A Gentleman of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> A Gentleman of France

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I fell on that to kicking it furiously, desperately; partly in a
tempest of rage and chagrin, partly in the hope that I might
frighten the old woman, if it was she who had closed it, into
opening it again. In vain, of course; and presently I saw this
and desisted, and, still in a whirl of haste and excitement, set
off running towards the place where I had left Simon Fleix and
the horses. It was fully six o'clock as I judged; but some faint
hope that I might find him there with mademoiselle and her woman
still lingered in my mind. I reached the end of the lane, I ran
to the very foot; of the ramparts, I looked right and left. In
vain. The place was dark, silent, deserted.

I called 'Simon! Simon! Simon Fleix!' but my only answer was
the soughing of the wind in the eaves, and the slow tones of the
convent-bell striking Six.

CHAPTER XI.

THE MAN AT THE DOOR.

There are some things, not shameful in themselves, which it
shames one to remember, and among these I count the succeeding
hurry and perturbation of that night: the vain search, without
hope or clue, to which passion impelled me, and the stubborn
persistence with which I rushed frantically from place to place
long after the soberness of reason would have had me desist.
There was not, it seems to me, looking back now, one street or
alley, lane or court, in Blois which I did not visit again and
again in my frantic wanderings; not a beggar skulking on foot
that night whom I did not hunt down and question; not a wretched
woman sleeping in arch or doorway whom I did not see and
scrutinise. I returned to my mother's lodging again and again,
always fruitlessly. I rushed to the stables and rushed away
again, or stood and listened in the dark, empty stalls, wondering
what had happened, and torturing myself with suggestions of this
or that. And everywhere, not only at the North-gate, where I
interrogated the porters and found that no party resembling that
which I sought had passed out, but on the PARVIS of the
Cathedral, where a guard was drawn up, and in the common streets,
where I burst in on one group and another with my queries, I ran
the risk of suspicion and arrest, and all that might follow
thereon.

It was strange indeed that I escaped arrest. The wound in my
chin still bled at intervals, staining my doublet; and as I was
without my cloak, which I had left in the house in the Rue
Valois, I had nothing to cover my disordered dress. I was
keenly, fiercely anxious. Stray passers meeting me in the glare
of a torch, or seeing me hurry by the great braziers which burned
where four streets met, looked askance at me and gave me the
wall; while men in authority cried to me to stay and answer their
questions. I ran from the one and the other with the same savage
impatience, disregarding everything in the feverish anxiety which
spurred me on and impelled me to a hundred imprudences, such as
at my age I should have blushed to commit. Much of this feeling
was due, no doubt, to the glimpse I had had of mademoiselle, and
the fiery words she had spoken; more, I fancy, to chagrin and
anger at the manner in which the cup of success had been dashed
at the last moment from my lips.

For four hours I wandered through the streets, now hot with
purpose, now seeking aimlessly. It was ten o'clock when at
length I gave up the search, and, worn out both in body and mind,
climbed the stairs at my mother's lodgings and entered her room.
An old woman sat by the fire, crooning softly to herself, while
she stirred something in a black pot. My mother lay in the same
heavy, deep sleep in which I had left her. I sat down opposite
the nurse (who cried out at my appearance) and asked her dully
for some food. When I had eaten it, sitting in a kind of stupor
the while, the result partly of my late exertions, and partly of
the silence which prevailed round me, I bade the woman call me if
any change took place; and then going heavily across to the
garret Simon had occupied, I lay down on his pallet, and fell
into a sound, dreamless sleep.

The next day and the next night I spent beside my mother,
watching the life ebb fast away, and thinking with grave sorrow
of her past and my future. It pained me beyond measure to see
her die thus, in a garret, without proper attendance or any but
bare comforts; the existence which had once been bright and
prosperous ending in penury and gloom, such as my mother's love
and hope and self-sacrifice little deserved. Her state grieved
me sharply on my own account too, seeing that I had formed none
of those familiar relations which men of my age have commonly
formed, and which console them for the loss of parents and
forbears; Nature so ordering it, as I have taken note, that men
look forward rather than backward, and find in the ties they form
with the future full compensation for the parting strands behind
them. I was alone, poverty-stricken, and in middle life, seeing
nothing before me except danger and hardship, and these
unrelieved by hope or affection. This last adventure, too,
despite all my efforts, had sunk me deeper in the mire; by
increasing my enemies and alienating from me some to whom I might
have turned at the worst. In one other respect also it had added
to my troubles not a little; for the image of mademoiselle
wandering alone and unguarded through the streets, or vainly
calling on me for help, persisted in thrusting itself on my
imagination when I least wanted it, and came even between my
mother's patient face and me.

