The Chevalier d'Auriac

by S. Levett Yeats

  CHAPTER XVI

  A COUNCIL OF WAR

  As I slipped through the wicket I cast a hurried glance around me, andthen, acting on the impulse of the moment, ran forwards along the roadfor about fifty paces, with Babette's dagger clenched in my hand.There I was brought to a stand by a dead wall, studded with ironspikes at the top, which rose sheer above me for fully twenty feet andbarred all further progress. It was evident that the Toison d'Or stoodin a blind alley, and that I had taken the wrong turning. Not even anape could have scaled the moss-grown and slippery surface of thosestones, and, leaning against a buttress in the darkest corner of thewall, I stood for a moment or so and waited, determined to sell mylife as dearly as possible should I be pursued. There was no sound,however; all was still as the grave. I ran my eye down the road, butthe moon was not bright enough to penetrate the shadows, and I couldmake out nothing except the many-storied and gabled buildings that,packed closely to each other, beetled over the passage. The hangingturrets projecting from these houses were for all the world likegigantic wasps' nests, such as are seen clinging to the rocks of theupper Dordogne. Here and there a turret window showed a lightglimmering behind it, and, had I time, I might have pictured to myselfa resemblance between this 'beetle-browed' passage to that of somelong, narrow, and sluggish mountain tarn, guarded on each side by animpassable barrier of frowning rocks. It was, however, not a moment tolet oneself be impressed by scenery, and, eyes and ears on thestretch, I peered into the indistinct light to see the slightestmovement, to catch the slightest sound. But the silence remainedundisturbed. It was an eyrie of night-hawks, and they were hunting nowfar from their nests. So I stole forth from the shadow of thebuttress, and, keeping the dagger ready to strike, retraced my stepspast the Toison d'Or and along the winding and crooked passage,keeping as far away from the walls as possible to avoid any suddenattack, until at last I found myself in a cross street, down which Iwent, taking note of such landmarks as I could to guide me back, whenI should return with vengeance in my right hand. The cross street ledinto other winding and twisting lanes, whose squalid inhabitants wereeither flitting up and down, or quarrelling amongst themselves, orelse sitting in a sullen silence. I guessed I had got myself into oneof the very worst parts of Paris, and as I had heard that it was morethan dangerous to be recognised in such places as one not belonging tothe noble order of cut-purses, I did not halt to make inquiries, butpursued my way steadily along the labyrinth of streets, feeling morelost at every step I took. Once or twice I passed a street stall, and,as the flare of the torches which lit up its gruesome contents fellon me, I was looked at curiously; but so soiled and wet was I, sotorn my cloak and doublet in the struggle with de Gomeron's bravos,that at the most they took me for a night-hawk of superior feather,whose plumes had been ruffled by a meeting with the law. That Iinspired this idea was evident, indeed, from the way in which oneterrible-looking old man leaned forwards and, shaking his palsiedfinger at me, croaked out:

  'Run, captain; run, Messire de Montfaucon!'

  I hurried past as fast as I could, followed by the laughter of thosewho heard the remark, thinking to myself it was lucky it was no worsethan a jibe that was flung at me.

  How long I wandered in that maze of streets I cannot say, but at lastI came upon an open space, and, finding it more or less empty, stoppedto take my bearings. My only chance to get back to my lodging thatnight--and it was all-important to do so--was to strike the Seine atsome point or other; but in what direction the river lay, I could not,for the life of me, tell. At last I determined to steer by the moon,and, holding her track to the south-west of me, went on, keeping as alandmark on my left the tall spire of a church whose name I then didnot know. So I must have plodded on for about an hour, until at last Iwas sensible that the street in which I was in was wider than theothers I had passed through, and, finally, I saw before me a couple oflanterns, evidently slung on a rope that stretched across a streetmuch broader still than the one I was in. That, and the sight of thelanterns, convinced me that I had gained one of the main arteries ofthe city, and it was with an inward 'Thank God!' that I stepped underthe light and looked about me, uncertain which direction I shouldtake, for if I kept the moon behind me, as I had done hitherto, Ishould have to cross over and leave the street, and I felt sure thiswould be a serious error that would only lead me into furtherdifficulties. It was as yet not more than a half-hour or so beyondcompline, so the street was full. And unwilling to attract theattention of the watch, which had a habit of confining its beat toplaces where it was least required, I began to stroll slowly down,determined to inquire the way of the first passer-by who looked in amood amiable enough to exchange a word with so bedraggled a wretch asI was then.

