A Gentleman of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> A Gentleman of France

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'Yes,' he replied quickly. 'The king has signed it at the
instance of Marshal Retz.'

'But for what?' I cried in amazement.

'The murder of Father Antoine. You will pardon me,' he continued
urgently, 'but this is no time for words. The Provost-Marshal is
even now on his way to arrest you. Your only hope is to evade
him, and gain an audience of the king. I have persuaded my uncle
to go with you, and he is waiting at his lodgings. There is not
a moment to be lost, however, if you would reach the king's
presence before you are arrested.'

'But I am innocent!' I cried.

'I know it,' M. d'Agen answered, 'and can prove it. But if you
cannot get speech of the king innocence will avail you nothing.
You have powerful enemies. Come without more ado, M. de Marsac,
I pray,' he added.

His manner, even more than his words, impressed me with a sense
of urgency; and postponing for a time my own judgment, I
hurriedly thanked him for his friendly offices. Snatching up my
sword, which lay on a chair, I buckled it on; for Simon's fingers
trembled so violently he could give me no help. This done I
nodded to M. d'Agen to go first, and followed him from the room,
Simon attending us of his own motion. It would be then about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon.

My companion ran down the stairs without ceremony, and so quickly
it was all I could do to keep up with him. At the outer door he
signed me to stand, and darting himself into the street, he
looked anxiously in the direction of the Rue St. Denys.
Fortunately the coast was still clear, and he beckoned to me to
follow him. I did so and starting to walk in the opposite
direction as fast as we could, in less than a minute we had put a
corner between us and the house.

Our hopes of escaping unseen, however, were promptly dashed. The
house, I have said, stood in a quiet by-street, which was bounded
on the farther side by a garden-wall buttressed at intervals. We
had scarcely gone a dozen paces from my door when a man slipped
from the shelter of one of these buttresses, and after a single
glance at us, set off to run towards the Rue St. Denys.

M. d'Agen looked back and nodded. 'There goes the news,' he
said. 'They will try to cut us off, but I think we have the
start of them.'

I made no reply, feeling that I had resigned myself entirely into
his hands. But as we passed through the Rue de Valois, in part
of which a market was held at this hour, attracting a
considerable concourse of peasants and others, I fancied I
detected signs of unusual bustle and excitement. It seemed
unlikely that news of the priest's murder should affect so many
people and to such a degree, and I asked M. d'Agen what it meant.

'There is a rumour abroad,' he answered, without slackening
speed, 'that the king intends to move south to Tours at once.'

I muttered my surprise and satisfaction. 'He will come to terms
with the Huguenots then?' I said.

'It looks like it,' M. d'Agen rejoined. 'Retz's party are in an
ill-humour on that account, and will wreak it on you if they get
a chance. On guard!' he added abruptly. 'Here are two of
them!'

As he spoke we emerged from the crowd, and I saw, half a dozen
paces in front; of us, and coming to meet us, a couple of Court
gallants, attended by as many servants. They espied us at the
same moment, and came across the street, which was tolerably wide
at that part, with the evident intention of stopping us.
Simultaneously, however, we crossed to take their side, and so
met them face to face in the middle of the way.

'M. d'Agen,' the foremost exclaimed, speaking in a haughty tone,
and with a dark side glance at me, 'I am sorry to see you in such
company! Doubtless you are not aware that this gentleman is the
subject of an order which has even now been issued to the
Provost-Marshal.'

'And if so, sir? What of that?' my companion lisped in his
silkiest tone.

'What of that?' the other cried, frowning, and pushing slightly
forward.

'Precisely,' M. d'Agen repeated, laying his hand on his hilt and
declining to give back. 'I am not aware that his Majesty has
appointed you Provost-Marshal, or that you have any warrant, M.
Villequier, empowering you to stop gentlemen in the public
streets.'

M. Villequier reddened with anger. 'You are young, M. d'Agen,'
he said, his voice quivering, 'or I would make you pay dearly for
that!'

'My friend is not young,' M. d'Agen retorted, bowing. 'He is a
gentleman of birth, M. Villequier; by repute, as I learned
yesterday, one of the best swordsmen in France, and no Gascon.
If you feel inclined to arrest him, do so, I pray. And I will
have the honour of engaging your son.'

As we had all by this time our hands on our swords, there needed
but a blow to bring about one of those street brawls which were
more common then than now. A number of market-people, drawn to
the spot by our raised voices, had gathered round, and were
waiting eagerly to see what would happen. But Villeqier, as my
companion perhaps knew, was a Gascon in heart as well as by
birth, and seeing our determined aspects, thought better of it.
Shrugging his shoulders with an affectation of disdain which
imposed on no one, he signalled to his servants to go on, and
himself stood aside.

