CHAPTER XXXIII. AT MEUDON.
Making so early a start from Etampes that the inn, which had continuedin an uproar till long after midnight, lay sunk in sleep when we rodeout of the yard, we reached Meudon about noon next day. I should betedious were I to detail what thoughts my mistress and I had during thatday's journey--the last, it might be, which we should take together;or what assurances we gave one another, or how often we, repented theimpatience which had impelled us to put all to the touch. Madame, withkindly forethought, detached herself from us, and rode the greater partof the distance with Fanchette; but the opportunities she gave uswent for little; for, to be plain, the separation we dreaded seemed toovershadow us already. We uttered few words, through those few were tothe purpose, but riding hand-in-hand, with full hearts, and eyes whichseldom quitted one another, looked forward to Meudon and its perilswith such gloomy forebodings as our love and my precarious positionsuggested.
Long before we reached the town, or could see more of it than theChateau, over which the Lilies of France and the broad white bannerof the Bourbons floated in company, we found ourselves swept into thewhirlpool which surrounds an army. Crowds stood at all the cross-roads,wagons and sumpter-mules encumbered the bridges; each moment a horsemanpassed us at a gallop, or a troop of disorderly rogues, soldiers only inname, reeled, shouting and singing, along the road. Here and there, fora warning to the latter sort, a man, dangled on a rude gallows; underwhich sportsmen returning from the chase and ladies who had been for anairing rode laughing on their way.
Amid the multitude entering the town we passed unnoticed. A little waywithin the walls we halted to inquire where the Princess of Navarre hadher lodging. Hearing that she occupied a house in the town, while herbrother had his quarters in the Chateau, and the King of France at St.Cloud, I stayed my party in a by-road, a hundred paces farther on, and,springing from the Cid, went to my mistress's knee.
'Mademoiselle,' I said formally, and so loudly that all my men mighthear, 'the time is come. I dare not go farther with you. I beg you,therefore, to bear me witness that as I took you so I have brought youback, and both with your good-will. I beg that you will give me thisquittance, for it may serve me.'
She bowed her head and laid her ungloved hand on mine, which I hadplaced on, the pommel of her saddle. 'Sir,' she answered in a brokenvoice, 'I will not give you this quittance, nor any quittance from mewhile I live.' With that she took off her mask before them all, and Isaw the tears running down her white face. 'May God protect you, M. deMarsac,' she continued, stooping until her face almost touched mine,'and bring you to the thing you desire. If not, sir, and you pay toodearly for what you have done for me, I will live a maiden all my days.And, if I do not, these men may shame me!'
My heart was too full for words, but I took the glove she held out tome, and kissed her hand with my knee bent. Then I waved--for I could notspeak--to madame to proceed; and with Simon Fleix and Maignan's men toguard them they went on their way. Mademoiselle's white face looked backto me until a bend in the road hid them, and I saw them no more.
I turned when all were gone, and going heavily to where my Sard stoodwith his head drooping, I climbed to the saddle, and rode at a foot-pacetowards the Chateau. The way was short and easy, for the next turningshowed me the open gateway and a crowd about it. A vast number of peoplewere entering and leaving, while others rested in the shade of the wall,and a dozen grooms led horses up and down. The sunshine fell hotly onthe road and the courtyard, and flashed back by the cuirasses of themen on guard, seized the eye and dazzled it with gleams of infinitebrightness. I was advancing alone, gazing at all this with a speciesof dull indifference which masked for the moment the suspense I felt atheart, when a man, coming on foot along the street, crossed quickly tome and looked me in the face.
I returned his look, and seeing he was a stranger to me, was for passingon without pausing. But he wheeled beside me and uttered my name in alow voice.
I checked the Cid and looked down at him. 'Yes,' I said mechanically, 'Iam M. de Marsac. But I do not know you.'
'Nevertheless I have been watching for you for three days,' he replied.'M. de Rosny received your message. This is for you.'
He handed me a scrap of paper. 'From whom?' I asked.
'Maignan,' he answered briefly. And with that, and a stealthy lookround, he left me, and went the way he had been going before.
