CHAPTER III.
THE HOUSE NEXT THE "GOLDEN MAID."
We have it on record that before the Comte de la Rochefoucauld leftthe Louvre that night he received the strongest hints of the perilwhich threatened him; and at least one written warning was handed tohim by a stranger in black, and by him in turn was communicated to theKing of Navarre. We are told further that when he took his finalleave, about the hour of eleven, he found the courtyard brilliantlylighted, and the three companies of guards--Swiss, Scotch, andFrench--drawn up in ranked array from the door of the great hall tothe gate which opened on the street. But, the chronicler adds, neitherthis precaution, sinister as it appeared to some of his suite, nor thegrave farewell which Rambouillet, from his post at the gate, took ofone of his gentlemen, shook that chivalrous soul or sapped itsgenerous confidence. M. de Tignonville was young and less versed indanger than the Governor of Rochelle; with him, had he seen so much,it might have been different. But he left the Louvre an hourearlier--at a time when the precincts of the palace, gloomy-seeming tous in the light cast by coming events, wore their wonted aspect. Histhoughts, moreover, as he crossed the courtyard, were otherwiseemployed. So much so, indeed, that though he signed to his twoservants to follow him, he seemed barely conscious what he was doing;nor did he shake off his reverie until he reached the corner of theRue Baillet. Here the voices of the Swiss who stood on guard oppositeColigny's lodgings, at the end of the Rue Bethizy, could be plainlyheard. They had kindled a fire in an iron basket set in the middle ofthe road, and knots of them were visible in the distance, moving toand fro about their piled arms.
Tignonville paused before he came within the radius of the firelight,and turning, bade his servants take their way home. "I shall follow,but I have business first," he added curtly.
The elder of the two demurred. "The streets are not too safe," hesaid. "In two hours or less, my lord, it will be midnight. Andthen----"
"Go, booby; do you think I am a child?" his master retorted angrily."I've my sword and can use it. I shall not be long. And do you hear,men, keep a still tongue, will you?"
The men, country fellows, obeyed reluctantly, and with a fullintention of sneaking after him the moment he had turned his back. Buthe suspected them of this, and stood where he was until they hadpassed the fire, and could no longer detect his movements. Then heplunged quickly into the Rue Baillet, gained through it the Rue duRoule, and traversing that also turned to the right into the RueFerronerie, the main thoroughfare, east and west, of Paris. Here hehalted in front of the long, dark outer wall of the Cemetery of theInnocents, in which, across the tombstones and among the sepulchres ofdead Paris, the living Paris of that day, bought and sold, walked,gossiped, and made love.
About him things were to be seen that would have seemed stranger tohim had he been less strange to the city. From the quarter of themarkets north of him, a quarter which fenced in the cemetery on twosides, the same dull murmur proceeded, which Mademoiselle de Vrillachad remarked an hour earlier. The sky above the cemetery glowed withreflected light, the cause of which was not far to seek, for everywindow of the tall houses that overlooked it, and the huddle of boothsabout it, contributed a share of the illumination. At an hour lateeven for Paris, an hour when honest men should have been sunk inslumber, this strange brilliance did for a moment perplex him; but thepast week had been so full of fetes, of masques and frolics, oftendevised on the moment and dependent on the King's whim, that he setthis also down to such a cause, and wondered and no more.
The lights in the houses flung their radiance high, and did not servehis purpose; but beside the closed gate of the cemetery, between twostalls, was a votive lamp burning before an image of the Mother andChild. He crossed to this, and assuring himself by a glance to rightand left that he stood in no danger from prowlers, he drew a note fromhis breast. It had been slipped into his hand in the gallery before hesaw Mademoiselle to her lodging; it had been in his possession barelyan hour. But brief as its contents were, and easily committed tomemory, he had perused it thrice already.
"At the house next the 'Golden Maid,' Rue Cinq Diamants, an hourbefore midnight, you may find the door open should you desire to talkfarther with C. St. L."
As he read it for the fourth time the light of the lamp fell athwarthis face; and even as his fine clothes had never seemed to fit himworse than when he faintly denied the imputations of gallantrylaunched at him by Nancay, so his features had never looked lesshandsome than they did now. The glow of vanity which warmed his cheekas he read the message, the smile of conceit which wreathed his lips,bespoke a nature not of the most noble; or the lamp did him less thanjustice. Presently he kissed the note, and hid it. He waited until theclock of St. Jacques struck the hour before midnight; and then movingforward he turned to the right by way of the narrow neck leading tothe Rue Lombard. He walked in the kennel here, his sword in his handand his eyes looking to right and left; for the place was notoriousfor robberies. But though he saw more than one figure lurking in adoorway or under the arch that led to a passage, it vanished on hisnearer approach. In less than a minute he reached the southern end ofthe street that bore the odd title of the Five Diamonds.
