XX
_"On guard, monsieur."_
We found ourselves in a narrow panelled passageway, lighted by aflickering oil-lamp pendent from a bracket. Confronting us was ourpreserver--a little old lady in black velvet, leaning back in chucklingtriumph against the shot bolts.
She was very small and very old. Her figure was bent and shrunken, apitiful little bag of bones in a rich dress; her hair was as white asher ruff; her skin as yellow and dry as parchment, furrowed with athousand wrinkles; but her black eyes sparkled like a girl's.
"I did not mean to let my nightingale's throat be slit," she cried in ashrill voice quavering like a young child's. "I have listened to yoursinging many a night, monsieur; I was glad to-night to find thenightingale back again. When I saw that crew rush at you, I said I wouldsave you if only you would put your back to my door. Monsieur, you are ayoung man of intelligence."
"I am a young man of amazing good fortune, madame," M. Etienne replied,with his handsomest bow, sheathing his wet blade. "I owe you a debt ofgratitude which is ill repaid in the base coin of bringing trouble tothis house."
"Not at all--not at all!" she protested with animation. "No one islikely to molest this house. It is the dwelling of M. Ferou."
"Of the Sixteen?"
"Of the Sixteen," she nodded, her shrewd face agleam with mischief. "Intruth, if my son were within, you were little likely to find harbouragehere. But, as it is, he and his wife are supping with his Grace ofLyons. And the servants are one and all gone to mass, leaving madamegrand'mere to shift for herself. No, no, my good friends; you may knocktill you drop, but you won't get in."
The attacking party was indeed hammering energetically on the door,shouting to us to open, to deny them at our peril. The eyes of the oldlady glittered with new delight at every rap.
"I fancy they will think twice before they batter down M. Ferou's door!Ma foi! I fancy they are a little mystified at finding you sanctuariedin this house. Was it not my Lord Mayenne's jackal, Francois de Brie?"
"Yes; and Marc Latour."
"I thought I knew them," she cried in evident pride at her sharpness."It was dark, and they were masked, and my eyes are old, but I knewthem! And which of the ladies is it?"
He could do no less than answer his saviour.
"Ah, well," she said, with a little sigh, "I too once--but that is along time ago." Then her eyes twinkled again; I trow she was not muchgiven to sighing. "That is a long time ago," she repeated briskly, "andnow they think I am too old to do aught but tell my beads and wait fordeath. But I like to have a hand in the game."
"I will come to take a hand with you any time, madame," M. Etienneassured her. "I like the way you play."
She broke into shrill, delighted laughter.
"I'll warrant you do! And I don't mean to do the thing by halves. No; Ishall save you, hide and hair. Be so kind, my lad, as to lift thelantern from the hook."
I did as she bade me, and we followed her down the passage likespaniels. She was so entirely equal to the situation that we made noprotests and asked no questions. At the end of the hall she paused,opening neither the door on the right nor the door on the left, but,passing her hand up one of the panels of the wainscot, suddenly sheflung it wide.
"You are not so small as I," she chuckled, "yet I think you can makeshift to get through. You, monsieur lantern-bearer, go first."
I doubled myself up and scrambled through. The old lady, gathering herpetticoats daintily, followed me without difficulty, but M. Etienne wasput to some trouble to bow his tall head low enough. We stood at the topof a flight of stone steps descending into blackness. The old ladyunhesitatingly tripped down before us.
At the foot of the stairs was a vaulted stone passageway, slippery withlichen, the dampness hanging in beads on the wall. Turning two corners,we brought up at a narrow, nail-studded door.
"Here I bid you farewell," quoth the little old lady. "You have only towalk on till you get to the end. At the steps, pull the rope once andwait. When he opens to you, say, 'For the Cause,' and draw a crown withyour finger in the air."
"Madame," M. Etienne cried, "I hope the day may come when I shall makeyou suitable acknowledgements. My name--"
"I prefer not to know it," she interrupted, glancing up at him. "I willcall you M. Yeux-gris; that is enough. As for acknowledgments--pooh! Iam overpaid in the sport it has been."
