A Gentleman of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> A Gentleman of France

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I had no difficulty in finding the gateway of which Simon had
spoken, or in identifying the window beneath which he had picked
up the velvet knot. An alley opening almost opposite, I took
advantage of this to examine the house at my leisure, and
remarked at once, that whereas the lower window was guarded only
by strong shutters, now open, that in the story above was heavily
barred. Naturally I concentrated my attention on the latter.
The house, an old building of stone, seemed sufficiently
reputable, nor could I discern anything about it which would have
aroused my distrust had the knot been found elsewhere. It bore
the arms of a religious brotherhood, and had probably at one time
formed the principal entrance to the hospital, which still stood
behind it, but it had now come, as I judged, to be used as a
dwelling of the better class. Whether the two floors were
separately inhabited or not I failed to decide.

After watching it for some time without seeing anyone pass in or
out, or anything occurring to enlighten me one way or the other,
I resolved to venture in, the street being quiet and the house
giving no sign of being strongly garrisoned. The entrance lay
under the archway, through a door on the right side. I judged
from what I saw that the porter was probably absent, busying
himself with his gossips in matters of State.

And this proved to be the case, for when I had made the passage
of the street with success, and slipped quietly in through the
half-open door, I found only his staff and charcoal-pan there to
represent him. A single look satisfied me on that point;
forthwith, without hesitation, I turned to the stairs and began
to mount, assured that if I would effect anything single-handed I
must trust to audacity and surprise rather than to caution or
forethought.

The staircase was poorly lighted by loopholes looking towards the
rear, but it was clean and well-kept. Silence, broken only by
the sound of my footsteps, prevailed throughout the house, and
all seemed so regular and decent and orderly that the higher I
rose the lower fell my hopes of success. Still, I held
resolutely on until I reached the second floor and stood before a
closed door. The moment had come to put all to the touch. I
listened for a few seconds but hearing nothing, cautiously lifted
the latch. Somewhat to my surprise the door yielded to my hand,
and I entered.

A high settle stood inside, interrupting my view of the room,
which seemed to be spacious and full of rich stuffs and
furniture, but low in the roof, and somewhat dimly lighted by two
windows rather wide than high. The warm glow of a fire shone on
the woodwork of the ceiling, and as I softly closed the door a
log on the hearth gave way, with a crackling of sparks, which
pleasantly broke the luxurious silence. The next moment a low,
sweet voice asked, 'Alphonse, is that you?'

I walked round the settle and came face to face with a beautiful
woman reclining on a couch. On hearing the door open she had
raised herself on her elbow. Now, seeing a stranger before her,
she sprang up with a low cry, and stood gazing at me, her face
expressing both astonishment and anger. She was of middling
height, her features regular though somewhat childlike, her
complexion singularly fair. A profusion of golden hair hung in
disorder about her neck, and matched the deep blue of her eyes,
wherein it seemed to me, there lurked more spirit and fire than
the general cast of her features led one to expect.

After a moment's silence, during which she scanned me from head
to foot with great haughtiness--and I her with curiosity and
wonder--she spoke. 'Sir!' she said slowly, 'to what am I to
attribute this--visit?'

For the moment I was so taken aback by her appearance and
extraordinary beauty, as well as by the absence of any sign of
those I sought, that I could not gather my thoughts to reply, but
stood looking vaguely at her. I had expected, when I entered the
room, something so different from this!

'Well, sir?' she said again, speaking sharply, and tapping her
foot on the floor.

'This visit, madame?' I stammered.

'Call it intrusion, sir, if you please!' she cried imperiously.
'Only explain it, or begone.'

'I crave leave to do both, madame,' I answered, collecting myself
by an effort. 'I ascended these stairs and opened your door in
error--that is the simple fact--hoping to find a friend of mine
here. I was mistaken, it seems, and it only remains for me to
withdraw, offering at the same time the humblest apologies,' And
as I spoke I bowed low and prepared to retire.

'One moment, sir!' she said quickly, and in an altered tone.
'You are, perhaps, a friend of M. de Bruhl--of my husband. In
that case, if you desire to leave any message I will--I shall be
glad to deliver it.'

She looked so charming that, despite the tumult of my feelings, I
could not but regard her with admiration. 'Alas! madame, I
cannot plead that excuse,' I answered. 'I regret that I have not
the honour of his acquaintance.'