  I had not long to wait, for in a short time I noticed one who wasevidently a well-to-do citizen hurrying along, with a persuading staffin his right hand, and the muffled figure of a lady clinging on to hisleft arm. I could make out nothing of her; but the man himself wasshort and stout of figure, and I ran to the conclusion that he must bea cheery soul, for, as far as I could see by the light of the streetlamps, he looked like one who enjoyed a good meal and a can to follow,and approaching, I addressed him--

  'Pardon, monsieur, but I have lost my way.'

  I had hardly spoken so much, when, loosening his arm from the lady,the little man jumped back a yard, and began flourishing his stick.

  I saw that in the next moment he would shout for the watch, andstopped him with a quick--

  'Monsieur, I have been attacked and robbed--there,' and I pointed inthe direction whence I had come. 'I have escaped but with my life, andI pray you tell me how to find my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais.' Thelady, who had at first retreated with a little cry of alarm behind hercompanion, here stepped forward with a soft--

  'Poor man! are you much hurt?'

  'Not in the least, mademoiselle, thank you,' and I unconsciously moveda step forward.

  'Stand back!' called out the little man, dabbing his stick at me, 'andsay Madame, sir--the lady is my wife.'

  'Pardon my error, sir, but----'

  The lady, however, interposed--

  'Be still. Mangel. So you wish to find the Rue de Bourdonnais, sir?'

  'He had better find the watch,' interrupted Maitre Mangel; 'they havegone that way, towards the Porte St. Martin.'

  'This, then, is the----'

  'Rue St. Martin.'

  'A hundred thanks, mademoiselle.'

  'Madame--_Madame_ Mangel, monsieur.'

  'Pardon, I now know where I am, and have only to follow my nose to getto where I want. I thank you once more, and good night.'

  'Good night, monsieur,' answered Madame; but Maitre Mangel, who wasevidently of a jealous complexion, tucked his wife under his arm andhurried her off, muttering something under his breath.

  I let my eye follow them for a moment or so, and ere they had gonemany paces, Madame Mangel, who appeared to be of a frolicsome spirit,turned her head and glanced over her shoulder, but was immediatelypulled back with a jerk by her husband, whose hand moved in much thesame manner as that of a nervous rider when clawing at the reins of arestive horse. Then I, too, turned and went down in an oppositedirection along the Rue St. Martin, smiling to myself at the littlescene I had witnessed, and my spirits rising at every step I took, forI felt each moment was bringing me nearer the time when I should beable to effect Claude's freedom, and balance my account with Adam deGomeron. At last I saw the spire of St. Jacques de la Boucherie to myright, and a few steps more brought me to the bridge of Notre Dame.The passage was, however, closed, and, turning to the west, I keptalong the river face and made for the Pont du Change, hoping that thisbridge would be open, else I should perforce be compelled to swim theSeine once more, as no boats were allowed to ply during the night.Here, however, I was not disappointed, and threading my way throughthe crowd that still lingered round the money-changers' stalls, I soonfound myself in the Barillierie, and hastening past Sainte Chap
elle tothe Rue des Deux Mondes. I had determined in the first instance toseek out de Belin, but thought better of that as I went along the RueSt. Martin, when I considered how unlikely I was to find my friend athome, whereas, on the other hand, the notary and his wife were sure tobe in their house; and it moreover struck me as being the safest planto go straight there until I could communicate with de Belin. For if Ishould be suspected of making away with Madame, no one would think mefool enough to come back to my lodging, which was well known, nodoubt, and where I could be trapped at once.

  At last I was once again in the Rue des Deux Mondes, very footsore andweary, but kept up by the thought of what I had before me, and readyto drop dead before I should yield to fatigue. There was no one in thestreet, and, seizing the huge knocker, I hammered at the door in amanner loud enough to waken the dead. It had the effect of arousingone or two of the inhabitants of the adjoining houses, who openedtheir windows and peered out into the night, and then shut them againhastily, for the wind blew chill across the Passeur aux Vaches. Therewas no answer to my knock, and then I again beat furiously at thedoor, with a little sinking of my heart as it came to me that perhapssome harm had befallen these good people. This time, however, I hearda noise within, and presently Pantin's voice, inquiring in angryaccents who it was that disturbed the rest of honest people at so latean hour.

  'Open, Pantin,' I shouted; 'it is I--do you not know me?'

  Then I heard another voice, and a sudden joy went through me, for itwas that of my trusty Jacques.

  '_Grand Dieu!_ It is the Chevalier! Open the door quick, man!'

  It was done in a trice, and as I stepped in Pantin closed it againrapidly, whilst Jacques seized my hand in his, and then, letting itgo, gambolled about like a great dog that had just found its master.

