CHAPTER IV
THE CHATEAU DE LA BIDACHE
Months had passed since I shook hands with death in the cornfield bythe banks of the Oise, and the grass was tall and green on the moundsaround La Fere which marked the graves of those who had fought anddied there, in reality for the hand of Spain, in spirit for the Leaguethat was dead. It was autumn now, and as I, well and strong again,walked down the long avenue of beeches that led to the park gates ofBidache, I let my memory run back to the days in the hospital of Ste.Genevieve, whither I was borne from the field; to the soft-voiced,gentle-handed sisters of mercy; to the physician Marescot, the King'sown leech, with his acid face and kind heart, who doctored me; andabove all to the tall, slight, black-robed figure that came to see medaily, and for whose coming I used to long, in the dreary hours of mypain, with an infinite desire. I argued with myself on the absurdityof the thing--here was I, hardened by ten years of campaigning whichought to have taught me the world, conquered out of hand by the glanceof a pair of bright eyes, and the tones of a sweet voice. As the dayswore on, I cursed myself for the unworthy suspicions that had come tome and tied my tongue when I lay wounded, and was rescued by chance,and her charity. Who or what she was I cared not, and recklesslyabandoned myself to the feelings that were aroused in my heart.
I shall not forget what happened one afternoon. A long gallery in theconvent of Ste. Genevieve had been turned into a ward, and here thewounded lay on pallets with a walking space between. Owing to Madame'skindness I was comfortably quartered at the end of the gallery, and ascreen had been set between me and the other patients. I was gainingstrength daily, and, at the moment I speak of, was in a state betweensleeping and waking, when I heard a laugh and the sound of footsteps,and saw through the partly open wing of the screen that my lady hadcome to make her daily rounds, not attended as usual only by herwomen, but by a gaily-dressed cavalier as well, and it was his laughthat I had heard. In this person, dressed in the extreme of fashion, Imade out M. d'Ayen, the same who had so kindly suggested that I shouldbe left to die in the field. He pattered along, holding a kerchiefedged with gold lace to his nose, and ever and again waving it in theair, whilst he spoke in a loud tone, regardless of the looks cast athim by the sisters in attendance on the wounded. They came slowlytowards me, for Madame stayed constantly to speak to some maimedwretch, and I saw her slip money into the hands of some, and therewere kind words for all. I felt a strange pleasure in watching her,whilst at the same time I thought of my past, and how unfit I was evento nurse such a dream as my love for her. When within a yard or so ofthe screen, Madame bent over a sufferer, and d'Ayen exclaimed in hisbiting voice--
'_Morbleu!_ Madame! But you are the Princess of Charity. Let us hastento your interesting patient, however. His Majesty is most anxious tohear of him.'
'His Majesty has never done me the honour to inquire,' she answeredcoldly.
'You could hardly expect that, madame. But it came about in this way.We were at flux, and as usual I held a bad cascade----'
But Madame, to whom his presence was unwelcome, waited to hear nomore, and passing the screen, came to my side, and would have spoken;d'Ayen, however, cut in with a rudeness for which I could have run himthrough.
'My compliments, M. d'Auriac. You are a lucky man. The King takes sogreat an interest in you that he has charged me with a message to you.His Majesty bids me say,' and his bead-like eyes twinkled down on mefrom his painted cheeks, and then turned slily towards Madame.
I waited for him to continue, and he went on, talking as if his wordswere meant for Madame as well.
'His Majesty trusts you will soon be recovered, and relieve Madame dela Bidache from the strain of watching you, and begs me to add that heis of a temper that can brook no rival in war--or love. Let me say, onmy own account, that it would be well if M. le Chevalier would take achange of air.'
I looked from one to another in blank amaze--at the little ape withhis cruel eyes, and at Madame, who was still as a stone. Then shecoloured to her eyelids, her hands fell clenched to her side, and sheturned on d'Ayen.