I tore open the note, and knowing that Maignan could not write, wasnot surprised to find that it lacked any signature. The brevity of itscontents vied with the curtness of its bearer. 'In Heaven's name go backand wait,' it ran. 'Your enemy is here, and those who wish you well arepowerless.'
A warning so explicit, and delivered under such circumstances, mighthave been expected to make me pause even then. But I read the messagewith the same dull indifference, the same dogged resolve with which thesight of the crowded gateway before me had inspired me. I had not comeso far and baffled Turenne by an hour to fail in my purpose at the last;nor given such pledges to another to prove false to myself. Moreover,the distant rattle of musketry, which went to show that a skirmish wastaking place on the farther side of the Castle, seemed an invitation tome to proceed; for now, if ever, my sword might earn protection and apardon. Only in regard to M. de Rosny, from whom I had no doubt that themessage came, I resolved to act with prudence; neither making any appealto him in public nor mentioning his name to others in private.
The Cid had borne me by this time into the middle of the throng aboutthe gateway, who, wondering to see a stranger of my appearance arrivewithout attendants, eyed me with a mixture of civility and forwardness.I recognised more than one man whom I had seen about the Court at St.Jean d'Angely six months before; but so great is the disguising power ofhandsome clothes and equipments that none of these knew me. I beckonedto the nearest, and asked him if the King of Navarre was in the Chateau.
'He has gone to see the King of France at St. Cloud,' the man answered,with something of wonder that anyone should be ignorant of so importanta fact. 'He is expected here in an hour.'
I thanked him, and calculating that I should still have time and tospare before the arrival of M. de Turenne, I dismounted, and taking therein over my arm, began to walk up and down in the shade of the wall.Meanwhile the loiterers increased in numbers as the minutes passed. Menof better standing rode up, and, leaving their horses in charge of theirlackeys, went into the Chateau. Officers in shining corslets, or withboots and scabbards dulled with dust, arrived and clattered in throughthe gates. A messenger galloped up with letters, and was instantlysurrounded by a curious throng of questioners; who left him only togather about the next comers, a knot of townsfolk, whose downcastvisages and glances of apprehension seemed to betoken no pleasant oreasy mission.
Watching many of these enter and disappear, while only the humblersort remained to swell the crowd at the gate, I began to experience thediscomfort and impatience which are the lot of the man who finds himselfplaced in a false position. I foresaw with clearness the injury I wasabout to do my cause by presenting myself to the king among the commonherd; and yet I had no choice save to do this, for I dared not run therisk of entering, lest I should be required to give my name, and fail tosee the King of Navarre at all.
As it was I came very near to being foiled in this way; for I presentlyrecognised, and was recognised in turn, by a gentleman who rode up tothe gates and, throwing his reins to a groom, dismounted with an airof immense gravity. This was M. Forget, the king's secretary, and theperson to whom I had on a former occasion presented a petition. Helooked at me with eyes of profound astonishment, and saluting me stifflyfrom a distance, seemed in two minds whether he should pass in orspeak to me. On second thoughts, however, he came towards me, and againsaluted me with a peculiarly dry and austere aspect.
'I believe, sir, I am speaking to M. de Marsac?' he said in a low voice,but not impolitely.
I replied in the affirmative.
'And that, I conclude, is your horse?' he continued, raisin
g his cane,and pointing to the Cid, which I had fastened to a hook in the wall.
I replied again in the affirmative.
'Then take a word of advice,' he answered, screwing up his features, andspeaking in a dry sort of way. 'Get upon its back without an instant'sdelay, and put as many leagues between yourself and Meudon as horse andman may.'
'I am obliged to you,' I said, though I was greatly startled by hiswords. 'And what if I do not take your advice?'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'In that case look to yourself!' he retorted.'But you will look in vain!'
