A Gentleman of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> A Gentleman of France

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Her scorn hurt, though it did not anger me. I felt it to be in a
measure deserved, and raged against myself rather than against
her. But aware through all of the supreme importance of placing
her in safety, I subjected my immediate feelings to the
exigencies of the moment and stooped to an argument which would,
I thought, have weight though private pleading failed.

'Putting myself aside, mademoiselle,' I said, with more formality
than I had yet used, 'there is one consideration which must weigh
with you. The king--'

'The king!' she cried, interrupting me violently, her face hot
with passion and her whole person instinct with stubborn self-
will. 'I shall not see the king!'

'You will not see the king?' I repeated in amazement.

'No, I will not!' she answered, in a whirl of anger, scorn, and
impetuosity. 'There! I will not! I have been made a toy and a
tool long enough, M. de Marsac,' she continued, 'and I will serve
others' ends no more. I have made up my mind. Do not talk to
me; you will do no good, sir. I would to Heaven,' she added
bitterly, 'I had stayed at Chize and never seen this place!'

'But, mademoiselle,' I said, 'you have not thought--'

'Thought!' she exclaimed, shutting her small white teeth so
viciously I all but recoiled. 'I have thought enough. I am sick
of thought. I am going to act now. I will be a puppet no
longer. You may take me to the castle by force if you will; but
you cannot make me speak.'

I looked at her in the utmost dismay, and astonishment; being
unable at first to believe that a woman who had gone through so
much, had run so many risks, and ridden so many miles for a
purpose, would, when all was done and the hour come, decline to
carry out her plan. I could not believe it, I say, at first; and
I tried arguments, and entreaties without stint, thinking that
she only asked to be entreated or coaxed.

But I found prayers and even threats breath wasted upon her; and
beyond these I would not go. I know I have been blamed by some
and ridiculed by others for not pushing the matter farther; but
those who have stood face to face with a woman of spirit--a woman
whose very frailty and weakness fought for her--will better
understand the difficulties with which I had to contend and the
manner in which conviction was at last borne in on my mind. I
had never before confronted stubbornness of this kind. As
mademoiselle said again and again, I might force her to Court,
but I could not make her speak.

When I had tried every means of persuasion, and still found no
way of overcoming her resolution the while Fanchette looked on
with a face of wood, neither aiding me nor taking part against
me--I lost, I confess, in the chagrin of the moment that sense of
duty which had hitherto animated me; and though my relation to
mademoiselle should have made me as careful as ever of her
safety, even in her own despite, I left her at last in anger and
went out without saying another word about removing her--a thing
which was still in my power. I believe a very brief reflection
would have recalled me to myself and my duty; but the opportunity
was not given me, for I had scarcely reached the head of the
stairs before Fanchette came after me, and called to me in a
whisper to stop.

She held a taper in her hand, and this she raised to my face,
smiling at the disorder which she doubtless read there. 'Do you
say that this house is not safe?' she asked abruptly, lowering
the light as she spoke.

'You have tried a house in Blois before?' I replied with the
same bluntness. 'You should know as well as I, woman.'

'She must be taken from here, then,' she answered, nodding her
head, cunningly. 'I can persuade her. Do you send for your
people, and be here in half an hour. It may take me that time to
wheedle her. But I shall do it.'

'Then listen,' I said eagerly, seizing the opportunity and her
sleeve and drawing her farther from the door. 'If you can
persuade her to that, you can persuade to all I wish. Listen, my
friend,' I continued, sinking my voice still lower. 'If she will
see the king for only ten minutes, and tell him what she knows, I
will give you--'

'What?' the woman asked suddenly and harshly, drawing at the
same time her sleeve from my hand.

'Fifty crowns,' I replied, naming in my desperation a sum which
would seem a fortune to a person in her position. 'Fifty crowns
down, the moment the interview is over.'

'And for that you would have me sell her!' the woman cried with
a rude intensity of passion which struck me like a blow. 'For
shame! For shame, man! You persuaded her to leave her home and
her friends, and the country where she was known; and now you
would have me sell her! Shame on you! Go!' she added
scornfully. 'Go this instant and get your men. The king, say
you? The king! I tell you I would not have her finger ache to
save all your kings!'

