CHAPTER XLI.
THE RUE DE LA FERRONNERIE.
Chicot had good legs, and he would have made the best use of themto join the man who had beaten Gorenflot if he had not imaginedthat there might be danger in trying to recognize a man who soevidently wished to avoid it. He thought the best way not toseem to watch them was to pass them; so he ran on, and passedthem at the corner of the Rue Tirechappe, and then hid himselfat the end of the Rue des Bourdonnais. The two men went on, theirhats slouched over their eyes, and their cloaks drawn up overtheir faces, with a quick and military step, until they reachedthe Rue de la Ferronnerie. There they stopped and looked roundthem. Chicot, who was still ahead, saw in the middle of the street,before a house so old that it looked falling to pieces, a litter,attached to which were two horses. The driver had fallen asleep,while a woman, apparently unquiet, was looking anxiously throughthe blind. Chicot hid himself behind a large stone wall, whichserved as stalls for the vegetable sellers on the days when themarket was held in this street, and watched. Scarcely was hehidden, when he saw the two men approach the litter, one of whom,on seeing the driver asleep, uttered an impatient exclamation, whilethe other pushed him to awaken him. "Oh, they are compatriots!"thought Chicot. The lady now leaned out of the window, and Chicotsaw that she was young, very pale, but very beautiful. The twomen approached the litter, and the taller of the two took inboth of his the little white hand which was stretched out to him.
"Well, ma mie," asked he, "how are you?"
"I have been very anxious," replied she.
"Why the devil did you bring madame to Paris?" said the otherman rudely.
"Ma foi! it is a malediction that you must always have a petticoattacked to your doublet!"
"Ah, dear Agrippa," replied the man who had spoken first, "itis so great a grief to part from one you love."
"On my soul, you make me swear to hear you talk! Did you cometo Paris to make love? It seems to me that Bearn is large enoughfor your sentimental promenades, without continuing them in thisBabylon, where you have nearly got us killed twenty times to-day.Go home, if you wish to make love, but, here, keep to your politicalintrigues, my master."
"Let him scold, ma mie, and never mind him; I think he would beill if he did not."
"But, at least, ventre St. Gris, as you say, get into the litter,and say your sweet things to madame; you will run less risk ofbeing recognized there than in the open street."
"You are right, Agrippa. Give me a place, ma mie, if you permitme to sit by your side."
"Permit, sire; I desire it ardently," replied the lady.
"Sire!" murmured Chicot, who, carried away by an impulse, triedto raise his head, and knocked it against the stone wall. Meanwhilethe happy lover profited by the permission given, and seatedhimself in the litter.
"Oh! how happy I am," he cried, without attending in the leastto the impatience of his friend--"ventre St. Gris, this is agood day. Here are my good Parisians, who execrate me with alltheir souls, and would kill me if they could, working to smoothmy way to the throne, and I have in my arms the woman I love.Where are we, D'Aubigne? when I am king, I will erect here astatue to the genius of the Bearnais."
"The Bearn----" began Chicot, but he stopped, for he had given hishead a second bump.
"We are in the Rue de la Ferronnerie, sire," said D'Aubigne, "andit does not smell nice."
"Get in then, Agrippa, and we will go on."
"Ma foi, no, I will follow behind; I should annoy you, and, whatis worse, you would annoy me."
"Shut the door then, bear of Bearn, and do as you like." Thento the coachman he said, "Lavarrenne, you know where."
The litter went slowly away, followed by D'Aubigne.
"Let me see," said Chicot, "must I tell Henri what I have seen?Why should I? two men and a woman, who hide themselves; it would becowardly. I will not tell; that I know it myself is the importantpoint, for is it not I who reign? His love was very pretty, buthe loves too often, this dear Henri of Navarre. A year ago itwas Madame de Sauve, and I suppose this was La Fosseuse. However,I love the Bearnais, for I believe some day he will do an illturn to those dear Guises. Well! I have seen everyone to-daybut the Duc d'Anjou; he alone is wanting to my list of princes.Where can my Francois III. be? Ventre de biche, I must look forthe worthy monarch."
Chicot was not the only person who was seeking for the Duc d'Anjou,and unquiet at his absence. The Guises had also sought for him onall sides, but they were not more lucky than Chicot. M. d'Anjouwas not the man to risk himself imprudently, and we shall seeafterwards what precautions had kept him from his friends. OnceChicot thought he had found him in the Rue Bethisy; a numerousgroup was standing at the door of a wine-merchant; and in thisgroup Chicot recognized M. de Monsoreau and M. de Guise, andfancied that the Duc d'Anjou could not be far off. But he waswrong. MM. de Monsoreau and Guise were occupied in exciting stillmore an orator in his stammering eloquence. This orator wasGorenflot, recounting his journey to Lyons, and his duel in aninn with a dreadful Huguenot. M. de Guise was listening intently,for he began to fancy it had something to do with the silenceof Nicolas David. Chicot was terrified; he felt sure that inanother moment Gorenflot would pronounce his name, which wouldthrow a fatal light on the mystery. Chicot in an instant cut thebridles of some of the horses that were fastened up, and givingthem each a violent blow, sent them galloping among the crowd,which opened, and began to disperse in different directions. Chicotpassed quickly through the groups, and approaching Gorenflot,took Panurge by the bridle and turned him round. The Duc de Guisewas already separated from them by the rush of the people, andChicot led off Gorenflot to a kind of cul-de-sac by the churchof St. Germain l'Auxerrois.
"Ah! drunkard!" said he to him, "ah! traitor! you will then alwaysprefer a bottle of wine to your friend.'
"Ah! M. Chicot," stammered the monk.
"What! I feed you, wretch, I give you drink, I fill your pocketsand your stomach, and you betray me."
"Ah! M. Chicot!"
"You tell my secrets, wretch."
"Dear friend."
"Hold your tongue; you are but a sycophant, and deserve punishment."
And the monk, vigorous and strong, powerful as a bull, but overcomeby wine and repentance, remained without defending himself inthe hands of Chicot, who shook him like a balloon full of air.
"A punishment to me, to your friend, dear M. Chicot!"
"Yes, to you," said Chicot, striking him over the shoulders withhis stick.
"Ah! if I were but fasting."
"You would beat me, I suppose; I, your friend."
"My friend! and you treat me thus!"
"He who loves well chastises well," said Chicot, redoubling hisproofs of friendship. "Now," said he, "go and sleep at the Corned'Abondance."
"I can no longer see my way," cried the monk, from whose eyestears were falling.
"Ah!" said Chicot, "if you wept for the wine you have drunk! However,I will guide you."
And taking the ass by the bridle, he led him to the hotel, wheretwo men assisted Gorenflot to dismount, and led him up to theroom which our readers already know.
"It is done," said the host, returning.
"He is in bed?"
"Yes, and snoring."
"Very well. But as he will awake some day or other, rememberthat I do not wish that he should know how he came here; indeed,it will be better that he should not know that he has been outsince the famous night when he made such a noise in the convent,and that he should believe that all that has passed since is adream."
"Very well, M. Chicot; but what has happened to the poor monk?"
"A great misfortune. It appears that at Lyons he quarreled withan agent of M. de Mayenne's and killed him."
"Oh! mon Dieu!"
"So that M. de Mayenne has sworn that he will have him brokenon the wheel."
"Make yourself easy, monsieur; he shall not go out from here onany pretext."
"Good. And now," said Chicot, as he went away, "I must find theDuc d'Anjou."