Bardelys the Magnificent

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER VI. IN CONVALESCENCE

  Of the week that followed my coming to Lavedan I find some difficultyin writing. It was for me a time very crowded with events--events thatappeared to be moulding my character anew and making of me a persondifferent, indeed, from that Marcel de Bardelys whom in Paris theycalled the Magnificent. Yet these events, although significant in theirtotal, were of so vague and slight a nature in their detail, that when Icome to write of them I find really little that I may set down.

  Rodenard and his companions remained for two days at the chateau, and tome his sojourn there was a source of perpetual anxiety, for I knew nothow far the fool might see fit to prolong it. It was well for me thatthis anxiety of mine was shared by Monsieur de Lavedan, who disliked atsuch a time the presence of men attached to one who was so notoriouslyof the King's party. He came at last to consult me as to what measuresmight be taken to remove them, and I--nothing loath to conspire with himto so desirable end--bade him suggest to Rodenard that perhaps evil hadbefallen Monsieur de Bardelys, and that, instead of wasting his timeat Lavedan, he were better advised to be searching the province for hismaster.

  This counsel the Vicomte adopted, and with such excellent results thatthat very day--within the hour, in fact--Ganymede, aroused to a senseof his proper duty, set out in quest of me, not a little disturbed inmind--for with all his shortcomings the rascal loved me very faithfully.

  That was on the third day of my sojourn at Lavedan. On the morrow Irose, my foot being sufficiently recovered to permit it. I felt a littleweak from loss of blood, but Anatole--who, for all his evil countenance,was a kindly and gentle--servant was confident that a few days--a weekat most--would see me completely restored.

  Of leaving Lavedan I said nothing. But the Vicomte, who was one ofthe most generous and noble hearted men that it has ever been my goodfortune to meet, forestalled any mention of my departure by urging thatI should remain at the chateau until my recovery were completed, and,for that matter, as long thereafter as should suit my inclinations.

  "At Lavedan you will be safe, my friend," he assured me; "for, as I havetold you, we are under no suspicion. Let me urge you to remain until theKing shall have desisted from further persecuting us."

  And when I protested and spoke of trespassing, he waived the point witha brusqueness that amounted almost to anger.

  "Believe, monsieur, that I am pleased and honoured at serving one whohas so stoutly served the Cause and sacrificed so much to it."

  At that, being not altogether dead to shame, I winced, and told myselfthat my behaviour was unworthy, and that I was practising a detestabledeception. Yet some indulgence I may justly claim in considerationof how far I was victim of circumstance. Did I tell him that I wasBardelys, I was convinced that I should never leave the chateau alive.Very noble-hearted was the Vicomte, and no man have I known more averseto bloodthirstiness, but he had told me much during the days that I hadlain abed, and many lives would be jeopardized did I proclaim what I hadlearned from him. Hence I argued that any disclosure of my identity mustperforce drive him to extreme measures for the sake of the friends hehad unwittingly betrayed.

  On the day after Rodenard's departure I dined with the family, and metagain Mademoiselle de Lavedan, whom I had not seen since the balconyadventure of some nights ago. The Vicomtesse was also present, a ladyof very austere and noble appearance--lean as a pike and with a mostformidable nose--but, as I was soon to discover, with a mind incliningovermuch to scandal and the high-seasoned talk of the Courts in whichher girlhood had been spent.

  From her lips I heard that day the old, scandalous story of Monseigneurde Richelieu's early passion for Anne of Austria. With much unction didshe tell us how the Queen had lured His Eminence to dress himself in themotley of a jester that she might make a mock of him in the eyes of thecourtiers she had concealed behind the arras of her chamber.

  This anecdote she gave us with much wealth of discreditable detail andscant regard for either her daughter's presence or for the blushes thatsuffused the poor child's cheeks. In every way she was a pattern of theclass of women amongst whom my youth had been spent, a class which haddone so much towards shattering my faith and lowering my estimate of hersex. Lavedan had married her and brought her into Languedoc, and hereshe spent her years lamenting the scenes of her youth, and prone, itwould seem, to make them matter for conversation whenever a newcomerchanced to present himself at the chateau.

  Looking from her to her daughter, I thanked Heaven that Roxalanne was noreproduction of the mother. She had inherited as little of her characteras of her appearance. Both in feature and in soul Mademoiselle deLavedan was a copy of that noble, gallant gentleman, her father.

