CHAPTER XXXIV.
''TIS AN ILL WIND.'
We had made our way slowly and with much jostling as far as theprincipal street, finding the press increase as we advanced, when Iheard, as I turned a corner, my name called, and, looking up, saw at awindow the face of which I was in search. After that half a minutesufficed to bring M. d'Agen flying to my side, when nothing, as I hadexpected, would do but I must dismount where I was and share hislodging. He made no secret of his joy and surprise at sight of me, butpausing only to tell Simon where the stable was, haled me through thecrowd and up his stairs with a fervour and heartiness which broughtthe tears to my eyes, and served to impress the company whom I foundabove with a more than sufficient sense of my importance.
Seeing him again in the highest feather and in the full employment ofall those little arts and graces which served as a foil to his realworth, I took it as a great honour that he laid them aside for thenonce; and introduced me to the seat of honour and made me known tohis companions with a boyish directness and a simple thought for mycomfort which infinitely pleased me. He bade his landlord, without amoment's delay, bring wine and meat and everything which could refresha traveller, and was himself up and down a hundred times in a minute,calling to his servants for this or that, or railing at them for theirfailure to bring me a score of things I did not need. I hastened tomake my excuses to the company for interrupting them in the midst oftheir talk; and these they were kind enough to accept in good part. Atthe same time, reading clearly in M. d'Agen's excited face and shiningeyes that he longed to be alone with me, they took the hint, andpresently left us together.
'Well,' he said, coming back from the door, to which he had conductedthem, 'what have you to tell me, my friend? She is not with you?'
'She is with Mademoiselle de la Vire at Meudon,' I answered, smiling.'And for the rest, she is well and in better spirits.'
'She sent me some message?' he asked.
I shook my head. 'She did not know I should see you,' I answered.
'But she--she has spoken of me lately?' he continued, his facefalling.
'I do not think she has named your name for a fortnight,' I answered,laughing. 'There's for you! Why, man,' I continued, adopting adifferent tone, and laying my hand on his shoulder in a manner whichreassured him at least as much as my words, 'are you so young a loveras to be ignorant that a woman says least of that of which she thinksmost? Pluck up courage! Unless I am mistaken, you have little to beafraid of except the past. Only have patience.'
'You think so?' he said gratefully.
I assured him that I had no doubt of it; and on that he fell into areverie, and I to watching him. Alas for the littleness of ournatures! He had received me with open arms, yet at sight of thehappiness which took possession of his handsome face I gave way to thepettiest feeling which can harbour in a man's breast. I looked at himwith eyes of envy, bitterly comparing my lot with that which fate hadreserved for him. He had fortune, good looks, and success on his side,great relations, and high hopes; I stood in instant jeopardy, myfuture dark, and every path which presented itself so hazardous that Iknew not which to adopt. He was young, and I past my prime; he infavour, and I a fugitive.
To such reflections he put an end in a way which made me blush for mychurlishness. For, suddenly awaking out of his pleasant dream, heasked me about myself and my fortunes, inquiring eagerly how I came tobe in St. Cloud, and listening to the story of my adventures with agenerous anxiety which endeared him to me more and more. When I haddone--and by that time Simon had joined us, and was waiting at thelower end of the room--he pronounced that I must see the king.
'There is nothing else for it,' he said.
'I have come to see him,' I answered.
'Mon dieu, yes!' he continued, rising from his seat and looking at mewith a face of concern. 'No one else can help you.'
I nodded.
'Turenne has four thousand men here. You can do nothing against somany?'
'Nothing,' I said. 'The question is, Will the king protect me?'
'It is he or no one,' M. d'Agen answered warmly. 'You cannot see himto-night: he has a Council. To-morrow at daybreak you may. You mustlie here to-night, and I will set my fellows to watch, and I think youwill be safe. I will away now and see if my uncle will help. Can youthink of anyone else who would speak for you?'
I considered, and was about to answer in the negative, when Simon, whohad listened with a scared face, suggested M. de Crillon.
'Yes, if he would,' M. d'Agen exclaimed, looking at the lad withapprobation. 'He has weight with the king.'
'I think he might,' I replied slowly. 'I had a curious encounter withhim last night.' And with that I told M. d'Agen of the duel I foughtat the inn.
'Good!' he said, his eyes sparkling. 'I wish I had been there to see.At any rate we will try him. Crillon fears no one, not even the king.'
