me by crying 'A doctor! a doctor! make way there!' and thisinduced many to give place to me under the idea that I was an accreditedmessenger. Eventually I succeeded in forcing my way through and reachingthe courtyard; being, as it turned out, the first person to issue fromthe Chateau. A dozen people sprang towards me with anxious eyes andquestions on their lips; but I ran past them and, catching the Cid,which was fortunately at hand, by the rein, bounded into the saddle.
As I turned the horse to the gate I heard Simon cry after me. 'TheScholars' Meadow! Go that way!' and then I heard no more. I was out ofthe yard and galloping bare-headed down the pitched street, while womensnatched their infants up and ran aside, and men came startled to thedoors, crying that the League was upon us. As the good horse flung uphis head and bounded forward, hurling the gravel behind him with hoofswhich slid and clattered on the pavement, as the wind began to whistleby me, and I seized the reins in a shorter grip, I felt my heart boundwith exultation. I experienced such a blessed relief and elation as theprisoner long fettered and confined feels when restored to the air ofheaven.
Down one street and through a narrow lane we thundered, until a brokengateway stopped with fascines--through which the Cid blundered andstumbled--brought us at a bound into the Scholars' Meadow just as thetardy sun broke through the clouds and flooded the low, wide plain withbrightness. Half a league in front of us the towers of Meudon rose toview on a hill. In the distance, to the left, lay the walls of Paris,and nearer, on the same side, a dozen forts and batteries; while hereand there, in that quarter, a shining clump of spears or a dense mass ofinfantry betrayed the enemy's presence.
I heeded none of these things, however, nor anything except the towersof Meudon, setting the Cid's head straight for these and riding on atthe top of his speed. Swiftly ditch and dyke came into view before usand flashed away beneath us. Men lying in pits rose up and aimed at us;or ran with cries to intercept us. A cannon-shot fired from the fortby Issy tore up the earth to one side; a knot of lancers sped from theshelter of an earthwork in the same quarter, and raced us for half amile, with frantic shouts and threats of vengeance. But all such effortswere vanity. The Cid, fired by this sudden call upon his speed, andfeeling himself loosed--rarest of events--to do his best, shook the foamfrom his bit, and opening his blood-red nostrils to the wind, crouchedlower and lower; until his long neck, stretched out before him, seemed,as the sward swept by, like the point of an arrow speeding resistless toits aim.
God knows, as the air rushed by me and the sun shone in my face, I criedaloud like a boy, and though I sat still and stirred neither hand norfoot, lest I should break the good Sard's stride, I prayed wildly thatthe horse which I had groomed with my own hands and fed with my lastcrown might hold on unfaltering to the end. For I dreamed that the fateof a nation rode in my saddle; and mindful alike of Simon's words, 'Bidhim look to himself,' and of my own notion that the League would not beso foolish as to remove one enemy to exalt another, I thought nothingmore likely than that, with all my fury, I should arrive too late, andfind the King of Navarre as I had left the King of France.
In this strenuous haste I covered a mile as a mile has seldom beencovered before; and I was growing under the influence of the breezewhich whipped my temples somewhat more cool and hopeful, when I saw ona sudden right before me, and between me and Meudon, a handful of menengaged in a MELEE. There were red and white jackets in it--leaguers andHuguenots--and the red coats seemed to be having the worst of it. Still,while I watched, they came off in order, and unfortunately in such a wayand at such a speed that I saw they must meet me face to face whetherI tried to avoid the encounter or not. I had barely time to take in thedanger and its nearness, and discern beyond both parties the main-guardof the Huguenots, enlivened by a score of pennons, when the Leaguerswere upon me.
I suppose they knew that no friend would ride for Meudon at that pace,for they dashed at me six abreast with a shout of triumph; and beforeI could count a score we met. The Cid was still running strongly, and Ihad not thought to stay him, so that I had no time to use my pistols. Mysword I had out, but the sun dazzled me and the men wore corslets, and Imade but poor play with it; though I struck out savagely, as we crashedtogether, in my rage at this sudden crossing of my hopes when all seemeddone and gained. The Cid faced them bravely--I heard the distant huzzaof the Huguenots--and I put aside one point which threatened my throat.But the sun was in my eyes and something struck me on the head. Anothersecond, and a blow in the breast forced me fairly from the saddle.Gripping furiously at the air I went down, stunned and dizzy, my lastthought as I struck the ground being of mademoiselle, and the littlebrook with the stepping-stones.
A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac Page 34
