The Chevalier d'Auriac

by S. Levett Yeats

  CHAPTER XI

  A SWIM IN THE SEINE

  Swearing he would be back again in a week, Jacques set out for Ezywithin an hour of our return to the Rue des Deux Mondes, and his goinghad removed one weight from my mind. I knew full well that, unlesssomething beyond his control happened, my business would be faithfullydischarged, though I felt I was losing a tower of strength when Ineeded support most, as I watched him riding along the Malaquais,mounted on the sorrel and leading the grey.

  He went out of sight at last, and, now that the momentary bustlecaused by his departure had ceased, I had leisure to think of what Ihad heard from de Belin; and those who have read the preceding pages,and have formed their judgment as to what was my character at thattime, can well imagine that I was mentally on the rack.

  The trouble with d'Ayen was bad enough, but united to that was Belin'sstatement, that she--she was prepared, no matter what the consequenceswere, to give her hand to de Gomeron! Had I been in her place deathwould have been preferable to me rather than this alternative; andthen I thought of the token she had sent back to me--felt that I wasbeing trifled with, and gave full rein to my jealous and bittertemper.

  To all intents and purposes I was alone in my chamber, and yet I couldswear that there was an invisible presence at my ear that whispered,'Fooled! Tricked! She is but as other women are, and you have playedthe quintain for her practice.'

  By heaven! If it was so, I would end it all at once, and not wasteanother moment of my life on a heartless coquette! It must be so. Itwas so. By this time I had got beyond power of reason, and jumped tomy conclusions like the thrice blind fool I was. Snatching forth thebow from its resting place over my heart, I tore the ribbons asunder,and flung them on the floor before me, with a curse at the vanity ofwomankind that could make a plaything of a heart. I would be gone thatmoment. I would leave this country of intrigue and dishonour. In anhour I could catch Jacques up, and in ten days we would be on theseas, and in that New World, which had not yet time to grow wicked,make for myself a fresh life. By God! I would do it! My hand was onthe bell-rope, when there came a sharp tap at the door, and the nextmoment Ravaillac announced in his low voice:

  'Maitre Palin to wait on Monsieur le Chevalier.'

  I pulled myself together with an effort, and advanced to meet my oldfriend as he came in.

  'At last! I have been expecting you hourly for some time.'

  'I could not come, chevalier. I will explain in a moment.'

  'First sit down. Take that chair there near the window; it commands agood view.'

  'Monsieur does not need this?'

  It was Ravaillac's voice that broke in upon us, and he himself stoodbefore me, holding out on a salver the ribbons of the torn bow. Civilas the question was, there was something in his tone that made me lookat him sharply. It seemed to me, as I looked up, that a faint smilevanished between his bloodless lips like a spider slipping back into acrevice.

  I could, however, see no trace of impertinence in the long sallowface, and the whole attitude of my new follower was one of submissiverespect. I fancied, therefore, that I had made a mistake, and put itdown to the state of mental agitation I was in at the time.

  'No,' I answered him; 'you can fling it away. And in future you neednot ask me about such trifles.'

  'Very well, monsieur, I will remember,' and with a bow he movedtowards the door, the salver in his hand.

  'Ravaillac,' I called out after him.

  'Monsieur.'

  'On second thoughts do not throw that away. I did not--I mean, pleaseleave it there on the table.'

  'Monsieur,' and, laying down the salver, he stepped out of the room.

  'I see you have changed your livery with your old servant, chevalier,'said Palin, sipping at his wine, as the man went out, closing the doorcarefully and softly behind him.

  'Not so. Jacques has merely gone away temporarily on some business ofimportance. In fact he left to-day, shortly before you came, and thisman, or rather youth, has been lent to me by a friend.'

  'And his name is Ravaillac?'

  'Yes.'

  'An uncommon name for a man of his class.'

  'Perhaps--but these men assume all kinds of names. He is, however,better educated than the usual run of people in his position, andbears an excellent character, although he has been a Flagellant, fromwhich complaint he has recovered.'

  'Most of them do. And now, my good friend, let us dismiss Ravaillacand tell me how you progress.'

  For a moment it was in me to tell him all, to say that I had abandoneda worthless cause, and that I could do no more as I was leaving Franceat once. Mechanically I stretched out my hand towards the tags ofribbon on the table, and my fingers closed over them. What was I tosay? I could not answer Palin. Through the now darkening room I couldsee his earnest features turned towards me for reply, and behind itthere moved in the shadow the dim outline of a fair face set in a massof chestnut hair, and the violet light from its eyes seemed to burnthrough my veins. My tongue was stilled, and I could say nothing. Atlength he spoke again.

  'Do I gather from your silence that you have failed?'

