The Chevalier d'Auriac

by S. Levett Yeats

  CHAPTER XIV

  UNDER THE LIMES

  It mattered little to me if I rode a portion of my way back with deBelin, and so I turned Couronne's head as he wished. Before settingoff, however, he gave some rapid and whispered orders to Vallon,emphasising them with a loud 'Quick, mind you, and do not fail.'

  'It is not likely, monsieur,' answered Vallon, and then set off.

  The crowd was as great as ever, and we were compelled to go slowly.Looking for a moment to my right as we went forwards, I saw Vallonmaking as much haste as he could in the delivery of his message, and Iwished to myself that my own stout-hearted knave were with me. Oneblade such as his was worth a half-dozen hired swords.

  It was my intention to leave de Belin at his hotel and make my way asquickly as possible to my lodging, and thence, taking the risk of theKing's warning, go straight to the Rue Varenne and urge Madame toinstant flight. My house of cards had come down, a fluttering heap, asthe first story was raised, and to my mind there was nothing for itbut a sharp spur and a loose rein. I wished, too, for a moment ofleisure to examine Coiffier's gift. I had little doubt that itconveyed a message or a warning, and the sooner I got at its contentsthe better.

  In the meantime Belin rode by my side, whistling a march to himself,whilst a couple of lackeys immediately behind us shouted themselveshoarse with an insistent 'Way, way for Monsieur le Compte!'

  This cry of theirs was being constantly echoed by a Capuchin, who,mounted on a mule, with his hood drawn over his face so as to showlittle but his eyes and a portion of a grey beard, kept alternatelyflinging an 'Ave!' and a 'Way! way!' to the crowd, the whiles he stuckclose to our heels, having evidently made up his mind to follow theold saw--the stronger the company the freer the road.

  I know not why it was, but the jingling notes of the tune my friendwhistled irritated me beyond measure, and at last, at the corner ofthe Rue Perrault, I could stand it no longer, and, reining in, heldout my hand.

  'I must say good-bye here, Belin. We will meet again, and meet inbetter times, I trust, for me. In the meanwhile let me thank you, myfriend. The rest of my business lies in my own hand.'

  He laughed and said, 'Not yet good-bye; and as for your business,there is some of it in Coiffier's wooden ball. I would open that herebefore you decide to leave me.'

  '_Morbleu!_ You all seem to be determined to speak to me in riddles.Why can you not say plainly what you mean? And, besides, this is noplace to read.'

  'It is as good as any other. See here, d'Auriac! I slipped out of theKing's cabinet as he spoke to you, and told Madame how your affair wasprogressing. She herself had something to communicate to you. Thematter was pressing, and as things stood she could not tell you there.As for your being treated like a pawn, I give you my word it wasbeyond me to help that. But if you come with me you will learn manythings within the hour. In the meantime open the ball, man! It was alucky thing Coiffier was there.'

  Without any further hesitation I drew forth Coiffier's gift. It was,as I have said, a hollow, wooden globe, and was made in two parts,which could be joined together or separated by a turn of the wrist. Iheld it in my hands for a moment or so and then opened it, and hadjust pulled forth the paper it contained, when by ill chance, as itseemed, the Capuchin, who was urging his mule past us, brushedviolently against my horse, with the result that the paper slippedfrom between my fingers and fluttered to earth. Couronne, after herfirst start, was steady enough, but the monk's ill-conditioned mulekicked and plunged, bringing him apparently heavily to the ground. Hefell exactly over the paper and lay there for a moment, facedownwards, resting on one elbow. I sprang down, as much to get thepaper as to assist him, but as I did so, he scrambled to his feet with'A hundred pardons, monsieur, for my clumsiness,' and then hastilyturned and hurried after his mule, which was already many yards ahead,behaving after its kind, and whose speed was not diminished by thesticks, stones, and oaths flung at him; and there was a roar oflaughter--a mob will laugh or hiss at the merest trifles--as the lankfigure of the Capuchin sped along in pursuit of his beast and vanishedafter him down a side street.

