‘You’re right,’ said the attorney. ‘Not much of a soldier…’
‘If the gentleman were to offer your friend… or rather the king…’
‘What? What can I offer the king?’
‘His two clerks…’
‘Certainly!’ the attorney exclaimed. ‘Certainly and with the greatest pleasure. Let your friend take them both, he can have them: they’re two delightful lads.’
‘One looked like a child to me.’
‘Fifteen years old, Monsieur! Fifteen! And a wizard on the drums. Come here, Fricotin.’
Cauvignac gestured in a way that showed he wanted young Fricotin to be left where he was.
‘And the other?’
‘Eighteen, Monsieur. Five feet six inches, a candidate as beadle at Saint-Sauveur,15 and so already used to handling a pikestaff. Come here, Chalumeau.’
‘But with a frightful squint, as far as I can see,’ said Cauvignac, gesturing again as before.
‘So much the better: you can put him on sentry duty, and, since he squints outwards, he can watch to left and right, while the others can only see straight ahead.’
‘That’s an advantage, I admit. But you see the king is in difficulties just now: when a case is argued with cannon, it’s even more expensive than one argued with words, so the king cannot afford to equip these two fellows. It’s as much as he can do to take on their training and their pay.’
‘If that’s all that’s needed to prove my loyalty to the king,’ said Rabodin, ‘well, I’ll make a sacrifice.’
Cauvignac and Barabbas exchanged glances.
‘What do you think, Tax Collector?’ asked Cauvignac.
‘I think the gentleman seems to be in good faith.’
‘In that case, we must be considerate towards him. Give him a receipt for five hundred livres.’
‘Five hundred livres!’
‘A receipt acknowledging the fitting out of two young soldiers, which Maître Rabodin is donating to His Majesty as a token of his ardent support.’
‘Then shall I, at least, in return for this sacrifice, be left in peace?’
‘I believe so.’
‘I shall not be troubled?’
‘I hope not.’
‘And suppose that, contrary to all justice, I were to be prosecuted?’
‘You could appeal to me as a witness. But will your two clerks agree?’
‘They’ll be delighted.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, though one should not tell them…’
‘… how they are to be honoured?’
‘It would be wiser.’
‘So what shall we do?’
‘Very simple. I’ll send them to your friend. What’s his name?’
‘Captain Cauvignac.’
‘I’ll send them to your friend, Captain Cauvignac, on some pretext or other. It would be better that the meeting should take place outside Orléans, to avoid any scandal.’
‘Yes, and to avoid the people of the town trying to beat you with whips as Camillus16 did the schoolmaster in antiquity…’
‘So, I’ll send them outside the town.’
‘On the main road from Orléans to Tours, for example.’
‘At the first inn.’
‘Yes. They’ll find Captain Cauvignac at the table, he’ll offer them a glass of wine, they’ll accept, he’ll propose a toast to the king’s health, they’ll drink enthusiastically and there they are – soldiers.’
‘Exactly. Now you can call them.’
The two young men were called in. Fricotin was a little rascal of barely four feet in height, quick, sharp and stocky, while Chalumeau was a gangling ninny of five feet six inches, thin as a beanpole and red as a carrot.
‘Gentlemen,’ Cauvignac told them, ‘Maître Rabodin, your attorney, is giving you a confidential mission. You must come tomorrow morning to the first inn on the road from Orléans to Tours to collect a sheaf of papers relating to a case that Captain Cauvignac is bringing against Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld. Maître Rabodin will reward each of you with a gratuity of twenty-five livres for this mission.’
Fricotin, who was easily duped, leapt three feet in the air. Chalumeau, of a more suspicious nature, looked at Cauvignac and the attorney with a doubtful expression that made him squint three times as much as usual.
‘Wait a moment,’ Maître Rabodin quickly interjected. ‘I didn’t agree to fifty livres.’
‘For which sum,’ continued the fake exempt, ‘Maître Rabodin will be reimbursed in the fee for the trial between Captain Cauvignac and the Duke de La Rochefoucauld.’
