CHAPTER XIV. M. DE RAMBOUILLET.
For a while we were but a melancholy party. The incident I have lastrelated which seemed to admit of more explanations than one--left mein a state of the greatest perplexity; and this prevailed with me for atime, and was only dissipated at length by my seeing my own face, as itwere, in a glass. For, chancing presently to look behind me, I observedthat Simon Fleix was riding, notwithstanding his fine hat and featherand his new sword, in a posture and with an air of dejection difficultto exaggerate; whereon the reflection that master and man had the sameobject in their minds--nay, the thought that possibly he bore in hisbosom a like token to that which lay warm in mine--occurring to me, Iroused myself as from some degrading dream, and, shaking up the Cid,cantered forward to join Rosny, who, in no cheerful mood himself, wasriding steadily forward, wrapped to his eyes in his cloak.
The news of the King of Navarre's illness had fallen on him, indeed, inthe midst of his sanguine scheming with the force of a thunderbolt.He saw himself in danger of losing at once the master he loved and thebrilliant future to which he looked forward; and amid the imminent crashof his hopes and the destruction of the system in which he lived, he hadscarcely time to regret the wife he was leaving at Rosny or the quietfrom which he was so suddenly called. His heart was in the South, at LaGanache, by Henry's couch. His main idea was to get there quickly at allrisks. The name of the King of Navarre's physician was constantly on hislips. 'Dortoman is a good man. If anyone call save him, Dortoman will,'was his perpetual cry. And whenever he met anyone who had the leastappearance of bearing news, he would have me stop and interrogate him,and by no means let the traveller go until he had given us the lastrumour from Blois--the channel through which all the news from the Southreached us.
An incident which occurred at the inn that evening cheered him somewhat;the most powerful minds being prone, I have observed, to snatch at omensin times of uncertainty. An elderly man, of strange appearance, anddressed in an affected and bizarre fashion, was seated at table when wearrived. Though I entered first in my assumed capacity of leader of theparty, he let me pass before him without comment, but rose and solemnlysaluted M. de Rosny, albeit the latter walked behind me and was muchmore plainly dressed. Rosny returned his greeting and would have passedon; but the stranger, interposing with a still lower bow, invited him totake his seat, which was near the fire and sheltered from the draught,at the same time making as if he would himself remove to another place.
'Nay,' said my companion, surprised by such an excess of courtesy, 'I donot see why I should take your place, sir.'
'Not mine only,' the old man rejoined, looking at him with aparticularity and speaking with an emphasis which attracted ourattention, 'but those of many others, who I can assure you will veryshortly yield them up to you, whether they will or not.'
M. de Rosny shrugged his shoulders and passed on, affecting to supposethe old man wandered. But privately he thought much of his words, andmore when he learned that he was an astrologer from Paris, who had thename, at any rate in this country, of having studied under Nostradamus.And whether he drew fresh hopes from this, or turned his attention moreparticularly as we approached Blois to present matters, certainly hegrew more cheerful, and began again to discuss the future, as thoughassured of his master's recovery.
'You have never been to the King's Court?' he said presently, followingup, as I judged, a train of thought in his own mind. 'At Blois, I mean.'
'No; nor do I feel anxious to visit it,' I answered. 'To tell you thetruth, M. le Baron,' I continued with some warmth, 'the sooner me arebeyond Blois, the better I shall be pleased. I think we run some riskthere, and, besides, I do not fancy a shambles. I do not think I couldsee the king without thinking of the Bartholomew, nor his chamberwithout thinking of Guise.'
'Tut, tut!' he said, 'you have killed a man before now.'
'Many,' I answered.
'Do they trouble you?'
'No, but they were killed in fair fight,' I replied, 'That makes adifference.'
'To you,' he said drily. 'But you are not the King of France, you see.Should you ever come across him,' he continued, flicking his horse'sears, a faint smile on his lips, 'I will give you a hint. Talk to him ofthe battles at Jarnac and Moncontour, and praise your Conde's father! AsConde lost the fight and, he won it, the compliment comes home to him.The more hopelessly a man has lost his powers, my friend, the morefondly he regards them, and the more highly he prizes the victories hecall no longer gain.'