'Such a message, monsieur, should not have been delivered before me. Iwill take care that M. d'Auriac has a change of air; and, monsieur,your presence oppresses me. I beg you will not trouble to escort mefarther.'
Then she turned from us and passed down the ward, but d'Ayen remained.
'I will kill you for this,' I gasped.
He looked at me with a shrug of his lean shoulders.
'Perhaps--I am old. But you would do well to take my advice,monsieur,' and with a bow he too turned and went.
I was left lost in wonder, utterly in the dark as to what this allmeant, but determined to find out and bring d'Ayen to book at thefirst chance. I made up my mind to ask the next day. The next daycame; but Madame did not, and then another and yet another day ofdreariness passed. At last someone, I forget who, told me she had gonewith the court to Nantes, and that I would see her no more. Later on,when Marescot came to me, I begged the favour of his getting me theknot of ribbon he would find in the lefthand breast pocket of thedoublet I wore on the day I was brought into the hospital.
'You are getting well,' he said, and turned away, but came back in alittle with a wrinkled smile on his lips, 'I cannot find the cordialyou want, Chevalier.'
I had half raised my head in expectancy as he returned, but sank backagain at his words, and Marescot went on in his low voice that soundedlike the humming of a bee. 'M. le Chevalier, that bow of ribbon hasgone away, so high up that a taller man than you could not reach it.Forget it. But I have news for you, which the clumsy fool who told youof Madame's departure should have given you: you are to go to Bidacheshortly, and stay there until you are well again. It will not be forlong. After that, try the tonic of the Italian war. France will be allploughshares now that the King is king.'
I caught him by the sleeve of his soutane. 'Tell me,' I said weakly,'who is Madame, where is Bidache?'
'Madame, as we all call her, is Claude de Rochemars, widow of Antoinede la Tremouille, and heiress of Bidache, Pelouse, and a quarter ofthe Cevennes. Bidache, where you go, is her chateau in Normandy.Madame,' he went on with a ghost of a smile on his thin lips, 'iskindness itself. Now no more talk for to-day.' Then he went, and I layback, as sore in mind as in body.
In a day or so Madame's steward of Bidache arrived, bearing a letterfrom her, in which, as a poor return for the service I had doneher--so she put it--she placed her Norman chateau at my disposal untilI was well again. I had a mind to refuse; but in my state could summonup no such resolution, and, muttering my thanks to the steward, saidthey could do what they listed with me. They moved me here by easystages, carrying me in a litter as I was too weak to ride, and when Icame to Bidache, and was borne to my apartments, imagine my joy andsurprise at seeing there my knave Jacques, whom I thought to be eitherdead or home again at Auriac; and not only Jacques, but hanging on thewall my own sword, and the sight of it was like meeting a triedfriend. Later on, Jacques informed me that after the rout he had madethe best of his way back to the old rock, and stayed there, hoping fornews of me. At last it came, with orders for him to hurry to Bidache,and he did so, bearing with him such things as he thought I needed, aswell as a hundred pistoles of rents, the same being half the sum dueto me for my rights over the fish in the bay of Auriac. As for thesword, it had been given to him on his arrival by Madame's orders tokeep for me. I had come to a low ebb by this, and the money was treblywelcome, as it would furnish me with a couple of horses, and leave around sum besides when I left Bidache, which I meant to do as soon asever I was fit to travel. And now the time had come for me to depart,and I was to start that evening. For forty crowns Jacques had pickedup a couple of stout cobs at Evreux, and we meant to leave an hour orso before sundown and make for Paris, where, if the King would acceptan old leaguer's sword, we would stay; if not, the world was wide. Iwas as far as ever from understanding the strange message that M.d'Ayen had delivered to me,
and felt myself safe in going to Paris, asa general amnesty covered all our sins of rebellion--so they werecalled now.