Maître Rabodin bowed his head. He was trapped: this was the door through which he had to pass to avoid the doors of prison.
‘Very well,’ the attorney said, ‘I agree, but I hope that you will give me a receipt accordingly.’
‘Here,’ said the tax collector. ‘See how I’ve anticipated your wish.’
And he handed him a sheet of paper with the following message: ‘Received from Maître Rabodin, most loyal subject of His Majesty, as a voluntary offering, the sum of five hundred livres to assist His Majesty in his war against the princes.’
‘If you insist,’ said Barabbas, ‘I shall put the two clerks on the receipt.’
‘No, no,’ said the attorney, hurriedly, ‘it’s perfectly fine as it is.’
‘By the way,’ said Cauvignac. ‘Tell Fricotin to take his drum and Chalumeau his pikestaff. They will be that much equipped already.’
‘But what reason can I possibly give them for suggesting that?’
‘Why, tell them it’s so that they can amuse themselves on the way.’
At this, the fake exempt and the fake tax collector withdrew, leaving Maître Rabodin quite stunned by the danger he had been in and only too happy to have got off so lightly.
VI
The next day, everything happened as Cauvignac had intended: the nephew and the godson arrived first, both riding on the same horse, followed by Fricotin and Chalumeau, the former with his drum, the latter with his pikestaff. There was some objection on both their parts when it was explained to them that they had the honour to be enlisted in the service of the princes, but these objections were overruled by Cauvignac’s threats, Ferguzon’s promises and the logic of Barrabas.
The horse belonging to the nephew and the godson was seconded to carry equipment, and, since Cauvignac was commissioned to raise an infantry regiment, the two new recruits could not argue with that.
They set off again. Cauvignac’s march was like a triumph. The wily mercenary had found the means to get the most stubborn advocates of peace to go to war with him. He had made some embrace the king’s cause, others the princes’. Some thought they were serving Parliament, and some others the King of England, who was talking of a raid into Scotland to recover his crown.17 At first, there had in fact been some divergence in insignia and discord in demands which Lieutenant Ferguzon, persuasive though he was, had been hard put to reduce to a condition of passive obedience. However, with the help of constant mystification – which Cauvignac said was essential to the success of the operation – they marched on, soldiers and officers, without knowing what they were to do. Four days after leaving Chantilly, Cauvignac had collected twenty-five men, and this, as we can see, was quite a fine little company. A lot of rivers that make a big fuss as they flow into the sea start from less impressive origins.
Cauvignac was looking for a centre. He reached a little village lying between Châtellerault and Poitiers, and thought that this was what he had been looking for. It was the village of Jaulnay. Cauvignac recognized it from having come here one evening to bring an order to Canolles, and he set up his headquarters in the inn, where he recalled having supped quite decently on that occasion. In any case, there was no choice: as we have said, this inn was the only one in Jaulnay.
In this situation, straddling the main road from Paris to Bordeaux, Cauvignac had behind him the troops of the Duke de La Rochefoucauld, who was besieging Sau
mur, and in front of him those of the king, which were concentrated in Guyenne. Offering a hand to each one and being careful not to show one flag or the other prematurely, he was concerned only to muster a core force of a hundred men and use them to his advantage. And recruitment was proceeding well: Cauvignac had almost half the number he needed.
One day when Cauvignac, having spent his whole morning man-hunting, was on the lookout as usual at the door of the inn, chatting with his lieutenant and sub-lieutenant, he saw a young woman on horseback appear at the far end of the street, followed by a groom, also on horseback, and two mules laden with baggage.
The easy manner in which the fair amazon was handling her mount and the stiff, proud bearing of the groom who was with her, rang a bell in Cauvignac’s memory. He put a hand on Ferguzon’s arm – the lieutenant was in low spirits that day and had been brooding in a rather melancholy way – and said, pointing to the rider: ‘There’s the fiftieth soldier in Cauvignac’s regiment, or I’m a goner!’