'Ugh!' I muttered.
'Of the two parties at Court,' Rosny continued, calmly overlooking myill-humour, 'trust D'Aumont and Biron and the French clique. They aretrue to France at any rate. But whomsoever you see consort with the twoRetzs--the King of Spain's jackals as men name them--avoid him for aSpaniard and a traitor.'
'But the Retzs are Italians,' I objected peevishly.
'The same thing,' he answered curtly. 'They cry, "Vive le Roi!" butprivately they are for the League, or for Spain, or for whatever maymost hurt us; who are better Frenchmen than themselves, and whose leaderwill some day, if God spare his life, be King of France.'
'Well, the less I have to do with the one or the other of them, save atthe sword's point, the better I shall be pleased,' I rejoined.
On that he looked at me with a queer smile; as was his way when he hadmore in his mind than appeared. And this, and something special in thetone of his conversation, as well, perhaps, as my own doubts about myfuture and his intentions regarding me, gave me an uneasy feeling;which lasted through the day, and left me only when more immediate perilpresently rose to threaten us.
It happened in this way. We had reached the outskirts of Blois, and werejust approaching the gate, hoping to pass through it without attractingattention, when two travellers rode slowly out of a lane, the mouth ofwhich we were passing. They eyed us closely as they reined in to letus go by; and M. de Rosny, who was riding with his horse's head at mystirrup, whispered me to press on. Before I could comply, however, thestrangers cantered by us, and turning in the saddle when abreast of uslooked us in the face. A moment later one of them cried loudly, 'It ishe!' and both pulled their horses across the road, and waited for us tocome up.
Aware that if M. de Rosny were discovered he would be happy if heescaped with imprisonment, the king being too jealous of his Catholicreputation to venture to protect a Huguenot, however illustrious, I sawthat the situation was desperate; for, though we were five to two,the neighbourhood of the city--the gate being scarcely a bow-shotoff--rendered flight or resistance equally hopeless. I could think ofnothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter, and, M. de Rosnydoing the same, we advanced in the most innocent way possible.
'Halt, there!' cried one of the strangers sharply. 'And let me tell you,sir, you are known.'
'What if I am?' I answered impatiently, still pressing on. 'Are youhighwaymen, that you stop the way?'
The speaker on the other side looked at me keenly, but in a momentretorted, 'Enough trifling, sir! Who YOU are I do not know. But theperson riding at your rein is M. de Rosny. Him I do know, and I warn himto stop.'
I thought the game was lost, but to my surprise my companion answeredat once and almost in the same words I had used. 'Well, sir, and what ofthat?' he said.
'What of that?' the stranger exclaimed, spurring his horse so as stillto bar the way. 'Why, only this, that you must be a madman to showyourself on this side of the Loire.'
'It is long since I have seen the other,' was my companion's unmovedanswer.
'You are M. de Rosny? You do not deny it?' the man cried inastonishment.
'Certainly I do not deny it,' M. de Rosny answered bluntly. 'And more,the day has been, sir,' he continued with sudden fire, 'when few at hisMajesty's Court would have dared to chop words with Solomon de Bethune,much less to stop him on the highway within a mile of the palace. Buttimes are changed with me, sir, and it would seem with others also, iftrue men rallying to his Majesty in his need are to be challenged byevery pas
ser on the road.'
'What! Are you Solomon de Bethune?' the man cried incredulously.Incredulously, but his countenance fell, and his voice was full ofchagrin and disappointment,
'Who else, sir?' M. de Rosny replied haughtily. 'I am, and, as far as Iknow, I have as much right on this side of the Loire as any other man.'
'A thousand pardons.'
'If you are not satisfied--'
'Nay, M. de Rosny, I am perfectly satisfied.'
The stranger repented this with a very crestfallen air, adding, 'Athousand pardons'; and fell to making other apologies, doffing his hatwith great respect. 'I took you, if you will pardon me saying so, foryour Huguenot brother, M. Maximilian,' he explained. 'The saying goesthat he is at Rosny.'