He turned on his heel, as he spoke, and in a moment was gone. I watchedhim enter the Chateau, and in the uncertainty which possessed me whetherhe was not gone--after salving his conscience by giving me warning--toorder my instant arrest, I felt, and I doubt not I looked, as ill atease for the time being as the group of trembling townsfolk who stoodnear me. Reflecting that he should know his master's mind, I recalledwith depressing clearness the repeated warnings the King of Navarrehad given me that I must not look to him for reward or protection. Ibethought me that I was here against his express orders: presuming onthose very services which he had given me notice he should repudiate.I remembered that Rosny had always been in the same tale. And en finI began to see that mademoiselle and I had together decided on a stepwhich I should never have presumed to take on my own motion.
I had barely arrived at this conclusion when the trampling of hoofs anda sudden closing in of the crowd round the gate announced the King ofNavarre's approach. With a sick heart I drew nearer, feeling that thecrisis was at hand; and in a moment he came in sight, riding beside anelderly man, plainly dressed and mounted, with whom he was carrying onan earnest conversation. A train of nobles and gentlemen, whose martialair and equipments made up for the absence of the gewgaws and glitter,to which my eyes had become accustomed at Blois, followed close on hisheels. Henry himself wore a suit of white velvet, frayed in placesand soiled by his armour; but his quick eye and eager, almost fierce,countenance could not fail to win and keep the attention of the leastobservant. He kept glancing from side to side as he came on; and thatwith so cheerful an air and a carriage so full at once of dignity andgood-humour that no one could look on him and fail to see that here wasa leader and a prince of men, temperate in victory and unsurpassed indefeat.
The crowd raising a cry of 'VIVE NAVARRE!' as he drew near, he bowed,with a sparkle in his eye. But when a few by the gate cried 'VIVENT LESROIS!' he held up his hand for silence, and said in a loud, clear voice,'Not that, my friends. There is but one king in France. Let us sayinstead, "Vive le Roi!"'
The spokesman of the little group of townsfolk, who, I learned, werefrom Arcueil, and had come to complain of the excessive number of troopsquartered upon them, took advantage of the pause to approach him. Henryreceived the old man with a kindly look, and bent from his saddle tohear what he had to say. While they were talking I pressed forward, theemotion I felt on my own account heightened by my recognition of the manwho rode by the King of Navarre--who was no other than M. de la Noue. NoHuguenot worthy of the name could look on the veteran who had doneand suffered more for the cause than any living man without catchingsomething of his stern enthusiasm; and the sight, while it shamedme, who a moment before had been inclined to prefer my safety to theassistance I owed my country, gave me courage to step to the king'srein, so that I heard his last words to the men of Arcueil.
'Patience, my friends,' he said kindly. 'The burden is heavy, but thejourney is a short one. The Seine is ours; the circle is complete. In aweek Paris must surrender. The king, my cousin, will enter, and you willbe rid of us. For France's sake one week, my friends.'
The men fell back with low obeisances, charmed by his good-nature, andHenry, looking up, saw me before him. In the instant his jaw fell. Hisbrow, suddenly contracting above eyes, which flashed with surprise anddispleasure, altered in a moment the whole aspect of his face; whichgrew dark and stern as night. His first impulse was to pass by me; butseeing that I held my ground, he hesitated, so completely chagrined bymy appearance that he did not know how to act, or in what way to dealwith me. I seized the occasion, and bending my knee with as much respectas I had ever used to the King of France, begged to bring myself to hisnotice, and to crave his protection and favour.
'This is no time to trouble me, sir,' he retorted, eyeing me with anangry side-glance. 'I do not know you. You are unknown to me, sir. Youmust go to M. de Rosny.'
'It would be useless sire,' I answered, in desperate persistence.
'Then I can do nothing for you,' he rejoined peevishly. 'Stand on oneside, sir.'
But I was desperate. I knew that I had risked all on the event, and mustestablish my footing before M. de Turenne's return, or run the riskof certain recognition and vengeance. I cried out, caring nothing whoheard, that I was M. de Marsac, that I had come back to meet whatever myenemies could allege against me.
'VENTRE SAINT GRIS!' Henry exclaimed, starting in his saddle withwell-feigned surprise. 'Are you that man?'
'I am, sire,' I answered.
'Then you must be mad!' he retorted, appealing to those behind him.'Stark, staring mad to show your face here! 'VENTRE SAINT GRIS! Are weto have all the ravishers and plunderers in the country come to us?'
