CHAPTER X.
Pillot to the Rescue.
Every day now the rumour of Mazarin's defeat grew louder, but, knowingthe man well, I doubted if all France could disturb his position. Andthough I felt little personal liking for the Cardinal, it seemed to methat the country was safer in his hands than it would be in the handsof those opposed to him.
De Retz, a noisy brawler, stirred up the mob in his own interests;Gaston of Orleans, unstable as water, was a mere shuttle-cock tossed toand fro by any strong man who chose to make use of him; Conde, though abrave and skilful general, already grasped more power than a subjectshould possess. Between them they had turned Paris into a hot-bed ofrebellion and discontent.
I was musing over these things one evening when a horseman came atwalking pace into the courtyard of the chateau. The animal appearedtired out, and the man himself was covered with dust and dirt.
"A special messenger from Paris," I muttered, and, going forward,recognised Pillot, whom I had treated so scurvily at the inn.
The little man displayed no malice, but his eyes twinkled as he slippedfrom the back of his exhausted horse.
"You have ridden fast," I remarked, and, calling a servant, ordered himto give the animal a good feed and a rub down.
"Thanks, monsieur, he deserves it. A plague on these troublesomejourneys. Why do people live outside Paris, I wonder?"
Laughing at the question, I inquired if he had come to see me.
"No, monsieur; this is an unexpected pleasure," and he showed his teethin a broad grin. "I have brought a letter certainly, but this timethere can be no mistake, as it is for a lady."
"If it is for Madame Coutance, you had better come to the house."
Madame had just returned from riding with Marie, but she at oncereceived the messenger, and then sent him to obtain some much-neededrefreshment. Breaking the seal, she read the letter hurriedly, withflushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
"It is from Henri!" she exclaimed, excitedly, "and contains startlingnews. The old fox is beaten at last! De Retz has declared for Conde,who will soon take the reins into his own hands."
"Is Gaston left out in the cold?"
"_Pouf!_ Henri doesn't even mention him; he is only a puppet."
"But he has a strong party!"
"Young scatter-brains like Raoul Beauchamp and Armand d'Arcy! Niceboys, but nothing more. Marie, we must go to the court to congratulatethe Queen on her freedom."
"Or rather on her change of masters!" laughed the girl.
Later in the evening I went to find Pillot. Having eaten and drunkwell, Henri's messenger was in a good temper, and willing to inform meof the most recent events.
"It is time to make a fresh move, monsieur," he said mockingly. "Withso many brave Frenchmen to lead us we have no need of a beggarlyforeigner. The first step was to join our forces, which made us sostrong that Mazarin fled. By now, no doubt, Conde is out of prison."
"Then you are all friends together! How long will that last?"
"How long, monsieur? What a question!"
"Till you come to divide the spoils, I suppose?"
Pillot's eyes twinkled, and he answered roguishly, "Monsieur haslearned the ways of the world. It is true thieves often quarrel overtheir booty, but on the other hand they do not share it with theirvictim's friends."
"What does that mean?"
"Simply that Paris at present is not a suitable place for a _Mazarin_.While dogs are growling over a bone, they are apt to snap at apasser-by."
"One should wait till they have turned to fighting among themselves," Iremarked.
"If one has the patience, monsieur!"
"Oh, the quarrel soon begins. In less than a month's time you will beflying at each other's throats, and Mazarin will return with more powerthan ever."
"You are mistaken there, monsieur. Whatever else happens, we havefinished with the Italian. Were he to set foot in Paris again, thepeople would tear him limb from limb."
"I suppose De Retz pays you well for your services?"
"I have little to do with the Abbe now," he said. "I am in the serviceof monsieur's cousin, and a man could have no better master."
That night when the household had retired to rest, I sat at my bedroomwindow looking out over the park. It was a beautiful scene; everythingwas hushed and still, and the quiet earth lay bathed in silverymoonlight. Pillot's talk had set me thinking. My wound had completelyhealed, and I felt strong enough to take a further part in thestruggle. The situation was, however, puzzling. Mazarin's downfallhad left me without a patron, and I could not join his enemies, most ofwhom, utterly and heartlessly selfish, cared for nothing but their ownwelfare. Their senseless squabbles were dragging France through themire, and I longed to see my country strong and powerful.
From the dwarf's remarks I gathered that Conde intended going to Parisas the Queen's friend, but this could be nothing more than play-actingof the flimsiest character. It was as if a housebreaker took it uponhimself to protect the building he had just robbed.
Reflecting calmly on these matters, I saw my duty plain. The Lady Annewas the natural guardian of the young King, and she required the aid ofevery honest Frenchman till her son became of an age to rule forhimself. Reasoning thus, I resolved to set out straightway for Paris,and, having made up my mind, I closed the window and went to bed.
As soon as Madame Coutance heard of my intention she urged me to staylonger, but the look of relief in her eyes showed she was reallypleased at my resolve. The country wearied her; she was eager toreturn to the old life, and after my departure there would be nonecessity for her to remain at Aunay.