So it was settled. For that night I was to keep close in my friend'slodging, showing not even my nose at the window.
When he had gone on his errand, and I found myself alone in the room,I am fain to confess that I fell very low in my spirits. M. d'Agen'stravelling equipment lay about the apartment, but failed to give anybut an untidy air to its roomy bareness. The light was beginning towane, the sun was gone. Outside, the ringing of bells and the distantmuttering of guns, with the tumult of sounds which rose from thecrowded street, seemed to tell of joyous life and freedom, and all thehopes and ambitions from which I was cut off.
Having no other employment, I watched the street, and keeping myselfwell retired from the window, saw knots of gay riders pass this wayand that through the crowd, their corslets shining and their voiceshigh. Monks and ladies, a cardinal and an ambassador, passed under myeyes--these and an endless procession of townsmen and beggars,soldiers and courtiers, Gascons, Normans and Picards. Never had I seensuch a sight or so many people gathered together. It seemed as if halfParis had come out to make submission, so that while my gorge roseagainst my own imprisonment, the sight gradually diverted my mind frommy private distresses, by bidding me find compensation for them in thespeedy and glorious triumph of the cause.
Even when the light failed the pageant did not cease, but, torches andlanthorns springing into life, turned night into day. From every sidecame sounds of revelry or strife. The crowd continued to perambulatethe streets until a late hour, with cries of '_Vive le Roi!_' and'_Vive Navarre!_' while now and again the passage of a great noblewith his suite called forth a fresh outburst of enthusiasm. Nothingseemed more certain, more inevitable, more clearly predestinated thanthat twenty-four hours must see the fall of Paris.
Yet Paris did not fall.
When M. d'Agen returned a little before midnight, he found me stillsitting in the dark looking from the window. I heard him call roughlyfor lights, and apprised by the sound of his voice that something waswrong, I rose to meet him. He stood silent awhile, twirling his smallmoustaches, and then broke into a passionate tirade, from which I wasnot slow to gather that M. de Rambouillet declined to serve me.
'Well,' I said, feeling for the young man's distress andembarrassment, 'perhaps he is right.'
'He says that word respecting you came this evening', my friendanswered, his cheeks red with shame, 'and that to countenance youafter that would only be to court certain humiliation. I did not lethim off too easily, I assure you,' M. d'Agen continued, turning awayto evade my gaze; 'but I got no satisfaction. He said you had hisgood-will, and that to help you he would risk something, but that todo so under these circumstances would be only to injure himself.'
'There is still Crillon,' I said, with as much cheerfulness as I couldassume. 'Pray Heaven he be there early! Did M. de Rambouillet sayanything else?'
'That your only chance was to fly as quickly and secretly aspossible.'
'He thought my situation desperate, then?'
My friend nodded; and scarcely less depressed on my account thanashamed on his own, evinced so much fee
ling that it was all I could doto comfort him; which I succeeded in doing only when I diverted theconversation to Madame de Bruhl. We passed the short night together,sharing the same room and the same bed, and talking more than weslept--of madame and mademoiselle, the castle on the hill, and thecamp in the woods, of all old days in fine, but little of the future.Soon after dawn Simon, who lay on a pallet across the threshold,roused me from a fitful sleep into which I had just fallen, and a fewminutes later I stood up dressed and armed, ready to try the lastchance left to me.
M. d'Agen had dressed stage for stage with me, and I had kept silence.But when he took up his cap, and showed clearly that he had it in hismind to go with me, I withstood him. 'No,' I said, 'you can do melittle good, and may do yourself much harm.'
'You shall not go without one friend,' he cried fiercely.
'Tut, tut!' I said. 'I shall have Simon.'
But Simon, when I turned to speak to him, was gone. Few men are attheir bravest in the early hours of the day, and it did not surpriseme that the lad's courage had failed him. The defection onlystrengthened, however, the resolution I had formed that I would notinjure M. d'Agen; though it was some time before I could persuade himthat I was in earnest, and would go alone or not at all. In the end hehad to content himself with lending me his back and breast, which Igladly put on, thinking it likely enough that I might be set uponbefore I reached the castle. And then, the time being about seven, Iparted from him with many embraces and kindly words, and went into thestreet with my sword under my cloak.