  Belin himself joined in the merriment, and I picked up the paper,muddy and much soiled. Smoothening it out against the flap of mysaddle, I made out the words, '_To-night, under the limes in theTuileries--at compline_.' There was no doubt about the writing, and,thrusting the precious scrap into my breast-pocket, I remounted. As Idid so de Belin said:

  'Well, have you changed your plans?'

  'Partly, but I think I shall go back to my lodging.'

  'Do nothing of the kind as yet. I have asked Pantin to meet us at theTwo Ecus, your own ordinary. Vallon has gone to call him. You can givehim any orders there. You owe me as much as to yield to me in this.'

  It would have been ungracious not to have agreed, and I told Lisois Iwould go with him.

  'Hasten, then! The road is clearer now, thanks to the Capuchin, orrather to his mule. By the way, did you see the monk's face?'

  'No!'

  'A pity! I tried to, but failed in the attempt. His voice was familiarto me, and he seemed wonderfully active for an old man.'

  'You are suspicion itself, Belin.'

  'I have slept with the dogs and risen with the fleas. Harkee, Hubert!And you, Pierre! If you see that Capuchin again let me know at once;keep your eyes open. If you can persuade him to speak to me, it willbe worth five crowns a-piece to you.'

  'Monsieur's wishes shall be obeyed,' said both men in a breath, andnow finding the road free enough we set off at a canter, and kept thepace up until almost at the door of the Two Ecus.

  As we pulled up at the ordinary and dismounted, Belin exclaimed: 'Nowfor our supper. I am of those who can only fight under a full belt,and I would advise you, d'Auriac--you who will have fighting to dovery soon perhaps--to follow my advice, and make the best use you canof your knife.'

  I laughed out some reply, and then, turning to mine host, orderedrefreshment for both man and beast, and directed that our suppershould be served in a private room.

  'And observe,' cut in Belin, 'if Maitre Pantin arrives, let him beshown up to us at once.'

  'Monsieur.'

  Before we went in de Belin asked his men if they had seen any more ofthe monk, and received an answer in the negative. Bidding themremember his orders on the subject, he linked his arm in mine and wewent within.

  'You seem in a way about the monk,' I said.

  'My dear friend, I cannot get it out of my head that I have seen himbefore, and I don't like a riddle like that to be unsolved.'

  'This comes of your court intrigues, de Belin. You were not wont to beso.'

  'Other times, other manners,' he answered, a little grimly, and we satat our table.

  How well do I remember that small room in the Two Ecus, with the darkoak wainscoting, the furniture that age had polished, the open windowshowing the yellow sunset between the high-roofed and many-gabledhouses, the red Frontignac sparkling like rubies in our long-neckedglasses, and the deft service of Susette, the landlord's daughter,whose pretty lips pouted with disappointment, because no notice wastaken of her good looks by the two cavaliers who supped together,whose faces were so grave, and whose speech was in tones so low as tobe heard only by each other. At last we were left to ourselves, andBelin, who had been explaining many things to me that I knew notbefore, suddenly rose and began to pace the room, saying: 'You takethe position now, d'Auriac. If not, let me put the points again beforeyou briefly. There are men like Sully, Villeroi, Forget, and I myself,who understand and grasp the King's views, and know that if he has hisway France will be the greatest country on earth. On the other hand,Henry is bound by ties of much service rendered to him by men likeSancy, who disgraces his name by plundering the state, and Zamet, whocannot disgrace himself by anything he does. These men, and such asthey, exhaust our resources if they do nothing else, and serve thecause of the great nobles, such as Epernon, Turenne, Tremouille, andabove all Biron, whose ambition k
nows no bounds, and who, I amcertain, will never be still unless his head is on a crown-piece orelse on the block.'

  'But what has that to do with me?'

  'Listen! Great as the King is, he has one failing--you know what itis; and it is on this the Sancys and Birons play. To carry out his owndesigns it is necessary that Henry should be saved from himself. TheItalian embassy is with us, and whilst d'Ossat and the Cardinalperformed the ostensible object of their mission, they affectedanother and secret object--and that was the arrangement of the King'smarriage with Marie de Medici.'

  'The King's marriage!'

  'Yes.'

  'But the Queen still lives.'

  'And long may she live; but not as Queen.'

  'Ah!'