"We must make the most of Albert to-day, _ma chere_," she exclaimedbrightly. "The house will be positively gloomy without him."
"When do you start?" asked Marie.
"To-morrow at day-break. I am strong enough now to use a sword, andthe Queen-Mother has not too many friends around her."
Marie sighed. "I am tired of a contest in which selfishness plays solarge a part," she remarked.
"Yet it is distinctly droll," observed her aunt. "For example, here isAlbert, anxious to serve the Queen, while his cousin does his best forDe Retz. On the other hand I wish to help the prince, while our friendRaoul takes orders from the King's uncle. Oh, it is a charming play!"
"Meanwhile the people die of starvation!" said Marie.
"That is unfortunate, certainly. But what would you? There mustalways be some to suffer."
"It is the people now; it will be the turn of the nobles later. Thepeasants won't always stand being ground down and starved," I said.
"Chut! my dear Albert, you talk like a carter. What have the people todo with us beyond cultivating our land? You should join De Retz, whointends doing so much for the _canaille_ in the future."
"The very distant future," I said drily, and she laughed.
Personally she cared no more for the people than for the oxen on herestate, and said so openly.
During the afternoon I went for a turn in the park with Marie, when,strolling as far as the rivulet, we sat for a while on its bank. Itwas good to drink in the calm beauty of this scene, so utterlydifferent from any Paris could offer; and the memory of it returned tome long afterwards, when, faint with hunger, and weary with fighting, Ilay amid the dead and dying on a stricken battle-field. In thelengthening shadows we returned to the house, little dreaming whatstrange events would happen before we next wandered together in thepark at Aunay.
It was not a cheerful evening, though madame laughed and said manysmart things, in her brilliant way, to raise our spirits. At lengthshe rose to retire to her own room.
"I will not say 'good-bye,'" she exclaimed saucily, "as we are certainto meet again. If you act on my advice it will be in the palace ofConde. The prince loves a lad of mettle."
"Albert must consult his own honour," said Marie.
"And ruin his prospects for an empty whim! Don't listen to her,Albert, and above all things, don't
let Mazarin drag you down. Keepconstantly in your mind that he has had his day, and will never returnto power. Last of all, remember you are always welcome in the RueCrillon, whether fortune treat you well or ill."
When they had gone I sent for Pillot, who was still in the house. Foodand rest had performed wonders for the little man, who looked as jauntyand self-possessed as ever.
"Has your horse recovered?" I asked.
"Perfectly, monsieur."
"I am starting for the capital at day-break. If you care to ride withme, I shall be glad of your company."
"Monsieur honours me!" said he, making a bow.
"Then tell the servants to prepare you an early breakfast, and join mein the courtyard at seven."
"I shall be there, monsieur," and the rascal tripped off smiling, whileI, taking a candle, went to bed, hoping to obtain a good night's rest.
It was a glorious morning when we left Aunay, and Etienne, an oldretainer on the estate, came to the gate to wish us God-speed.
"Give my respects to your mistress and to Mademoiselle de Brione," Isaid as we rode away.
The air was fresh and cool; dew-drops gemmed the earth's green carpet,and hung like pendants of brilliants from the leaves of the trees;hundreds of songsters poured forth delicious hymns of praise to theopening day; the rising sun tinted the distant peaks with purple andgold; the whole earth seemed like fairy-land.
Shaking his handsome mane, my horse, of his own accord, broke into acanter, while I, almost involuntarily, trolled forth a well-knownhunting song.
Pillot, who rode at my side, was a merry companion, full of quips, andjests, and odd conceits, which lightened the tedium of the journey.The fellow was undoubtedly a rogue of the first water, but he possessedmany amiable traits, and had a fine sense of humour.
Not being in a particular hurry, and still feeling the effects of myrecent illness, I resolved to stay for the night at Aviers, a villageabout thirty miles from Aunay. The inn was dirty, the accommodationmeagre, and the landlord a surly boor, who behaved as if we had donehim a grievous injury by stopping at his house. After providing a feedfor the horses, his resources appeared to be exhausted, and, but forPillot, I should doubtless have gone to bed without supper. He,however, had a keen appetite, and meant to satisfy it.
"Stay here, monsieur," said he, cheerfully; "if there is anythingeatable in the place we will soon have it on the table. _Peste!_things are coming to a fine pass when a gentleman cannot be served withfood at an inn!"
He skipped away, and I heard him storming at our host in a high-pitchedvoice, threatening all manner of penalties unless supper wasimmediately forthcoming. Precisely what arguments he used I cannotsay, but presently he returned in triumph with the surly innkeeper,carrying bread, butter, cheese, poached eggs, and a bottle of wine.
"There is a fowl cooking on the spit," said he, "but I thought that,meanwhile, monsieur would not object to begin with this."
He was right, I made no objections whatever, and, having finished thefirst course, was equally ready to proceed with the second. The fowlwas done to a turn, and when at length the innkeeper came to clearaway, he looked aghast at the wreck of his provisions.