  'No--not so--but little or nothing could be done, as the King has onlyjust come, and then----' I stopped.

  'And then--what?'

  'It seems that Madame has changed her mind.'

  'I do not follow you. Do you know what you are saying?' His tone wascoldly stern.

  My temper began to rise at this. I put down the ribbons and said:'Yes, I think I do--or else why has Madame come to Paris, and what isthis story I hear about a Monsieur de Gomeron? If that is true it endsthe matter.'

  I got up as I spoke, and began to pace the room in my excitement.

  'Had I been twenty years younger. Monsieur d'Auriac, I would haveparaded you for what you have said; but my cloth and my age forbid it.My age, not because it has weakened my arm, but because it has taughtme to think. My young friend, you are a fool.'

  'I know I have been,' I said bitterly, 'but I shall be so no longer.'

  'And, in saying so, confirm yourself in your folly. Are you so besideyourself that you condemn unheard! Sit down, man, and hear what I haveto say. It will not keep you long. You can leave Paris five minutesafter, if you like.'

  I came back to my seat, and Palin continued: 'You appear to beoffended at Madame de la Bidache's coming to Paris?'

  'I am not offended--I have no right to be.'

  'Well, it will interest you to hear that her coming to Paris wasforced. That practically we are prisoners.'

  'You mean to say that he--the King--has gone as far as that!'

  'I mean what I say--Madame cannot leave her hotel, except to go to theLouvre, without his permission.'

  'But this is infamous!'

  'In an almost similar case this was what the daughter of de C[oe]uvressaid, and yet she died Duchesse de Beaufort. But are you satisfiednow?'

  'I am,' I said in a low tone, and then, with an effort, 'but there isstill the other matter.'

  'You are exacting--are you sure you have a right to ask that?'

  Luckily, it was too dark for Palin to see my eyes turn to the tangleof crushed ribbons on the table. How much did the Huguenot know? Icould not tell, and after all I had no right to ask the question Ihad, and said so.

  'I have no right, but, if it is true, it means that the affair is atan end.'

  'If it is true?'

  'Then it is not?' My heart began to beat faster.

  'I did not say so. Remember that the alternative is Monsieur le Barond'Ayen.'

  'There is another.'

  'And that is?'

  'Death.'

  'We are Huguenots,' he answered coldly, 'and believe in the word ofGod. We do not kill our souls.'

  'Great heavens! man! Tell me if it is true or not? Do not draw thisout. In so many words, is Madame de la Bidache pledged to de Gomeron?'

  'Most certainly not, but Biron and her nearest relative, Tremouille,have urged it on
her as a means of escape. She has, however, given noanswer.'

  'Then de Belin was wrong?'

  'If you mean that the Compte de Belin said so, then he had noauthority for the statement.'

  I took back the ribbons from the table and thrust them into their oldresting-place, my face hot with shame at my unworthy suspicions.

  'Palin,' I said, 'you were right. I am a fool.'

  'You are,' he answered, 'exactly what your father was before you atyour age.'

  'My father--you knew him?'

  'Yes--Raoul de Breuil, Sieur d'Auriac, and Governor of Provence. Wewere friends in the old days, and I owed him my life once, as did alsoHenry the Great, our King and master--in the days of his youth.'

  'And you never told me this?'

  'I have told you now. I owe the house of Auriac my life twice over,and I recognise in this, as in all things, the hand of God. Young man,I have watched you, and you are worthy--be of good courage.' Hestretched out his hand, and I grasped it in silence.

  'See here,' he continued, 'I have come to you like a thief in thetwilight, because I have that to say which is for you alone. It isuseless to appeal to the King. Our only chance is flight, and we haveno one to rely on but you. Will you help us--help Madame?'

  'Why need to ask? Have I not already said so? Am I not ready to die,if need be, to save her?'

  'You are now,' he said, 'but I will not press that point. Then we, orrather I, can count on you?'

  'To the end of my sword; but does not Madame know of this?'

  'Not yet. Should it fall through, there would be only another bitterdisappointment for her. It is, moreover, an idea that has but shapeditself with me to-day.'

  'Where do you propose going?'

  'To Switzerland. There we would be safe, and there they are of ourfaith.'

  'Remember, Maitre Palin, that I am not'

  'Look into your own heart and tell me that again at another time. Canyou count on a sword or two?'

  'If Jacques were only here!' I exclaimed.

  And then, remembering my new man's reputation, 'They say Ravaillac isgood, and I have a friend'--I bethought me of Belin--'upon whom Ithink I could rely.'

  'Better one blade of steel than two of soft iron, chevalier. We mustdo what we can with what we have.'

  'When do you propose starting?'

  'On the night of the fete at the Louvre.'

  'And we meet?'

  'Under the three limes in the Tuileries at compline.'