  I noticed, however, at the first glance I took round, that both Pantinand Jacques were fully dressed, late as it was, and that the notarywas very pale, and the hand in which he held a lantern was visiblytrembling.

  'Monsieur,' he began, and then stopped; but I understood the questionin his voice, and answered at once--

  'Pantin, I have come back to free her--come back almost from thedead.'

  'Then, monsieur, there are those here who can help you still. I hadthought you brought the worst news,' and he looked at me where Istood, soiled and wet. 'This way, monsieur le chevalier,' hecontinued.

  'In a moment, Pantin,' cut in dame Annette's voice, and the good womancame up to me with a flagon of warmed wine in her hand.

  'Take this first, chevalier, 'tis Maitre Pantin's nightcap; but I donot think he will need it this night. God be thanked you have comeback safe.'

  I wrung her hand, and drained the wine at a draught, and then, withPantin ahead holding his lantern aloft, we ascended the stair that ledto my apartments. As we went up I asked Jacques--

  'Did you manage the business?'

  'Yes, monsieur, and Marie and her father are both safe at Auriac. Irode back almost without drawing rein, and reached here but thisafternoon; and then, monsieur, I heard what had happened, and gave youup for lost.'

  At this juncture we reached the small landing near the sitting-room Ihad occupied, and Pantin without further ceremony flung open the door,and announced me by name. I stepped in with some surprise, the otherscrowding after me, and at the first glance recognised, to myastonishment, de Belin, who had half risen from his seat, his hand onhis sword-hilt, as the door was flung open; and in the other figure,seated in an armchair, and staring moodily into the fire, saw Palin,who, however, made no movement beyond turning his head and lookingcoldly at me. Not so Belin, for he sprang forwards to meet me in hisimpulsive way, calling out--

  '_Arnidieu!_ You are back! Palin, take heart, man! He would never havecome back alone.'

  The last words hit me like a blow, and my confusion was increased bythe demeanour of Palin, who gave no sign of recognition; and there Istood in the midst of them, fumbling with the hilt of my sword, andfacing the still, motionless figure before me, the light of thecandles falling on the stern, drawn features of the Huguenot.

  My forehead grew hot with shame and anger, as I looked from one toanother, and then, like a criminal before a judge, I faced the old manand told him exactly what had happened--all except one thing; that Ikept back. At the mention of Ravaillac's name, and of his identitywith the Capuchin, the Vicompte de Belin swore bitterly under hismoustache; and but for that exclamation my story was heard instillness to its bitter end. For a moment one might have heard a pinfall, and then Palin said, 'And you left her--there!' The drycontempt of his manner stung me; but I could say nothing, savemutter--

  'I did what I could.'

  'The one ewe-lamb of the fold--the last and the best beloved,' hesaid, as if speaking to himself; and then in a sudden fury he sprangto his feet. 'But why do we stand prating here? There are five of us,and we know where she is--come.'

  But Belin put his hand on his shoulder. 'Patience, MaitrePalin--patience.'

  'I have had enough of patience and enough of trusting others,' and theHuguenot shook off his hand and looked at me with a scowl. 'Come,Monsieur d'Auriac; if you would make amends, lead me to this Toisond'Or and we will see what an old arm can do.'

  'I am ready,' I answered.

  But Belin again interfered.

  'Messieurs, this is madness. From what I have gathered d'Auriacwill prove but a blind guide back. We are not, moreover, sure thatMadame is there. Sit still here, you Palin; neither you nor d'Auriacare fit to think. Fore Gad! it was lucky I thought of this for ourmeeting-place tonight, Palin. Sit still and let me think.'

  'I can think well enough,' I cut in, 'and I have my plan; but I shouldlike to ask a question or two before I speak.'

  'And these questions are?'

  'I presume I am suspected of this abduction?'

  'And of more. _Nom de dieu!_ Man! your mare was found dead, and besideher one of the Marshal's guards, run through the heart,' answered deBelin.

  'Then of course if I am seen I am in danger?'

  'A miracle only could save you. The King is enraged beyond measure,and swears he will let the Edict go in its full force against you. TheCamarguer has made a fine story of it, saying how he tried to stop theabduction, but failed in the attempt.'

  'In short, then, it would ruin all chances if we adopt Maitre Palin'ssuggestion?'

  'You are saving me the trouble of thinking.'

  'Again,' I went on, 'it is not certain if Madame is still at theToison d'Or, and apart from that I doubt if I could find my way backthere to-night, unless anyone could guide me,' and I looked at thePantins, who shook their heads sorrowfully.