I was sitting beside Madame de Bonne a little after sunset on the
second day, the woman who attended her being absent on an errand,
when I remarked that the lamp, which had been recently lit, and
stood on a stool in the middle of the room, was burning low and
needed snuffing. I went to it softly, and while stooping over
it, trying to improve the light, heard a slow, heavy step
ascending the stairs. The house was quiet, and the sound
attracted my full attention. I raised myself and stood
listening, hoping that this might be the doctor, who had not been
that day.

The footsteps passed the landing below, but at the first stair of
the next flight the person, whoever it was, stumbled, and made a
considerable noise. At that, or it might be a moment later, the
step still ascending, I heard a sudden rustling behind me, and,
turning quickly with a start, saw my mother sitting up in bed.
Her eyes were open, and she seemed fully conscious; which she had
not been for days, nor indeed since the last conversation I have
recorded. But her face, though it was now sensible, was pinched
and white, and so drawn with mortal fear that I believed her
dying, and sprang to her, unable to construe otherwise the
pitiful look in her straining eyes.

'Madame,' I said, hastily passing my arm round her, and speaking
with as much encouragement as I could infuse into my voice, 'take
comfort. I am here. Your son.'

'Hush!' she muttered in answer, laying her feeble hand on my
wrist and continuing to look, not at me, but at the door.
'Listen, Gaston! Don't you hear? There it is again. Again!'

For a moment I thought her mind still wandered, and I shivered,
having no fondness for hearing such things. Then I saw she was
listening intently to the sound which had attracted my notice.
The step had reached the landing by this time. The visitor,
whoever it was, paused there a moment, being in darkness, and
uncertain, perhaps, of the position of the door; but in a little
while I heard him move forward again, my mother's fragile form,
clasped as it was in my embrace, quivering with each step he
took, as though his weight stirred the house. He tapped at the
door.

I had thought, while I listened and wondered, of more than one
whom this might be: the leech, Simon Fleix, Madame Bruhl,
Fresnoy even. But as the tap came, and I felt my mother tremble
in my arms, enlightenment came with it, and I pondered no more, I
knew as well as if she hail spoken and told me. There could be
only one man whose presence had such power to terrify her, only
one whose mere step, sounding through the veil, could drag her
back to consciousness and fear! And that was the man who had
beggared her, who had traded so long on her terrors.

I moved a little, intending to cross the floor softly, that when
he opened the door he might find me face to face with him; but
she detected the movement, and, love giving her strength, she
clung to my wrist so fiercely that I had not the heart, knowing
how slender was her hold on life and how near the brink she
stood, to break from her. I constrained myself to stand still,
though every muscle grew tense as a drawn bowstring, and I felt
the strong rage rising in my throat and choking me as I waited
for him to enter.

A log on the hearth gave way with a dull sound startling in the
silence. The man tapped again, and getting no answer, for
neither of us spoke, pushed the door slowly open, uttering before
he showed himself the words, 'Dieu vous benisse!' in a voice so
low and smooth I shuddered at the sound. The next moment he came
in and saw me, and, starting, stood at gaze, his head thrust
slightly forward, his shoulders bent, his hand still on the
latch, amazement and frowning spite in turn distorting his lean
face. He had looked to find a weak, defenceless woman, whom he
could torture and rob at his will; he saw instead a strong man
armed, whose righteous anger he must have been blind indeed had
he failed to read.

Strangest thing of all, we had met before! I knew him at once--
he me. He was the same Jacobin monk whom I had seen at the inn
on the Claine, and who had told me the news of Guise's death!

I uttered an exclamation of surprise on making this discovery,
and my mother, freed suddenly, as it seemed, from the spell of
fear, which had given her unnatural strength, sank back on the
bed. Her grasp relaxed, and her breath came and went with so
loud a rattle that I removed my gaze from him, and bent over her,
full of concern and solicitude. Our eyes met. She tried to
speak, and at last gasped, 'Not now, Gaston! Let him--let him--'

Her lips framed the word 'go,' but she could not give it sound.
I understood, however, and in impotent wrath I waved my hand to
him to begone. When I looked up he had already obeyed me. He
had seized the first opportunity to escape. The door was closed,
the lamp burned steadily, and we were alone.