  'I have but one horse at present--we must have more.'

  'That is not hard--I will settle that with Pantin. He knows the spotexactly, and will have horses in readiness and guide you there, ifneed be.'

  'I know it too, and will not fail you. God grant us success.'

  'Amen!'

  There was a silence of a moment, and then Palin arose. 'It growsdarker and darker,' he said; 'I must go now--adieu!'--and he held outhis hand.

  'Not yet good-bye,' I said. 'I will accompany you to the end of theMalaquais at any rate. Ho! Ravaillac! My hat and cloak!'

  There was no answer; but it seemed as if there was the sound of astumble on the stairs outside the closed door, and then all was still.

  '_Diable!_ That sounds odd,' I exclaimed; 'and 'tis so dark here I canhardly lay hands on anything. Oh! Here they are--now come along.'

  As I opened the door to lead the way out I saw a flash of light on thestaircase, and Madame Pan-tin appeared, bearing a lighted candle inher hand.

  'I was coming to light your room, monsieur,' she said.

  'It is good of you; but what is my new knave doing?'

  'If Monsieur will step towards the loft, near Couronne's stall, hewill see that Ravaillac is absorbed in his devotions--perhaps MaitrePalin would care to see also?'

  'Not I,' said Palin.

  'But, at any rate, his devotions should not interfere with hisduties,' I burst out; 'it will take but a minute to bring him to hissenses. Excuse me for a moment, Palin--Madame will see you as far asthe door, and I will join you there.'

  And without waiting for a reply I ran down towards the stables, and oncoming there heard the voice of some one groaning and sobbing. Peeringup into the darkness of the loft above me, I could see nothing, butheard Ravaillac distinctly, as he writhed in a mental agony and calledon God to save him from the fires of hell. The first thought thatstruck me was that the youth was ill, and, clambering up the ladderthat led to the loft, I found him there in the dim light, kneelingbefore a crucifix, beating at his heart, and calling on himself as themost miserable of sinners.

  'Ravaillac!'--and I put my hand on his shoulder--'what ails you, man?Are you ill?' He turned his face up towards me; it was paler thanever, and he screamed out, 'My hour is come--leave me--leave me! OurLady of Sorrows intercede for me, for I know not how to pray,' andwith a half-smothered howl he fell forwards on his face before thecrucifix, and, clasping it with both hands, began to sob out hisentreaties to God anew. I saw that it was useless wasting further timeon him, and that he had been taken with one of those frenzy fits thathad before driven him to the Flagellants. I left him, therefore, tocome to himself, and muttering that Belin might have told me of thisfoible, came backwards down the ladder to find that Palin and MadamePantin had followed me, and were but a few yards away.

  'Did you hear?' I asked, as I joined them; 'is it not strange?'

  'He is wrestling with the enemy,' said Palin. 'Let him be.'

  'He is a traitor,' burst out Annette. 'Monsieur le chevalier, I wouldsend him packing tonight.'

  'I can hardly do that,' I said, 'and, besides, agony such as thatyoung man is passing through does not mark a traitor.'

  'As Monsieur pleases,' she answered, and then rapidly in my ear, 'Wereit not for someone else's sake I would let you go your own way. Bewareof him, I say.'

  '_Corbleu!_ dame Annette! why not speak plainly? We are all friendshere.'

  But she only laughed mirthlessly, and led the way towards the door.

  I accompanied Palin to the end of the Malaquais, speaking of manythings on the way, and finally left him, as he insisted on my comingno further. So much had happened during the day, however, that Idetermined to cool my brain with a walk, and my intention was to crossthe river and return to my lodging by the Pont aux Meunniers.

  I hailed a boat, therefore, and was soon on the other side of theSeine, and, flinging my cloak over my arm, set off at a round pace,Annette's warning about Ravaillac buzzing in my head with theinsistence of a fly. As I passed the Louvre I saw that the windowswere bright with lights, and heard the strains of music from within.They were as merry within as I was sad without, and I did not lingerthere long. Keeping to the right of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, I passedby the Magasins de Louvre, and then, slackening my pace, strolled idlydown the Rue de St. Antoine. Down this great street it seemed as ifthe coming of the King had awakened the good citizens to life again,for there were lights at nearly all the windows, though the streetitself was in darkness, except at the spots where a lantern or twoswung on ropes stretched across the road, and lit up a few yards dimlyaround them. A few steps further brought me almost opposite a largehouse, over the entrance to which was a transparent signboard with arow of lamps behind it, and I saw I had stumbled across More's, theeating and gaming house kept by the most celebrated _traiteur_ inParis. I had a mind to step in, more out of curiosity than anythingelse, when, just as I halted in hesitation before the door, two orthree masked cavaliers came out singing and laughing, and in theforemost of them I had no difficulty in recognising the old reprobate,d'Ayen. Much as I would have avoided a quarrel, it could not behelped, for I had the door, and it was certainly my right to enter.They, however, ranged themselves arm-in-arm before me, and, being inwine, began to laugh and jeer at my sombre attire.