'I thank you for your polite offer,' he said with an evil smile,
'and will remember it. But as you say, sir, I am not the
Provost-Marshal.'

Paying little heed to his words, we bowed, passed him, and
hurried on. But the peril was not over. Not only had the
RENCONTRE cost us some precious minutes, but the Gascon, after
letting us proceed a little way, followed us. And word being
passed by his servants, as we supposed, that one of us was the
murderer of Father Antoine, the rumour spread through the crowd
like wildfire, and in a few moments we found ourselves attended
by a troop of CANAILLE who, hanging on our skirts, caused Simon
Fleix no little apprehension. Notwithstanding the contempt which
M. d'Agen, whose bearing throughout was admirable, expressed for
them, we might have found it necessary to turn and teach them a
lesson had we not reached M. de Rambouillet's in the nick of
time; where we found the door surrounded by half a dozen armed
servants, at sight of whom our persecutors fell back with the
cowardice which is usually found in that class.

If I had been tempted of late to think M. de Rambouillet fickle,
I had no reason to complain now; whether his attitude was due to
M. d'Agen's representations, or to the reflection that without me
the plans he had at heart must miscarry. I found him waiting
within, attended by three gentlemen, all cloaked and ready for
the road; while the air of purpose, which sat on his brow
indicated that he thought the crisis no common one. Not a moment
was lost, even in explanations. Waving me to the door again, and
exchanging a few sentences with his nephew, he gave the word to
start, and we issued from the house in a body. Doubtless the
fact that those who sought to ruin me were his political enemies
had some weight with him; for I saw his face harden as his eyes
met those of M. de Villequier, who passed slowly before the door
as we came out. The Gascon, however, was not the man to
interfere with so large a party, and dropped back; while M. de
Rambouillet, after exchanging a cold salute with him, led the way
towards the Castle at a round pace. His nephew and I walked one
on either side of him, and the others, to the number of ten or
eleven, pressed on behind in a compact body, our cortege
presenting so determined a front that the crowd, which had
remained hanging about the door, fled every way. Even some
peaceable folk who found themselves in our road took the
precaution of slipping into doorways, or stood aside to give us
the full width of the street.

I remarked--and I think it increased my anxiety--that our leader
was dressed with more than usual care and richness, but, unlike
his attendants, wore no arms. He took occasion, as we hurried
along, to give me a word of advice. 'M. de Marsac,' he said,
looking at me suddenly, 'my nephew has given me to understand
that you place yourself entirely in my hands.'

I replied that I asked for no better fortune, and, whatever the
event, thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

'Be pleased then to keep silence until I bid you speak,' he
replied sharply, for he was one of those whom a sudden stress
sours and exacerbates. 'And, above all, no violence without my
orders. We are about to fight a battle, and a critical one, but
it must be won with our heads. If we can we will keep you out of
the Provost-Marshal's hands.'

And if not? I remembered the threats Father Antoine had used,
and in a moment I lost sight of the street with all its light and
life and movement. I felt no longer the wholesome stinging of
the wind. I tasted instead a fetid air, and saw round me a
narrow cell and masked figures, and in particular a swarthy man
is a leather apron leaning over a brazier, from which came lurid
flames. And I was bound. I experienced that utter helplessness
which is the last test of courage. The man came forward, and
then--then, thank God! the vision passed away. An exclamation
to which M. d'Agen gave vent, brought me back to the present, and
to the blessed knowledge that the fight was not yet over.

We were within a score of paces, I found, of the Castle gates;
but so were also a second party, who had just debouched from a
side-street, and now hurried on, pace for pace, with us, with the
evident intention of forestalling us, The race ended in both
companies reaching the entrance at the same time, with the
consequence of some jostling taking place amongst the servants.
This must have led to blows but for the strenuous commands which
M. de Rambouillet had laid upon his followers. I found myself in
a moment confronted by a row of scowling faces, while a dozen
threatening hands were stretched out towards me, and as many
voices, among which I recognised Fresnoy's, cried out
tumultuously, 'That is he! That is the one!'

An elderly man in a quaint dress stepped forward, a paper in his
hand, and, backed as he was by half a dozen halberdiers, would in
a moment have laid hands on me if M. de Rambouillet had not
intervened with a negligent air of authority, which sat on him
the more gracefully as he held nothing but a riding-switch in his
hands. 'Tut, tut! What is this?' he said lightly. 'I am not
wont to have my people interfered with, M. Provost, without my
leave. You know me, I suppose?'