She flounced away with that, and I retired crestfallen; wondering
much at the fidelity which Providence, doubtless for the well-
being of the gentle, possibly for the good of all, has implanted
in the humble. Finding Simon, to whom I had scarce patience to
speak, waiting on the stairs below, I despatched him to Maignan,
to bid him come to me with his men. Meanwhile I watched the
house myself until their arrival, and then, going up, found that
Fanchette had been as good as her word. Mademoiselle, with a
sullen mien, and a red spot on either cheek, consented to
descend, and, preceded by a couple of links, which Maignan had
thoughtfully provided, was escorted safely to my lodgings; where
I bestowed her in the rooms below my own, which I had designed
for her.

At the door she turned and bowed to me, her face on fire.

'So far, sir, you have got your way,' she said, breathing
quickly. 'Do not flatter yourself, however, that you will get it
farther--even by bribing my woman!'

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE LAST VALOIS.

I stood for a few moments on the stairs, wondering what I should
do in an emergency to which the Marquis's message of the
afternoon attached so pressing a character. Had it not been for
that I might have waited until morning, and felt tolerably
certain of finding mademoiselle in a more reasonable mood then.
But as it was I dared not wait. I dared not risk the delay, and
I came quickly to the conclusion that the only course open to me
was to go at once to M. de Rambouillet and tell him frankly how
the matter stood.

Maignan had posted one of his men at the open doorway leading
into the street, and fixed his own quarters on the landing at the
top, whence he could overlook an intruder without being seen
himself. Satisfied with the arrangement, I left Rambouillet's
man to reinforce him, and took with me Simon Fleix, of whose
conduct in regard to mademoiselle I entertained the gravest
doubts.

The night, I found on reaching the street, was cold, the sky
where it was visible between the eaves being bright with stars.
A sharp wind was blowing, too, compelling us to wrap our cloaks
round us and hurry on at a pace which agreed well with the
excitement of my thoughts. Assured that had mademoiselle been
complaisant I might have seen my mission accomplished within the
hour, it was impossible I should not feel impatient with one who,
to gratify a whim, played with the secrets of a kingdom as if
they were counters, and risked in passing ill-humour the results
of weeks of preparation. And I was impatient, and with her. But
my resentment fell so far short of the occasion that I wondered
uneasily at my own easiness, and felt more annoyed with myself
for failing to be properly annoyed with her, than inclined to lay
the blame where it was due. It was in vain I told myself
contemptuously that she was a woman and that women were not
accountable. I felt that the real secret and motive of my
indulgence lay, not in this, but in the suspicion, which her
reference to the favour given me on my departure from Rosny had
converted almost into a certainty, that I was myself the cause of
her sudden ill-humour.

I might have followed this train of thought farther, and to very
pertinent conclusions. But on reaching M. de Rambouillet's
lodging I was diverted from it by the abnormally quiet aspect of
the house, on the steps of which half a dozen servants might
commonly be seen lounging. Now the doors were closed, no lights
shone through the windows, and the hall sounded empty and
desolate when I knocked. Not a lackey hurried to receive me even
then; but the slipshod tread of the old porter, as he came with a
lantern to open, alone broke the silence. I waited eagerly
wondering what all this could mean; and when the man at last
opened, and, recognising my face, begged my pardon if he had kept
me waiting I asked him impatiently what was the matter.

'And where is the Marquis?' I added, stepping inside to be out
of the wind, and loosening my cloak.

'Have you not heard, sir?' the man asked, holding up his lantern
to my face. He was an old, wizened, lean fellow. 'It is a
break-up, sir, I am afraid, this time.'

'A break-up?' I rejoined, peevishly. 'Speak out, man! What is
the matter? I hate mysteries.'

You have not heard the news, sir? That the Duke of Mercoeur and
Marshal Retz, with all their people, left Blois this afternoon?'

'No?' I answered, somewhat startled. 'Whither are they gone?'

'To Paris, it is said, sir,--to join the League.'

'But do you mean that they have deserted the king?' I asked.

'For certain, sir!' he answered.

'Not the Duke of Mercoeur?' I exclaimed. 'Why, man, he is the
king's brother-in-law. He owes everything to him.'

'Well, he is gone, sir,' the old man answered positively. 'The
news was brought to M. le Marquis about four o'clock, or a little
after. He got his people together, and started after them to try
and persuade them to return. Or, so it is said.'