She eyed me with some surprise. 'Yet still, sir,' she answered,
smiling a little, and toying with a gold brooch which clasped her
habit, 'you must have had some ground, some reason, for supposing
you would find a friend here?'

'True, madame,' I answered, 'but I was mistaken.'

I saw her colour suddenly. With a smile and a faint twinkle of
the eye she said, 'It is not possible, sir, I suppose--you have
not come here, I mean, out of any reason connected with a--a knot
of velvet, for instance?'

I started, and involuntarily advanced a step towards her. 'A
knot of velvet!' I exclaimed, with emotion. 'Mon Dieu! Then I
was not mistaken! I have come to the right house, and you--you
know something of this! Madame,' I continued impulsively, 'that
knot of velvet? Tell me what it means, I implore you!'

She seemed alarmed by my violence, retreating a step or two, and
looking at me haughtily, yet with a kind of shame-facedness.
'Believe me, it means nothing,' she said hurriedly. 'I beg you
to understand that, sir. It was a foolish jest.'

'A jest?' I said. 'It fell from this window.'

'It was a jest, sir,' she answered stubbornly. But I could see
that, with all her pride, she was alarmed; her face was troubled,
and there were tears in her eyes. And this rendered me under the
circumstances only the more persistent.

'I have the velvet here, madame,' I said. 'You must tell me more
about it.'

She looked at me with a weightier impulse of anger than she had
yet exhibited. 'I do not think you know to whom you are
speaking,' she said, breathing fast. 'Leave the room, sir, and
at once! I have told you it was a jest. If you are a gentleman
you will believe me, and go.' And she pointed to the door.

But I held my ground, with an obstinate determination to pierce
the mystery. 'I am a gentleman, madame,' I said, 'and yet I must
know more. Until I know more I cannot go.'

'Oh, this is insufferable!' she cried, looking round as if for a
way of escape; but I was between her and the only door. 'This is
unbearable! The knot was never intended for you, sir. And what
is more, if M. de Bruhl comes and finds you here, you will repent
it bitterly.'

I saw that she was at least as much concerned on her own account
as on mine, and thought myself justified under the circumstances
in taking advantage of her fears. I deliberately laid my cap on
the table which stood beside me. 'I will go madame,' I said,
looking at her fixedly, 'when I know all that you know about this
knot I hold, and not before. If you are unwilling to tell me, I
must wait for M. de Bruhl, and ask him.'

She cried out 'Insolent!' and looked at me as if in her rage and
dismay she would gladly have killed me; being, I could see, a
passionate woman. But I held my ground, and after a moment she
spoke. 'What do you want to know?' she said, frowning darkly.

'This knot--how did it come to lie in the street below your
window? I want to know that first.'

'I dropped it,' she answered sullenly.

'Why?' I said.

'Because--' And then she stopped and looked at me, and then again
looked down, her face crimson. 'Because, if you must know,' she
continued hurriedly, tracing a pattern on the table with her
finger, 'I saw it bore the words "A MOI." I have been married
only two months, and I thought my husband might find it--and
bring it to me. It was a silly fancy.'

'But where did you get it?' I asked, and I stared at her in
growing wonder and perplexity. For the more questions I put, the
further, it seemed to me, I strayed from my object.

'I picked it up in the Ruelle d'Arcy,' she answered, tapping her
foot on the floor resentfully. 'It was the silly thing put it
into my head to--to do what I did. And now, have you any more
questions, sir?'

'One only,' I said, seeing it all clearly enough. 'Will you tell
me, please, exactly where you found it?'

'I have told you. In the Ruelle d'Arcy, ten paces from the Rue
de Valois. Now, sir, will you go?'

'One word, madame. Did--'

But she cried, 'Go, sir, go! go!' so violently, that after
making one more attempt to express my thanks, I thought it better
to obey her. I had learned all she knew; I had solved the
puzzle. But, solving it, I found myself no nearer to the end I
had in view, no nearer to mademoiselle. I closed the door with a
silent bow, and began to descend the stairs, my mind full of
anxious doubts and calculations. The velvet knot was the only
clue I possessed, but was I right; in placing any dependence on
it? I knew now that, wherever it had originally lain, it had
been removed once. If once, why not twice? why not three times?

CHAPTER IX.

THE HOUSE IN THE RUELLE D'ARCY.