'Perfectly, M. le Marquis,' the man answered with dogged respect;
'but this is by the king's special command.'

'Very good,' my patron answered, quietly eyeing the faces behind
the Provost-Marshal, as if he were making a note of them; which
caused some of the gentlemen manifest uneasiness. 'That is soon
seen, for we are even now about to seek speech with his Majesty.'

'Not this gentleman,' the Provost-Marshal answered firmly,
raising his hand again. 'I cannot let him pass.'

'Yes, this gentleman too, by your leave,' the Marquis retorted,
lightly putting the hand aside with his cane.

'Sir,' said the other, retreating a step, and speaking with some
heat, 'this is no jest with all respect. I hold the king's own
order, and it may not be resisted.'

The nobleman tapped his silver comfit-box and smiled. 'I shall
be the last to resist it--if you have it,' he said languidly.

'You may read it for yourself,' the Provost-Marshal answered, his
patience exhausted.

M. de Rambouillet took the parchment with the ends of his
fingers, glanced at it, and gave it back. 'As I thought,' he
said, 'a manifest forgery.'

'A forgery!' cried the other, crimson with indignation. 'And I
had it from the hands of the king's own secretary!' At this
those behind murmured, some 'shame,' and some one thing and some
another--all with an air so threatening that the Marquis's
gentlemen closed up behind him, and M. d'Agen laughed rudely.

But M. de Rambouillet remained unmoved. 'You may have had it
from whom you please, sir,' he said. 'It is a forgery, and I
shall resist its execution. If you choose to await me here, I
will give you my word to render this gentleman to you within an
hour, should the order hold good. If you will not wait, I shall
command my servants to clear the way, and if ill happen, then the
responsibility will lie with you.'

He spoke in so resolute a manner it was not difficult to see that
something more was at stake than the arrest of a single man.
This was so; the real issue was whether the king, with whose
instability it was difficult to cope, should fall back into the
hands of his old advisers or not. My arrest was a move in the
game intended as a counterblast to the victory which M. de
Rambouillet had gained when he persuaded the king to move to
Tours; a city in the neighbourhood of the Huguenots, and a place
of arms whence union with them would be easy.

The Provost-Marshal could, no doubt, make a shrewd guess at these
things. He knew that the order he had would be held valid or not
according as one party or the other gained the mastery; and,
seeing M. de Rambouillet's resolute demeanour, he gave way.
Rudely interrupted more than once by his attendants, among whom
were some of Bruhl's men, he muttered an ungracious assent to our
proposal; on which, and without a moment's delay, the Marquis
took me by the arm and hurried me across the courtyard.

And so far, well. My heart began to rise. But, for the Marquis,
as we mounted the staircase the anxiety he had dissembled while
we faced the Provost-Marshal, broke out in angry mutterings; from
which I gathered that the crisis was yet to come. I was not
surprised, therefore, when an usher rose on our appearance in the
antechamber, and, quickly crossing the floor, interposed between
us and the door of the chamber, informing the Marquis with a low
obeisance that his Majesty was engaged.

'He will see me,' M. de Rambouillet cried, looking haughtily
round on the sneering pages and lounging courtiers, who grew
civil under his eye.

'I have particular orders, sir, to admit so one,' the man
answered.

'Tut, tut, they do not apply to me,' my companion retorted,
nothing daunted. 'I know the business on which the king is
engaged, and I am here to assist him.' And raising his hand he
thrust the startled official aside, and hardily pushed the doors
of the chamber open.

The king, surrounded by half a dozen persons, was in the act of
putting on his riding-boots. On hearing us, he turned his head
with a startled air, and dropped in his confusion one of the
ivory cylinders he was using; while his aspect, and that of the
persons who stood round him, reminded me irresistibly of a party
of schoolboys detected in a fault.

He recovered himself, it is true, almost immediately; and turning
his back to us? continued to talk to the persons round him on
such trifling subjects as commonly engaged him. He carried on
this conversation in a very free way, studiously ignoring our
presence; but it was plain he remained aware of it, and even that
he was uneasy under the cold and severe gaze which the Marquis,
who seemed in nowise affrighted by his reception, bent upon him.