'I can answer for that being false,' M. de Rosny answered peremptorily,'for I have just come from there, and I will answer for it he is notwithin ten leagues of the place. And now, sir, as we desire to enterbefore the gates shut, perhaps you will excuse us.' With which he bowed,and I bowed, and they bowed, and we separated. They gave us the road,which M. de Rosny took with a great air, and we trotted to the gate, andpassed through it without misadventure.
The first street we entered was a wide one, and my companion tookadvantage of this to ride up abreast of me. 'That is the kind ofadventure our little prince is fond of,' he muttered. 'But for my part,M. de Marsac, the sweat is running down my forehead. I have played thetrick more than once before, for my brother and I are as like as twopeas. And yet it would have gone ill with us if the fool had been one ofhis friends.'
'All's well that ends well,' I answered in a low voice, thinking it anill time for compliments. As it was, the remark was unfortunate, for M.de Rosny was still in the act of reining back when Maignan called out tous to say we were being followed.
I looked behind, but could see nothing except gloom and rain andoverhanging eaves and a few figures cowering in doorways. The servants,however, continued to maintain that it was so, and we held, withoutactually stopping, a council of war. If detected, we were caught in atrap, without hope of escape; and for the moment I am sure M. do Rosnyregretted that he had chosen this route by Blois--that he had thrusthimself, in his haste and his desire to take with him the latest news,into a snare so patent. The castle--huge, dark, and grim--loomed beforeus at the end of the street in which we were, and, chilled as I wasmyself by the sight, I could imagine how much more appalling it mustappear to him, the chosen counsellor of his master, and the steadfastopponent of all which it represented.
Our consultation came to nothing, for no better course suggesteditself than to go as we had intended to the lodging commonly used by mycompanion. We did so, looking behind us often, and saying more than oncethat Maignan must be mistaken. As soon as we had dismounted, however,and gone in, he showed us from the window a man loitering near; andthis confirmation of our alarm sending us to our expedients again, whileMaignan remained watching in a room without a light, I suggested that Imight pass myself off, though ten years older, for my companion.
'Alas!' he said, drumming with his fingers on the table 'there are toomany here who know me to make that possible. I thank you all the same.'
'Could you escape on foot? Or pass the wall anywhere, or slip throughthe gates early?' I suggested.
'They might tell us at the Bleeding Heart,' he answered. But I doubt it.I was a fool, sir, to put my neck into Mendoza's halter, and that is afact. But here is Maignan. What is it, man?' he continued eagerly.
'The watcher is gone, my lord,' the equerry answered.
'And has left no one?'
'No one that I can see.'
We both went into the next room and looked from the windows. The manwas certainly not where we had seen him before. But the rain was fallingheavily, the eaves were dripping, the street was a dark cavern withonly here and there a spark of light, and the fellow might be lurkingelsewhere. Maignan, being questioned, however, believed he had gone offof set purpose.
'Which may be read half a dozen ways,' I remarked.
'At any rate, we are fasting,' M. de Rosny answered. Give me a full manin a fight. Let us sit down and eat. It is no good jumping in the dark,or meeting troubles half way.'
We were not through our meal, however, Simon Fleix waiting on us with apale face, when Maignan came in again from the dark room. 'My lord,' hesaid quietly, 'three men have appeared. Two of them remain twenty pacesaway. The third has come to the door.' As he spoke we heard a cautioussummons below, Maignan was for going down, but his master bade himstand. Let the woman of the house go,' he said.
I remarked and long remembered M. de Rosny's SANG-FROID on thisoccasion. His pistols he had already laid on a chair beside him throwinghis cloak over them; and now, while we waited, listening in breathlesssilence, I saw him hand a large slice of bread-and-meat to his equerry,who, standing behind his chair, began eating it with the same coolness.Simon Fleix, on the other hand, stood gazing at the door, trembling inevery limb, and with so much of excitement and surprise in his attitudethat I took the precaution of bidding him, in a low voice, do nothingwithout orders. At the same moment it occurred to me to extinguish twoof the four candles which had been lighted; and I did so, M. de Rosnynodding assent, just as the muttered conversation which was beingcarried on below ceased, and a man's tread sounded on the stairs.