I had not gone down half a dozen steps before I heard a man enter
the staircase from the street, and begin to ascend. It struck me
at once that this might be M. de Bruhl; and I realised that I had
not left madame's apartment a moment too soon. The last thing I
desired, having so much on my hands, was to embroil myself with a
stranger, and accordingly I quickened my pace, hoping to meet him
so near the foot of the stairs as to leave him in doubt whether I
had been visiting the upper or lower part of the house. The
staircase was dark, however, and being familiar with it, he had
the advantage over me. He came leaping up two steps at a time,
and turning the angle abruptly, surprised me before I was clear
of the upper flight.

On seeing me, he stopped short and stared; thinking at first, I
fancy, that he ought to recognise me. When he did not, he stood
back a pace. 'Umph!' he said. 'Have you been--have you any
message for me, sir?'

'No,' I said, 'I have not.'

He frowned. 'I am M. de Bruhl,' he said.

'Indeed?' I muttered, not knowing what else to say.

'You have been--'

'Up your stairs, sir? Yes. In error,' I answered bluntly.

He gave a kind of grunt at that, and stood aside, incredulous and
dissatisfied, yet uncertain how to proceed. I met his black
looks with a steady countenance, and passed by him, becoming
aware, however, as I went on down the stairs that he had turned
and was looking after me. He was a tall, handsome man, dark, and
somewhat ruddy of complexion, and was dressed in the extreme of
Court fashion, in a suit of myrtle-green trimmed with sable. He
carried also a cloak lined with the same on his arm. Beyond
looking back when I reached the street, to see that he did not
follow me, I thought no more of him. But we were to meet again,
and often. Nay, had I then known all that was to be known I
would have gone back and--But of that in another place.

The Rue de Valois, to which a tradesman, who was peering
cautiously out of his shop, directed me, proved to be one of the
main streets of the city, narrow and dirty, and darkened by
overhanging eaves and signboards, but full of noise and bustle.
One end of it opened on the PARVIS of the Cathedral; the other
and quieter end appeared to abut on the west gate of the town.
Feeling the importance of avoiding notice in the neighbourhood of
the house I sought, I strolled into the open space in front of
the Cathedral, and accosting two men who stood talking there,
learned that the Ruelle d'Arcy was the third lane on the right of
the Rue de Valois, and some little distance along it. Armed with
this information I left them, and with my head bent down, and my
cloak drawn about the lower part of my face, as if I felt the
east wind, I proceeded down the street until I reached the
opening of the lane. Without looking up I turned briskly into
it.

When I had gone ten paces past the turning, however, I stopped
and, gazing about me, began to take in my surroundings as fast as
I could. The lane, which seemed little frequented, was eight or
nine feet wide, unpaved, and full of ruts. The high blank wall
of a garden rose on one side of it, on the other the still higher
wall of a house; and both were completely devoid of windows, a
feature which I recognised with the utmost dismay. For it
completely upset all my calculations. In vain I measured with my
eye the ten paces I had come; in vain I looked up, looked this
way and that. I was nonplussed. No window opened on the lane at
that point, nor, indeed, throughout its length. For it was
bounded to the end, as far as I could see, by dead-walls as of
gardens.

Recognising, with a sinking heart, what this meant, I saw in a
moment that all the hopes I had raised on Simon Fleix's discovery
were baseless. Mademoiselle had dropped the velvet bow, no
doubt, but not from a window. It was still a clue, but one so
slight and vague as to be virtually useless, proving only that
she was in trouble and in need of help; perhaps that she had
passed through this lane on her way from one place of confinement
to another.

Thoroughly baffled and dispirited, I leant for awhile against the
wall, brooding over the ill-luck which seemed to attend me in
this, as in so many previous adventures. Nor was the low voice
of conscience, suggesting that such failures arose from
mismanagement rather than from ill-luck, slow to make itself
heard. I reflected that if I had not allowed myself to be robbed
of the gold token, mademoiselle would have trusted me; that if I
had not brought her to so poor an abode as my mother's, she would
not have been cajoled into following a stranger; finally, that if
I had remained with her, and sent Simon to attend to the horses
in my place, no stranger would have gained access to her.