The town, late in rising after its orgy, lay very still and quiet. Themorning was grey and warm, with a cloudy sky. The flags, which hadmade so gay a show yesterday, hung close to the poles, or flapped idlyand fell dead again. I walked slowly along beneath them, keeping asharp look-out on every side; but there were few persons moving in thestreets, and I reached the Castle gates without misadventure. Here wassomething of life; a bustle of officers and soldiers passing in andout, of courtiers whose office made their presence necessary, ofbeggars who had flocked hither in the night for company. In the middleof these I recognised on a sudden and with great surprise Simon Fleixwalking my horse up and down. On seeing me he handed it to a boy, andcame up to speak to me with a red face, muttering that four legs werebetter than two. I did not say much to him, my heart being full and mythoughts occupied with the presence chamber and what I should saythere; but I nodded kindly to him, and he fell in behind me as thesentries challenged me. I answered them that I sought M. de Crillon,and so getting by, fell into the rear of a party of three who seemedbent on the same errand as myself.
One of these was a Jacobin monk, whose black and white robes, byreminding me of Father Antoine, sent a chill to my heart. Thesecond, whose eye I avoided, I knew to be M. la Guesle, the king'sSolicitor-General. The third was a stranger to me. Enabled by M. laGuesle's presence to pass the main guards without challenge, the partyproceeded through a maze of passages and corridors, conversingtogether in a low tone; while I, keeping in their train with my facecunningly muffled, got as far by this means as the antechamber, whichI found almost empty. Here I inquired of the usher for M. de Crillon,and learned with the utmost consternation that he was not present.
This blow, which almost stunned me, opened my eyes to the precariousnature of my position, which only the early hour and small attendancerendered possible for a moment. At any minute I might be recognisedand questioned, or my name be required; while the guarded doors of thechamber shut me off as effectually from the king's face and grace asthough I were in Paris, or a hundred leagues away. Endeavouring to thebest of my power to conceal the chagrin and alarm, which possessed meas this conviction took hold of me, I walked to the window; and tohide my face more completely and at the same time gain a moment tocollect my thoughts, affected to be engaged in looking through it.
Nothing which passed in the room, however, escaped me. I markedeverything and everyone, though all my thought was how I might get tothe king. The barber came out of the chamber with a silver basin, andstood a moment, and went in again with an air of vast importance. Theguards yawned, and an officer entered, looked round, and retired. M.la Guesle, who had gone in to the presence, came out again and stoodnear me talking with the Jacobin, whose pale nervous face and hastymovements reminded me somehow of Simon Fleix. The monk held a letteror petition in his hand, and appeared to be getting it by heart, forhis lips moved continually. The light which fell on his face from thewindow showed it to be of a peculiar sweaty pallor, and distortedbesides. But supposing him to be devoted, like many of his kind, to anunwholesome life, I thought nothing of this; though I liked himlittle, and would have shifted my place but for the convenience of hisneighbourhood.
Presently, while I was cudgelling my brains, a person came out andspoke to La Guesle; who called in his turn to the monk, and startedhastily towards the door. The Jacobin followed. The third person whohad entered in their company had his attention directed elsewhere atthe moment; and though La Guesle called to him, took no heed. On theinstant I grasped the situation. Taking my courage in my hands, Icrossed the floor behind the monk; who, hearing me, or feeling hisrobe come in contact with me, presently started and looked roundsuspiciously, his face wearing a scowl so black and ugly that I almostrecoiled from him, dreaming for a moment that I saw before me the veryspirit of Father Antoine. But as the man said nothing, and the nextinstant averted his gaze, I hardened my heart and pushed on behindhim, and passing the usher, found myself as by magic in the presencewhich had seemed a while ago as unattainable by my wits as it wasnecessary to my safety.
It was not this success alone, however, which caused my heart to beatmore hopefully. The king was speaking as I entered, and the gay tonesof his voice seemed to promise a favourable reception. His Majesty sathalf-dressed on a stool at the farther end of the apartment,surrounded by five or six noblemen, while as many attendants, amongwhom I hastened to mingle, waited near the door.
La Guesle made as if he would advance, and then, seeing the king'sattention was not on him, held back. But in a moment the king saw himand called to him. 'Ha, Guesle!' he said with good-temper, 'is it you?Is your friend with you?'