I gave her a little Armagnac, which stood beside the bed for such
an occasion, and she revived, and presently opened her eyes. But
I saw at once a great change in her. The look of fear had passed
altogether from her face, and one of sorrow, yet content, had
taken its place. She laid her hand in mine, and looked up at me,
being too weak, as I thought, to speak. But by-and-by, when the
strong spirit had done its work, she signed to me to lower my
head to her mouth.

'The King of Navarre,' she murmured-you are sure, Gaston--he will
retain you is your--employments?'

Her pleading eyes were so close to mine, I felt no scruples such
as some might have felt, seeing her so near death; but I
answered firmly and cheerfully, 'Madame, I am assured of it.
There is no prince in Europe so trustworthy or so good to his
servants.'

She sighed with infinite content, and blessed him in a feeble
whisper. 'And if you live,' she went on, 'you will rebuild the
old house, Gaston. The walls are sound yet. And the oak in the
hall was not burned. There is a chest of linen at Gil's, and a
chest with your father's gold lace--but that is pledged,' she
added dreamily. 'I forgot.'

'Madame,' I answered solemnly, 'it shall be done--it shall be
done as you wish, if the power lie with me.'

She lay for some time after that murmuring prayers, her head
supported on my shoulder. I longed impatiently for the nurse to
return, that I might despatch her for the leech; not that I
thought anything could be done, but for my own comfort and
greater satisfaction afterwards, and that my mother might not die
without some fitting attendance. The house remained quiet,
however, with that impressive quietness which sobers the heart at
such times, and I could not do this. And about six o'clock my
mother opened her eyes again.

'This is not Marsac,' she murmured abruptly, her eyes roving from
the ceiling to the wall at the foot of the bed.

No, Madame,' I answered, leaning over her, 'you are in Blois.
But I am here--Gaston, your son.'

She looked at me, a faint smile of pleasure stealing over her
pinched face. 'Twelve thousand livres a year,' she whispered,
rather to herself than to me, 'and an establishment, reduced a
little, yet creditable, very creditable.' For a moment she
seemed to be dying in my arms, but again opened her eyes quickly
and looked me in the face. 'Gaston?' she said, suddenly and
strangely. 'Who said Gaston? He is with the King--I have
blessed him; and his days shall be long in the land!' Then,
raising herself in my arms with a last effort of strength, she
cried loudly, 'Way there! Way for my son, the Sieur de Marsac!'

They were her last words. When I laid her down on the bed a
moment later, she was dead, and I was alone.

Madame de Bonne, my mother, was seventy at the time of her death,
having survived my father eighteen years. She was Marie de Loche
de Loheac, third daughter of Raoul, Sieur de Loheac, on the
Vilaine, and by her great-grandmother, a daughter of Jean de
Laval, was descended from the ducal family of Rohan, a
relationship which in after-times, and under greatly altered
circumstances, Henry Duke of Rohan condescended to acknowledge,
honouring me with his friendship on more occasions than one. Her
death, which I have here recorded, took place on the fourth of
January, the Queen-Mother of France, Catherine de Medicis, dying
a little after noon on the following day.

In Blois, as in every other town, even Paris itself, the
Huguenots possessed at this time a powerful organisation; and
with the aid of the surgeon, who showed me much respect in my
bereavement, and exercised in my behalf all the influence which
skilful and honest; men of his craft invariably possess, I was
able to arrange for my mother's burial in a private ground about
a league beyond the walls and near the village of Chaverny. At
the time of her death I had only thirty crowns in gold remaining,
Simon Fleix, to whose fate I could obtain no clue, having carried
off thirty-five with the horses. The whole of this residue,
however, with the exception of a handsome gratuity to the nurse
and a trifle spent on my clothes, I expended on the funeral,
desiring that no stain should rest on my mother's birth or my
affection. Accordingly, though the ceremony was of necessity
private, and indeed secret, and the mourners were few, it lacked
nothing, I think, of the decency and propriety which my mother
loved; and which she preferred, I have often heard her say, to
the vulgar show that is equally at the command of the noble and
the farmer of taxes.

