CHAPTER XXVI
COMMINES TAKES ADVICE
Respect kept La Mothe silent. How could he say bluntly, 'You oweeverything you possess in the world to the man who is dead--position,title, office, wealth. Are these forgotten?' In his embarrassment heglanced at Ursula de Vesc. Owing Commines neither respect norgratitude, she had no such scruple.
"Death is always terrible," she said softly, "or we make it terrible byour own terrors, but there will be a new terror added if love and theloyalty of gratitude die with the life. Is eaten bread so soonforgotten, Monsieur d'Argenton?"
Almost abstractedly Commines looked up from the paper in his hand. Ifhe heard her, he gave no sign of having heard; certainly he showed noresentment at the implied censure. His mind was busy balancingprospects and possibilities. If Charles were king, Ursula de Vescwould be a power behind the throne. If, as she said, Louis--and notfor the first time--played one of his grim jests full of a sinisterpossibility, to remain at Amboise would be fatal both to himself and tothe boy. The King might say the Dauphin grasped at the crown while thefather lived, and Philip de Commines abetted him. After all, Valmy wassafest. Not many days before, Louis had told him with brutal franknessthat the hand which pulled him from the gutter could fling him backagain. Yes, Valmy was safest. But what account was he to give of hismission? The letter, whether false in its news or true, was asufficient reason for his return. It was most natural, human, andloving that the faithful servant should stand by the bier of his deadmaster. It would even be a point in his favour if the King lived. Nodoubt Tristan had said, 'Test him and he will go over to the Dauphin.'Well, he would give Tristan the lie and prove that Louis came first,living or dead. Yes, Valmy was safest.
But his mission? For the time it had failed. Saxe, as Stephen hadsaid, had proved too much. He must make Saxe the scapegoat. Theobvious lie damned him. It was crass stupidity to put into Hugues'mouth a lie which carried its own disproof with it. To force anaccusation based upon the remainder of the story would be unpolitic.His best course would be to relieve the King of all his fears atAmboise. There was no plot, the Dauphin was loyal and obedient: notaffectionate, that would be proving too much like the fool Saxe, andLouis would never believe it. Then there was the King's letter toSaxe. It must not be forgotten. That shrewd rascal, Villon, was rightwhen he said some one had sounded Saxe, only the some one was notHugues the valet. The letter must be ignored, or, better still, itmight even help to make his--Commines'--position more secure than ever.It was Louis' habit to disavow his failures. He would, of course,repudiate Saxe and disavow the mission to Amboise, and because of thedisavowal he would, openly at least, welcome the Dauphin's loyalty.That was Louis' way. Yes, Valmy was safest.
"I must leave Amboise at once," he said at last, and speaking as if theintention had always been in his mind. "If this misfortune hasovertaken us all, which God forbid, we must meet it with courage andresignation. May He who alone is able comfort the bereaved son of sogood and so great a father. My hope and prayer, mademoiselle, is thatyou are right and the King is making trial of our love and loyalty. Ineither case my place is at Valmy. La Mothe, order a horse to besaddled without delay."
"There is one ready in Saxe's stable," answered La Mothe. Then, lesthe should be asked the unpleasant question how he came by thatknowledge and for what purpose the horse was in readiness, he addedhastily, "What shall we do with Saxe?"
"Keep Saxe safe until you hear from Valmy; let no one but Villon oryourself have speech with him. Such a liar would calumniate the Kinghimself. Now, Stephen, the horses in ten minutes."
"Horses?" said La Mothe blankly. Was he also to leave Amboise now thata new dawn was breaking?
"Yes, tell two of my men to be ready. I do not trust Tristan, and willtake no risks. An accident might happen to a lonely man on anall-night's ride."
"And yet," said the girl as La Mothe left the room, "you were ready totrust Tristan ten minutes ago?"
"But you have opened my eyes. Why? That is the one thing I cannotunderstand. We have always been opposed, always at enmity, and nevermore bitterly than to-night. Mademoiselle de Vesc, why did you nottake your revenge and let me ruin myself?"
"I might give you a woman's reason and say, Because!" she answered,speaking more lightly than she had yet spoken; then as she paused amoment the pale face flushed, and the beginnings of a smile playedabout the mouth, only to die away in a tender gravity. "And yet, totell the truth, it was a woman's reason: it was because there was oncea friendless, helpless boy, and Philip de Commines--you were neitherArgenton nor Talmont then, monsieur--opened his heart to him."
"But, mademoiselle, to be honest, that was for a woman's sake."