So absorbed was I in these thoughts, that I did not mark the rapidapproach of a horseman, nor indeed was I aware of his presence until,when within a few yards of me, he reigned in his plunging beast, whosebit and neck were white with foam, and lifting his hat respectfully,inquired if I was the Chevalier d'Auriac and on my reply exclaimed,'Madame will be overjoyed. We heard that you had already left Bidache,and my lady arrives within the hour from Evreux. Pardon, monsieur--Igo to give the news to the household,' and, saluting again, the lackeydashed onwards towards the chateau.
So I would meet her within the hour. Half unconsciously I glanced downto see if my doublet sat aright and my points were tied. Then Ithought I would go back to the house and meet her there, and, as I didthis, I looked at the fall of the plumes in my hat, and, finally,laughing at myself for a coxcomb, took my heart in both hands, andmarched onwards towards the gates. The porter had already been warned,and on my coming I found him there with a crowd of yokels, all in astate of high excitement.
'It is three years since Madame was here, monsieur,' the honest fellowexclaimed to me as I came up, 'three years, and now she comes withouta word of warning--_hola!_ There they are, and there is Madame on thejennet she purchased from M. le duc de Sully--he was but the Sieur deRosny then--_hola_! _hola!_'
The crowd joined with him in his cheers, although as yet the party wasfar off--not so far, however, that I could not easily make out thegraceful figure on the jennet, and in the two riders who accompaniedMadame, apart from the half-dozen servants behind, I recognised to mysurprise d'Ayen, and guessed that the grey-beard in the tall-crowned,broad-brimmed hat, with the sad-coloured cloak over his shoulders, wasno other than the old Huguenot, whose zeal had outrun his discretionon the night when I saved Madame from a great peril.
This guess of mine I hazarded aloud to the gate-keeper, who replied:
'Yes, M. le Chevalier, that is Maitre Palin, Madame's chaplain, and hewas also chaplain to M. le Compte before he died.'
'When was it that M. le Compte died?'
'Let me see, monsieur--ah, yes--four years ago in Paris, at the timeof the Plague. He was a great lord, as you may know, and brother ofthe duke, who they say has quarrelled with the King because of hisconversion, and of Madame Charlotte, the Princess of Conde, who livesin the Rue Grenelle, and whom the King kept for long a close prisonerin the tower of St. Jean d'Angely--no one knows why; but it is buzzedthat Monseigneur, the Prince of Conde, the King's cousin, died of aflask of wine, and that the Princess--but _hola_! _hola_! welcome toyour own house, madame,' and he dropped on his knees as the cavalcaderode up, and presented the keys of the chateau gates slung on a silverchain to their mistress. She bent from the saddle and touched themwith her hand, and the peasantry surrounded her with hearty greeting,hedging her in with cheerful red faces and broad smiles, so that shecould not move. Meanwhile, I stood apart, tugging at my moustache,wondering by what right d'Ayen rode at her bridle hand, and feelinghow true Marescot's words were, that the bow of ribbon was hung toohigh for me. Not that it was a question of birth--de Breuil of Auriacwas a name that was old when Tremouille was unknown; but--there wereother things which made all the difference, and men and women of theworld will understand what I mean when I say this.
As Madame lifted her head our eyes met, and, raising my hat, Iadvanced towards her, the people giving way respectfully. My ears werebuzzing, and I was as shy and nervous as a schoolboy as I bowed overher gloved hand, and touched it with my lips.
'Let me welcome you back to health, Chevalier,' she said, 'and say howglad I am to be able, even for a short while, to do the honours of mypoor house in person to you. News came to us that you had already leftBidache--without even a word to me;' her voice dropped a little as shesaid this, but the tone was cool and friendly, nothing more.
'I go to-night, madame.'
'So soon; but I understand why, and will not press you to stay--hereis one who, like myself, has longed for an opportunity to thank you inperson. _Mon pere_,' and she turned to the Huguenot priest, 'this isour friend to whom we owe so much.'
