From the Memoirs of a Minister of France

S >> Stanley Weyman >> From the Memoirs of a Minister of France

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Here my wife, who shared my anxiety, met me with a face full of
meaning. I cried out to know if they had found the paper.

"No," she answered; "but if you will come into your closet I will
tell you what I have learned."

I went in with her, and she told me briefly that the manner of
Mademoiselle de Mars, one of her maids, had struck her as
suspicious. The girl had begun to cry while reading to her; and
when questioned had been able to give no explanation of her
trouble.

"She is Vilain's cousin?" I said.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Bring her to me," I said. "Bring her to me without the delay of
an instant."

My wife hastened to comply; and whatever had been the girl's
state earlier, before the fright of this hasty summons had upset
her, her agitation when thus confronted with me gave me, before a
word was spoken, the highest hopes that I had here the key to the
mystery. I judged that it might be necessary to frighten her
still more, and I started by taking a harsh tone with her; but
before I had said many words she obviated the necessity of this
by falling at my wife's feet and protesting that she would tell
all.

"Then speak quickly, wench!" I said. "You know where the paper
is."

"I know who has it!" she answered, in a voice choked with sobs.

"Who?"

"My cousin, M. de Vilain."

"Ha! and has taken it to his house?"

But she seemed for a moment unable to answer this; her distress
being such that my wife had to fetch a vial of pungent salts to
restore her before she could say more. At length she found voice
to tell us that M. de Vilain had taken the paper, and was this
evening to hand it to an agent of the Spanish ambassador.

"But, girl," I said sternly, "how do you know this?"

Then she confessed that the cousin was also the lover, and had
before employed her to disclose what went on in my household, and
anything of value that could be discovered there. Doubtless the
girl, for whom my wife, in spite of her occasional fits of
reserve and temper, entertained no little liking, enjoyed many
opportunities of prying; and would have continued still to serve
him had not this last piece of villainy, with the stir which it
caused in the house and the rigorous punishment to be expected in
the event of discovery, proved too much for her nerves. Hence
this burst of confession; which once allowed to flow, ran on
almost against her will. Nor did I let her pause to consider the
full meaning of what she was saying until I had learned that
Vilain was to meet the ambassador's agent an hour after sunset at
the east end of a clump of trees which stood in the park; and
being situate between his, Vilain's, residence and the chateau,
formed a convenient place for such a transaction.

"He will have it about him?" I said.

She sobbed a moment, but presently confessed. "Yes; or it will
be in the hollow of the most easterly tree. He was to leave it
there, if the agent could not keep the appointment."

"Good!" I said; and then, having assured myself by one or two
questions of that, of which her state of distress and agitation
left me in little doubt--namely, that she was telling the truth
--I committed her to my wife's care; bidding the Duchess lock her
up in a safe place upstairs, and treat her to bread and water
until I had taken the steps necessary to prove the fact, and
secure the paper.

After this--but I should be tedious were I to describe the
alternations of hope and fear in which I passed the period of
suspense. Suffice it that I informed no one, not even Maignan,
of what I had discovered, but allowed those in the secret of the
loss still to pursue their efforts; while I, by again attending
the Court, endeavoured at once to mitigate the King's impatience
and persuade the world that all was well. A little before the
appointed time, however I made a pretext to rise from supper, and
quietly calling out Boisrueil, bade him bring four of the men,
armed, and Maignan and La Trape. With this small body I made my
way out by a private door, and crossed the park to the place
Mademoiselle had, indicated.

Happily, night had already begun to close in, and the rendezvous
was at the farther side of the clump of trees. Favoured by these
circumstances, we were able to pass round the thicket--some on
one side and some on the other---without noise or disturbance;
and fortunate enough, having arrived at the place, to discover a
man walking uneasily up and down on the very spot where we
expected to find him. The evening was so far advanced that it
was not possible to be sure that the man was Vilain; but as all
depended on seizing him before he had any communication with the
Spanish agent, I gave the signal, and two of my men, springing on
him from either side, in a moment bore him to the ground and
secured him.

