A Gentleman of France

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Amid the multitude entering the town we passed unnoticed. A
little way within the walls we halted to inquire where the
Princess of Navarre had her lodging. Hearing that she occupied a
house in the town, while her brother had his quarters in the
Chateau, and the King of France at St. Cloud, I stayed my party
in a by-road, a hundred paces farther on, and, springing from the
Cid, went to my mistress's knee.

'Mademoiselle,' I said formally, and so loudly that all my men
might hear, 'the time is come. I dare not go farther with you.
I beg you, therefore, to bear me witness that as I took you so I
have brought you back, and both with your good-will. I beg that
you will give me this quittance, for it may serve me.'

She bowed her head and laid her ungloved hand on mine, which I
had placed on, the pommel of her saddle. 'Sir,' she answered in
a broken voice, 'I will not give you this quittance, nor any
quittance from me while I live.' With that she took off her mask
before them all, and I saw the tears running down her white face.
'May God protect you, M. de Marsac,' she continued, stooping
until her face almost touched mine, 'and bring you to the thing
you desire. If not, sir, and you pay too dearly for what you
have done for me, I will live a maiden all my days. And, if I do
not, these men may shame me!'

My heart was too full for words, but I took the glove she held
out to me, and kissed her hand with my knee bent. Then I waved--
for I could not speak--to madame to proceed; and with Simon Fleix
and Maignan's men to guard them they went on their way.
Mademoiselle's white face looked back to me until a bend in the
road hid them, and I saw them no more.

I turned when all were gone, and going heavily to where my Sard
stood with his head drooping, I climbed to the saddle, and rode
at a foot-pace towards the Chateau. The way was short and easy,
for the next turning showed me the open gateway and a crowd about
it. A vast number of people were entering and leaving, while
others rested in the shade of the wall, and a dozen grooms led
horses up and down. The sunshine fell hotly on the road and the
courtyard, and flashed back by the cuirasses of the men on guard,
seized the eye and dazzled it with gleams of infinite brightness.
I was advancing alone, gazing at all this with a species of dull
indifference which masked for the moment the suspense I felt at
heart, when a man, coming on foot along the street, crossed
quickly to me and looked me in the face.

I returned his look, and seeing he was a stranger to me, was for
passing on without pausing. But he wheeled beside me and uttered
my name in a low voice.

I checked the Cid and looked down at him. 'Yes,' I said
mechanically, 'I am M. de Marsac. But I do not know you.'

'Nevertheless I have been watching for you for three days,' he
replied. 'M. de Rosny received your message. This is for you.'

He handed me a scrap of paper. 'From whom?' I asked.

'Maignan,' he answered briefly. And with that, and a stealthy
look round, he left me, and went the way he had been going
before.

I tore open the note, and knowing that Maignan could not write,
was not surprised to find that it lacked any signature. The
brevity of its contents vied with the curtness of its bearer.
'In Heaven's name go back and wait,' it ran. 'Your enemy is
here, and those who wish you well are powerless.'

A warning so explicit, and delivered under such circumstances,
might have been expected to make me pause even then. But I read
the message with the same dull indifference, the same dogged
resolve with which the sight of the crowded gateway before me had
inspired me. I had not come so far and baffled Turenne by an
hour to fail in my purpose at the last; nor given such pledges to
another to prove false to myself. Moreover, the distant rattle
of musketry, which went to show that a skirmish was taking place
on the farther side of the Castle, seemed an invitation to me to
proceed; for now, if ever, my sword might earn protection and a
pardon. Only in regard to M. de Rosny, from whom I had no doubt
that the message came, I resolved to act with prudence; neither
making any appeal to him in public nor mentioning his name to
others in private.

The Cid had borne me by this time into the middle of the throng
about the gateway, who, wondering to see a stranger of my
appearance arrive without attendants, eyed me with a mixture of
civility and forwardness. I recognised more than one man whom I
had seen about the Court at St. Jean d'Angely six months before;
but so great is the disguising power of handsome clothes and
equipments that none of these knew me. I beckoned to the
nearest, and asked him if the King of Navarre was in the Chateau.

'He has gone to see the King of France at St. Cloud,' the man
answered, with something of wonder that anyone should be ignorant
of so important a fact. 'He is expected here in an hour.'