'In the service of the Lord one would willingly lay down life,' saidPalin, as he shook me warmly by the hand, 'nevertheless, a few hoursmore of the world for an old man is a grace not to be despised, and Ithank the instrument that has bestowed this benefit upon me.'
D'Ayen, between whom and myself there had passed no greeting, nowspoke in a voice that fairly trembled with anger.
'I was not aware that I should have the pleasure of meeting you here,M. le Chevalier. It will surprise the King,' he added, in a lower toneto Madame.
I made no answer; but the memory of his warning and my determinationto settle with him came up in full force. Madame, however, spoke.
'M. d'Ayen, when, by the order of the King, you were directed toescort me to Bidache, there was nothing said about your right todictate to me who shall be my guests. Remember, monsieur, that yourcompany is forced upon me, and let me add that you are a trifle toopaternal.'
D'Ayen paled under his rouge, and, muttering something, reined back apace, whilst Palin, looking him full in the eyes, said:
'Will you swallow that, too, M. d'Ayen? At your age one would havethought digestion hard.'
And there was no answer.
Madame had in the meantime signalled a lackey to dismount and offer mehis beast.
'I cannot allow you to walk, and we will reach the house quicker inthis way, besides, I want to hear all your news. My friends,' and sheturned to the people, 'come to Bidache: it is long since we have met,and I would have you to make merry as of old--come, Chevalier.'
In the cheers which followed, she touched her horse lightly on theshoulder with her whip, and galloped on, Palin and I on either hand,and the suite behind. In a little while she slackened pace, sayingwith a laugh, 'We are going too fast to talk, Chevalier, and I am awoman, you know, and must hear my own voice, if nothing else--so youare quite well and strong again?'
'I am, madame, thanks to your kindness, which Alban de Breuil cannever forget.'
Her colour deepened slightly. 'It is the other way, Chevalier, thedebt is on my side.'
'I have done nothing--and the repayment was too much.'
'I am sorry you think so,' looking straight between her horse's ears.
'I did not mean that--I have already said I can never requite yourkindness, and if Madame ever needs a stout arm and a good sword, it ismy hope she will call on that of Auriac.'
'Perhaps I may--some day,' she answered, 'for the blood of my fathersruns strong in me, but I think Maitre Palin here will tell you that Iam wrong, and that the sword is accursed.'
'Unless it be drawn in the service of God, madame,' put in theHuguenot gravely.
'_Mon pere_ Palin has been a man-at-arms in his day,' said Madame,'and has fought at Jarnac and Moncontour. He is therefore of thechurch militant, as you see.'
'I am proud to meet so brave a soldier as I doubt not you were, MaitrePalin. We took different sides; but all that is passed now, andHuguenot and Leaguer are merged in the common name of Frenchman.'
'Long live the King!' said Madame gaily; but Palin answered sadly:
'Would it were so. But to my eyes there are still dark clouds ahead.We have no longer Henry of Navarre, but Henry of France; no longer aprince of the true faith, but a pervert.'
'His Majesty will be delighted to hear that,' put in d'Ayen; butMadame took no more notice of him than of a fly.
'Hush! _mon pere_,' and she raised a warning hand, 'I will have noword against the King. M. le Chevalier is right, we are all one again,as France should ever be.'
'Amen!' answered Palin; 'but too much blood has been shed for thiscompromise to be accepted. The way is dark--but I will say no more,'and the old croaker dropped a half length behind.
A turn in the avenue at this moment brought us in full view of thegrey walls of Bidache, and on the wide stone staircase t
hat led to thegreat hall we saw the servants of the household assembled. Madamewaved her hand in greeting, and the cheer which broke from them wasdrowned in the boom of the bombard from the keep. As the blue wreathsof smoke curled upwards a little ball ran to the top of the flagstaffon the keep, and the next moment the banner of Tremouille, with thearms of Rochemars of Bidache quartered thereon, spread out its foldsto the morning, and Madame was come home once more.