‘Who? That lady?’
‘Just so.’
‘Great! We’ve already got a nephew who should be a lawyer, a godson who was to be a churchman, the attorney’s two clerks, two pharmacists, a doctor, three bakers and two goose-minders. I should have thought that was enough dud soldiers, without adding a woman – because one day we’ll have to fight.’
‘Yes, but our exchequer is still only twenty-five thousand livres’ (it will be seen that the exchequer, like the troop, had expanded), ‘and if we could reach a round figure, say, thirty thousand livres, I think that would not be such a bad thing.’
‘Well, if that’s how you see it, I can’t argue. I totally agree.’
‘Hush! You’ll see.’
Cauvignac went up to the young lady, who had stopped by one of the windows of the inn and was questioning the innkeeper’s wife about rooms.
‘Your servant, my good sir,’ he said, shrewdly, gallantly putting a hand to his hat.
‘Good sir! Me?’ the lady said, smiling.
‘You, indeed, my fine viscount.’
She blushed.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Monsieur,’ she replied.
‘Oh, yes, you do. And to prove it your cheeks are already covered in red.’
‘You are most surely mistaken, Monsieur.’
‘No, no, not at all, I know perfectly well what I’m saying.’
‘Come, now, enough of this joke.’
‘I am not joking, Monsieur, and if you want proof, I can give it to you. I had the honour of meeting you, three weeks ago, in the proper clothing of your sex, one evening on the banks of the Dordogne, followed by your loyal groom, Pompée. Do you still have Pompée? Ah, there he is, dear Monsieur Pompée! Will you also tell me that I don’t know him?’
The young woman and the groom exchanged an astonished look.
‘Yes, yes,’ Cauvignac went on, ‘you may well be surprised, my dear viscount. But do you dare tell me that it was not you I met, there, as you well know, on the road to Saint-André-de-Cubzac, a quarter of a league from the inn of Master Biscarros?’
‘I don’t deny the meeting, Monsieur.’
‘There! You see!’
‘Except that it was on that occasion that I was in disguise.’
‘Not at all. It’s today that you’re disguised. In any case, I understand that a description of the Viscount de Cambes has been circulated throughout Guyenne, so you consider it politic, in order to ward off suspicion, to temporarily adopt this dress – which, in fact, to be fair, suits you perfectly, my good sir.’
‘Monsieur,’ the viscountess said, trying in vain to conceal her disquiet. ‘If you did not slip a few sensible words into your conversation, I should honestly think you mad.’
‘I shall not pay you the same compliment, and I consider it most reasonable to disguise oneself when one is conspiring.’
The young woman looked at Cauvignac with increasing unease.
‘It does indeed seem to me,’ she said, ‘that I have seen you somewhere, but I cannot recall where.’
‘The first time, as I told you, was on the banks of the Dordogne.’
‘And the second?’
‘The second was in Chantilly.’
‘On the day of the hunt?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Then I have nothing to fear: you are one of ours.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because you were with the princess.’
‘Let me tell you that that is not a reason.’
‘But I think…’
‘There were a lot of people for you to be sure that everyone there was a friend.’
‘Take care, Monsieur, or you will give me an odd idea of you.’
‘Think what you like. I’m not sensitive.’
‘But what do you want, anyway?’
‘To do you the honours of this inn, if you wish.’
‘I am grateful to you, Monsieur, but I have no need of you. I am expecting someone.’
‘Very well, dismount, and while you are waiting for someone, well, we can talk…’
‘What should I do, Madame?’ asked Pompée.
‘Dismount, ask for a room and order dinner,’ said Cauvignac.
‘But, Monsieur,’ said the viscountess. ‘I think it’s for me to give the orders.’
‘That depends, Viscount, seeing that I am in command in Jaulnay and have fifty men at my disposal. Pompée, do as I say.’
Pompée bowed his head and went into the inn.
‘So does this mean that you are arresting me?’ the young woman asked.