Situate in the crowded quarter of the butchers, and almost in theshadow of their famous church, this street--which farther north wascontinued in the Rue Quimcampoix--presented in those days a notuncommon mingling of poverty and wealth. On one side of the street arow of lofty gabled houses built under Francis the First, shelteredpersons of good condition; on the other, divided from these by thewidth of the road and a reeking kennel, a row of pent-houses, thehovels of cobblers and sausage-makers, leaned against shapeless timberhouses which tottered upwards in a medley of sagging roofs and bulginggutters. Tignonville was strange to the place, and nine nights out often he would have been at a disadvantage. But, thanks to the tapersthat to-night shone in many windows, he made out enough to see that heneed search only the one side; and with a beating heart he passedalong the row of newer houses, looking eagerly for the sign of the"Golden Maid."
He found it at last; and then for a moment he stood puzzled. The notesaid, next door to the "Golden Maid," but it did not say on whichside. He scrutinised the nearer house, but he saw nothing to determinehim; and he was proceeding to the farther, when he caught sight of twomen, who, ambushed behind a horse-block on the opposite side of theroadway, seemed to be watching his movements. Their presence flurriedhim; but much to his relief his next glance at the houses showed himthat the door of the farther one was unlatched. It stood slightlyajar, permitting a beam of light to escape into the street.
He stepped quickly to it--the sooner he was within the house thebetter--pushed the door open and entered. As soon as he was inside hetried to close the entrance behind him, but he found he could not; thedoor would not shut. After a brief trial he abandoned the attempt andpassed quickly on, through a bare lighted passage which led to thefoot of a staircase, equally bare. He stood at this point an instantand listened, in the hope that Madame's maid would come to him. Atfirst he heard nothing save his own breathing; then a gruff voice fromabove startled him, "This way, Monsieur," it said. "You are early, butnot too soon!"
So Madame trusted her footman! M. de Tignonville shrugged hisshoulders; but after all, it was no affair of his, and he went up.Half-way to the top, however, he stood, an oath on his lips. Two menhad entered by the open door below--even as he had entered! And asquietly!
The imprudence of it! The imprudence of leaving the door so that itcould not be closed! He turned and descended to meet them, his teethset, his hand on his sword, one conjecture after another whirling inhis brain. Was he beset? Was it a trap? Was it a rival? Was it chance?Two steps he descended; and then the voice he had heard before criedagain, but more imperatively, "No, Monsieur, this way! Did you nothear me? This way and be quick, if you please. By-and-by there will bea crowd, and then the more we have dealt with the better!"
He knew now that he had made a mistake, tha
t he had entered the wronghouse; and naturally his impulse was to continue his descent andsecure his retreat. But the pause had brought the two men who hadentered face to face with him, and they showed no signs of giving way.On the contrary.
"The room is above, Monsieur," the foremost said, in a matter-of-facttone, and with a slight salutation. "After you, if you please," and hesigned to him to return.
He was a burly man, grim and truculent in appearance, and his followerwas like him. Tignonville hesitated, then turned and ascended. But assoon as he had reached the landing where they could pass him, heturned again.
"I have made a mistake, I think," he said. "I have entered the wronghouse."
"Are you for the house next the 'Golden Maid,' Monsieur?"
"Yes."
"Rue Cinq Diamants, Quarter of the Boucherie?"
"Yes."
"No mistake then," the stout man replied firmly. "You are early, thatis all. You have arms, I see. Maillard!"--to the person whose voiceTignonville had heard at the head of the stairs--"A white sleeve, anda cross for Monsieur's hat, and his name on the register. Come, make abeginning! Make a beginning, man."
"To be sure, Monsieur. All is ready."
"Then lose no time, I say. Here are others, also early in the goodcause. Gentlemen, welcome! Welcome all who are for the true faith!Death to the heretics! 'Kill, and no quarter!' is the word to-night!"
"Death to the heretics!" the last comers cried in chorus. "Kill and noquarter! At what hour, M. le Prevot?"
"At day-break," the Provost answered importantly. "But have no fear,the tocsin will sound. The King and our good man M. de Guise have allin hand. A white sleeve, a white cross, and a sharp knife shall ridParis of the vermin! Gentlemen of the quarter, the word of the nightis 'Kill, and no quarter! Death to the Huguenots!'"
"Death! Death to the Huguenots! Kill, and no quarter!" A dozen--theroom was beginning to fill--waved their weapons and echoed the cry.
Tignonville had been fortunate enough to apprehend the position--andthe peril in which he stood--before Maillard advanced to him bearing awhite linen sleeve. In the instant of discovery his heart had stood amoment, the blood had left his cheeks; but with some faults, he was nocoward, and he managed to hide his emotion. He held out his left arm,and suffered the beadle to pass the sleeve over it and to secure thewhite linen above the elbow. Then at a gesture he gave up his velvetcap, and saw it decorated with a white cross of the same material."Now the register, Monsieur," Maillard continued briskly; and wavinghim in the direction of a clerk, who sat at the end of the long table,having a book and an ink-horn before him, he turned to the next comer.
Tignonville would fain have avoided the ordeal of the register, butthe clerk's eye was on him. He had been fortunate so far, but he knewthat the least breath of suspicion would destroy him, and summoninghis wits together he gave his name in a steady voice. "AnneDesmartins." It was his mother's maiden name, and the first that cameinto his mind.
"Of Paris?"
"Recently; by birth, of the Limousin."
"Good, Monsieur," the clerk answered, writing in the name. And heturned to the next. "And you, my friend?"
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 18
