VII
_A divided duty._
That was Vigo's way. The toughest snarl untangled at his touch. He hadmore sense and fewer airs than any other, he saw at once that I was inearnest; and Constant's voluble protests were as so much wind. The titledoes not make the man. Though Constant was Master of the Household andVigo only Equery, yet Vigo ruled every corner of the establishment andevery man in it, save only Monsieur, who ruled him.
He said no word to me as we climbed the broad stair; neither reproved mefor the fracas nor questioned me about my coming. He would not pry intoMonsieur's business; and, save as I concerned Monsieur, he had nointerest in me whatsoever. He led the way straight into an antechamber,where a page sprang up to bar our passage.
"No one may enter, M. Vigo, not even you. M. le Duc has ordered it. Why,Felix! You in Paris!"
"I enter," said Vigo; and, sweeping Marcel aside, he knocked loudly.
"I came last night," I found time to say under my breath to my oldcomrade before the door was opened.
The handsome secretary whom I had taken for the count stood in thedoorway looking askance at us. He knew me at once and wondered.
"You cannot enter, Vigo. M. le Duc is occupied."
He made to shut the door, but Vigo's foot was over the sill.
"Natheless, I must enter," he answered unabashed and pushed his way intothe room.
"Then you must answer for it," returned the secretary, with a scowl thatsat ill on his delicate face.
"_You_ shall answer for it if it turns out a mare's nest," said Vigo, ina low, meaning voice to me. But I hardly heard him. I passed him andLucas, and flew down the long room to Monsieur.
M. le Duc was seated before a table heaped with papers. He had beenwatching the scene at the door in surprise and anger. He looked at mewith a sharp frown, while the deer-hound at his feet rose on itshaunches growling.
"Roland!" I said. The dog sprang up and came to me.
"Felix Broux!" Monsieur exclaimed, with his quick, warm smile--a smileno man in France could match for radiance.
I had no thought of kneeling, of making obeisance, of waiting permissionto speak.
"Monsieur," I cried, half choked, "there is a plot--a vile plot tomurder you!"
"Where? At St. Quentin?"
"No, Monsieur. Here in Paris. In the streets to-night, when you go tothe king."
Monsieur sprang to his feet, his hand on his sword. Lucas turned white.Vigo swore. Monsieur cried:
"How, in God's name, know you that?"
"You have been betrayed, Monsieur. Your plan is known. You leave thehouse to-night, near a quarter of eleven, to go in secret to the king.You leave by the little door in the alley--"
"Diable!" breathed Vigo.
"They set on you on your way--three of them--to run you through beforeyou can draw."
"But, ventre bleu! Monsieur is not alone."
"No; he walks between you and M. Lucas."
Not one of them spoke. They stared at me as if I were something uncanny.I, a raw country boy, disclosing a perfect knowledge of their mostintimate plans!
"How know you this?" Monsieur demanded of me. But he was not looking atme. His keen glance went first to Lucas, then to Vigo, the two men whohad shared his confidence. The secretary cried out:
"You cannot think, Monsieur, that I betrayed you?"
Vigo said nothing. His steady eyes never left Monsieur's face.
"No," answered Monsieur to Lucas, "I cannot think it." And to Vigo hesaid: "I shall accuse you when I accuse myself. But--none knew thisthing save our three selves." And his gaze went back to Lucas.
"It is not likely to be he," I said, impelled to be just to him though Idid not like him, "for they meant to kill him as well."
Lucas started, then instantly recovered himself.
"A comprehensive plot, Monsieur," he said, with a smile.
"Then who was it?" cried Monsieur to me. "You know. Speak."
"There is a spy in the house--an eavesdropper," I said, and then paused.
"Aye?" said Monsieur. "Who?"
Now the answer to this was easy, yet I flinched before it; for I knewwell enough what Monsieur would do. He feared no man, and waited on noman's advice. And if he was a good lover, he was a good hater. He wouldnot inform the governor, and await the tardy course of justice, thatwould probably accomplish--nothing. Nor would he consider the troubledtimes and the danger of his position, and ignore the affair, as manywould have deemed best. He would not stop to think what the Sixteenmight have to say to it. No; he would call out his guards and slay theplotters in the Rue Coupejarrets like the wolves they were. It was righthe should, but--I owed my life to Yeux-gris.
"His name, man, his name!" Monsieur was crying.
"Monsieur," I returned, flushing hot, "Monsieur--"
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, Monsieur, I know his name, but--"
Monsieur looked at me in surprise and frowning, impatience. QuicklyLucas struck in:
"Monsieur, I have grave doubts of the boy's honesty."