"But, madame, when monsieur your son discovers--"
"Mon dieu! I am not afraid of my son or of any other woman's son!" shecried, with cackling laughter. And I warrant she was not.
"Madame," M. Etienne said, "I trust we shall meet again when I shallhave time to tell you what I think of you." He dropped on his kneesbefore her, kissing both her hands.
"Yes, yes, of course you are grateful," she said, somewhat boredapparently by his demonstration. "Naturally one does not like to die atyour age. I wish you a pleasant journey, M. Yeux-gris, and you too, youfresh-faced boy. Give me back my lantern and fare you well."
"You will let us see you safe back in your hall."
"I will do nothing of the sort! I am not so decrepit, thank you, that Icannot get up my own stairs. No, no; no more gallantries, but get onyour way! Begone with you! I must be back in my chamber working myaltar-cloth when my daughter-in-law comes home."
Crowing her elfin laugh, she pulled the door open and fairly hustled usthrough.
"Good-by--you are fine boys"; and she slammed the door upon us. We werein absolute darkness. As we took our first breath of the dank, foul air,we heard bolts snap into place.
"Well, since we cannot go back, let us go forward," said M. Etienne,cheerfully. "I am glad she has bolted the door; it is to throw them offthe scent should they track us."
I knew very well that he was not at all glad; that the same thoughtwhich chilled my blood had come to him. This little beldam, with herbeady eyes and her laughter, was the wicked witch of our childhood days;she had shut us up in a charnel-house to die.
I heard him tapping the pavement before him with his scabbard, using itas a blind man's staff. And so we advanced through the fetid gloom, thepassage being only wide enough to let us walk shoulder to shoulder.There was a whirring of wings about us, and a squeaking; once somethingswooped square into my face, knocking a cry of terror from me, and alaugh from him.
"What was it? a bat? Cheer up, Felix; they don't bite." But I would notgo on till I had made sure, as well as I could without seeing, that thecursed thing was not clinging on me somewhere.
We walked on then in silence, the stone walls vibrant with our tread.We went on till it seemed we had traversed the width of Paris; and Iwondered who were sleeping and feasting and scheming and loving over ourheads. M. Etienne said at length:
"Mordieu! I hope this snake-hole does not empty us out into the Seine."But I thought that as long as it emptied us out somewhere, I should notgreatly mind the Seine.
At this very moment M. Etienne clutched my arm, jerking me to a halt. Ibounded backward, trying in the blackness to discern a precipice yawningat my feet. "Look!" he cried in a low, tense voice. I perceived, farbefore us in the gloom, a point of light, which, as we watched it, grewbigger and bigger, till it became an approaching lantern.
"This is like to be awkward," murmured M. Etienne.
The man carrying the light came on with firm, heavy tread; naturally hedid not see us as soon as we saw him. I thought him alone, but it washard to tell in this dark, echoy place.
He might easily have approached within touch of my sad clothing withoutbecoming aware of me, but M. Etienne's azure and white caught thelantern rays a rod away. The newcomer stopped short, holding up thelight between us and his face. We could make nothing of him, save thathe was a large man, soberly clad.
"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice ringing out loud and steady. "Is ityou, Ferou?"
M. Etienne hooked his scabbard in place, and went forward into the clearcircle of light.
"No, M. de Mayenne; it is Etienne de Mar."
"Ventre ble
u!" Mayenne ejaculated, changing his lantern with comicalalacrity to his left hand, and whipping out his sword. My master's camebare, too, at that. They confronted each other in silence, tillMayenne's ever-increasing astonishment forced the cry from him:
"How the devil come you here?"
"Evidently by way of M. Ferou's house," M. Etienne answered. Mayennestill stared in thick amazement; after a moment my master added: "I mustin justice say that M. Ferou is not aware that I am using this passage;he is, with madame his wife, supping with the Archbishop of Lyons."