Until she was laid in her quiet resting-place I stood in constant
fear of some interruption on the part either of Bruhl, whose
connection with Fresnoy and the abduction I did not doubt, or of
the Jacobin monk. But none came; and nothing happening to
enlighten me as to the fate of Mademoiselle de la Vire, I saw my
duty clear before me. I disposed of the furniture of my mother's
room, and indeed of everything which was saleable, and raised in
this way enough money to buy myself a new cloak--without which I
could not travel in the wintry weather--and to hire a horse.
Sorry as the animal was, the dealer required security, and I had
none to offer. It was only at the last moment, I bethought me of
the fragment of gold chain which mademoiselle had left behind
her, and which, as well as my mother's rings and vinaigrette, I
had kept back from the sale. This I was forced to lodge with
him. Having thus, with some pain and more humiliation, provided
means for the journey, I lost not an hour in beginning it. On
the eighth of January I set oat for Rosny, to carry the news of
my ill-success and of mademoiselle's position whither I had
looked a week before to carry herself.

CHAPTER XII.

MAXIMILIAN DE BETHUNE, BARON DE ROSNY.

I looked to make the journey to Rosny in two days. But the
heaviness of the roads and the sorry condition of my hackney
hindered me so greatly that I lay the second night at Dreux, and,
hearing the way was still worse between that place and my
destination, began to think that I should be fortunate if I
reached Rosny by the following noon. The country in this part
seemed devoted to the League, the feeling increasing in violence
as I approached the Seine. I heard nothing save abuse of the
King of France and praise of the Guise princes, and had much ado,
keeping a still tongue and riding modestly, to pass without
molestation or inquiry.

Drawing near to Rosny, on the third morning, through a low marshy
country covered with woods and alive with game of all kinds, I
began to occupy myself with thoughts of the reception I was
likely to encounter; which, I conjectured, would be none of the
most pleasant. The daring and vigour of the Baron de Rosny, who
had at this time the reputation of being in all parts of France
at once, and the familiar terms on which he was known to live
with the King of Navarre, gave me small reason to hope that he
would listen with indulgence to such a tale as I had to tell.
The nearer I came to the hour of telling it, indeed, the more
improbable seemed some of its parts, and the more glaring my own
carelessness in losing the token, and in letting mademoiselle out
of my sight in such a place as Blois. I saw this so clearly now,
and more clearly as the morning advanced, that I do not know that
I ever anticipated anything with more fear than this explanation;
which it yet seemed my duty to offer with all reasonable speed.
The morning was warm, I remember; cloudy, yet not dark; the air
near at hand full of moisture and very clear, with a circle of
mist rising some way off, and filling the woods with blue
distances. The road was deep and foundrous, and as I was obliged
to leave it from time to time in order to pass the worst places,
I presently began to fear that I had strayed into a by-road.
After advancing some distance, in doubt whether I should
persevere or turn back, I was glad to see before me a small house
placed at the junction of several woodland paths. From the bush
which hung over the door, and a water-trough which stood beside
it, I judged the place to be an inn; and determining to get my
horse fed before I went farther, I rode up to the door and rapped
on it with my riding-switch.

The position of the house was so remote that I was surprised to
see three or four heads thrust immediately out of a window. For
a moment I thought I should have done better to have passed by;
but the landlord coming out very civilly, and leading the way to
a shed beside the house, I reflected that I had little to lose,
and followed him. I found, as I expected, four horses tied up in
the shed, the bits hanging round their necks and their girths
loosed; while my surprise was not lessened by the arrival, before
I had fastened up my own horse, of a sixth rider, who, seeing us
by the shed, rode up to us, and saluted me as he dismounted.

He was a tall, strong man in the prime of youth, wearing a plain,
almost mean suit of dust-coloured leather, and carrying no
weapons except a hunting-knife, which hung in a sheath at his
girdle. He rode a powerful silver-roan horse, and was splashed
to the top of his high untanned boots, as if he had come by the
worst of paths, if by any.

He cast a shrewd glance at the landlord as he led his horse into
the shed; and I judged from his brown complexion and quick eyes
that he had seen much weather and lived an out-of-door life.