I, for my part, had no longer any confidence. Nay, I came near
to regretting that I had persevered in an attempt so useless.
The warrant which awaited me at the gates seemed less formidable
than his Majesty's growing displeasure; which I saw I was
incurring by remaining where I was. It needed not the insolent
glance of Marshal Retz, who lounged smiling by the king's hand,
or the laughter of a couple of pages who stood at the head of the
chamber, to deprive me of my last hope; while some things which
might have cheered me--the uneasiness of some about the king, and
the disquietude which underlay Marshal Retz's manner--escaped my
notice altogether.

What I did see clearly was that the king's embarrassment was fast
changing to anger. The paint which reddened his cheeks prevented
tiny alteration in his colour being visible, but his frown and
the nervous manner in which he kept taking off and putting on his
jewelled cap betrayed him. At length, signing to one of his
companions to follow, he moved a little aside to a window,
whence, after a few moments, the gentleman came to us.

'M. de Rambouillet,' he said, speaking coldly and formally, 'his
Majesty is displeased by this gentleman's presence, and requires
him to withdraw forthwith.'

'His Majesty's word is law,' my patron answered, bowing low, and
speaking in a clear voice audible throughout; the chamber, 'but
the matter which brings this gentleman here is of the utmost
importance, and touches his Majesty's person.'

M. de Retz laughed jeeringly. The other courtiers looked grave.
The king shrugged his shoulders with a peevish gesture, but after
a moment's hesitation, during which he looked first at Retz and
then at M. de Rambouillet, he signed to the Marquis to approach.

'Why have you brought him here?' he muttered sharply, looking
askance at me. 'He should have been bestowed according to my
orders.'

'He has information for your Majesty's private ear,' Rambouillet
answered. And he looked so meaningly at the king that Henry, I
think, remembered on a sudden his compact with Rosny, and my part
in it; for he started with the air of a man suddenly awakened.
'To prevent that information reaching you, sire,' my patron
continued, 'his enemies have practised on your Majesty's well-
known sense of justice.'

'Oh, but stay, stay!' the king cried, hitching forward the
scanty cloak he wore, which barely came down to his waist. 'The
man has killed a priest! He has killed a priest, man!'

He repeated with confidence, as if he had now got hold of the
right argument.

That is not so, sire, craving your Majesty's pardon, M. de
Rambouillet; replied with the utmost coolness.

'Tut! Tut! The evidence is clear,' the king said peevishly.

'As to that, sire,' my companion rejoined, 'if it is of the
murder of Father Antoine he is accused, I say boldly that there
is none.'

'Then there you are mistaken!' the king answered. 'I heard it
with my own ears this morning.'

'Will you deign, sire, to tell me its nature?' M. de Rambouillet
persisted.

But on that Marshal Retz thought it necessary to intervene.
'Need we turn his Majesty's chamber into a court of justice?' he
said smoothly. Hitherto he had not spoken; trusting, perhaps, to
the impression he had already made upon the king.

M. de Rambouillet took no notice of him.

'But Bruhl,' said the king, 'you see, Bruhl says--'

'Bruhl!' my companion replied, with so much contempt that Henry
started. 'Surely your Majesty has not taken his word against
this gentleman, of all people?'

Thus reminded, a second time, of the interests entrusted to me,
and of the advantage which Bruhl would gain by my disappearance,
the king looked first confused, and then angry. He vented his
passion in one or two profane oaths, with the childish addition
that we were all a set of traitors, and that he had no one whom
he could trust. But my companion had touched the right chord at
last; for when the king grew more composed, he waved aside
Marshal Retz's protestations, and sullenly bade Rambouillet say
what he had to say.

'The monk was killed, sire, about sunset,' he answered. 'Now my
nephew, M. d'Agen, is without, and will tell your Majesty that he
was with this gentleman at his lodgings from about an hour before
sunset last evening until a full hour after. Consequently, M. de
Marsac can hardly be the assassin, and M. le Marechal must look
elsewhere if he wants vengeance.'

'Justice, sir, not vengeance.' Marshal Retz said with a dark
glance. His keen Italian face hid his trouble well, but a little
pulse of passion beating in his olive cheek betrayed the secret
to those who knew him. He had a harder part to play than his
opponent; for while Rambouillet's hands were clean, Retz knew
himself a traitor, and liable at any moment to discovery and
punishment.

'Let M. d'Agen be called,' Henry said curtly.

'And if your Majesty pleases,' Retz added, 'M. de Bruhl also, If
you really intend, sire, that is, to reopen a matter which I
thought had been settled.'

The king nodded obstinately, his face furrowed with ill-temper.
He kept his shifty eyes, which seldom met those of the person he
addressed, on the floor; and this accentuated the awkward
stooping carriage which was natural to him. There were seven or
eight dogs of exceeding smallness in the room, and while we
waited for the persons who had been summoned, he kicked, now one
and now another of the baskets which held them, as if he found in
this some vent for his ill-humour.