M. Etienne leaned his shoulder against the wall, smiling pleasantly, andwaiting for the duke to make the next move. Mayenne kept a nonplussedsilence. The situation was indeed somewhat awkward. He could not comeforward without encountering an agile opponent, whose exceeding skillwith the sword was probably known to him. He could not turn tail, hadhis dignity allowed the course, without exposing himself to be spitted.He was in the predicament of the goat on the bridge. Yet was he gapingat us less in fear, I think, than in bewilderment. This Ferou, as Ilearned later, was one of his right-hand men, years-long supporter.Mayenne had as soon expected to meet a lion in the tunnel as to meet afoe. He cried out again upon us, with an instinctive certainty that agreat prince's question must be answered:
"How came you here?"
"I don't ask," said M. Etienne, "how it happens that M. le Duc iswalking through this rat-hole. Nor do I feel disposed to make anyexplanation to him."
"Very well, then," said Mayenne; "our swords, if you are ready, willmake adequate explanation."
"Now, that is gallant of you," returned M. Etienne, "as it is evidentthat the closeness of these walls will inconvenience your Grace morethan it will me."
The walls of the passage were roughly laid. Mayenne perched his lanternon a projecting stone.
"On guard, sir," he answered.
The silence was profound. Mayenne had no companion following him. He wasalone with his sword. He was not now head of the state, but only a manwith a sword, standing opposite another man with a sword. Nor was he inthe pink of form. Though he gave the effect, from his clear colour andproud bearing, perhaps also from his masterful energy, of tremendousforce and strength, his body was in truth but a poor machine, his greatcorpulence making him clumsy and scant of breath. He must have known, ashe eyed his supple antagonist, what the end would be. Yet he merelysaid:
"On guard, monsieur."
M. Etienne did not raise his weapon. I retreated a pace, that I mightnot be in the way of his jump, should Mayenne spring on him. M. Etiennesaid slowly:
"M. de Mayenne, this encounter was none of my contriving. Nor have I anywish to cross swords with you. Family quarrels are to be deprecated.Since I still intend to become your cousin, I must respectfully beg tobe released from the obligation of fighting you."
A man knowing himself overmatched cannot refuse combat. He may, even asMayenne had done, think himself compelled to offer it. But if he insistson forcing battle with a reluctant adversary, he must be a hotheadindeed. And Mayenne was no hothead. He stood hesitant, feeling that hewas made ridiculous in accepting the clemency and should be still moreridiculous to refuse it. He half lifted his sword, only to lower itagain, till at last his good sense came to his relief in a laugh.
"M. de Mar, it appears that, after all, some explanations are necessary.You think that in declining to fight you put me in your debt. Possiblyyou are right. But if you expect that in gratitude I shall hand overLorance de Montluc, you were never more mistaken. Never, while I live,shall she marry into the king's camp. Now, monsieur, that we understandeach other, I abide by your decision whether we fight or not."
For answer, M. Etienne put up his blade. The Duke of Mayenne, salutingwith his, did the like. "Mar," he said, "you stood off from us, like acoquetting girl, for three years. At length, last May, you refusedpoint-blank to join us. I do not often ask a man twice, but I ask you.Will you join the League to-night, and marry Lorance to-morrow?"
No man could have spoken with a franker grace. I believe then, Ibelieve now, he meant it. M. Etienne believed he meant it.
"Monsieur," he answered, "I have shilly-shallied long; but I am plantedsquarely at last with my father on the king's side. You put yourinteresting nephew into my father's house to kill him; I shall not signmyself with the League."
"In that case," returned Mayenne, "perhaps we might each continue on hisway."
"With all my heart, monsieur."
Each drew back against the wall to let the other pass, with a wary eyefor daggers. Then M. Etienne, laughing a little, but watching Mayennelike a lynx, started to go by. The duke, seeing the look, suddenlyraised his hands over his head, holding them there while both of ussqueezed past him.
"Cousin Charles," said M. Etienne, "I see that when I have marriedLorance you and I shall get on capitally. Till then, God have you everin guard."
"I thank you, monsieur. You make me immortal."