  One other was present at that meal, of whom I shall have more to sayhereafter. This was a young man of good presence, save, perhaps, a tooobtrusive foppishness, whom Monsieur de Lavedan presented to me as adistant kinsman of theirs, one Chevalier de Saint-Eustache. He wasvery tall--of fully my own height--and of an excellent shape, althoughextremely young. But his head if anything was too small for his body,and his good-natured mouth was of a weakness that was confirmed by thesignificance of his chin, whilst his eyes were too closely set to augurfrankness.

  He was a pleasant fellow, seemingly of that negative pleasantnessthat lies in inoffensiveness, but otherwise dull and of an untutoredmind--rustic, as might be expected in one the greater part of whose lifehad been spent in his native province, and of a rusticity rendered allthe more flagrant by the very efforts he exerted to dissemble it.

  It was after madame had related that unsavoury anecdote touching theCardinal that he turned to ask me whether I was well acquainted with theCourt. I was near to committing the egregious blunder of laughing in hisface, but, recollecting myself betimes, I answered vaguely that I hadsome knowledge of it, whereupon he all but caused me to bound from mychair by asking me had I ever met the Magnificent Bardelys.

  "I--I am acquainted with him," I answered warily. "Why do you ask?"

  "I was reminded of him by the fact that his servants have been here fortwo days. You were expecting the Marquis himself, were you not, Monsieurle Vicomte?"

  Lavedan raised his head suddenly, after the manner of a man who hasreceived an affront.

  "I was not, Chevalier," he answered, with emphasis. "His intendant, aninsolent knave of the name of Rodenard, informed me that this Bardelysprojected visiting me. He has not come, and I devoutly hope that he maynot come. Trouble enough had I to rid myself of his servants, and butfor Monsieur de Lesperon's well-conceived suggestion they might still behere."

  "You have never met him, monsieur?" inquired the Chevalier.

  "Never," replied our host in such a way that any but a fool must haveunderstood that he desired nothing less than such a meeting.

  "A delightful fellow," murmured Saint-Eustache--"a brilliant, dazzlingpersonality."

  "You--you are acquainted with him?" I asked.

  "Acquainted?" echoed that boastful liar. "We were as brothers."

  "How you interest me! And why have you never told us?" quoth madame, hereyes turned enviously upon the young man--as enviously as were Lavedan'sturned in disgust. "It is a thousand pities that Monsieur de Bardelyshas altered his plans and is no longer coming to us. To meet such a manis to breathe again the air of the grand monde. You remember, Monsieurde Lesperon, that affair with the Duchess de Bourgogne?" And she smiledwickedly in my direction.

  "I have some recollection of it," I answered coldly. "But I thinkthat rumour exaggerates. When tongues wag, a little rivulet is oftendescribed as a mountain torrent."

  "You would not say so did you but know what I know," she informed meroguishly. "Often, I confess, rumour may swell the importance of such anaffaire, but in this case I do not think that rumour does it justice."

  I made a deprecatory gesture, and I would have had the subject changed,but ere I could make an effort to that end, the fool Saint-Eustache wasbabbling again.

  "You remember the duel that was fought in consequenc
e, Monsieur deLesperon?"

  "Yes," I assented wearily.

  "And in which a poor young fellow lost his life," growled the Vicomte."It was practically a murder."

  "Nay, monsieur," I cried, with a sudden heat that set them staring atme; "there you do him wrong. Monsieur de Bardelys was opposed to thebest blade in France. The man's reputation as a swordsman was of sucha quality that for a twelvemonth he had been living upon it, doing allmanner of unseemly things immune from punishment by the fear in whichhe was universally held. His behaviour in the unfortunate affair weare discussing was of a particularly shameful character. Oh, I know thedetails, messieurs, I can sure you. He thought to impose his reputationupon Bardelys as he had imposed it upon a hundred others, but Bardelyswas over-tough for his teeth. He sent that notorious young gentlemana challenge, and on the following morning he left him dead in thehorsemarket behind the Hotel Vendome. But far from a murder, monsieur,it was an act of justice, and the most richly earned punishment withwhich ever man was visited."

  "Even if so," cried the Vicomte in some surprise, "why all this heat todefend a brawler?"

  "A brawler?" I repeated after him. "Oh, no. That is a charge his worstenemies cannot make against Bardelys. He is no brawler. The duel inquestion was his first affair of the kind, and it has been his last,for unto him has clung the reputation that had belonged until then to LaVertoile, and there is none in France bold enough to send a challengeto him." And, seeing what surprise I was provoking, I thought it well toinvolve another with me in his defence. So, turning to the Chevalier,"I am sure," said I, "that Monsieur de Saint-Eustache will confirm mywords."