I thanked him, and calculating that I should still have time and
to spare before the arrival of M. de Turenne, I dismounted, and
taking the rein over my arm, began to walk up and down in the
shade of the wall. Meanwhile the loiterers increased in numbers
as the minutes passed. Men of better standing rode up, and,
leaving their horses in charge of their lackeys, went into the
Chateau. Officers in shining corslets, or with boots and
scabbards dulled with dust, arrived and clattered in through the
gates. A messenger galloped up with letters, and was instantly
surrounded by a curious throng of questioners; who left him only
to gather about the next comers, a knot of townsfolk, whose
downcast visages and glances of apprehension seemed to betoken no
pleasant or easy mission.

Watching many of these enter and disappear, while only the
humbler sort remained to swell the crowd at the gate, I began to
experience the discomfort and impatience which are the lot of the
man who finds himself placed in a false position. I foresaw with
clearness the injury I was about to do my cause by presenting
myself to the king among the common herd; and yet I had no choice
save to do this, for I dared not run the risk of entering, lest I
should be required to give my name, and fail to see the King of
Navarre at all.

As it was I came very near to being foiled in this way; for I
presently recognised, and was recognised in turn, by a gentleman
who rode up to the gates and, throwing his reins to a groom,
dismounted with an air of immense gravity. This was M. Forget,
the king's secretary, and the person to whom I had on a former
occasion presented a petition. He looked at me with eyes of
profound astonishment, and saluting me stiffly from a distance,
seemed in two minds whether he should pass in or speak to me. On
second thoughts, however, he came towards me, and again saluted
me with a peculiarly dry and austere aspect.

'I believe, sir, I am speaking to M. de Marsac?' he said in a
low voice, but not impolitely.

I replied in the affirmative.

'And that, I conclude, is your horse?' he continued, raising his
cane, and pointing to the Cid, which I had fastened to a hook in
the wall.

I replied again in the affirmative.

'Then take a word of advice,' he answered, screwing up his
features, and speaking in a dry sort of way. 'Get upon its back
without an instant's delay, and put as many leagues between
yourself and Meudon as horse and man may.'

'I am obliged to you,' I said, though I was greatly startled by
his words. 'And what if I do not take your advice?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'In that case look to yourself!' he
retorted. 'But you will look in vain!'

He turned on his heel, as he spoke, and in a moment was gone. I
watched him enter the Chateau, and in the uncertainty which
possessed me whether he was not gone--after salving his
conscience by giving me warning--to order my instant arrest, I
felt, and I doubt not I looked, as ill at ease for the time being
as the group of trembling townsfolk who stood near me.
Reflecting that he should know his master's mind, I recalled with
depressing clearness the repeated warnings the King of Navarre
had given me that I must not look to him for reward or
protection. I bethought me that I was here against his express
orders: presuming on those very services which he had given me
notice he should repudiate. I remembered that Rosny had always
been in the same tale. And in fine I began to see that
mademoiselle and I had together decided on a step which I should
never have presumed to take on my own motion.

I had barely arrived at this conclusion when the trampling of
hoofs and a sudden closing in of the crowd round the gate
announced the King of Navarre's approach. With a sick heart I
drew nearer, feeling that the crisis was at hand; and in a moment
he came in sight, riding beside an elderly man, plainly dressed
and mounted, with whom he was carrying on an earnest
conversation. A train of nobles and gentlemen, whose martial air
and equipments made up for the absence of the gewgaws and
glitter, to which my eyes had become accustomed at Blois,
followed close on his heels. Henry himself wore a suit of white
velvet, frayed in places and soiled by his armour; but his quick
eye and eager, almost fierce, countenance could not fail to win
and keep the attention of the least observant. He kept glancing
from side to side as he came on; and that with so cheerful an air
and a carriage so full at once of dignity and good-humour that no
one could look on him and fail to see that here was a leader and
a prince of men, temperate in victory and unsurpassed in defeat.

The crowd raising a cry of 'VIVE NAVARRE!' as he drew near, he
bowed, with a sparkle in his eye. But when a few by the gate
cried 'VIVENT LES ROIS!' he held up his hand for silence, and
said in a loud, clear voice, 'Not that, my friends. There is but
one king in France. Let us say instead, "Vive le Roi!"'