He proved to be Vilain, so that, when he was brought face to face
with me, I was much less surprised than he affected to be. He
played the part of an ignorant so well, indeed, that, for a
moment, I was staggered by his show of astonishment, and by the
earnestness with which he denounced the outrage; nor could
Maignan find anything on him. But, a moment later, remembering
the girl's words, I strode to the nearest tree, and, groping
about it, in a twinkling unearthed the paper from a little hollow
in the trunk that seemed to have been made to receive it. I need
not say with what relief I found the seals unbroken; nor with
what indignation I turned on the villain thus convicted of an act
of treachery towards the King only less black than the sin
against hospitality of which he had been guilty in my house. But
the discovery I had made seemed enough of itself to overwhelm
him; for, after standing apparently stunned while I spoke, he
jerked himself suddenly out of his captors' hands, and made a
desperate attempt to escape. Finding this hopeless, and being
seized again before he had gone four paces, he shouted, at the
top of his voice: "Back! back! Go back!"

We looked about, somewhat startled, and Boisrueil, with presence
of mind, ran into the darkness to see if he could detect the
person addressed; but though he thought that he saw the skirt of
a flying cloak disappear in the gloom, he was not sure; and I,
having no mind to be mixed up with the ambassador, called him
back. I asked Vilain to whom he had called, but the young man,
turning sullen, would answer nothing except that he knew naught
of the paper. I thought it best, therefore, to conduct him at
once to my lodgings, whither it will be believed that I returned
with a lighter heart than I had gone out. It was, indeed, a
providential escape.

How to punish the traitor was another matter, for I could
scarcely do so adequately without betraying my negligence. I
determined to sleep on this, however, and, for the night,
directed him to be locked into a chamber in the south-west
turret, with a Swiss to guard the door; my intention being to
interrogate him farther on the morrow. However, Henry sent for
me so early that I was forced to postpone my examination; and,
being detained by him until evening, I thought it best to tell
him, before I left, what had happened.

He heard the story with a look of incredulity, which, little by
little, gave way to a broad smile. "Well," he said, "Grand
Master, never chide me again! I have heard that Homer sometimes
nods; but if I were to tell this to Sillery or Villeroy, they
would not believe me."

"They would believe anything that your Majesty told them," I
said. "But you will not tell them this?"

"No," he said kindly, "I will not; and there is my hand on it.
For the matter of that, if it had happened to them, they would
not have told me."

"And perhaps been the wiser for that," I said.

"Don't believe it," he answered. "But now, what of this young
Vilain? You have him safe?"

"Yes, sire."

"The girl is one degree worse; she betrays both sides to save her
skin."

"Still, I promised--"

"Oh, she must go," Henry said. "I quite understand. But for
him--we had better have no scandal. Keep him until to-morrow,
and I will see his father, and have him sent out of the country."

"And he will go scot free," I said, bluntly, "when a rope and the
nearest tree--"

"Yes, my friend," Henry answered with a dry smile; "but that
should have been done last night. As it is, he is your guest and
we must give an account of him. But first drain him dry.
Frighten him, as you please, and get all out of him; then I wish
them joy of him. Faugh! and he a young man! I would not be his
father for two such crowns as mine!"

As I returned to my lodgings I thought over these words; and I
fell to wondering by what stages Vilain had sunk so low.
Occasionally admitted to my table, he had always borne himself
with a modesty and discretion that had not failed to prepossess
me; indeed, the longer I considered the King's saying, the
greater was the surprise I felt at this DENOUEMENT; which left me
in doubt whether my dullness exceeded my negligence or the young
man's parts surpassed his wickedness.

A few questions, I thought, might resolve this; but having been
detained by the King until supper-time, I postponed the interview
until I rose. Then bidding them bring in the prisoner, I assumed
my harshest aspect and prepared to blast him by discovering all
his vileness to his face.

But when I had waited a little, only Maignan came in, with an air
of consternation that brought me to my feet. "Why, man, what is
it?" I cried.

"The prisoner," he faltered. "If your excellency pleases--"

"I do not please!" I said sternly, believing that I knew what
had happened. "Is he dead?"

"No, your excellency; but, he has escaped."

"Escaped? From that room?"

Maignan nodded.

"Then, PAR DIEU!" I replied, "the man who was on guard shall
suffer in his place! Escaped? How could he escape except by
treachery? Where was the guard?"

"He was there, excellency. And he says that no one passed him."

"Yet the man is gone?"

"The room is empty."

"But the window--the window, fool, is fifty feet from the
ground!" I said. "And not so much footing outside as would hold
a crow!"