As quickly as I could, I reviewed the situation in my mind. If
this strange news were true, and men like Mercoeur, who had every
reason to stand by the king, as well as men like Retz, who had
long been suspected of disaffection, were abandoning the Court,
the danger must be coming close indeed. The king must feel his
throne already tottering, and be eager to grasp at any means of
supporting it. Under such circumstances it seemed to be my
paramount duty to reach him; to gain his ear if possible, and at
all risks; that I and not Bruhl, Navarre not Turenne, might
profit by the first impulse of self-preservation.

Bidding the porter shut his door and keep close, I hurried to the
Castle, and was presently more than confirmed in my resolution.
For to my surprise I found the Court in much the same state as M.
de Rambouillet's house. There were double guards indeed at the
gates, who let me pass after scrutinising me narrowly; but the
courtyard, which should have been at this hour ablaze with
torches and crowded with lackeys and grooms, was a dark
wilderness, in which half a dozen links trembled mournfully.
Passing through the doors I found things within in the same
state: the hall ill lit and desolate; the staircase manned only
by a few whispering groups, who scanned me as I passed; the ante-
chambers almost empty, or occupied by the grey uniforms of the
Switzer guards. Where I had looked, to see courtiers assembling
to meet their sovereign and assure him of their fidelity, I found
only gloomy faces, watchful eyes, and mouths ominously closed.
An air of constraint and foreboding rested on all. A single
footstep sounded hollowly. The long corridors, which had so
lately rung with laughter and the rattle of dice, seemed already
devoted to the silence, and desolation which awaited them when
the Court should depart. Where any spoke I caught the name of
Guise; and I could have fancied that his mighty shadow lay upon
the place and cursed it.

Entering the chamber, I found matters little better there. His
Majesty was not present, nor were any of the Court ladies; but
half a dozen gentlemen, among whom I recognised Revol, one of the
King's secretaries, stood near the alcove. They looked up on my
entrance, as though expecting news, and then, seeing who it was,
looked away again impatiently. The Duke of Nevers was walking
moodily to and fro before one of the windows, his hands clasped
behind his back: while Biron and Crillon, reconciled by the
common peril, talked loudly on the hearth. I hesitated a moment,
uncertain how to proceed, for I was not yet; so old at Court as
to feel at home there. But, at last making up my mind, I walked
boldly up to Crillon and requested his good offices to procure me
an immediate audience of the king.

'An audience? Do you mean you want to see him alone?' he said,
raising his eyebrows and looking whimsically at Biron.

'That is my petition, M. de Crillon,' I answered firmly, though
my heart sank. 'I am here on M. de Rambouillet's business, and I
need to see his Majesty forthwith,'

'Well, that is straightforward,' he replied, clapping me on the
shoulder. 'And you shall see him. In coming to Crillon you have
come to the right man. Revol,' he continued, turning to the
secretary, 'this gentleman bears a message from M. de Rambouillet
to the king. Take him to the closet without delay, my friend,
and announce him. I will be answerable for him.'

But the secretary shrugged his shoulders up to his ears. 'It is
quite impossible, M. de Crillon,' he said gravely. 'Quite
impossible at present.'

'Impossible! Chut! I do not know the word,' Crillon retorted
rudely. 'Come, take him at once, and blame me if ill comes of
it. Do you hear?'

'But his Majesty--'

'Well?'

'Is at his devotions,' the secretary said stiffly.

'His Majesty's devotions be hanged!' Crillon rejoined--so loudly
that there was a general titter, and M. de Nevers laughed grimly.
'Do you hear?' the Avennais continued, his face growing redder
and his voice higher, 'or must I pull your ears, my friend? Take
this gentleman to the closet, I say, and if his Majesty be angry,
tell him it was by my order. I tell you he comes from
Rambouillet.'

I do not know whether it was the threat, or the mention of M. de
Rambouillet's name, which convinced the secretary. But at any
rate, after a moment's hesitation, he acquiesced.

He nodded sullenly to me to follow him, and led the way to a
curtain which masked the door of the closet. I followed him
across the chamber, after muttering a hasty word of
acknowledgment to Crillon; and I had as nearly as possible
reached the door when the bustle of some one entering the chamber
caught my ear. I had just time to turn and see that this was
Bruhl, just time to intercept the dark look of chagrin and
surprise which he fixed on me, and then Revol, holding up the
curtain, signed to me to enter.