We dined an hour or so later than usual, Madame, d'Ayen, Palin, andmyself at the high table, and the rest of the household with allBidache at the next. Madame, who seemed in nowise fatigued by her longride, was in the gayest of spirits and rippled with talk. As ifthinking she had punished d'Ayen enough, she directed all herconversation towards him, and the old beau was in his element indiscussing the intrigues of court life, and, let me add, interesting,for his memory went far back. Madame spoke of the Edict, but for whichthey would never have been at Bidache; of the surrender of Mercoeur,and of the betrothal of his daughter Francoise de Lorraine, thegreatest heiress in France, to _Cesar Monsieur_, the little Duc deVendome; of the Constable and his disappointment thereat; of thesquabbles between M. de Bar and his wife, the King's sister; of courtgossip and court scandal, until Palin's face grew sour, and I felt adisappointment within me, as she prattled on like some Paris beauty,whose sole thoughts were of masques at the Louvre and hunting partiesat Vincennes. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as shediscussed with d'Ayen whether the ruff or the collar drooped in theItalian manner was the more becoming, and whether the _cinque pace_dance was more enjoyable than the minuet. _Pardieu!_ Their speech wasall frill and furbelows. But for a word thrown in here and there, Isipped my Romanee in silence, wondering at this flow of talk, andwondering, too, at this change of front, and if I was wrong in myestimate of Madame. As she talked, my head for a moment overcame myheart, and I began to judge her in that way, showing, in doing so, myignorance of that complex thing--a woman.
At last the dinner came to a close, and Palin, rising, opened his lipswith a long thanksgiving, to which all, Madame included, listeneddevoutly. Our hostess then retired, and we three were left together inan absolute silence. Had it been any other place I would have feltbound to call d'Ayen to account, and ask him to name a proxy if he wasunable to meet me by reason of his age. But as it was this wasimpossible, and I contented myself with a frigid reserve, in which Iwas joined by the Huguenot. He looked from one to the other of us witha satirical smile on his thin lips, and then rising made a slight bowand left us to ourselves. As we returned to our seats from ourresponse to his greeting, I blurted out the questions:
'Who is M. d'Ayen? Why is he here?'
'Who is he? It is enough to say he is one of those men who live on thefollies of kings. And it is enough to say that his company is forcedupon us.'
'I have heard that before; but Madame seemed to like him well enoughat dinner.' I felt I was wrong as I said this, but the words came out.
'He is here by the King's orders, by the orders of Henry the Great,'said Palin with bitterness. 'Monsieur, you seem a man of honour, whatdo you think of a king who would force a marriage on a woman to----'and he whispered words in my ear which struck me speechless.
I could not believe him. It was incredible. Was this the hero king,the gallant soldier, the father of his people? It could not be true.
Palin saw the doubt on my face.
'Even you,' he said; 'well, go to Paris and see.'
'I shall go, I am going to-day.'
'It will be at the risk of your life.'
'Maitre Palin, there is the King's Peace, and even if it were not so Iwill go.'
He looked at me long and attentively: 'Let it be so,' he muttered tohimself, and then loudly, 'Well, Chevalier, I have warned you; if yougo you will want a safe lodging--seek out Pantin in the Rue des DeuxMondes, and mention my name. The house faces the Pont Neuf, you can'tmiss it.'
'Thank you, I will do so.'
Then after a few minutes more of talk we wished each other good-byeand parted.