  'Exactly; you begin to see now. If we can make this move we get thesupport of the Quirinal, and, more, the help of the Florentinecoffers. We will paralyse the great conspiracy which Bironheads--rather a league than a conspiracy. We can dispense with theexpensive services of Sancy, of Ornano, and of Zamet, and then Henrywill be free to carry out his great designs.'

  'If, however, Biron is as strong as you say?'

  'Permit me--we are providing for that. He has been kept close to theKing. Sully, as Master-General of the ordnance, has ordered the gunsat Dijon to be sent to Paris with a view of replacing them with newones. None are going, and by the time that the King's betrothal isannounced, Burgundy will be as much Henry's as it is the Marshal'snow.'

  'But he will believe nothing against Biron.'

  'Other people have nursed vipers before, but the King is not himselfnow. He can think of nothing but one thing. See here, d'Auriac, I havehelped you for two reasons: one, because I love France; and the other,because I love you. Henry has ordered the marriage of Madame deBidache with d'Ayen to be celebrated to-morrow. He gave that orderto-day, to put an end to the importunities of the Marshal in regard tode Gomeron. I know this, and Madame knows it too. In plain languageyou must play a bold stroke for the woman you love--take her awayto-night.'

  'That was partly arranged--we are to go to Switzerland.'

  'You will never reach the frontier. Look--there is my castle ofMourmeton in Champagne. It is old and half in ruins. See, here is mysignet. Take it, show it to Gringel, the old forester there--he willtake you to a hiding place. Stay there until the affair blows over,and then to Switzerland or elsewhere, if you will; in the meantime Ipledge you the faith of de Belin that no stone will be left unturnedto effect your pardon.'

  I took the ring he gave me and slipped it on, and then our hands metin a hearty clasp that expressed more than words. It was at thismoment that Susette announced Pantin, and the little notary came inwith his quick, short step.

  'I am late, messieurs, I know,' he said, 'but I was not at home whenVallon arrived, or else I had been here sooner.'

  'You are in ample time for what we want, Pantin,' I said, 'thoughthere is no time to waste. I am leaving Paris to-night, and will notreturn to the Rue des Deux Mondes, but start from here. My businessconcerns the safety and honour of Madame de la Bidache, and when I saythat I know I can rely on you. Is it not so?'

  'It is, monsieur.'

  'Well, then, should anyone ask for me, say I have gone you know notwhere. You do not know, as a matter of fact. If Jacques, my servant,returns, bid him go straight to M. le Compte. He will get orders fromhim.'

  'I understand perfectly, monsieur.'

  'There is yet another thing. Hasten to Maitre Palin and bid him awaitme now outside the Porte St. Denis with two spare horses; he willunderstand what I mean. And now, my friend, adieu. This will pay whatI owe you,' and I thrust a half-dozen pistoles into his hand.

  But he resolutely refused. 'No, no, monsieur le chevalier.'

  'But dame Annette?' interposed Belin.

  'Um!' said the notary, scratching his chin, 'that is another matter. Ihad for the moment forgotten I was a married man. Very well, monsieur,I will take the money--not that I need it, but for the sake of peace;and now there is little time to lose. I go to do all you have asked meto, and rest assured, messieurs, it will be faithfully done.'

  'I have no doubt of that, Pantin.'

  'We had better make a start, too,' I said, and Belin shouted for thehorses. We stayed for a moment or so after the notary's departure,during which time Belin urged me to take Vallon and a couple of menwith me to my tryst, but, fearing no complications, I refused, sayingthat this was a matter that were best done with one hand. Belin wouldhave come himself but that, his friendship with me being known, it wasnecessary for him to avoid all suspicion of his being in the affair.

  'I shall go to the Louvre,' he said, 'and engage d'Ayen at play.Pimental and others will be there, and, if I mistake not M. le Baronwill have a sore head for his wedding,' and he chuckled here.