The Solicitor went forward with the monk at his elbow, and I hadleisure to remark the favourable change which had taken place in theking, who spoke more strongly and seemed in better health than of old.His face looked less cadaverous under the paint, his form a trifleless emaciated. That which struck me more than anything, however, wasthe improvement in his spirits. His eyes sparkled from time to time,and he laughed continually, so that I could scarcely believe that hewas the same man whom I had seen overwhelmed with despair and torturedby his conscience.
Letting his attention slip from La Guesle, he began to bandy wordswith the nobleman who stood nearest to him; looking up at him with aroguish eye, and making bets on the fall of Paris.
'Morbleu!' I heard him cry gaily, 'I would give a thousand pounds tosee the Montpensier this morning! She may keep her third crown forherself. Or, _peste!_ we might put her in a convent. That would be afine vengeance!'
'The veil for the tonsure,' the nobleman said with a smirk.
'Ay. Why not? She would have made a monk of me,' the king rejoinedsmartly. 'She must be ready to hang herself with her garters thismorning, if she is not dead of spite already. Or, stay, I hadforgotten her golden scissors. Let her open a vein with them. Well,what does your friend want, La Guesle?'
I did not hear the answer, but it was apparently satisfactory, for ina minute all except the Jacobin fell back, leaving the monk standingbefore the king; who, stretching out his hand, took from him a letter.The Jacobin, trembling visibly, seemed scarcely able to support thehonour done him, and the king, seeing this, said in a voice audible toall, 'Stand up, man. You are welcome. I love a cowl as some love alady's hood. And now, what is this?'
He read a part of the letter and rose. As he did so the monk leanedforward as though to receive the paper back again, and then soswiftly, so suddenly, with so unexpected a mov
ement that no onestirred until all was over, struck the king in the body with a knife!As the blade flashed and was hidden, and His Majesty with a deep sobfell back on the stool, then, and not till then, I knew that I hadmissed a providential chance of earning pardon and protection. For hadI only marked the Jacobin as we passed the door together, and read hisevil face aright, a word, one word, had done for me more than thepleading of a score of Crillons!
Too late a dozen sprang forward to the king's assistance; but beforethey reached him he had himself drawn the knife from, the wound andstruck the assassin with it on the head. While some, with cries ofgrief, ran to support Henry, from whose body the blood was alreadyflowing fast, others seized and struck down the wretched monk. As theygathered round him I saw him raise himself for a moment on his kneesand look upward; the blood which ran down his face, no less than themingled triumph and horror of his features, impressed the sight on myrecollection. The next instant three swords were plunged into hisbreast, and his writhing body, plucked up from the floor amid atransport of curses, was forced headlong through the casement andflung down to make sport for the grooms and scullions who stood below.
A scene of indescribable confusion followed, some crying that the kingwas dead, while others called for a doctor, and some by name forDortoman. I expected to see the doors closed and all within secured,that if the man had confederates they might be taken. But there was noone to give the order. Instead, many who had neither the _entree_ norany business in the chamber forced their way in, and by their criesand pressure rendered the hub-bub and tumult a hundred times worse. Inthe midst of this, while I stood stunned and dumbfounded, my own risksand concerns forgotten, I felt my sleeve furiously plucked, and,looking round, found Simon at my elbow. The lad's face was crimson,his eyes seemed starting from his head.
'Come,' he muttered, seizing my arm. 'Come!' And without furtherceremony or explanation he dragged me towards the door, while his faceand manner evinced as much heat and impatience as if he had beenhimself the assassin. 'Come, there is not a moment to be lost,' hepanted, continuing his exertions without the least intermission.
'Whither?' I said, in amazement, as I reluctantly permitted him toforce me along the passage and through the gaping crowd on the stairs.'Whither, man?'
'Mount and ride!' was the answer he hissed in my ear. 'Ride for yourlife to the King of Navarre--to the King of France it may be! Ride asyou have never ridden before, and tell him the news, and bid him lookto himself! Be the first, and, Heaven helping us, Turenne may do hisworst!'
I felt every nerve in my body tingle as I awoke to his meaning.Without a word I left his arm, and flung myself into the crowd whichfilled the lower passage to suffocation. As I struggled fiercely withthem Simon aided me by crying 'A doctor! a doctor! make way there!'and this induced many to give place to me under the idea that I was anaccredited messenger. Eventually I succeeded in forcing my way throughand reaching the courtyard; being, as it turned out, the first personto issue from the Chateau. A dozen people sprang towards me withanxious eyes and questions on their lips, but I ran past them and,catching the Cid, which was fortunately at hand, by the rein, boundedinto the saddle.