The spokesman of the little group of townsfolk, who, I learned,
were from Arcueil, and had come to complain of the excessive
number of troops quartered upon them, took advantage of the pause
to approach him. Henry received the old man with a kindly look,
and bent from his saddle to hear what he had to say. While they
were talking I pressed forward, the emotion I felt on my own
account heightened by my recognition of the man who rode by the
King of Navarre--who was no other than M. de la Noue. No
Huguenot worthy of the name could look on the veteran who had
done and suffered more for the cause than any living man without
catching something of his stern enthusiasm; and the sight, while
it shamed me, who a moment before had been inclined to prefer my
safety to the assistance I owed my country, gave me courage to
step to the king's rein, so that I heard his last words to the
men of Arcueil.

'Patience, my friends,' he said kindly. 'The burden is heavy,
but the journey is a short one. The Seine is ours; the circle is
complete. In a week Paris must surrender. The king, my cousin,
will enter, and you will be rid of us. For France's sake one
week, my friends.'

The men fell back with low obeisances, charmed by his good-
nature, and Henry, looking up, saw me before him. In the instant
his jaw fell. His brow, suddenly contracting above eyes, which
flashed with surprise and displeasure, altered in a moment the
whole aspect of his face; which grew dark and stern as night.
His first impulse was to pass by me; but seeing that I held my
ground, he hesitated, so completely chagrined by my appearance
that he did not know how to act, or in what way to deal with me.
I seized the occasion, and bending my knee with as much respect
as I had ever used to the King of France, begged to bring myself
to his notice, and to crave his protection and favour.

'This is no time to trouble me, sir,' he retorted, eyeing me with
an angry side-glance. 'I do not know you. You are unknown to
me, sir. You must go to M. de Rosny.'

'It would be useless sire,' I answered, in desperate persistence.

'Then I can do nothing for you,' he rejoined peevishly. 'Stand
on one side, sir.'

But I was desperate. I knew that I had risked all on the event,
and must establish my footing before M. de Turenne's return, or
run the risk of certain recognition and vengeance. I cried out,
caring nothing who heard, that I was M. de Marsac, that I had
come back to meet whatever my enemies could allege against me.

'VENTRE SAINT GRIS!' Henry exclaimed, starting in his saddle
with well-feigned surprise. 'Are you that man?'

'I am, sire,' I answered.

'Then you must be mad!' he retorted, appealing to those behind
him. 'Stark, staring mad to show your face here! 'VENTRE SAINT
GRIS! Are we to have all the ravishers and plunderers in the
country come to us?'

'I am neither the one nor the other!' I answered, looking with
indignation from him to the gaping train behind him.

'That you will have to settle with M. de Turenne!' he retorted,
frowning down at me with his whole face turned gloomy and fierce.
'I know you well, sir, now. Complaint has been made that you
abducted a lady from his Castle of Chize some time back.'

'The lady, sire, is now in charge of the Princess of Navarre.'

'She is?' he exclaimed, quite taken aback.

'And if she has aught of complaint against me,' I continued with
pride,' I will submit to whatever punishment you order or M. de
Turenne demands. But if she has no complaint to make, and vows
that she accompanied me of her own free-will and accord, and has
suffered neither wrong nor displeasure at my hands, then, sire, I
claim that this is a private matter between myself and M. de
Turenne.'

'Even so I think you will have your hands full,' he answered
grimly. At the same time he stopped by a gesture those who would
have cried out upon me, and looked at me himself with an altered
countenance. 'Do I understand that you assert that the lady went
of her own accord?' he asked.

'She went and has returned, sire,' I answered.

'Strange!' he ejaculated. 'Have you married her?'

'No, sire,' I answered. 'I desire leave to do so.'

'Mon dieu! she is M. de Turenne's ward,' he rejoined, almost
dumbfounded by my audacity.

'I do not despair of obtaining his assent, sire,' I said
patiently.

'SAINT GRIS! the man is mad!' he cried, wheeling his horse and
facing his train with a gesture of the utmost wonder. 'It is the
strangest story I ever heard.'

'But somewhat more to the gentleman's credit than the lady's!'
one said with a smirk and a smile.

'A lie!' I cried, springing forward on the instant with a
boldness which astonished myself. 'She is as pure as your
Highness's sister! I swear it. That man lies in his teeth, and
I will maintain it.'

'Sir!' the King of Navarre cried, turning on me with the utmost
sternness, 'you forget yourself in my presence! Silence, and
beware another time how you let your tongue run on those above
you. You have enough trouble, let me tell you, on your hands
already.'

'Yet the man lies!' I answered doggedly, remembering Crillon and
his ways. 'And if he will do me the honour of stepping aside
with me, I will convince him of it!'