  Then I settled the score with mine host, and, mounting our horses, werode back the way we came. It was at the Magasins that we wished eachother good-bye, and, with a last grip of the hand and a last warningto hasten to Mourmeton, Belin turned towards the Louvre, whilst I wenton towards the Tuileries, keeping the northern road, and not the morefrequented street along the river face. I chose this way because,although it was a little longer, yet there was still a half-hour formy appointment, and it would not do for me to arrive too early, as byhanging about at the trysting-place I might attract attention, and,perhaps, ruin the game. As I rode on I caught myself wondering if Icould play the same hand that Sully, Villeroi, and de Belin werethrowing to. I knew they were honest men--their positions removed themfrom such temptations as might assail even a great noble, and thatthey were loyally trying to serve their country and their King. Ifsuch service, however good its object, meant, as it clearly did, thatone must be up to the elbows in intrigue, then I thanked God that Ibelonged to no party, and inwardly resolved that, whether I won orlost my hazard, the court would see me no more; and as for the King!_Pardieu!_ It is not good to know a hero too well.

  There was a strong moon, and the night was as clear as crystal. Oneside of the street was in shadow, illumined here and there by thedim light of a few lanterns set high up in niches in the old andmoss-grown walls of the buildings. The houses here were old even forthis part of Paris, and, with their sloping roofs and many gables,rose in irregular outlines on either side--outlines, however, sosoftened by the moonlight, in which they seemed to quiver, that it wasas if some fantastic creation of fairyland had been set down here--aphantom city that would melt into nothingness with the warm rays ofthe morning sun.

  Away in the distance it still seemed as if I could hear the hum of thecity behind me, but here all was quiet and still and the iron-shodhoofs of Couronne rang out with a strange clearness into the night.Occasionally I met a passer on the road, but he or she, whoever theywere, took care to give me a wide berth, and once a woman who hadopened her door to look out, for some reason or other, hurried in andshut it with a little cry of alarm as I passed.

  I had now come to the gardens of the Tuileries, and, putting Couronneat the wall which was just being raised around them, found myselfwithin a quarter-mile of our place of meeting. The turf was soft andlevel here, and I let Couronne go at a half-gallop, keeping in thechequered shade of the huge trees, which whispered strange things toeach other in the breeze. At this moment it seemed as if I heard thesmothered neigh of a horse. I knew the sound well, for often had myold Norman tried to serve me in this way through the scarf by whichhis jaws were bound together when we lay in ambuscade. With a touch ofmy hand I stayed my beast and stopped to listen. Beyond me stretchedthe avenue, at the end of which stood the great lime trees. I couldsee nothing but the ghostly line of trunks, lit up here by the moon,there standing out black against the night, or fading away into alacework of leaves and branches. There was no sound except the tinkleof the leaves and the sullen creaking of the boughs overhead. 'It mustbe her horse or Palings,' I said aloud to myself; and then thecompline came to me clear and sweet from the spire of St. Germain.

  I lifted my hat for an instant with a silent prayer
to God for help,and then shook up Couronne. Ere the last notes of the bells had gone Iwas under the limes. At first I could see nothing; there was no onethere; and my heart grew cold at the thought that some danger hadovertaken my dear one.

  'Madame!' I called out. 'It is I---d'Auriac'

  Then a figure in a grey mantle stepped out from the shadow of thetrees, and I sprang from the saddle and held out my hand.

  'I knew it was you, chevalier,' she said, 'but I wanted to makecertain and waited until you spoke.'

  'I hope I have not kept you waiting?'

  'Indeed no. I had but just come across from the Louvre when youarrived.'

  'Then you did not come riding?'

  'How could I? I have been in the Louvre, and am expected to be at the_coucher_ of Madame Catherine in a half-hour,' and she laughedslightly.

  The thought of that smothered neigh flashed through my mind likelightning.

  'We must trust ourselves to Couronne,' I said. 'Palin will be at thePorte St. Denis. There is no time to waste; come!'

  Then it seemed that she hesitated, and, flinging back her hood, lookedme full in the face. In the moonlight I saw her white as marble, andshe suddenly put out both her hands, saying:

  'I trust you utterly, d'Auriac'

  Man is not made of stone, and I loved this woman as my life. There wasthat in her voice, in the pitiful appeal of its tones, that broke downall my false pride. I cannot say how it happened, but in a moment myarm was round her waist, and I drew her towards me, she nothingresisting.

  'Claude, I love you. Give me the right to protect you.'

  What she said is for my ears alone; and then she lay still and passivein my arms, her head resting on my shoulder.

  So for a time we stood in silence, and then I kissed her.