"I have no need to make you witty. M. de Mayenne, when you havesubmitted to the king, as you will one of these days, I shall have asdelightful a kinsman as heart of man could wish. You and I will yetdrink a loving-cup together. Till that happy hour, I am your good enemy.Fare you well, monsieur."
He bowed; the duke, half laughing despite a considerable ire, returnedthe obeisance with all pomp. M. Etienne took me by the arm and departed.Mayenne stood still for a space; then we heard his retreatingfootsteps, and the glimmer of his light slowly faded away.
"WE CLIMBED OUT INTO A SILK-MERCER'S SHOP."]
"It wasn't necessary to tell him the door is bolted," M. Etiennemuttered.
We hurried along now without precaution, knowing that the floor whichhad supported Mayenne would support us. The consequence was that westumbled abruptly against a step, and fell with a force like to breakour kneecaps. I picked myself up at once, and ran headlong up thestairs, to hit my crown on the ceiling and reel back on M. Etienne,sweeping him off his feet, so that we rolled in a struggling heap on thestones of the passage. And for the minute the place was no longer dark;I saw more lightning than even flashed in the Rue Coupejarrets.
"Are you hurt, Felix?" cried M. Etienne, the first to disentanglehimself.
"No," I said, groaning; "but I banged my head. She did not say it was atrap-door."
We ascended the stairs a second time--this time most cautiously on ourhands and knees. Above us, at the end, we could feel, with upleaping ofspirit, a wooden ceiling.
"Ah, I have the cord!" he exclaimed.
The next instant we heard a faint but most comforting tinkle somewhereabove us. Before we had time to wonder whether any marked it but us, weheard steps overhead, and a noise as of a chest being pulled about, andthen the trap lifted. We climbed out into a silk-mercer's shop.
"Faith, my man," said M. Etienne to the little bourgeois who had openedto us, "I am glad to see you appear so promptly."
He looked at us, somewhat troubled or alarmed.
"You must have met--" he suggested with hesitancy.
"Yes," said M. Etienne; "but he did not object. We are, of course, ofthe initiated."
"Of course, of course," the little fellow assented, with a funnyassumption of knowing all about it. "Not every one has the secret of thepassage. Well, I can call myself a lucky man. 'Tis mighty few mercershave a duke in their shop as often as I."
We looked curiously about us. The shop was low and dim, with piles ofstuff in rolls on the shelves, and other stuffs lying loose on thecounter before us, as if the man had just been measuring them--gorgeousbrocades and satins. Above us, a bell on the rafter still quivered.
"Yes, that is the bell of the trap," the proprietor said, following ourglance. "Customers do not know where it rings from. And if I am not atliberty to open, I drop my brass yardstick on the floor--But they toldyou that, doubtless, monsieur?" he added, regarding M. Etienne again alittle uneasily.
"They told me something else I had near forgotten," M. Etienne answered,and, drawing a crown in the air, gave the password, "For the Ca
use."
"For the King," the shopkeeper made instant rejoinder, drawing in theair in his turn a letter C and the numeral X.
M. Etienne laid a gold piece on the counter, and if the shopkeeper hadfelt any doubts of this well-dressed gallant who wore no hat, theyvanished in its radiance.
"And now, my friend, let us out into the street and forget our faces."
The man took up his candle to light us to the door.
"Perhaps it would not trouble monsieur to say a word for me over there?"he suggested, pointing in the direction of the tunnel. "M. le Duc hasevery confidence in me. Still, it would do no harm if monsieur shouldmention how quickly I let him out."
"When I see him, I will surely mention it," M. Etienne promised him."Continue to be vigilant to-night, my friend. There is another man tocome."
Followed by the little bourgeois's thanks and adieus, we walked out intothe sweet open air. As soon as his door was shut again, we took to ourheels, nor stopped running till we had put half a dozen streets betweenus and the mouth of the tunnel. Then we walked along in breathlesssilence.
Presently M. Etienne cried out:
"Death of my life! Had I fought there in the burrow, I should havechanged the history of France!"
The Helmet of Navarre Page 21