Maignan shrugged his shoulders, and in a rage I bade him follow
me, and went myself to view the place; to which a number of my
people had already flocked with lights, so that I found some
difficulty in mounting the staircase. A very brief inspection,
however, sufficed to confirm my first impression that Vilain
could have escaped by the door only; for the window, though it
lacked bars and boasted a tiny balcony, hung over fifty feet of
sheer depth, so that evasion that way seemed in the absence of
ladder or rope purely impossible. This being clear, I ordered
the Swiss to be seized; and as he could give no explanation of
the escape, and still persisted that he was as much in the dark
as anyone, I declared that I would make an example of him, and
hang him unless the prisoner was recaptured within three days.

I did not really propose to do this, but in my irritation I spoke
so roundly that my people believed me; even Boisrueil, who
presently came to intercede for the culprit, who, it seemed, was
a favourite. "As for Vilain," he continued; "you can catch him
whenever you please."

"Then catch him before the end of three days," I answered
obstinately, "and the man lives."

The truth was that Vilain's escape placed me in a position of
some discomfort; for though, on the one hand, I had no particular
desire to get him again into my hands, seeing that the King could
effect as much by a word to his father as I had proposed to do
while I held him safe; on the other hand, the evasion placed me
very peculiarly in regard to the King himself, who was inclined
to think me ill or suddenly grown careless. Some of the facts,
too, were leaking out, and provoking smiles among the more
knowing, and a hint here and there; the result of all being that,
unable to pursue the matter farther in Vilain's case, I hardened
my heart and persisted that the Swiss should pay the penalty.

This obstinacy on my part had an unforeseen issue. On the
evening of the second day, a little before supper-time, my wife
came to me, and announced that a young lady had waited on her
with a tale so remarkable that she craved leave to bring her to
me that I might hear it.

"What is it?" I said impatiently.

"It is about M. Vilain," my wife answered, her face still wearing
all the marks of lively astonishment.

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "I will see her then. But it is not that
baggage who--"

"No," my wife answered. "It is another."

"One of your maids?"

"No, a stranger."

"Well, bring her," I said shortly.

She went, and quickly returned with a young lady, whose face and
modest bearing were known to me, though I could not, at the
moment, recall her name. This was the less remarkable as I am
not prone to look much in maids' faces, leaving that to younger
men; and Mademoiselle de Figeac's, though beautiful, was
disfigured on this occasion by the marked distress under which
she was labouring. Accustomed as I was to the visits of persons
of all classes and characters who came to me daily with
petitions, I should have been disposed to cut her short, but for
my wife's intimation that her errand had to do with the matter
which annoyed me. This, as well as a trifle of curiosity--from
which none are quite free--inclined me to be patient; and I asked
her what she would have with me.

"Justice, M. le Duc," she answered simply. "I have heard that
you are seeking M. de Vilain, and that one of your people is
lying under sentence for complicity in his escape."

"That is true, mademoiselle," I said. "If you can tell me--"

"I can tell you how he escaped, and by whose aid," she answered.

It is my custom to betray no astonishment, even when I am
astonished. "Do so," I said.

"He escaped through the window," she answered firmly, "by my
brother's aid."

"Your brother's?" I exclaimed, amazed at her audacity. "I do
not remember him."

"He is only thirteen years old."

I could hide my astonishment no longer. "You must be mad, girl!"
I said, "mad! You do not know what you are saying! The window
of the room in which Vilain was confined is fifty feet from the
ground, and you say that your brother, a boy of thirteen,
contrived his escape?"

"Yes, M. de Sully," she answered. "And the man who is about to
suffer is innocent."

"How was it done, then?" I asked, not knowing what to think of
her persistence.

"My brother was flying a kite that day," she answered. "He had
been doing so for a week or more, and everyone was accustomed to
seeing him here. After sunset, the wind being favourable, he
came under M. de Vilain's window, and, when it was nearly dark,
and the servants and household were at supper, he guided the kite
against the balcony outside the window."

"But a man cannot descend by a kite-string!"

"My brother had a knotted rope, which M. de Vilain drew up," she
answered simply; "and afterwards, when he had descended,
disengaged."

I looked at her in profound amazement.

"Your brother acted on instructions?" I said at last.

"On mine," she answered.

"You avow that?"

"I am here to do so," she replied, her face white and red by
turns, but her eyes continuing to meet mine.

"This is a very serious matter," I said. "Are you aware,
mademoiselle, why M. Vilain was arrested, and of what he is
accused?"