The witnesses presently appeared, followed by several persons,
among whom were the Dukes of Nevers and Mercoeur, who came to
ride out with the king, and M. de Crillon; so that the chamber
grew passably full. The two dukes nodded formally to the
Marquis, as they passed him, but entered into a muttered
conversation with Retz, who appeared to be urging them to press
his cause. They seemed to decline, however, shrugging their
short cloaks as if the matter were too insignificant. Crillon on
his part cried audibly, and with an oath, to know what the matter
was; and being informed, asked whether all this fuss was being
made about a damned shaveling monk.

Henry, whose tenderness for the cowl was well known, darted an
angry glance at him, but contented himself with saying sharply to
M. d'Agen, 'Now, sir, what do you know about the matter?'

'One moment, sire,' M. Rambouillet cried, interposing before
Francois could answer. 'Craving your Majesty's pardon, you have
heard M. de Bruhl's account. May I, as a favour to myself, beg
you, sire, to permit us also to hear it?'

'What?' Marshal Retz exclaimed angrily, 'are we to be the
judges, then, or his Majesty? Arnidieu!' he continued hotly,
'what, in the fiend's name, have we to do with it? I protest
'fore Heaven--'

'Ay, sir, and what do you protest?' my champion retorted,
turning to him with stern disdain.

'Silence!' cried the king who had listened almost bewildered.
'Silence! By God, gentlemen,' he continued, his eye travelling
round the circle with a sparkle of royal anger in it not unworthy
of his crown, 'you forget yourselves. I will have none of this
quarrelling in my presence or out of it. I lost Quelus and
Maugiron that way, and loss enough, and I will have none of it, I
say! M. de Bruhl,' he added, standing erect, and looking for the
moment, with all his paint and frippery, a king, 'M. de Bruhl,
repeat your story.'

The feelings with which I listened to this controversy may be
imagined. Devoured in turn by hope and fear as now one side and
now the other seemed likely to prevail, I confronted at one
moment the gloom of the dungeon, and at another tasted the air of
freedom, which had never seemed so sweet before. Strong as these
feelings were, however, they gave way to curiosity at this point;
when I heard Bruhl called, and saw him come forward at the king's
command. Knowing this man to be himself guilty, I marvelled with
what face he would present himself before all those eyes, and
from what depths of impudence he could draw supplies in such an
emergency.

I need not have troubled myself, however, for he was fully equal
to the occasion. His high colour and piercing black eyes met the
gaze of friend and foe alike without flinching. Dressed well and
elegantly, he wore his raven hair curled in the mode, and looked
alike gay, handsome, and imperturbable. If there was a suspicion
of coarseness about his bulkier figure, as he stood beside M.
d'Agen, who was the courtier perfect and point devise, it went to
the scale of sincerity, seeing that men naturally associate truth
with strength.

'I know no more than this, sire,' he said easily; 'that,
happening to cross the Parvis at the moment of the murder, I
heard Father Antoine scream. He uttered four words only, in the
tone of a man in mortal peril. They were'--and here the speaker
looked for an instant at me--'Ha! Marsac! A moi!'

'Indeed!' M. de Rambouillet said, after looking to the king for
permission. 'And that was all? You saw nothing?'

Bruhl shook his head. 'It was too dark,' he said.

'And heard no more?'

'No.'

'Do I understand, then,' the Marquis continued slowly, 'that M.
de Marsac is arrested because the priest--God rest his soul!--
cried to him for help?'

'For help?' M. de Retz exclaimed fiercely.

'For help?' said the king, surprised. And at that the most;
ludicrous change fell upon the faces of all. The king looked
puzzled, the Duke of Nevers smiled, the Duke of Mercoeur laughed
aloud. Crillon cried boisterously, 'Good hit!' and the
majority, who wished no better than to divine the winning party,
grinned broadly, whether they would or no.

To Marshal Retz, however, and Bruhl, that which to everyone else
seemed an amusing retort had a totally different aspect; while
the former turned yellow with chagrin and came near to choking,
the latter looked as chapfallen and startled as if his guilt; had
been that moment brought home to him. Assured by the tone of the
monk's voice--which must, indeed, have thundered in his ears--
that my name was uttered in denunciation by one who thought me
his assailant, he had chosen to tell the truth without reflecting
that words, so plain to him, might; bear a different construction
when repeated.

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