'VENTRE SAINT GRIS!' Henry replied, frowning, and dwelling on
each syllable of his favourite oath. 'Will you be silent, sir,
and let me think? Or must I order your instant arrest?'

'Surely that at least, sire,' a suave voice interjected. And
with that a gentleman pressed forward from the rest, and gaining
a place, of 'vantage by the King's side, shot at me a look of
extreme malevolence. 'My lord of Turenne will expect no less at
your Highness's hands,' he continued warmly. 'I beg you will
give the order on the spot, and hold this person to answer for
his misdeeds. M. de Turenne returns to-day. He should be here
now. I say again, sire, he will expect no less than this.'

The king, gazing at me with gloomy eyes, tugged at his
moustaches. Someone had motioned the common herd to stand back
out of hearing; at the same time the suite had moved up out of
curiosity and formed a half-circle; in the midst of which I stood
fronting the king, who had La Noue and the last speaker on either
hand. Perplexity and annoyance struggled for the mastery in his
face as he looked darkly down at me, his teeth showing through
his beard. Profoundly angered by my appearance, which he had
taken at first to be the prelude to disclosures which must detach
Turenne at a time when union was all-important, he had now ceased
to fear for himself; and perhaps saw something in the attitude I
adopted which appealed to his nature and sympathies.

'If the girl is really back,' he said at last, 'M. d'Aremburg, I
do-not see any reason why I should interfere. At present, at any
rate.'

'I think, sire, M. de Turenne will see reason,' the gentleman
answered drily.

The king coloured. 'M. de Turenne,' he began,

'Has made many sacrifices at your request, sire,' the other said
with meaning. 'And buried some wrongs, or fancied wrongs, in
connection with this very matter. This person has outraged him
in the grossest manner, and in M. le Vicomte's name I ask, nay I
press upon you, that he be instantly arrested, and held to answer
for it.'

'I am ready to answer for it now!' I retorted, looking from face
to face for sympathy, and finding none save in M. de la Noue's,
who appeared to regard me with grave approbation. 'To the
Vicomte de Turenne, or the person he may appoint to represent
him.'

'Enough!' Henry said, raising his hand and speaking in the tone
of authority he knew so well how to adopt. 'For you, M.
d'Aremburg, I thank you. Turenne is happy in his friend. But;
this gentleman came to me of his own free will and I do not think
it consistent with my honour to detain him without warning given.
I grant him an hour to remove himself from my neighbourhood. If
he be found after that time has elapsed,' he continued solemnly,
'his fate be on his own head. Gentlemen, we are late already.
Let us on.'

I looked at him as he pronounced this sentence, and strove to
find words in which to make a final appeal to him. But no words
came; and when he bade me stand aside, I did so mechanically,
remaining with my head bared to the sunshine while the troop rode
by. Some looked back at me with curiosity, as at a man of whom
they had heard a tale, and some with a jeer on their lips; a few
with dark looks of menace. When they were all gone, and the
servants who followed them had disappeared also, and I was left
to the inquisitive glances of the rabble who stood gaping after
the sight, I turned and went to the Cid, and loosed the horse
with a feeling of bitter disappointment.

The plan which mademoiselle had proposed and I had adopted in the
forest by St. Gaultier--when it seemed to us that our long
absence and the great events of which we heard must have changed
the world and opened a path for our return--had failed utterly.
Things were as they had been; the strong were still strong, and
friendship under bond to fear. Plainly we should have shewn
ourselves wiser had we taken the lowlier course, and, obeying the
warnings given us, waited the King of Navarre's pleasure or the
tardy recollection of Rosny. I had not then stood, as I now
stood, in instant jeopardy, nor felt the keen pangs of a
separation which bade fair to be lasting. She was safe, and that
was much; but I, after long service and brief happiness, must go
out again alone, with only memories to comfort me.

It was Simon Fleix's voice which awakened me from this unworthy
lethargy--as selfish as it was useless--and, recalling me to
myself, reminded me that precious time was passing while I stood
inactive. To get at me he had forced his way through the curious
crowd, and his face was flushed. He plucked me by the sleeve,
regarding the varlets round him with a mixture of anger and fear.

'Nom de Dieu! do they take you for a rope-dancer?' he muttered
in my ear. 'Mount, sir, and come. There is not a moment to be
lost.'

'You left her at Madame Catherine's?' I said.

'To be sure,' he answered impatiently. 'Trouble not about her.
Save yourself, M. de Marsac. That is the thing to be done now.'