"Perfectly," she answered; "and that he is innocent. More!" she
continued, clasping her hands, and looking at me bravely, "I am
willing both to tell you where he is, and to bring him, if you
please, into your presence."

I stared at her. "You will bring him here?" I said.

"Within five minutes," she answered, "if you will first hear me."

"What are you to him?" I said.

She blushed vividly. "I shall be his wife or no one's," she
said; and she looked a moment at my wife.

"Well, say what you have to say!" I cried roughly.

"This paper, which it is alleged that he stole--it was not found
on him; but in the hollow of a tree."

"Within three paces of him! And what was he doing there?"

"He came to meet me," she answered, her voice trembling slightly.
"He could have told you so, but he would not shame me."

"This is true?" I said, eyeing her closely.

"I swear it!" she answered, clasping her hands. And then, with
a sudden flash of rage, "Will the other woman swear to her tale?"
she cried.

"Ha!" I said, "what other woman?"

"The woman who sent you to that place," she answered. "He would
not tell me her name, or I would go to her now and wring the
truth from her. But he confessed to me that he had let a woman
into the secret of our meeting; and this is her work."

I stood a moment pondering, with my eyes on the girl's excited
face, and my thoughts, following this new clue through the maze
of recent events; wherein I could not fail to see that it led to
a very different conclusion from that at which I had arrived. If
Vilain had been foolish enough to wind up his love-passages with
Mademoiselle de Mars by confiding to her his passion for the
Figeac, and even the place and time at which the latter was so
imprudent as to meet him, I could fancy the deserted mistress
laying this plot; and first placing the packet where we found it,
and then punishing her lover by laying the theft at his door.
True, he might be guilty; and it might be only confession and
betrayal on which jealousy had thrust her. But the longer I
considered the whole of the circumstances, as well as the young
man's character, and the lengths to which I knew a woman's
passion would carry her, the more probable seemed the explanation
I had just received.

Nevertheless, I did not at once express my opinion; but veiling
the chagrin I naturally felt at the simple part I had been led to
play--in the event I now thought probable--I sharply ordered
Mademoiselle de Figeac to retire into the next room; and then I
requested my wife to fetch her maid.

Mademoiselle de Mars had been three days in solitary confinement,
and might be taken to have repented of her rash accusation were
it baseless. I counted somewhat on this; and more on the effect
of so sudden a summons to my presence. But at first sight it
seemed that I did so without cause. Instead of the agitation
which she had displayed when brought before me to confess, she
now showed herself quiet and even sullen; nor did the gleam of
passion, which I thought that I discerned smouldering in her dark
eyes, seem to promise either weakness or repentance. However, I
had too often observed the power of the unknown over a guilty
conscience to despair of eliciting the truth.

"I want to ask you two or three questions," I said civilly.
"First, was M. de Vilain with you when you placed the paper in
the hollow of the tree? Or were you alone?"

I saw her eyelids quiver as with sudden fear, and her voice shook
as she stammered, "When I placed the paper?"

"Yes," I said, "when you placed the paper. I have reason to know
that you did it. I wish to learn whether he was present, or you
did it merely under his orders?"

She looked at me, her face a shade paler, and I do not doubt that
her mind was on the rack to divine how much I knew, and how far
she might deny and how far confess. My tone seemed to encourage
frankness, however, and in a moment she said, "I placed it under
his directions."

"Yes," I said drily, my last doubt resolved by the admission;
"but that being so, why did Vilain go to the spot?"

She grew still a shade paler, but in a moment she answered, "To
meet the agent."

"Then why did you place the paper in the tree?"

She saw the difficulty in which she had placed herself, and for
an instant she stared at me with the look of a wild animal caught
in a trap. Then, "In case the agent was late," she muttered.

"But since Vilain had to go to the spot, why did he not deposit
the paper in the tree himself? Why did he send you to the place
beforehand? Why did--" and then I broke off and cried harshly,
"Shall I tell you why? Shall I tell you why, you false jade?"

She cowered away from me at the words, and stood terror-stricken,
gazing at me like one fascinated. But she did not answer,

"Because," I cried, "your story is a tissue of lies! Because it
was you, and you only, who stole this paper! Because--Down on
your knees! down on your knees!" I thundered, "and confess!
Confess, or I will have you whipped at the cart's tail, like the
false witness you are!"