  Thereupon, his vanity being all aroused, the Chevalier set himselfto paraphrase all that I had said with a heat that cast mine into amiserable insignificance.

  "At least," laughed the Vicomte at length, "he lacks not for champions.For my own part, I am content to pray Heaven that he come not toLavedan, as he intended."

  "Mais voyons, Gaston," the Vicomtesse protested, "why harbour prejudice?Wait at least until you have seen him, that you may judge him foryourself."

  "Already have I judged him; I pray that I may never see him."

  "They tell me he is a very handsome man," said she, appealing to mefor confirmation. Lavedan shot her a sudden glance of alarm, at which Icould have laughed. Hitherto his sole concern had been his daughter, butit suddenly occurred to him that perhaps not even her years might setthe Vicomtesse in safety from imprudences with this devourer of hearts,should he still chance to come that way.

  "Madame," I answered, "he is accounted not ill-favored." And with adeprecatory smile I added, "I am said somewhat to resemble him."

  "Say you so?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows, and looking at memore closely than hitherto. And then it seemed to me that into herface crept a shade of disappointment. If this Bardelys were not morebeautiful than I, then he was not nearly so beautiful a man as she hadimagined. She turned to Saint-Eustache.

  "It is indeed so, Chevalier?" she inquired. "Do you note theresemblance?"

  "Vanitas, vanitate," murmured the youth, who had some scraps of Latinand a taste for airing them. "I can see no likeness--no trace of one.Monsieur de Lesperon is well enough, I should say. But Bardelys!" Hecast his eyes to the ceiling. "There is but one Bardelys in France."

  "Enfin," I laughed, "you are no doubt well qualified to judge,Chevalier. I had flattered myself that some likeness did exist, butprobably you have seen the Marquis more frequently than have I, andprobably you know him better. Nevertheless, should he come his way,I will ask you to look at us side by side and be the judge of theresemblance."

  "Should I happen to be here," he said, with a sudden constraint notdifficult to understand, "I shall be happy to act as arbiter."

  "Should you happen to be here?" I echoed questioningly. "But surely,should you hear that Monsieur de Bardelys is about to arrive, you willpostpone any departure you may be on the point of making, so that youmay renew this great friendship that you tell us you do the Marquis thehonour of entertaining for him?"

  The Chevalier eyed me with the air of a man looking down from a greatheight upon another. The Vicomte smiled quietly to himself as he combedhis fair beard with his forefinger in a meditative fashion, whilst evenRoxalanne--who had sat silently listening to a conversation that shewas at times mercifully spared from following too minutely--flashed me ahumorous glance. To the Vicomtesse alone who in common with women ofher type was of a singular obtuseness--was the situation withoutsignificance.

  Saint-Eustache, to defend himself against my delicate imputation, andto show how well acquainted he was with Bardelys, plunged at once intoa thousand details of that gentleman's magnificence. He described hissuppers, his retinue, his equipages, his houses, his chateaux, hisfavour with the King, his successes with the fair sex, and I know notwhat besides--in all of which I confess that even to me there was acertain degree of novelty. Roxalanne listened with an air of amusementthat showed how well she read him. Later, when I found myself alonewith her by the river, whither we had gone after the repast andthe Chevalier's reminiscences were at an end, she reverted to thatconversation.

  "Is not my cousin a great fanfarron, monsieur," she asked.

  "Surely you know your cousin better than I," I answered cautiously. "Whyquestion me upon his character?"

  "I was hardly questioning; I was commenting. He spent a fortnight inParis once, and he accounts himself, or would have us account him,intimate with every courtier at the Luxembourg. Oh, he is very amusing,this good cousin, but tiresome too." She laughed, and there was thefaintest note of scorn in her amusement. "Now, touching this Marquis deBardelys, it is very plain that the Chevalier boasted when he said thatthey were as brothers--he and the Marquis--is it not? He grew ill atease when you reminded him of the possibility of the Marquis's visit toLavedan." And she laughed quaintly to herself. "Do you think that he somuch as knows Bardelys?" she asked me suddenly.

  "Not so much as by sight," I answered. "He is full of informationconcerning that unworthy gentleman, but it is only information that themeanest scullion in Paris might afford you, and just as inaccurate."

  "Why do you speak of him as unworthy? Are you of the same opinion as myfather?"

  "Aye, and with better cause."

  "You know him well?"

  "Know him? Pardieu, he is my worst enemy. A worn-out libertine; asneering, cynical misogynist; a nauseated reveller; a hateful egotist.There is no more unworthy person, I'll swear, in all France. Peste! Thevery memory of the fellow makes me sick. Let us talk of other things."