‘Perhaps.’
‘What? Perhaps?’
‘Yes, it depends on the conversation that we are about to have. But please dismount, Viscount… there. Now take my arm. The servants at the inn will lead your horse to the stable.’
‘I obey because, as you said, you are the stronger. I have no means to resist, but I warn you of one thing, which is that the person I am waiting for will come, and he is an officer of the king.’
‘Well, now, Viscount, you may do me the honour of introducing us, because I should be delighted to make his acquaintance.’
The viscountess realized that no resistance was possible and went ahead, motioning to him that he was free to follow her.
Cauvignac accompanied her to the door of the room that Pompée had had prepared for her and was about to enter behind her, when Ferguzon, hurrying upstairs, came over and whispered: ‘Captain, there’s a carriage with three horses, a young man, masked, in the carriage and two lackeys at the doors.’
‘Good,’ said Cauvignac. ‘It’s probably the gentleman we were expecting.’
‘Oh, are we expecting a gentleman?’
‘Yes, and I shall go down to meet him. You stay in the corridor, don’t take your eyes off the door. Let everyone go in, but no one come out.’
‘As you say, Captain.’
A chaise had just drawn up at the door of the inn, brought there by four men of Cauvignac’s company, who had met it a quarter of a league outside the town and escorted it from there on.
A young man, dressed in blue velvet and wrapped in a great fur coat, was lying rather than sitting inside the chaise. As soon as the four men had surrounded his coach, he asked them a large number of questions, but seeing that, however pressing the questions might be, he was not to get any reply to them, he seemed to have resigned himself to wait, only occasionally raising his head enough to see whether some leader or other might not be approaching, from whom he could demand an explanation of the unusual behaviour of these men towards him.
In any case, it was impossible to make an accurate assessment of the effect of this event on the young traveller, since his face was half covered by one of those black satin masks called a ‘wolf’, which were so popular at the time. However, what this mask did allow one to see, namely the upper part of the forehead and the lower part of the face, suggested youth, beauty and wit. The teeth were small and white, and the eyes, through the ma
sk, were shining.
Two tall lackeys, pale and trembling, despite the fact that they had muskets on their knees, rode on their horses on either side of the carriage and seemed nailed to the two doors. The scene could have been one of highwaymen arresting travellers, were it not for the broad daylight, the inn, the laughing face of Cauvignac and the self-possession of the two supposed robbers.
At the sight of Cauvignac – who, as we said, was appearing in the doorway, alerted by Ferguzon – the young man under arrest gave a little gasp of surprise and brought his hand quickly up to his face, as if to ensure that his mask was still on. Assuring himself of this seemed to make him calmer.
Brief though the movement was, it had not escaped Cauvignac. He looked at the traveller in the way that a man does when he is used to reading signs on even the most dissimulating face, then, despite himself, shuddered with astonishment almost as great as that which had been shown by the man in blue. However, he collected himself, and, putting his hat in his hand with a particular flourish, said: ‘Fair lady, welcome!’
The traveller’s eyes shone with astonishment through the openings in his mask.
‘And where are you going like that?’ Cauvignac went on.
‘Where am I going?’ the traveller said, ignoring Cauvignac’s greeting and simply answering the question. ‘Where am I going? You must know better than I do, since I am no longer free to continue on my way. I am going where you lead me.’
‘Might I point out, dear lady,’ said Cauvignac, with increasing politeness, ‘that this is not a reply. Your arrest is only temporary. When we have spoken for a while about our mutual affairs, with open heart and face, you can resume your journey without hindrance.’
‘Excuse me,’ said the young traveller, ‘but before we go any further, let’s put one thing right. You are pretending to take me for a woman, when in reality you can very well see from my clothes that I am a man.’
‘You know the Latin proverb: ne nimium crede colori – “The wise man does not judge by appearances.” And I lay claim to being a wise man, which means that, beneath this deceptive costume, I recognized…’
‘What did you recognize?’ the traveller asked, impatiently.
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