"And," she answered, the flush deepening and the gentle tenderness ofmouth and eyes growing yet more tender, "to be honest, this is for aman's sake."
Again there was silence, and in the quiet the two who had been enemies,and might be again for the same cause, drew into a closer, bettercomprehension upon a common ground. At heart they were akin--thepolitic unscrupulous opportunist vowed to the compulsion of hisambitions, and the girl who through all her threat of danger had givenno thought to herself. For the sake of the man; for the sake of thewoman: they are the twin cogwheels, working the one into the other,which keep this great machine of life, this sordid material world, upona sure, if slow, ascent from the baser to the nobler, from the kingdomsof this world to the glory of the Kingdom which is to come.
"A good lad," said Commines at last, speaking as a man speaks who ismoved in his depths. "Simple in his faith, simple in his reverence forthe best as he understands it, simple in his simpleness of heart: a ladso loyal that he can see no disloyalty in others. God bless him for agood lad. He came here a boy, but Amboise has made a man ofhim--Amboise and you together." It was Francois Villon's second birthover again, but in different words. "Mademoiselle, it will be mycharge to commend him to the King."
"For God's sake, no!" she burst out. "Leave him the man he is,Monsieur d'Argenton, leave him his simplicity of faith. Commend him tothe King? I would rather he ploughed the fields for bread than servedyour King. Here he is. Good-bye, Monsieur d'Argenton, may you findall well at Valmy; good night, Monsieur La Mothe, we shall meet againin the morning, or is it already the new day?" and with a smilingcurtsy to each she was gone. To Stephen La Mothe it seemed a cold goodnight after all that had come and gone between them that day, themisunderstood question in her work-room, the shadow of death in theBurnt Mill, and, above all, their nearness as he had stood behind herchair. But she had her purpose. She might spare Philip de Commines,she might even forgive him, but she would not touch his hand infriendship.
In silence Commines returned to his room, La Mothe following; insilence made himself ready for the road; in silence they both wenttogether to the great gate and passed without. Perhaps it was thateach felt the need of quiet to adjust his thoughts. But once the heavydoor, bolted and studded with iron, had clanged behind them, and thestars were clear overhead, Commines linked his arm with La Mothe's,drawing him close with the affectionate equality and confidence of theold days when they were father and son, brother and brother, friend andfriend in one. Let their union in blood be what it may, it is the mostperfect relationship man and man can know, and differs from thesweeter, more tender relationship of man and woman in that nothing issought, nothing granted.
"Stephen, lad, we have been at odds, you and I, and it has hurt usboth, but that's over. I think we were both to blame. Perhaps I havegrown old, and so forgot that youth must have its day; perhaps youcould not understand my duty to the King, or how, when a man is riddenby a dominant purpose, he must go straight forward and make or break away to the end. And yet you were doing something of the same yourself.With you it was love in duty; with me, duty in love. For, Stephen,make no mistake. Notwithstanding what it shames me to remember, I loveand reverence the King as the truest friend France has. May God sparehim to France until the boy has grown t
o be a man. Woe to thee, Oland, when thy King is a child. Henceforward I think the Dauphin hasnothing to fear; all that man can do to draw father to son and son tofather I will do. Stephen, your mission here is ended."
But in the darkness La Mothe shook his head; this was the real Philipde Commines, the Commines he had known and loved. The crust ofselfishness which overlies the heart of every man given overmuch to onepurpose, even the most honourable, had broken up, and the generouswarmth of the kindly nature within asserted itself. To such an one LaMothe could speak as he could not speak to the shrewd politician, orthe leader of men.
"Not ended yet, Uncle. With you I pray the King still lives, and thatis more than I could honestly have said in the Hercules room yonderwith Saxe spinning his lies. Tell him that within twelve hours I shallhave fulfilled to the very letter the orders he gave me. Watch him asyou tell him, you who are so shrewd a judge of men, and I think youwill say that to draw the father to the son will not be difficult."
"You believe that, Stephen?"
"I know it, Uncle; but here are the horses." With no more words LaMothe assisted Commines to mount, standing by his knee as he settledhimself in the saddle. Then Commines stooped and the two men claspedhands.
"God keep you, Stephen."
"And you, too, and may all be well at Valmy," answered La Motheearnestly, and added impulsively, "Uncle, have you nothing to say tome?"
"Only this, Stephen, thank God for a good woman," and with a lastpressure of the hand Commines rode on into the darkness, his two guardsa length behind him.
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