  'Does Monsieur le Huguenot think there is a _preche_ here?' saidd'Ayen, bowing to me in mockery as he lifted his plumed hat.

  I determined to show in my answer that I knew them.

  'Let me pass. Monsieur d'Ayen,' I sa
id coldly. 'We have too muchbetween us to quarrel here.'

  He knew me well enough, but pretended surprise.

  '_Corb[oe]uf!_ Monsieur le chevalier, and so it is you! Gentlemen,allow me to present to you Monsieur le Chevalier d'Auriac, with whom Ihave an argument that we never could bring to a conclusion. Wedisagreed on the subject of landscape gardening.'

  It was a hard pill to swallow, but I had made up my mind to retreat.The Edict was fresh; a conflict there would have meant completedisaster; and there would be no chance for escape, as the passage wasgetting crowded.

  'I remember perfectly,' I said, carrying on d'Ayen's feint, 'but I amnot prepared to discuss the matter now. I must go back to take somenotes to refresh my memory.'

  The man was blown with wine. He thought I feared him, and my words,which roused his companions to scornful laughter, made him do afoolish thing.

  'At least take a reminder with you,' and he flung his soft,musk-scented glove in my face.

  'A ring! a ring!' roared twenty voices, and, before I knew where Iwas, I was in the centre of a circle in the passage, the slight figureof d'Ayen before me, and the point of his rapier glinting like adiamond--now in quarte, now in tierce.

  He was of the old school of Dominic, and came at me with a _ca_!_ca!_' and a flourish, springing back like a cat to avoid the return.Had I been taught the use of the small sword by any less master thanTouchet it would have gone hard with me, but, as it was, the thirdpass showed me the game was mine. The din around us was beyonddescription, for whilst More and his men were struggling to get closeenough to separate us, the onlookers kept thrusting the hotel peopleback, and oaths, shrieks, wagers, screams for the watch, andhalf-a-hundred different exclamations and challenges were shouted outat once. I had no time to look around me, for, old as he was, myopponent displayed uncommon activity, and I could not but admire hiscourage. Coxcomb and fool, dishonoured though he was, under hisflowered vest was no craven heart, and I spared him once for his ageand twice for his spirit. But now came the warning cry of 'Watch! thewatch!' behind me. D'Ayen thrust low in tierce; the parry was simpleand I pinked him through the shoulder-joint--I could have hit himwhere I liked at that moment. He dropped his sword with a curse, andI found myself the next moment in a general _melee_, for the watchwere using no mild measures to force an entrance, and there was afine to-do in consequence.

  Someone--I know not who--at this juncture cut the silken cord by whicha huge ornamental lantern was hung above our heads. It fell with acrash, and in a moment we were in semi-darkness. I took theopportunity to dash forwards, flatten myself against the wall, and, bydint of a little management and more good luck, succeeded in gettingwithin a yard or so of the door. Here, taking my occasion, I made asudden spring forwards, upsetting a man in front of me, and dashed offdown the street. Unfortunately, I was not so quick but that I was seenand instantly pursued by a portion of the watch on guard outside.

  There was nothing for it but to run. Fast as I went, however, therewere good men behind me, and I could not shake them off, though thestreets were in gloom. The worst of the matter, however, was that thewatch was being constantly reinforced by amateur guardians of thepeace. Everyone who happened to be passing, or heard the noise, seemedto think it his duty to join in the chase, and it was with a finefollowing that I headed towards the river. Heaven knows how I cursedmy folly at having put my nose into More's, and I redoubled my pace asI heard, from the shouts to the right and to the left of me, that Iwas practically hemmed in, and that my only chance was to take to theriver. They were close up to me when I reached the bank a few yardsbelow the Pont aux Meunniers, and without further hesitation I plungedin, and the bubbling and seething of the water brought the yell ofdisappointment from the bank faintly to my ears. The set of the streamwas towards the opposite shore, and in five seconds I was in pitchdarkness, though, looking back over my shoulder as I struck out, Icould see, by the lanterns that some carried, the watch and thevolunteer brigade dancing with anger at my escape, but none of themdared to follow.

  I had to swim with a will, for the current was swift; but at length Ireached my own side of the river--drenched, it is true, but safe forthe present. When I reached my lodging Pantin opened the door to me.

  '_Ciel!_' he exclaimed, as he saw me wet and dripping. 'What hashappened?'

  'I have had a swim in the Seine, Pantin; say nothing about it.'