As for myself, I was on the cross with what I had heard. My mind wasracked with doubt, and at last in despair I sought my own room tothink over the matter. I could make nothing of it, turn it which way Iwould. To me Palin's story was incredible. But yet it explained andmade clear so much! It was not to offer my sword only to the King thatI would now go to Paris, it would be to save the woman I loved ifpossible. How I was to do this I had no definite idea, the one thingat present in my mind was Paris, Paris. I therefore gave the necessaryorders to Jacques to make ready to start at once, and, descending thewinding staircase of the tower wherein my room lay, sought the greathall with the view of either finding Madame there, or of sending someone with the request to permit my waiting on her to say good-bye. Thestaircase ended in a long dark corridor, hung on each side withtrophies of the chase, old armour, and frayed and tattered banners. Atthe end of this was an arched doorway hidden by a heavy curtain, andabove the arch was a half-length portrait of a man. The painter hadnot flattered his subject; the long pointed face with its grey beardwas bent forward slightly, there was a cynical curve to the lips, andthe eyes looked down on me as if with a laugh in them. I had passedthis picture fifty times before, but had never stayed to examine it.Somehow I did so on this occasion, and as I read the inscription'Antoine de la Tremouille' on the frame, the thin lips appeared tolengthen out into a grin. For a moment a chill fell on me, and then,laughing at myself for a fool, I lifted the curtain and passed intothe great hall. At first I thought it was empty, but a second glanceshowed me Madame, seated at a small table, in the recess of the bowwindow that overlooked the park. Her face, leaning on her hand, washalf averted from me, and I caught, a glimpse of a small foot restingon one of the lions' heads in which the legs of the table finished.The foot was beating up and down as if in unison with the impatienceof Madame's thoughts, but I could see nothing of her face beyond itscontour. She was, as usual, robed in black, wearing no jewels except agold collar round her neck. For a moment I stood in silence, lookingat her, half thinking that here was a chance to speak out what was inmy heart, and then stilling the words by the thought of how impossibleit was for a poor man to woo a rich woman.
Through the open window I could see the woods, ruddy in their autumnfoliage, and ever and again came the sound of cheerful voices, markingwhere the good people of Bidache were holding revelry in honour oftheir mistress' return.
As I stood, hat in hand, Madame suddenly turned with a little start,and hastily concealed something as she caught sight of me. I went upat once, and she rose to meet me.
'I have come to say farewell, madame,' and I held out my hand.
'So soon,' she said, as she took it for a moment, her eyes not meetingmine.
'Yes--Paris is far--and it will be well for me to be there as quicklyas possible.'
'Paris! You are surely not--' and she stopped.
'Why not, madame?'
'Oh! I don't know,' and hastily, 'one sometimes says things thatdon't exactly convey one's meaning. But I can imagine why you go toParis--you are tired of Bidache, and pine for the great city.'
'It is not that; but,' and I pointed to the rolling woods and widelands that spread before us, 'I have no responsibilities likethese--and Auriac, which stands by the sea, takes care ofitself--besides, I have my way to make as yet.'
'You have friends?'
'One at any rate, and that was restored to me by you,' and I glancedto the hilt of my sword.
'Man does not want a better; but you have another--here at Bidache,and I shall be in Paris soon, too, and--this place is dull. It killsme.'
'And yet you have not been here for three years--madame, are all themasques at the Louvre so attractive that you can desert your home,where your name is honoured as that of the King, for the follies ofthe court?'
I spoke with some bitterness, for I was sore at what I had heard atdinner, and she glanced up at me in a slight surprise. Then her lipsparted in a half smile. 'Chevalier, will you a
nswer me a question orso?'
'Why not?'
'You like gaiety, cheerfulness, light, do you not?'
'Assuredly.'
'You sometimes amuse yourself by gaming, do you not--and losing morethan you can afford?'
I bowed in simple wonder.
'That friend of yours at your side has not been drawn only in battle,has it?'
De Gonnor's white face rose up before me, and I felt my forehead burn.I could make no answer. Madame looked at me for a moment, and thendropped a stately little courtesy. 'Monsieur, you are very good toadvise me, and I take your reproof. But surely what is sauce for thegander is sauce for the goose. Is not the Chevalier d'Auriac a littlehasty? How is it that he is not at home at Auriac, instead ofhastening to Paris as fast as he can--to the masques at the Louvre,and the salons of Zamet?'