I expected to pass at once into the presence of the king, and had
my reverence ready. Instead, I found myself to my surprise in a
small chamber, or rather passage, curtained at both ends, and
occupied by a couple of guardsmen--members, doubtless, of the
Band of the Forty-Five who rose at my entrance and looked at me
dubiously. Their guard-room, dimly illumined by a lamp of red
glass, seemed to me, in spite of its curtains and velvet bench,
and the thick tapestry which kept out every breath of wholesome
air, the most sombre I could imagine. And the most ill-omened.
But I had no time to make any long observation; for Revol,
passing me brusquely, raised the curtain at the other end, and,
with his finger on his lip, bade me by signs to enter.

I did so as silently, the heavy scent of perfumes striking me in
the face as I raised a second curtain, and stopped short a pace
beyond it; partly in reverence--because kings love their subjects
best at a distance--and partly in surprise. For the room, or
rather that portion of it in which I stood, was in darkness; only
the farther end being illumined by a cold pale flood of
moonlight, which, passing through a high, straight window, lay in
a silvery sheet on the floor. For an instant I thought I was
alone; then I saw, resting against this window, with a hand on
either mullion, a tall figure, having something strange about the
head. This peculiarity presently resolved itself into the turban
in which I had once before seen his Majesty. The king--for he it
was--was talking to himself. He had not heard me enter, and
having his back to me remained unconscious of my presence.

I paused in doubt, afraid to advance, anxious to withdraw; yet
uncertain whether I could move again unheard. At this moment
while I stood hesitating, he raised his voice, and his words,
reaching my ears, riveted my attention, so strange and eerie were
both they and his tone. 'They say there is ill-luck in
thirteen,' he muttered. 'Thirteen Valois and last!' He paused
to laugh a wicked, mirthless laugh. 'Ay,--Thirteenth! And it is
thirteen years since I entered Paris, a crowned King! There were
Quelus and Maugiron and St. Megrin and I--and he, I remember.
Ah, those days, those nights! I would sell my soul to live them
again; had I not sold it long ago in the living them once! We
were young then, and rich, and I was king; and Quelus was an
Apollo! He died calling on me to save him. And Maugiron died,
blaspheming God and the saints. And St. Megrin, he had thirty-
four wounds. And he--he is dead too, curse him! They are all
dead, all dead, and it is all over! My God! it is all over, it
is all over, it is all over!'

He repeated the last four words more than a dozen times, rocking
himself to and fro by his hold on the mullions. I trembled as I
listened, partly through fear on my own account should I be
discovered, and partly by reason of the horror of despair and
remorse--no, not remorse, regret--which spoke in his monotonous
voice. I guessed that some impulse had led him to draw the
curtain from the window and shade the lamp; and that then, as he
looked down on the moonlit country, the contrast between it and
the vicious, heated atmosphere, heavy with intrigue and worse, in
which he had spent his strength, had forced itself upon his mind.
For he presently went on.

'France! There it lies! And what will they do with it? Will
they cut it up into pieces, as it was before old Louis XI? Will
Mercoeur--curse him! be the most Christian Duke of Brittany?
And Mayenne, by the grace of God, Prince of Paris and the Upper
Seine? Or will the little Prince of Bearn beat them, and be
Henry IV., King of France and Navarre, Protector of the Churches?
Curse him too! He is thirty-six. He is my age. But he is young
and strong, and has all before him. While I--I--oh, my God, have
mercy on me! Have mercy on me, O God in Heaven!'

With the last word he fell on his knees on the step before the
window, and burst into such an agony of unmanly tears and
sobbings as I had never dreamed of or imagined, and least of all
in the King of France. Hardly knowing whether to be more ashamed
or terrified, I turned at all risks, and stealthily lifting the
curtain, crept out with infinite care; and happily with so much
good fortune as to escape detection. There was space enough
between the two curtains to admit my body and no more; and here I
stood a short while to collect my thoughts. Then, striking my
scabbard against the wall, as though by accident, and coughing
loudly at the same moment, I twitched the curtain aside with some
violence and re-entered, thinking that by these means I had given
him warning enough.

But I had not reckoned on the darkness in which the room lay, or
the excitable state in which I had left him. He heard me,
indeed, but being able to see only a tall, indistinct figure
approaching him, he took fright, and falling back against the
moonlit window, as though he saw a ghost, thrust out his hand,
gasping at the same time two words, which sounded to me like 'Ha!
Guise!'

The next instant, discerning that I fell on my knee where I
stood, and came no nearer, he recovered himself. with an effort,
which his breathing made very apparent, he asked in an unsteady
voice who it was.

'One of your Majesty's most faithful servants,' I answered,
remaining on my knee, and affecting to see nothing.