But it has never been my way to accept defeat at the first offer,
and though I felt these self-reproaches to be well deserved, a
moment's reflection persuaded me that in the singular and
especial providence which had brought the velvet knot safe to my
hands I ought to find encouragement. Had Madame de Bruhl not
picked it up it would have continued to lie in this by-path,
through which neither I nor Simon Fleix would have been likely to
pass. Again, had madame not dropped it in her turn, we should
have sought in vain for any, even the slightest, clue to
Mademoiselle de la Vire's fate or position.

Cheered afresh by this thought, I determined to walk to the end
of the lane; and forthwith did so, looking sharply about me as I
went, but meeting no one. The bare upper branches of a tree rose
here and there above the walls, which were pierced at intervals
by low, strong doors. These doors I carefully examined, but
without making any discovery; all were securely fastened, and
many seemed to have been rarely opened. Emerging at last and
without result on the inner side of the city ramparts, I turned,
and moodily retraced my steps through the lane, proceeding more
slowly as I drew near to the Rue de Valois. This time, being a
little farther from the street, I made a discovery.

The corner house, which had its front on the Rue Valois,
presented, as I have said, a dead, windowless wall to the lane;
but from my present standpoint I could see the upper part of the
back of this house--that part of the back, I mean, which rose
above the lower garden-wall that abutted on it--and in this there
were several windows. The whole of two and a part of a third
were within the range of my eyes; and suddenly in one of these I
discovered something which made my heart beat high with hope and
expectation. The window in question was heavily grated; that
which I saw was tied to one of the bars. It was a small knot of
some white stuff--linen apparently--and it seemed a trifle to the
eye; but it was looped, as far as I could see from a distance,
after the same fashion as the scrap of velvet I had in my pouch.

The conclusion was obvious, at the same time that it inspired me
with the liveliest admiration of mademoiselle's wit and
resources. She was confined in that room; the odds were that she
was behind those bars. A bow dropped thence would fall, the wind
being favourable, into the lane, not ten, but twenty paces from
the street. I ought to have been prepared for a slight
inaccuracy in a woman's estimate of distance.

It may be imagined with what eagerness I now scanned the house,
with what minuteness I sought for a weak place. The longer I
looked, however, the less comfort I derived from my inspection.
I saw before me a gloomy stronghold of brick, four-square, and
built in the old Italian manner, with battlements at the top, and
a small machicolation, little more than a string-course, above
each story; this serving at once to lessen the monotony of the
dead-walls, and to add to the frowning weight of the upper part.
The windows were few and small, and the house looked damp and
mouldy; lichens clotted the bricks, and moss filled the string-
courses. A low door opening from the lane into the garden
naturally attracted my attention; but it proved to be of abnormal
strength, and bolted both at the top and bottom.

Assured that nothing could be done on that side, and being
unwilling to remain longer in the neighbourhood, lest I should
attract attention, I returned to the street, and twice walked
past the front of the house, seeing all I could with as little
appearance of seeing anything as I could compass. The front
retreated somewhat from the line of the street, and was flanked
on the farther side by stables. Only one chimney smoked, and
that sparely. Three steps led up to imposing double doors, which
stood half open, and afforded a glimpse of a spacious hall and a
state staircase. Two men, apparently servants, lounged on the
steps, eating chestnuts, and jesting with one another; and above
the door were three shields blazoned in colours. I saw with
satisfaction, as I passed the second time, that the middle coat
was that of Turenne impaling one which I could not read--which
thoroughly satisfied me that the bow of velvet had not lied; so
that, without more ado, I turned homewards, formulating my plans
as I went.

I found all as I had left it; and my mother still lying in a
half-conscious state, I was spared the pain of making excuses for
past absence, or explaining that which I designed. I
communicated the plan I had formed to Simon Fleix, who saw no
difficulty in procuring a respectable person to stay with Madame
de Bonne. But for some time he would come no farther into the
business. He listened, his mouth open and his eyes glittering,
to my plan until I came to his share in it; and then he fell into
a violent fit of trembling.

'You want me to fight, monsieur,' he cried reproachfully, shaking
all over like one in the palsy. 'You said so the other night.
You want to get me killed! That's it.'

'Nonsense!' I answered sharply. 'I want you to hold the
horses!'

He looked at me wildly, with a kind of resentment in his face,
and yet as if he were fascinated.

'You will drag me into it!' he persisted. 'You will!'

'I won't,' I said.