  'This settles our going out to-night,' I went on; 'there is but onething to do to-morrow--to find the house. It will be easy to discoverif Madame is within. After that I propose a rescue by the ordinarymeans of the law.'

  'Would it not be as simple to have recourse to Villeroi the firstthing to-morrow?' asked Belin.

  'Simple enough; but the law has its delays, and if once the house israided and Madame is not there we may whistle for our prize.'

  'But the wheel?' put in Pantin.

  'Will break Babette, who will not know. M. de Gomeron is no fool totrust her more than the length of his hand. No--I will leave nothingto chance. I propose then to seek out the house tomorrow, withPantin's help, if he will give it.'

  'Most willingly,' put in the notary.

  'Thanks, my good friend. That we will find it I am certain, and thenwe can act. In the meantime I must ask you by all means in your powerto get the search of the law after me delayed.'

  'Then M. de Villeroi must hear some certain news to-morrow,' saidAnnette.

  'There speaks a woman's wit,' exclaimed Belin; 'well, after all,perhaps your plan is the best.'

  'And in this search of to-morrow I will share,' Palin suddenlyexclaimed. But my heart was sore against him for what he had said.

  'Pardon me, Maitre Palin; this is my right--I do this alone.'

  'Your right,' he sneere
d.

  'Yes, Maitre Palin, my right; I go to rescue my promised wife.'

  'And besides, Monsieur le Chevalier will want no help, for I am here,'Jacques must needs thrust in; 'and when Monsieur is married,' heblundered on, 'we will rebuild Auriac, mount a brace of bombards onthe keep, and erect a new gallows for ill-doers.'

  'Silence, sir!' I thundered, half beside myself at the idiot's folly,for I saw the gleam in the eyes of Pantin and his wife, and despitethe gravity of the occasion de Belin had hard to do to repress an openlaugh.

  As for Palin, he said nothing for a moment, his features twitchingnervously. At last he turned to me, 'It is what I have hoped andprayed for,' he said, holding out his hand; 'forgive me--I take backthe words so hastily spoken--it is an old man who seeks your pardon.'

  I took his hand in all frankness, and he embraced me as a son, andthen in a while Belin said--

  'We must be up and doing early to-morrow, and d'Auriac is in need ofrest. He will share my bed here to-night; and harkee, Pantin! rouse uswith the dawn.'

  We then parted, the Pantins showing the Huguenot to his chamber, andJacques but waiting for a moment or so to help me off with my drippingthings. My valises were still lying in the room, and I was thusenabled to get the change of apparel I so much needed.

  When at last we were abed I found it impossible to sleep, and Belinwas at first equally wakeful. For this I was thankful, as I began togrow despondent, and felt that after all I had lost the game utterly.But the Vicompte's courage never faltered, and in spite of myself Ibegan to be cheered by his hopefulness. He explained to me fully howit came that he was at the Rue des Deux Mondes. He wished to discusswith Palin some means for discovering me, and as the Huguenot, fearingto return to the Rue Varenne after what had happened, and yet wasunwilling to leave Paris, had sought Pantin's home, de Belin haddetermined to pass the night here to consult with him, giving out tohis people that he had gone on a business to Monceaux.

  'I will see Sully the first thing to-morrow,' he said, as we discussedour plans, 'and if I mistake not it is more than Madame we will findat the Toison d'Or. Be of good cheer, d'Auriac, your lady will come tono harm. The Camarguer is playing too great a game to kill a goosethat is likely to lay him golden eggs. I'm afraid though he has spoilta greater game for his master.'

  'How do you mean?' I asked, interested in spite of myself.

  'Only this, that unless you are extremely unfortunate I regard therescue of Madame de Bidache as certain. I am as certain that this willlead to the arrest of de Gomeron and his confederates. They will tastethe wheel, and that makes loose tongues, and it may lead to detailsconcerning M. de Biron that we sadly need.'

  'It seems to me that the wheel is perilously near to me as well.'

  'There is the Edict, of course,' said de Belin, 'but Madame's evidencewill absolve you, and we can arrange that you are not put to thequestion at once.'

  The cool way in which he said this would have moved me to furiousanger against him did I not know him to be so true a friend. As it wasI said sharply--

  'Thank you, I will take care that the wheel does not touch me.'

  'Very well,' he answered; 'and now I shall sleep; good night.'

  He turned on his side and seemed to drop off at once, and as I laythrough the weary hours of that night I sometimes used to turn to thestill figure at my side with envy at the peace of his slumber.