It was followed immediately by a knock on the outside of our door.Obeying my companion's look, I cried, 'Enter!'
A slender man of middle height, booted and wrapped up, with his facealmost entirely hidden by a fold of his cloak, came in quickly, andclosing the door behind him, advanced towards the table. 'Which is M. deRosny?' he said.
Rosny had carefully turned his face from the light, but at the soundof the other's voice he sprang up with a cry of relief. He was about tospeak, when the newcomer, raising his hand peremptorily, continued, 'Nonames, I beg. Yours, I suppose, is known here. Mine is not, nor do Idesire it should be. I want speech of you, that is all.'
'I am greatly honoured,' M. de Rosny replied, gazing at him eagerly.'Yet, who told you I was here?'
'I saw you pass under a lamp in the street,' the stranger answered. 'Iknew your horse first, and you afterwards, and bade a groom follow you.Believe me,' he added, with a gesture of the hand, 'you have nothing tofear from me.'
'I accept the assurance in the spirit in which it is offered,' mycompanion answered with a graceful bow, 'and think myself fortunatein being recognised'--he paused a moment and then continued--'by aFrenchman and a man of honour.'
The stranger shrugged his shoulders. 'Your pardon, then,' he said, 'if Iseem abrupt. My time is short. I want to do the best with it I can. Willyou favour me?'
I was for withdrawing, but M. de Rosny ordered Maignan to place lightsin the next room, and, apologising to me very graciously, retiredthither with the stranger, leaving me relieved indeed by these peacefulappearances, but full of wonder and conjectures who this might be, andwhat the visit portended. At one moment I was inclined to identifythe stranger with M. de Rosny's brother; at another with the Englishambassador; and then, again, a wild idea that he might be M. de Bruhloccurred to me. The two remained together about a quarter of an hour andthen came out, the stranger leading the way, and saluting me politelyas he passed through the room. At the door he turned to say, 'At nineo'clock, then?'
'At nine o'clock,' M. de Rosny replied, holding the door open. 'You willexcuse me if I do not descend, Marquis?'
'Yes, go back, my friend,' the stranger answered. And, lighted byMaignan, whose face on such occasions could assume the most stolid airin the world, he disappeared down the stairs, and I heard him go out.
M. de Rosny turned to me, his eyes sparkling with joy, his face and mienfull of animation. 'The King of Navarre is better,' he said. 'He is saidto be out of danger. What do you think of that, my friend?'
'That is the best news I have heard for many a day,' I answered. And Ihastened to add, that France and the Religion had reason to thank Godfor His mercy.
'Amen to that,'
my patron replied reverently. 'But that is not all--thatis not all.' And he began to walk up and down the room humming the 118thPsalm a little above his breath--
La voici l'heureuse journee Que Dieu a faite a plein desir; Par nous soit joie demenee, Et prenons en elle plaisir.
He continued, indeed, to walk up and down the floor so long, and with sojoyful a countenance and demeanour, that I ventured, at last to remindhim of my presence, which he had clearly forgotten. 'Ha! to be sure,'he said, stopping short and looking at me with the utmost good-humour.'What time is it? Seven. Then until nine o'clock, my friend, I craveyour indulgence. En fin, until that time I must keep counsel. Come,I am hungry still. Let us sit down, and this time I hope we may not beinterrupted. Simon, set us on a fresh bottle. Ha! ha! VIVENT LE ROI ETLE ROI DE NAVARRE!' And again he fell to humming the same psalm--
O Dieu eternel, je te prie, Je te prie, ton roi maintiens: O Dieu, je te prie et reprie, Sauve ton roi et l'entretiens!
doing so with a light in his eyes and a joyous emphasis, which impressedme the more in a man ordinarily so calm and self-contained. I saw thatsomething had occurred to gratify him beyond measure, and, believing hisstatement that this was not the good news from La Ganache only, I waitedwith the utmost interest and anxiety for the hour of nine, which hadno sooner struck than our former visitor appeared with the same air ofmystery and disguise which had attended him before.