'You will! You will! And the end I know. I shall have no
chance. I am a clerk, and not bred to fighting. You want to be
the death of me!' he cried excitedly.

'I don't want you to fight,' I answered with some contempt. 'I
would rather that you kept out of it for my mother's sake. I
only want you to stay in the lane and hold the horses. You will
run little more risk than you do sitting by the hearth here.'

And in the end I persuaded him to do what I wished; though still,
whenever he thought of what was in front of him, he fell a-
trembling again, and many times during the afternoon got up and
walked to and fro between the window and the hearth, his face
working and his hands clenched like those of a man in a fever. I
put this down at first to sheer chicken-heartedness, and thought
it augured ill for my enterprise; but presently remarking that he
made no attempt to draw back, and that though the sweat stood on
his brow he set about such preparations as were necessary
--remembering also how long and kindly, and without pay or
guerdon, he had served my mother, I began to see that here was
something phenomenal; a man strange and beyond the ordinary, of
whom it was impossible to predicate what he would do when he came
to be tried.

For myself, I passed the afternoon in a state almost of apathy.
I thought it my duty to make this attempt to free mademoiselle,
and to make it at once, since it was impossible to say what harm
might come of delay, were she in such hands as Fresnoy's; but I
had so little hope of success that I regarded the enterprise as
desperate. The certain loss of my mother, however, and the low
ebb of my fortunes, with the ever-present sense of failure,
contributed to render me indifferent to risks; and even when we
were on our way, through by-streets known to Simon, to the
farther end of the Ruelle d'Arcy, and the red and frosty sunset
shone in our faces, and gilded for a moment the dull eaves and
grey towers above us, I felt no softening. Whatever the end,
there was but one in the world whom I should regret, or who would
regret me; and she hung, herself, on the verge of eternity.

So that I was able to give Simon Fleix his last directions with
as much coolness as I ever felt in my life. I stationed him with
the three horses in the lane--which seemed as quiet and little
frequented as in the morning--near the end of it, and about a
hundred paces or more from the house.

'Turn their heads towards the ramparts,' I said, wheeling them
round myself, 'and then they will be ready to start. They are
all quiet enough. You can let the Cid loose. And now listen to
me, Simon,' I continued. 'Wait here until you see me return, or
until you see you are going to be attacked. In the first case,
stay for me, of course; in the second, save yourself as you
please. Lastly, if neither event occurs before half-past five--
you will hear the convent-bell yonder ring at the half-hour--
begone, and take the horses; they are yours, And one word more,'
I added hurriedly. 'If you can only get away with one horse,
Simon, take the Cid. It is worth more than most men, and will
not fail you at a pinch.'

As I turned away, I gave him one look to see if he understood.
It was not without hesitation that after that look I left him.
The lad's face was flushed, he was breathing hard, his eyes
seemed to be almost starting from his head. He sat his horse
shaking in every limb, and had all the air of a man in a fit. I
expected him to call me back; but he did not, and reflecting that
I must trust him, or give up the attempt, I went up the lane with
my sword under my arm, and my cloak loose on my shoulders. I met
a man driving a donkey laden with faggots. I saw no one else.
It was already dusk between the walls, though light enough in the
open country; but that was in my favour, my only regret; being
that as the town gates closed shortly after half-past five, I
could not defer my attempt until a still later hour.

Pausing in the shadow of the house while a man might count ten, I
impressed on my memory the position of the particular window
which bore the knot; then I passed quickly into the street, which
was still full of movement, and for a second, feeling myself safe
from observation in the crowd, I stood looking at the front of
the house. The door was shut. My heart sank when I saw this,
for I had looked to find it still open.

The feeling, however, that I could not wait, though time might
present more than one opportunity, spurred me on. What I could
do I must do now, at once. The sense that this was so being
heavy upon me, I saw nothing for it but to use the knocker and
gain admission, by fraud if I could, and if not, by force.
Accordingly I stepped briskly across the kennel, and made for the
entrance.

When I was within two paces of the steps, however, someone
abruptly threw the door open and stepped out. The man did not
notice me, and I stood quickly aside, hoping that at the last
minute my chance had come. Two men, who had apparently attended
this first person downstairs, stood respectfully behind him,
holding lights. He paused a moment on the steps to adjust his
cloak, and with more than a little surprise I recognised my
acquaintance of the morning, M. de Bruhl.

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