  But although I urged it with the best will and the best intentions inthe world, I was not to have my way. The air became suddenly heavy withthe scent of musk, and the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache stood before us,and forced the conversation once more upon the odious topic of Monsieurde Bardelys.

  The poor fool came with a plan of campaign carefully considered, bentnow upon overthrowing me with the knowledge he would exhibit, andwhereby he looked to encompass my humiliation before his cousin.

  "Speaking of Bardelys, Monsieur de Lesperon--"

  "My dear Chevalier, we were no longer speaking of him."

  He smiled darkly. "Let us speak of him, then."

  "But are there not a thousand more interesting things that we mightspeak of?"

  This he took for a fresh sign of fear, and so he pressed what heaccounted his advantage.

  "Yet have patience; there is a point on which perhaps you can give mesome information."

  "Impossible," said I.

  "Are you acquainted with the Duchesse de Bourgogne?"

  "I was," I answered casually, and as casually I added, "Are you?"

  "Excellently well," he replied unhesitatingly. "I was in Paris at thetime of the scandal with Bardelys."

  I looked up quickly.

  "Was it then that you met her?" I inquired in an idle sort of way.

  "Yes. I was in the confidence of Bardelys, and one night after wehad supped at his hotel--one of those su
ppers graced by every wit inParis--he asked me if I were minded to accompany him to the Louvre. Wewent. A masque was in progress."

  "Ah," said I, after the manner of one who suddenly takes in the entiresituation; "and it was at this masque that you met the Duchesse?"

  "You have guessed it. Ah, monsieur, if I were to tell you of the thingsthat I witnessed that night, they would amaze you," said he, with agreat air and a casual glance at Mademoiselle to see into what depth ofwonder these glimpses into his wicked past were plunging her.

  "I doubt it not," said I, thinking that if his imagination were asfertile in that connection as it had been in mine he was likely, indeed,to have some amazing things to tell. "But do I understand you to saythat that was the time of the scandal you have touched upon?"

  "The scandal burst three days after that masque. It came as a surpriseto most people. As for me--from what Bardelys had told me--I expectednothing less."

  "Pardon, Chevalier, but how old do you happen to be?"

  "A curious question that," said he, knitting his brows.

  "Perhaps. But will you not answer it?"

  "I am twenty-one," said he. "What of it?"

  "You are twenty, mon cousin," Roxalanne corrected him.

  He looked at her a second with an injured air.

  "Why, true--twenty! That is so," he acquiesced; and again, "what of it?"he demanded.

  "What of it, monsieur?" I echoed. "Will you forgive me if I expressamazement at your precocity, and congratulate you upon it?"

  His brows went if possible closer together and his face grew very red.He knew that somewhere a pitfall awaited him, yet hardly where.

  "I do not understand you."

  "Bethink you, Chevalier. Ten years have flown since this scandal yourefer to. So that at the time of your supping with Bardelys and the witsof Paris, at the time of his making a confidant of you and carrying youoff to a masque at the Louvre, at the time of his presenting you to theDuchesse de Bourgogne, you were just ten years of age. I never had causeto think over-well of Bardelys, but had you not told me yourself, Ishould have hesitated to believe him so vile a despoiler of innocence,such a perverter of youth."

  He crimsoned to the very roots of his hair.

  Roxalanne broke into a laugh. "My cousin, my cousin," she cried, "theythat would become masters should begin early, is it not so?"

  "Monsieur de Lesperon," said he, in a very formal voice, "do you wish meto apprehend that you have put me through this catechism for the purposeof casting a doubt upon what I have said?"

  "But have I done that? Have I cast a doubt?" I asked, with the utmostmeekness.

  "So I apprehend."

  "Then you apprehend amiss. Your words, I assure you, admit of no doubtwhatever. And now, monsieur, if you will have mercy upon me, we willtalk of other things. I am so weary of this unfortunate Bardelys and hisaffairs. He may be the fashion of Paris and at Court, but down here hisvery name befouls the air. Mademoiselle," I said, turning to Roxalanne,"you promised me a lesson in the lore of flowers."

  "Come, then," said she, and, being an exceedingly wise child, sheplunged straightway into the history of the shrubs about us.

  Thus did we avert a storm that for a moment was very imminent. Yet somemischief was done, and some good, too, perhaps. For if I made an enemyof the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache by humbling him in the eyes of theone woman before whom he sought to shine, I established a bond 'twixtRoxalanne and myself by that same humiliation of a foolish coxcomb,whose boastfulness had long wearied her.