M. de Rosny, who had risen on hearing his step and had taken up hiscloak, paused with it half on and half off, to cry anxiously, 'All iswell, is it not?'
'Perfectly,' the stranger replied, with a nod.
'And my friend?'
Yes, on condition that you answer for his discretion and fidelity.' Andthe stranger glanced involuntarily at me who stood uncertain whether tohold my ground or retire.
'Good,' M. de Rosny cried. Then he turned to me with a mingled airof dignity and kindness, and continued: 'This is the gentleman. M. deMarsac, I am honoured with permission to present you to the Marquis deRambouillet, whose interest and protection I beg you to deserve, for heis a true Frenchman and a patriot whom I respect.'
M. de Rambouillet saluted me politely. 'Of a Brittany family, I think?'he said.
I assented; and he replied with something complimentary. But afterwardshe continued to look at me in silence with a keenness and curiosity Idid not understand. At last, when M. de Rosny's impatience had reacheda high pitch, the marquis seemed impelled to add something. 'You quiteunderstand M. de Rosny?' he said. 'Without saying anything disparagingof M. de Marsac, who is, no doubt, a man of honour'--and he bowed to mevery low--'this is a delicate matter, and you will introduce no one intoit, I am sure, whom you cannot trust as yourself.'
'Precisely,' M. de Rosny replied, speaking drily, yet with a grandair which fully matched his companion's. 'I am prepared to trust thisgentleman not only with my life but with my honour.'
'Nothing more remains to be said then,' the marquis rejoined, bowingto me again. 'I am glad to have been the occasion of a declaration soflattering to you, sir.'
I returned his salute in silence, and obeying M. de Rosny's muttereddirection put on, my cloak and sword. M. de Rosny took up his pistols.
'You will have no need of those,' the Marquis said with a high glance.
'Where we are going, no,' my companion answered, calmly continuing todispose them about him. 'But the streets are dark and not too safe.'
M. de Rambouillet laughed. 'That is the worst of you Huguenots,' hesaid. 'You never know when to lay suspicion aside.'
A hundred retorts sprang to my lips. I thought of the Bartholomew, ofthe French fury of Antwerp, of half a dozen things which make my bloodboil to this day. But M. de Rosny's answer was the finest of all.'That is true, I am afraid,' he said quietly. 'On the other hand, youCatholics--take the late M. de Guise for instance--have the habit oferring on the other side, I think, and sometimes trust too far.'
The marquis, without making any answer to this home-thrust, led the wayout, and we followed, being joined at the door of the house by a coupleof armed lackeys, who fell in behind us. We went on foot. The night wasdark, and the prospect out of doors was not cheering. The streets werewet and dirty, and notwithstanding all our care we fell continually intopitfalls or over unseen obstacles. Crossing the PARVIS of the cathedral,which I remembered, we plunged in silence into an obscure street nearthe river, and so narrow that the decrepit houses shut out almostall view of the sky. The gloom of our surroundings, no less than myignorance of the errand on which we were bound, filled me with anxietyand foreboding. My companions keeping strict silence, however, andtaking every precaution to avoid being recognised, I had no choice butto do likewise.
I could think, and no more. I felt myself borne along by an irresistiblecurrent, whither and for what purpose I could not tell; an experience toan extent strange at my age the influence of the night and the weather.Twice we stood aside to let a party of roisterers go by, and theexcessive care M. de Rambouillet evinced on these occasions to avoidrecognition did not tend to reassure me or make me think more lightly ofthe unknown business on which I was bound.
Reaching at last an open space, our leader bade us in a low voice becareful and follow him closely. We did so and crossed in this way and insingle file a narrow plank or wooden bridge; but whether water ran belowor a dry ditch only, I could not determine. My mind was taken up at themoment with the discovery which I had just made, that the dark building,looming huge and black before us with a single light twinkling here andthere at great heights, was the Castle of Blois.