"Doubts!" cried Monsieur, with a sudden laugh. "It is not a case fordoubts. The boy states facts."
He seated himself in his chair, his face growing stern again. The littleaction seemed to make him no longer merely my questioner, but my judge.
"Now, Felix Broux, let us get to the bottom of this."
"Monsieur," I began, struggling to put the case clearly, "I learned ofthe plot by accident. I did not guess for a long time it was you whowere the victim. When I found out that, I came straight here to you.Monsieur, there are four men in the plot, and one of them has stood myfriend."
"And my assassin!"
"He is a black-hearted villain!" I acknowledged. "For he swore no harmwas meant to you. He swore it was only a private grudge against M.Lucas. But when one of them let out the truth I came straight to you."
"That is likely true," said Vigo, "for he was ready to kill the men whobarred his way."
"You were in a plot to kill my secretary!"
"Ah, Monsieur!" I cried.
"You--Felix Broux!"
I curled with shame.
"M. Lucas had struck me," I muttered; "I thought the fight was fairenough. And they threatened my life."
Monsieur's contemptuous eyes shrivelled me as flame shrivels a leaf.
"You--a Broux of St. Quentin!"
Lucas, who had watched me close all the while, as they all three did,said now:
"I believe he is a cheat, Monsieur. There is no plot. He has learned ofyour plan through the eavesdropper he speaks of and thinks to makecredit out of a trumped-up tale of murder."
"No," answered Monsieur. "You may think that, Lucas, for he is astranger to you. But I know him. He was a fool sometimes, but he wasnever dishonest. You used to be fond of me, Felix. What has happened tomake you consort with my enemies?"
"Ah, Monsieur, I love you. I have always loved you," I cried. "I am notlying now, nor cheating you. There is a plot. I learned it and camestraight to you, though I was under oath not to betray them."
"Then, in Heaven's name, Felix," burst out Vigo, "which side are youon?"
Monsieur began to laugh.
"That is what I should like to know. For, by St. Quentin, I can makenothing of it."
"Monsieur," insisted Lucas, "whatever he was once, I believe him atrickster now."
Monsieur bent his keen eyes on me.
"No; he is plainly in earnest. Therefore with patience I look to getsome sense out of this snarl of a story. Something is there we have notyet fathomed."
"Will Monsieur let me speak?"
"I have done naught but urge you to do so for some time past," heanswered dryly.
"Monsieur, you know my father would not let me leave St. Quentin withyou, three months back. But at length he said I should come, and Ireached Paris last night and, since it was late, lodged at an inn. Thismorning I came to your gate, but the guard would not let me enter. I wasso mad to see you, Monsieur, that when you drove out I sprang up o
n yourcoach-step--"
"Ah," said Monsieur, a new light breaking in upon him, "that was you,Felix? I did not know you; I was thinking of other matters. And Lucastook you for a miscreant. Now I _am_ sorry."
If I had been a noble he could not have spoken franker apology. But atonce he was stern again. "And because my secretary took you in all goodfaith for a possible assassin and struck you to save me, you turntraitor and take part in a plot to set on him and kill him! I hadbelieved that of some hired lackey, not of a Broux."
"Monsieur, I was wrong--a thousand times wrong. I knew that as soon as Ihad sworn. And when I found it was you they meant, I came to you, oathor no oath."
"There spoke the Broux!" cried Monsieur with his brilliant smile. "Nowyou are Felix. Who are my would-be murderers?"
We had come round in a circle to the place where we had stuck before,and here we stuck again.
"Monsieur, I would tell you all before you could count ten--tell youtheir names, their whereabouts, everything--were it not for one man whostood my friend."
The duke's eyes flashed.
"You call him that--my assassin!"
"He is an assassin," I was forced to answer; "even Monsieur'sassassin--and a perjurer. But--but, Monsieur, he saved my life from theother, at the risk of his own. How can I pay him back by betraying him?"
"According to your own account, he betrayed you."
"Aye, he lied to me," I said brokenly. "Yet Monsieur, if it were yourown case and one had saved your life, were he the scum of the gutter,would you send him to his death?"
"To whom do you owe your first duty?"
"Monsieur, to you."
"Then speak."
But I could not do it. Though I knew Yeux-gris for a villain, yet he hadsaved my life.
"Monsieur, I cannot."
The duke cried out:
"This to me!"