I mounted mechanically, and felt my courage return as the horse
moved under me. I trotted through the crowd, and without thought
took the road by which we had come. When we had ridden a hundred
yards, however, I pulled up 'An hour is a short start,' I said
sullenly. 'Whither?'

'To St. Cloud,' he answered promptly. 'The protection of the
King of France may avail for a day or two. After that, there
will still be the League, if Paris have not fallen.'

I saw there was nothing else for it, and assented, and we set
off. The distance which separates Meudon from St. Cloud we might
have ridden under the hour, but the direct road runs across the
Scholars' Meadow, a wide plain north of Meudon. This lay exposed
to the enemy's fire, and was, besides, the scene of hourly
conflicts between the horse of both parties, so that to cross it
without an adequate force was impossible. Driven to make a
circuit, we took longer to reach our destination, yet did so
without mishap; finding the little town, when we came in sight of
it, given up to all the bustle and commotion which properly
belong to the Court and camp.

It was, indeed, as full as it could be, for the surrender of
Paris being momentarily expected, St. Cloud had become the
rendezvous as well of the few who had long followed a principle
as of the many who wait upon success. The streets, crowded in,
every part, shone with glancing colours, with steel and velvet,
the garb of fashion and the plumes of war. Long lines of flags
obscured the eaves and broke the sunshine, while, above all, the
bells of half a dozen churches rang merry answer to the distant
crash of guns. Everywhere on flag and arch and streamer I read
the motto, 'Vive le Roi!'--words written, God knew then, and we
know now, in what a mockery of doom!

CHAPTER XXXIV.

''TIS AN ILL WIND.'

We had made our way slowly and with much jostling as far as the
principal street, finding the press increase as we advanced, when
I heard, as I turned a corner, my name called, and, looking up,
saw at a window the face of which I was in search. After that
half a minute sufficed to bring M. d'Agen flying to my side, when
nothing, as I had expected, would do but I must dismount; where I
was and share his lodging. He made no secret of his joy and
surprise at sight of me, but pausing only to tell Simon where the
stable was, haled me through the crowd and up his stairs with a
fervour and heartiness which brought the tears to my eyes, and
served to impress the company whom I found above with a more than
sufficient sense of my importance.

Seeing him again in the highest feather and in the full
employment of all those little arts and graces which served as a
foil to his real worth, I took it as a great honour that he laid
them aside for the nonce; and introduced me to the seat of honour
and made me known to his companions with a boyish directness and
a simple thought for my comfort which infinitely pleased me. He
bade his landlord, without a moment's delay, bring wine and meat
and everything which could refresh a traveller, and was himself
up and down a hundred times in a minute, calling to his servants
for this or that, or railing at them for their failure to bring
me a score of things I did not need. I hastened to make my
excuses to the company for interrupting them in the midst of
their talk; and these they were kind enough to accept in good
part. At the same time, reading clearly in M. d'Agen's excited
face and shining eyes that he longed to be alone with me, they
took the hint, and presently left us together.

'Well,' he said, coming back from the door, to which he had
conducted them, 'what have you to tell me, my friend? She is not
with you?'

'She is with Mademoiselle de la Vire at Meudon,' I answered,
smiling. 'And for the rest, she is well and in better spirits.'

'She sent me some message? he asked.

I shook my head. 'She did not know I should see you,' I
answered.

'But she--she has spoken of me lately?' he continued, his face
falling.

'I do not think she has named your name for a fortnight,' I
answered, laughing. 'There's for you! Why, man,' I continued,
adopting a different tone, and laying my hand on his shoulder in
a manner which reassured him at least; as much as my words, 'are
you so young a lover as to be ignorant that a woman says least of
that of which she thinks most? Pluck up, courage! Unless I am
mistaken, you have little to be afraid of except the past. Only
have patience.'

'You think so?' he said gratefully.

I assured him that I had no doubt of it; and on that he fell into
a reverie, and I to watching him. Alas for the littleness of our
natures! He had received me with open arms, yet at sight of the
happiness which took possession of his handsome face I gave way
to the pettiest feeling which can harbour in a man's breast. I
looked at him with eyes of envy, bitterly comparing my lot with
that which fate had reserved for him. He had fortune, good
looks, and success on his side, great relations, and high hopes;
I stood in instant jeopardy, my future dark, and every path which
presented itself so hazardous that I knew not which to adopt. He
was young, and I past my prime; he in favour, and I a fugitive.

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