'I am neither the one nor the other!' I answered, looking withindignation from him to the gaping train behind him.
'That you will have to settle with M. de Turenne!' he retorted, frowningdown at me with his whole face turned gloomy and fierce. 'I know youwell, sir, now. Complaint has been made that you abducted a lady fromhis Castle of Chize some time back.'
'The lady, sire, is now in charge of the Princess of Navarre.'
'She is?' he exclaimed, quite taken aback.
'And if she has aught of complaint against me,' I continued with pride,'I will submit to whatever punishment you order or M. de Turenne demands.But if she has no complaint to make, and vows that she accompanied meof her own free-will and accord, and has suffered neither wrong nordispleasure at my hands, then, sire, I claim that this is a privatematter between myself and M. de Turenne.'
'Even so I think you will have your hands full,' he answered grimly.At the same time he stopped by a gesture those who would have cried outupon me, and looked at me himself with an altered countenance. 'Do Iunderstand that you assert that the lady went of her own accord?' heasked.
'She went and has returned, sire,' I answered.
'Strange!' he ejaculated. 'Have you married her?'
'No, sire,' I answered. 'I desire leave to do so.'
'Mon dieu! she is M. de Turenne's ward,' he rejoined, almost dumbfoundedby my audacity.
'I do not despair of obtaining his assent, sire,' I said patiently.
'SAINT GRIS! the man is mad!' he cried, wheeling his horse and facinghis train with a gesture of the utmost wonder. 'It is the strangeststory I ever heard.'
'But somewhat more to the gentleman's credit than the lady's!' one saidwith a smirk and a smile.
'A lie!' I cried, springing forward on the instant with a boldness whichastonished myself. 'She is as pure as your Highness's sister! I swearit. That man lies in his teeth, and I will maintain it.'
'Sir!' the King of Navarre cried, turning on me with the utmoststernness, 'you forget yourself in my presence! Silence, and bewareanother time how you let your tongue run on those above you. You haveenough trouble, let me tell you, on your hands already.'
'Yet the man lies!' I answered doggedly, remembering Crillon and hisways. 'And if he will do me the honour of stepping aside with me, I willconvince him of it!'
'VENTRE SAINT GRIS!' Henry replied, frowning, and dwelling on eachsyllable of his favourite oath. 'Will you be silent, sir, and let methink? Or must I order your instant arrest?'
'Surely that at least, sire,' a suave voice interjected. And with thata gentleman pressed forward from the rest, and gaining a place, of'vantage by the King's side, shot at me a look of extreme malevolence.'My lord of Turenne will expect no less at yo
ur Highness's hands,' hecontinued warmly. 'I beg you will give the order on the spot, and holdthis person to answer for his misdeeds. M. de Turenne returns to-day.He should be here now. I say again, sire, he will expect no less thanthis.'
The king, gazing at me with gloomy eyes, tugged at his moustaches.Someone had motioned the common herd to stand back out of hearing;at the same time the suite had moved up out of curiosity and formed ahalf-circle; in the midst of which I stood fronting the king, who hadLa Noue and the last speaker on either hand. Perplexity and annoyancestruggled for the mastery in his face as he looked darkly down atme, his teeth showing through his beard. Profoundly angered by myappearance, which he had taken at first to be the prelude to disclosureswhich must detach Turenne at a time when union was all-important, hehad now ceased to fear for himself; and perhaps saw something in theattitude I adopted which appealed to his nature and sympathies.
'If the girl is really back,' he said at last, 'M. d'Aremburg, I do-notsee any reason why I should interfere. At present, at any rate.'
'I think, sire, M. de Turenne will see reason,' the gentleman answereddrily.
The king coloured. 'M. de Turenne,' he began--
'Has made many sacrifices at your request, sire,' the other said withmeaning. 'And buried some wrongs, or fancied wrongs, in connection withthis very matter. This person has outraged him in the grossest manner,and in M. le Vicomte's name I ask, nay I press upon you, that he beinstantly arrested, and held to answer for it.'