There was a silence. I stood with hanging head, the picture of ashame-faced knave. Shame so filled me that I could not look up to meetMonsieur's sentence. But when I had remembered the good hater inMonsieur, I should have remembered, too, the good lover. Monsieur hadbeen fond of me at St. Quentin. As I waited for the lightning to strike,he said with utmost gentleness:
"Felix, let me understand you. In what manner did this man save yourlife?"
Now that was like my lord. Though a hot man, he loved fairness and everstrove to do the just thing, and his patience was the finer that it wasnot his nature. His leniency fired me with a sudden hope.
"Monsieur, there are four of them in the plot. But one cannot be as vileas the others, since he saved my life. Monsieur, if I tell you, will youlet that one go?"
"I shall do as I see fit," he answered, all the duke. "Felix, will youspeak?"
"If Monsieur will promise to let him go--"
"Insolence, sirrah! I do not bargain with my servants."
His words were like whips. I flinched before his proud anger, and forthe second time stood with hanging head awaiting his sentence. And againhe did what I could not guess. He cried out:
"Felix, you are blind, besotted, mad. You know not what you do. I am inconstant danger. The city is filled with my enemies. The Leagues hate meand are ever plotting mischief against me. Every day their mistrust andhatred grow. I did a bold thing in coming to Paris, but I had a greatend to serve--to pave a way into the capital for the Catholic king andbring the land to peace. For that, I live in hourly jeopardy, and riskmy life to-night on foot in the streets. If I am killed, more than mylife is lost. The Church may lose the king, and this dear France of oursbe harried to a desert in the civil wars!"
I had braced myself to bear Monsieur's anger, but this unlooked-forappeal pierced me through and through. All the love and loyalty inme--and I had much, though it may not have seemed so--rose in answer toMonsieur's call. I fell on my knees before him, choked with sobs.
Monsieur's hand lay on my head as he said quietly:
"Now, Felix, speak."
I answered huskily:
"Would Monsieur have me turn Judas?"
"Judas betrayed his _master_."
It was my last stand. My last redoubt had fallen. I raised my head totell him all.
Maybe it was the tears in my eyes, but as I lifted them to M. le Duc, Isaw--not him, but Yeux-gris--Yeux-gris looking at me with warm goodwill, as he had looked when he was saving me from Gervais. I saw him, Isay, plain before my eyes. The next instant there was nothing butMonsieur's face of rising impatience.
I rose to my feet, and said:
"Kill me, Monsieur; I cannot tell."
"Nom de dieu!" he shouted, springing up.
I shut my eyes and waited. Had he slain me then and there it were nomore than my deserts.
"Monsieur," said Vigo, immovably, "shall I go for the boot?"
I opened my eyes then. Monsieur stood quite still, his brow knotted, hishands clenched as if to keep them off me.
"Monsieur," I said, "send for the boot, the thumbscrew, whatever youplease. I deserve it, and I will bear it. Monsieur, it is not that Iwill not tell. It is something stronger than I. I _cannot_."
He burst into an angry laugh.
"Say you are possessed of a devil, and I will believe it. My faith!though you are a low-born lad and I Duke of St. Quentin, I seem to begetting the worst of it."
"There is the boot, Monsieur."
Monsieur laughed again, no less angrily.
"That does not help me, my good Vigo. I cannot torture a Broux."
"There Monsieur is wrong. The lad has been disloyal and insolent, if heis a Broux."
"Granted, Vigo," said M. le Duc. But he did not add, "Fetch the boot."
Vigo went on with steady persistence. "He has not been loyal to Monsieurand his interests in refusing to tell what he knows. And if he goescounter to Monsieur's interests he is a traitor, Broux or no Broux. Hehas no claim to be treated as other than an enemy. These are serioustimes. Monsieur does not well to play with his dangers. The boy musttell what he knows. Am I to go for the boot, Monsieur?"
M. le Duc was silent for a moment, while the hot flush that had sprungto his face died away. Then he answered Vigo:
"Nevertheless, it is owing to Felix that I shall not walk out to meet mydeath to-night."
The secretary had stood silent for a long time, fingering nervously thepapers on the table. I had forgotten his presence, when now he steppedforward and said:
"If I might be permitted a suggestion, Monsieur--"
Monsieur silenced him with a sharp gesture.
"Felix Broux," he said to me, "you have been following a bad plan. Noman can run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. You are either myloyal servant or my enemy, one thing or the other. Now I am loath tohurt you. You have seen how I am loath to hurt you. I give you one morechance to be honest. Go and think it over. If in half an hour you havedecided that you are my true man, well and good. If not, by St. Quentin,we will see what a flogging can do!"
The Helmet of Navarre Page 8