'It is different,' I stammered.
'Ah, yes, it is different,' with a superb scorn; 'I saw you pull ahalf league of face as I talked at dinner. Monsieur can go here.Monsieur can go there. He may dance at a revel from curfew tillcockcrow, he may stake his estates on a throw of the dice, he may runhis friend through for a word spoken in jest--it is all _comme ilfaut_. But, Madame--she must sit at home with her distaff, her onlyrelaxation a _preche_, her amusement and joy to await Monsieur'sreturn--is not that your idea, Chevalier?' She was laughing, but itwas with a red spot on each cheek.
'Madame,' I replied, 'when I was but fifteen I joined the Cardinal deJoyeuse, and from that time to now my life has been passed in thefield; I am therefore but a soldier, rough of speech, unused toargument, apt to say what is in my mind bluntly. I was wrong to makethe remark I did, and ask your pardon; but, madame, brush away theidea that in this case the sauce for the gander is sauce for thegoose--I use your own words--think what it would be if all womankindacted on what you have preached--think what would happen if theillusions that surround you, and which are now your strength, aredispelled. The worst of men have some memory of a home made happy by awoman, sister, mother, or wife, and the return to which was like aglimpse into heaven--the thought of which often made them bettermen--do not destroy this. And, madame, there is yet another thing--manis a fighting animal, and the final issues of an affair come to thesword--where would a struggle between this hand and mine end?--'in myeagerness I took her small white fingers in mine as I spoke, and shutthem within my palm--'Madame,' I continued, 'rest assured that theglory and strength of a woman is in her weakness, and when she putsaside that armour she is lost. Think not that you have no mission--itis at a mother's knee that empires have been lost and won, thatgenerations have, and will be, cursed or blessed.'
I stood over her as I spoke; I was a tall man then and strong, andwhether it was my speech or what I know not, but I felt the hand Iheld tremble in mine, and her eyes were turned from me.
'Let me say good-bye now,' I continued, 'and thank you again for whatyou have done.'
She shook her head in deprecation.
'Very well, then, I will not recall it to you; but I can neverforget--life is sweet of savour, and you gave it back to me. We willmeet again in Paris--till then good-bye.'
'At the Louvre?' As she glanced up at me, trying to smile, I saw hereyes were moist with tears, and then--but the wide lands of Bidachewere before me, and I held myself in somehow.
'Good-bye.'
'Good-bye.'
I turned, and without another look passed out of the hall. As I wentdown the stairway I saw on the terrace to my right the figure ofd'Ayen. He had changed his costume to the slashed and puffed dresswhich earned for the gay gentlemen of Henry's court the nickname of'Bigarrets,' from M. de Savoye's caustic tongue, and his wizened facestood out of his snowy ruff in all the glow of its fresh paint. Withone foot resting on the parapet, he was engaged in throwing crumbs tothe peacocks that basked on the turf beneath him. I would have passed,but he called out.
'M. le Chevalier--a word.'
'A word then only, sir, I am in haste.'
'A bad thing, haste,' he said, staring at me from head to foot; 'thesewoods would fetch a good price, would they not?' and he waved his handtowards the wide-stretching forest.
'You mistake, M. d'Ayen, I am not a timber merchant.'
'Oh! a good price,' he went on, not heeding my reply. 'M. leChevalier, I was going to say I will have them down when I am masterhere. They obstruct the view.'
I could have flung him from the terrace, but held myself in and turnedon my heel.
'Adieu! Chevalier,' he called out after me, 'and remember what I havesaid.'
I took no notice. The man was old, and his gibing tongue his onlyweapon. I ran down the steps to where Jacques was, ready for me withthe horses. Springing into the saddle, I put spurs to the beast, andwe dashed down the avenue, but as I did so I yielded to an impulse,and glanced up to the window--it was empty.
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