'I am ready to answer for it now!' I retorted, looking from face to facefor sympathy, and finding none save in M. de la Noue's, who appearedto regard me with grave approbation. 'To the Vicomte de Turenne, or theperson he may appoint to represent him.'
'Enough!' Henry said, raising his hand and speaking in the tone ofauthority he knew so well how to adopt. 'For you, M. d'Aremburg, I thankyou. Turenne is happy in his friend. But; this gentleman came to me ofhis own free will and I do not think it consistent with my honour todetain him without warning given. I grant him an hour to remove himselffrom my neighbourhood. If he be found after that time has elapsed,' hecontinued solemnly, 'his fate be on his own head. Gentlemen, we are latealready. Let us on.'
I looked at him as he pronounced this sentence, and strove to find wordsin which to make a final appeal to him. But no words came; and when hebade me stand aside, I did so mechanically, remaining with my head baredto the sunshine while the troop rode by. Some looked back at me withcuriosity, as at a man of whom they had heard a tale, and some with ajeer on their lips; a few with dark looks of menace. When they were allgone, and the servants who followed them had disappeared also, and I wasleft to the inquisitive glances of the rabble who stood gaping after thesight, I turned and went to the Cid, and loosed the horse with a feelingof bitter disappointment.
The plan which mademoiselle had proposed and I had adopted in the forestby St. Gaultier--when it seemed to us that our long absence and thegreat events of which we heard must have changed the world and opened apath for our return--had failed utterly. Things were as they had been;the strong were still strong, and friendship under bond to fear. Plainlywe should have shewn ourselves wiser had we taken the lowlier course,and, obeying the warnings given us, waited the King of Navarre'spleasure or the tardy recollection of Rosny. I had not then stood, as Inow stood, in instant jeopardy, nor felt the keen pangs of a separationwhich bade fair to be lasting. She was safe, and that was much; but I,after long service and brief happiness, must go out again alone, withonly memories to comfort me.
It was Simon Fleix's voice which awakened me from this unworthylethargy--as selfish as it was useless--and, recalling me to myself,reminded me that precious time was passing while I stood inactive. Toget at me he had forced his way through the curious crowd, and his facewas flushed. He plucked me by the sleeve, regarding the varlets roundhim with a mixture of anger and fear.
'Nom de Dieu! do they take you for a rope-dancer?' he muttered in myear. 'Mount, sir, and come. There is not a moment to be lost.'
'You left her at Madame Catherine's?' I said.
'To be sure,' he answered impatiently. 'Trouble not about her. Saveyourself, M. de Marsac. That is the thing to be done now.'
I mounted mechanically, and felt my courage return as the horse movedunder me. I trotted through the crowd, and without thought took the roadby which we had come. When we had ridden a hundred yards, however, Ipulled up 'An hour is a short start,' I said sullenly. 'Whither?'
'To St. Cloud,' he answered promptly. 'The protection of the King ofFrance may avail for a day or two. After that, there will still be theLeague, if Paris have not fallen.'
I saw there was nothing else for it, and assented, and we set off. Thedistance which separates Meudon from St. Cloud we might have riddenunder the hour, but the direct road runs across the Scholars' Meadow,a wide plain north of Meudon. This lay exposed to the enemy's fire, andwas, besides, the scene of hourly conflicts between the horse of bothparties, so that to cross it without an adequate force was impossible.Driven to make a circuit, we took longer to reach our destination, yetdid so without mishap; finding the little town, when we came in sightof it, given up to all the bustle and commotion which properly belong tothe Court and camp.
It was, indeed, as full as it could be, for the surrender of Paris beingmomentarily expected, St. Cloud had become the rendezvous as well ofthe few who had long followed a principle as of the many who waitupon success. The streets, crowded in, every part, shone with glancingcolours, with steel and velvet, the garb of fashion and the plumes ofwar. Long lines of flags obscured the eaves and broke the sunshine,while, above all, the bells of half a dozen churches rang merry answerto the distant crash of guns. Everywhere on flag and arch and streamerI read the motto, 'Vive le Roi!'--words written, God knew then, and weknow now, in what a mockery of doom!