As I turned the horse to the gate I heard Simon cry after me, 'TheScholars' Meadow! Go that way!' and then I heard no more. I was out ofthe yard and galloping bareheaded down the pitched street, while womensnatched their infants up and ran aside, and men came startled to thedoors, crying that the League was upon us. As the good horse flung uphis head and bounded forward, hurling the gravel behind him with hoofswhich slid and clattered on the pavement, as the wind began to whistleby me, and I seized the reins in a shorter grip, I felt my heart boundwith exultation. I experienced such a blessed relief and elation asthe prisoner long fettered and confined feels when restored to the airof heaven.
Down one street and through a narrow lane we thundered, until a brokengateway stopped with fascines--through which the Cid blundered andstumbled--brought us at a bound into the Scholars' Meadow just as thetardy sun broke through the clouds and flooded the low, wide plainwith brightness. Half a league in front of us the towers of Meudonrose to view on a hill. In the distance, to the left, lay the walls ofParis, and nearer, on the same side, a dozen forts and batteries;while here and there, in that quarter, a shining clump of spears or adense mass of infantry betrayed the enemy's presence.
I heeded none of these things, however, nor anything except the towersof Meudon, setting the Cid's head straight for these and riding on atthe top of his speed. Swiftly ditch and dyke came into view before usand flashed away beneath us. Men lying in pits rose up and aimed atus; or ran with cries to intercept us. A cannon-shot fired from thefort by Issy tore up the earth to one side; a knot of lancers spedfrom the shelter of an earthwork in the same quarter, and raced us forhalf a mile, with frantic shouts and threats of vengeance. But allsuch efforts were vanity. The Cid, fired by this sudden call upon hisspeed, and feeling himself loosed--rarest of events--to do his best,shook the foam from his bit, and opening his blood-red nostrils to thewind, crouched lower and lower: until his long neck, stretched outbefore him, seemed, as the sward swept by, like the point of an arrowspeeding resistless to its aim.
God knows, as the air rushed by me and the sun shone in my face, Icried aloud like a boy, and though I sat still and stirred neitherhand nor foot, last I should break the good Sard's stride, I prayedwildly that the horse which I had groomed with my own hands and fedwith my last crown might hold on unfaltering to the end. For I dreamedthat the fate of a nation rode in my saddle; and mindful alike ofSimon's words, 'Bid him look to himself,' and of my own notion thatthe League would not be so foolish as to remove one enemy to exaltanother, I thought nothing more likely than that, with all my fury, Ishould arrive too late, and find the King of Navarre as I had left theKing of France.
In this strenuous haste I covered a mile as a mile has seldom beencovered before; and I was growing under the influence of the breezewhich whipped my temples somewhat more cool and hopeful, when I saw ona sudden right before me, and between me and Meudon, a handful of menengaged in a _melee_. There were red and white jackets in it--Leaguersand Huguenots--and the red coats seemed to be having the worst of it.Still, while I watched, they came off in order, and unfortunately insuch a way and at such a speed that I saw they must meet me face toface whether I tried to avoid the encounter or not. I had barely timeto take in the danger and its nearness, and discern beyond bothparties the main-guard of the Huguenots, enlivened by a score ofpennons, when the Leaguers were upon me.
I suppose they knew that no friend would ride for Meudon at that pace,for they dashed at me six abreast with a shout of triumph; and beforeI could count a score we met. The Cid was still running strongly, andI had not thought to stay him, so that I had no time to use mypistols. My sword I had out, but the sun dazzled me and the men worecorslets, and I made but poor play with it; though I struck outsavagely, as we crashed together, in my rage at this sudden crossingof my hopes when all seemed done and gained. The Cid faced thembravely--I heard the distant huzza of the Huguenots--and I put asideone point which threatened my throat. But the sun was in my eyes andsomething struck me on the head. Another second, and a blow in thebreast forced me fairly from the saddle. Gripping furiously at the airI went down, stunned and dizzy, my last thought as I struck the groundbeing of mademoiselle, and the little brook with the stepping-stones.
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 86