She threw herself down shrieking, and caught my wife by the
skirts, and in a breath had said all I wanted; and more than
enough to show me that I had suspected Vilain without cause, and
both played the simpleton myself and harried my household to
distraction.

So far good. I could arrange matters with Vilain, and probably
avoid publicity. But what was now to be done with her?

In the case of a man I should have thought no punishment too
severe, and the utmost rigour of the law too tender for such
perfidy; but as she was a woman, and young, and under my wife's
protection, I hesitated. Finally, the Duchess interceding, I
leaned to the side of that mercy which the girl had not shown to
her lover; and thought her sufficiently punished, at the moment
by the presence of Mademoiselle de Figeac whom I called into the
room to witness her humiliation, and in the future by dismissal
from my household. As this imported banishment to her father's
country-house, where her mother, a shrewd old Bearnaise, saved
pence and counted lentils into the soup, and saw company once a
quarter, I had perhaps reason to be content with her
chastisement.

For the rest I sent for M. de Vilain, and by finding him
employment in the finances, and interceding for him with the old
Vicomte de Figeac, confirmed him in the attachment he had begun
to feel for me before this unlucky event; nor do I doubt that I
should have been able in time to advance him to a post worthy of
the talents I discerned in him. But, alas, the deplorable crime,
which so soon deprived me at one blow of my master and of power,
put an end to this, among other and greater schemes.

VII. THE GOVERNOR OF GUERET.

Without attaching to dreams greater importance than a prudent man
will always be willing to assign to the unknown and
unintelligible, I have been in the habit of reflecting on them;
and have observed with some curiosity that in these later years
of my life, during which France has enjoyed peace and comparative
prosperity, my dreams have most often reproduced the stormy rides
and bivouacs of my youth, with all the rough and bloody
accompaniments which our day knows only by repute. Considering
these visions, and comparing my sleeping apathy with my daylight
reflections, I have been led to wonder at the power of habit;
which alone makes it possible for a man who has seen a dozen
stricken fields, and viewed, scarcely with emotion, the slaughter
of a hundred prisoners, to turn pale at the sight of a coach
accident, and walk a mile rather than see a rogue hang.

I am impelled to this train of thought by an adventure that
befell me in the summer of this year 1605; and which, as it
seemed to me in the happening to be rather an evil dream of old
times than a waking episode of these, may afford the reader some
diversion, besides relieving the necessary tedium of the thousand
particulars of finance that render the five farms a study of the
utmost intricacy.

My appointment to represent the King at the Assembly of
Chatelherault had carried me in the month of July into Poitou.
Being there, and desirous of learning for myself whether the
arrest of Auvergne had pacified his country to the extent
described by the King's agents, I determined to take advantage of
a vacation of the assembly and venture as far in that direction
as Gueret; though Henry, fearing lest the malcontents should make
an attempt on my person in revenge for the death of Biron, had
strictly charged me not to approach within twenty leagues of the
Limousin.

I had with me for escort at Chatelherault a hundred horse; but,
these seeming to be either too many or too few for the purpose, I
took with me only ten picked men with Colet their captain, five
servants heavily armed, and of my gentlemen Boisrueil and La
Font. Parabere, to whom I opened my mind, consented to be my
companion. I gave out that I was going to spend three days at
Preuilly, to examine an estate there which I thought of buying,
that I might have a residence in my government; and, having
amused the curious with this statement, I got away at daybreak,
and by an hour before noon was at Touron, where I stayed for
dinner. That night we lay at a village, and the next day dined
at St. Marcel. The second afternoon we reached Crozant.

Here I began to observe those signs of neglect and disorder
which, at the close of the war, had been common in all parts of
France, but in the more favoured districts had been erased by a
decade of peace. Briars and thorns choked the roads, which ran
through morasses, between fields which the husbandman had
resigned to tares and undergrowth. Ruined hamlets were common,
and everywhere wolves and foxes and all kinds of game abounded.
But that which roused my ire to the hottest was the state of the
bridges, which in this country, where the fords are in winter
impassable, had been allowed to fall into utter decay. On all
sides I found the peasants oppressed, disheartened, and primed
with tales of the King's severity, which those who had just cause
to dread him had instilled into them. Bands of robbers committed
daily excesses, and, in a word, no one thing was wanting to give
the lie to the rose-coloured reports with which Bareilles, the
Governor of Gueret, had amused the Council.

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