Keeping his face towards me, he sidled to the lamp and strove to
withdraw the shade. But his fingers trembled so violently that
it was some time before he succeeded, and set free the cheerful
beams, which, suddenly filling the room with radiance, disclosed
to my wondering eyes, instead of darkness and the cold gleam of
the moon, a profusion of riches, of red stuffs and gemmed trifles
and gilded arms crowded together in reckless disorder. A monkey
chained in one corner began to gibber and mow at me. A cloak of
strange cut, stretched on a wooden stand, deceived me for an
instant into thinking that there was a third person present;
while the table, heaped with dolls and powder-puff's, dog-collars
and sweet-meats, a mask, a woman's slipper, a pair of pistols,
some potions, a scourge, and an immense quantity of like litter,
had as melancholy an appearance in my eyes as the king himself,
whose disorder the light disclosed without mercy. His turban was
awry, and betrayed the premature baldness of his scalp. The
paint on his cheeks was cracked and stained, and had soiled the
gloves he wore. He looked fifty years old; and in his excitement
he had tugged his sword to the front, whence it refused to be
thrust back.

'Who sent you here?' he asked, when he had so far recovered his
senses as to recognise me, which he did with great surprise.

'I am here, sire,' I answered evasively, 'to place myself at your
Majesty's service.'

'Such loyalty is rare,' he answered, with a bitter sneer. 'But
stand up, sir. I suppose I must be thankful for small mercies,
and, losing a Mercoeur, be glad to receive a Marsac.'

'By your leave, sire,' I rejoined hardily, 'the exchange is not
so adverse. Your Majesty may make another duke when you will.
But honest men are not so easily come by.'

'So! so!' he answered, looking at me with a fierce light in his
eyes. 'You remind me in season, I may still make and unmake! I
am still King of France? That is so sirrah, is it not?'

'God forbid that it should be otherwise!' I answered earnestly.
'It is to lay before your Majesty certain means by which you may
give fuller effect to your wishes that I am here. The King of
Navarre desires only, sire--'

'Tut, tut!' he exclaimed impatiently, and with some displeasure,
'I know his will better than you, man. But you see,' he
continued cunningly, forgetting my inferior position as quickly
as he had remembered it, 'Turenne promises well, too. And
Turenne--it is true he may play the Lorrainer. But if I trust
Henry of Navarre, and he prove false to me--'

He did not complete the sentence, but strode to and fro a time or
two, his mind, which had a natural inclination towards crooked
courses, bent on some scheme by which he might play off the one
party against the other. Apparently he was not very successful
in finding one, however; or else the ill-luck with which he had
supported the League against the Huguenots recurred to his mind.
For he presently stopped, with a sigh, and came back to the
point.

'If I knew that Turenne were lying,' be muttered, 'then indeed--.
But Rosny promised evidence, and he has sent me none.'

'It is at hand, sire,' I answered, my heart beginning to beat,
'Your Majesty will remember that M. de Rosny honoured me with the
task of introducing it to you.'

'To be sure,' he replied, awaking as from a dream, and looking
and speaking eagerly. Matters to-day have driven everything out
of my head. Where is your witness, man? Convince me, and we
will act promptly. We will give them Jarnac and Moncontour over
again. Is he outside?'

'It is a woman, sire,' I made answer, dashed somewhat by his
sudden and feverish alacrity.

'A woman, eh? You have her here?'

'No, sire,' I replied, wondering what he would say to my next
piece of information. 'She is in Blois, she has arrived, but the
truth is--I humbly crave your Majesty's indulgence--she refuses
to come or speak. I cannot well bring her here by force, and I
have sought you, sire, for the purpose of taking your commands in
the matter.'

He stared at me in the utmost astonishment.

'Is she young?' he asked after a long pause.

'Yes, sire,' I answered. 'She is maid of honour to the Princess
of Navarre, and a ward also of the Vicomte de Turenne.'

'Gad! then she is worth hearing, the little rebel!' he replied.
'A ward Of Turenne's is she? Ho! ho! And now she will not
speak? My cousin of Navarre now would know how to bring her to
her senses, but I have eschewed these vanities. I might send and
have her brought, it is true; but a very little thing would cause
a barricade to-night.'

'And besides, sire,' I ventured to add, 'she is known to
Turenne's people here, who have once stolen her away. Were she
brought to your Majesty with any degree of openness, they would
learn it, and know that the game was lost.'

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