He watched me somewhat curiously while I mixed the fodder for my
horse; and when I went into the house and sat down in the first
room I came to, to eat a little bread-and-cheese which I had in
my pouch, he joined me almost immediately. Apparently he could
not stomach my poor fare, however, for after watching me for a
time in silence, switching his boot with his whip the while, he
called the landlord, and asked him, in a masterful way, what
fresh meat he had, and particularly if he had any lean collops,
or a fowl.

The fellow answered that there was nothing. His honour could
have some Lisieux cheese, he added, or some stewed lentils.

'His honour does not want cheese,' the stranger answered
peevishly, 'nor lentil porridge. And what is this I smell, my
friend?' he continued, beginning suddenly to sniff with vigour.
'I swear I smell cooking.'

'It is the hind-quarter of a buck, which is cooking for the four
gentlemen of the Robe; with a collop or two to follow,' the
landlord explained; and humbly excused himself on the ground that
the gentlemen had strictly engaged it for their own eating.

'What? A whole quarter! AND a collop or two to follow!' the
stranger retorted, smacking his lips. 'Who are they?'

'Two advocates and their clerks from the Parliament of Paris.
They have been viewing a boundary near here, and are returning
this afternoon,' the landlord answered.

'No reason why they should cause a famine!' ejaculated the
stranger with energy. 'Go to them and say a gentleman, who has
ridden far, and fasted since seven this morning, requests
permission to sit at their table. A quarter of venison and a
collop or two among four!' he continued, in a tone of extreme
disgust, 'It is intolerable! And advocates! Why, at that rate,
the King of France should eat a whole buck, and rise hungry!
Don't you agree with me, sir?' he continued, turning on me and
putting the question abruptly.

He was so comically and yet so seriously angry, and looked so
closely at me as he spoke, that I hastened to say I agreed with
him perfectly.

'Yet you eat cheese, sir!' he retorted irritably.

I saw that, not withstanding the simplicity of his dress, he was
a gentleman, and so, forbearing to take offence, I told him
plainly that my purse being light I travelled rather as I could
than as I would.

'Is it so?' he answered hastily. 'Had I known that, I would
have joined you in the cheese! After all, I would rather fast
with a gentleman, than feast with a churl. But it is too late
now. Seeing you mix the fodder, I thought your pockets were
full.'

'The nag is tired, and has done its best,' I answered.

He looked at me curiously, and as though he would say more.
But the landlord returning at that moment, he turned to him
instead.

'Well!' he said briskly. 'Is it all right?'

'I am sorry, your honour,' the man answered, reluctantly, and
with a very downcast air, 'but the gentlemen beg to be excused.'

'Zounds!' cried my companion roundly. 'They do, do they?'

'They say they have no more, sir,' the landlord continued,
faltering, 'than enough for themselves and a little dog they have
with them.'

A shout of laughter which issued at that moment from the other
room seemed to show that the quartette were making merry over my
companion's request. I saw his cheek redden, and looked for an
explosion of anger on his part; but instead he stood a moment in
thought in the middle of the floor, and then, much to the
innkeeper's relief, pushed a stool towards me, and called for a
bottle of the best wine. He pleasantly begged leave to eat a
little of my cheese, which he said looked better than the
Lisieux, and, filling my glass with wine, fell to as merrily as
if he had never heard of the party in the other room.

I was more than a little surprised, I remember; for I had taken
him to be a passionate man, and not one to sit down under an
affront. Still I said nothing, and we conversed very well
together. I noticed, however, that he stopped speaking more than
once, as though to listen; but conceiving that he was merely
reverting to the party in the other room, who grew each moment
more uproarious, I said nothing, and was completely taken by
surprise when he rose on a sudden, and, going to the open window,
leaned out, shading his eyes with his hand.

'What is it?' I said, preparing to follow him.

He answered by a quiet chuckle. 'You shall see,' he added the
next instant.

I rose, and going to the window looked out over his shoulder.
Three men were approaching the inn on horseback. The first, a
great burly, dark-complexioned man with fierce black eyes and a
feathered cap, had pistols in his holsters and a short sword by
his side. The other two, with the air of servants, were stout
fellows, wearing green doublets and leather breeches. All three
rode good horses, while a footman led two hounds after them in a
leash. On seeing us they cantered forward, the leader waving his
bonnet.

'Halt, there!' cried my companion, lifting up his voice when
they were within a stone's throw of us. 'Maignan!'

'My lord?' answered he of the feather, pulling up on the
instant.

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