  'Come, dear,' I said, 'and with the morning we shall be safe.'

  Of her own accord she put her arms about my neck and pressed her lipsto mine, and then I lifted my darling to Couronne's saddle bow.

  Had I but taken de Belin's offer! If Jacques were but with me then!

  My foot was in the stirrup, my hand on the reins, when there was asudden flash, a loud report, and my poor horse fell forward,floundering in the agony of death.

  I just managed to snatch Claude from the saddle, and staggered back,and then with a rush a half-dozen men were on us. They were masked toa man, and made their attack in a perfect silence; but as my swordflashed out of my scabbard I recognised the tall figure of theCapuchin, and thrust at him fiercely, with a curse at my folly incoming alone.

  Things like these take a short time in doing, and should take ashorter time in telling. I ran one man through the heart, and with agasp he fell forwards and twisted himself like a snake round my blade.Then someone flung a cloak over my head--I was overborne by numbersand thrown. Two or three men held me down; there was an iron grip atmy throat, and a man's knee pressed heavily on my chest. I made afrantic effort to free myself: the covering slipped from my face, andI saw it was the Capuchin kneeling over me, a dagger in his hand. Hismask had fallen from him, and his face was the face of Ravaillac!

  I could not call out, I was held too tight; and the villain lifted hisponiard to strike, when a voice--the voice of de Gomeron--said:

  'Hold! We will put him out another way.'

  'This is the quickest and surest,' answered Ravaillac; but the replywas brief and stern.

  'Carry out my orders. Gag him and bring him with us.'

  'To Babette's?'

  'To Babette's. There is the oubliette. Quick, there is no time tolose.'

  'Oh, ho!' laughed Ravaillac, 'that is good! M. le Chevalier will beable to drown his sorrows under the Seine; but he will take a longtime to die!'

  'You villain!' I gasped, but like lightning the gag was on me, andthen I was blindfolded. I could see nothing of Madame, though I triedmy utmost to get a glimpse of her. Then I was bound hand and foot, andlifted by a couple of men. After being carried a short space I wasthrust into a litter, and as this was done I heard a faint cry fromClaude; and I groaned in my heart, for I was powerless to help.

  The litter went forward at a jolting pace, and from the echo of hoofsaround it I gathered that there were at least a dozen mounted menabout me. Sometimes I heard a brief order given by de Gomeron, and thesound of his voice made me certain that Madame was with us. If so,there might still be hope, and I lay still and tried to follow ourroute by the movement of the party, but I could see nothing; and aftera time my brain began to get confused, for we turned this way andthat, up side streets, down winding roads, until the thing becameimpossible.

  Once we were challenged by the watch, and my captor gave answerboldly:

  'M. de Gomeron, of the Marshal's Guards, with prisoners for theChatelet; let us pass in the King's name.'

  I heard the words and strove to call out, but the gag was too secure.At any rate, I had learned one thing--we were going in the directionof the Chatelet. Who, then, was Babette? I had heard the name oncebefore, on the night that I lay wounded before La Fere, and aninspiration seemed to come on me, and I was certain that the night hagand de Gomeron's Babette were one and the same.

  Then we jolted on for about another half-hour--we must have passed theChatelet by this--when suddenly the litter took a sharp turn to theright, and after going a little way was put to the ground.

  '_Sacre nom d'un chien!_' exclaimed one of my carriers, 'he is heavyas lead.'

  'He will be light enough in a week or so,' answered someone else; andthen I heard the creaking of hinges, and the litter appeared to beborne within a yard and was left there. After a half-hour or so I wasdragged out, and I heard a woman's voice:

  'This way, my lambs; the gentleman's room is below--very far below,out of all draughts;' and she laughed, with the same pitiless note inher voice that I had heard once before--and I knew it was themurderess.

  Down a winding stair we went, and I remained passive, but mentallycounted the steps and the turns. There were eighteen steps and threeturns, at each of which there was apparently a door, and then westopped. There was a jingling of keys, the harsh, grating noise of abolt being drawn back, and Babette spoke again:

  'Monsieur's apartment is ready--'tis the safest room in the Toisond'Or.' Then I was flung in heavily as I was, and the door boltedbehind me.