"An excellent supper, Pillot!" I exclaimed contentedly. "I have nodoubt that my cousin finds your services valuable."
"We all have our gifts," he replied laughing, "and the wise folk arethose who know how to make use of them. But a word in your ear,monsieur. To-night it will be as well to sleep lightly. Thesevillagers are hangdog looking fellows, and if they fancy we are worthplundering, why----" and he finished with a most comical shrug of theshoulders.
"It is a queer world, Pillot," I remarked. "Here at Aviers you do yourbest to keep me from harm; in Paris most likely you will be doing allin your power to kill me."
"Only in the way of business, monsieur, and for the good of the Cause!"
"What do you call the Cause?"
"The filling of my pocket, monsieur."
He was a thorough rascal, but not a hypocrite, and so far was a betterman than those he served. He marched to battle under the banner ofPillot, and gathered in the spoils openly. He had a stout heart, too,and did not whine when the luck was against him, as he had shown at LaBoule d'Or. Altogether, I could not help feeling a sort of liking forthe rogue.
The chamber to which the innkeeper showed me after supper was small,dark, and low in the ceiling, but, as I have mentioned, the inn itselfwas a poor place. I looked to the fastenings of the door; they werevery slight, and completely useless as a protection.
"Take no notice, monsieur," whispered Pillot, rapidly. "The boor hasgiven me a sleeping place downstairs, but presently I shall return herequietly, and then--ah well, we shall see."
Then he wished me good-night loudly, and followed the landlorddownstairs, while I, blowing out the light, lay fully dressed on thebed, and with my weapons close at hand. In spite of Pillot's warning Ifell asleep, but it was still dark when I wakened with a curiousfeeling that something was happening. Being unable to see, I lay stilland listened intently.
Creak! Creak! The sound was very low, but I recognised that some onewas opening the door from the outside. Another creak, and thensilence. Very quietly I reached for my sword and prepared to springfrom the bed. Presently, as if satisfied that the sound had notdisturbed me, my uninvited guest pushed the door ajar and slipped intothe room. I could not perceive him, yet I knew he was creeping closerto my side.
"_Pouf!_" I thought to myself, "there will be an unwelcome surprise foryou in a moment, my friend."
Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud and terrified cry, followedby a harsh laugh. Then there was a rush of feet towards the door, and,jumping to the ground, I groped for the tinder-box and procured alight. Running to the landing and holding up the candle, I was just intime to behold a most comical sight. One of the villagers was runningdown the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him, and screaming withfright, while Pillot clung firmly to his back.
"Help! help!" shouted the fellow; "help! the Evil One has got me," andvery soon every one in the house was running to discover the cause ofthe tumult. At the bottom of the stairs the two passed from sight, butthe screams continued, and presently we heard a smash as if a door hadbeen burst open.
"What is it?" cried one of the trembling servants.
"It was Pierre Angin who called," said another, "I would swear to hisvoice."
The innkeeper turned to me appealingly, and willing to give them afurther fright I said, "It is simple enough. This fellow came to rob,perhaps to kill me. I heard him in my room. For the rest I do notthink he will turn thief again in a hurry."
In the midst of the hubbub, Pillot came towards us, rubbing his eyessleepily, and asking in a cross voice what the mischief was, and why aman could not be allowed to sleep without all that clatter. So welldid he act that, but for my glimpse of him on the stairs, I should nothave guessed he was the author of the trick.
"If monsieur will lend me the candle," said he, "we will make asearch," and he gravely led the way downstairs.
"This is the way," cried the innkeeper, "see here!" and, perspiringwith excitement, he pointed to the door which led into the stable yard.In his desperate efforts to escape, the fellow had burst it open at ablow.
No one in the inn went to sleep again that night. Pillot returned tomy room, and told with evident enjoyment all about his trick. He waslying in wait when the man first entered, and, as the fellow crouchedto the ground, had sprung lightly on his back.
"He thought the Evil One had him, monsieur, to a certainty, and yelledloud enough to waken the dead. I do believe that till his dying dayPierre Angin will be an honest man!"
As soon as it was light the innkeeper, still looking white and scared,prepared some breakfast, and afterwards ordered our animals to bebrought to the door. From the joyful way he pocketed the coin I gavehim, it was evident he had not counted on payment, which perhapsexplained the surliness of his manners. Might was right in those
darkdays of the Fronde, and the folk of the strong hand cared little forjustice. Pillot, I am sure, thought me crazy, to pay this simple boorin money, when a cut with a whip would, in his opinion, have done justas well.
The weather remained beautifully fine, and, until near the capital, ourride was very pleasant. During the last part of the journey, however,my cheerfulness was dashed by the universal signs of desolation anddecay. The ground lay bare and unfilled, the fat beeves and sturdyoxen had vanished, to be replaced here and there by a lean scraggybeast or two, all skin and bone; the yards were destitute of ricks, thehovels were deserted or inhabited by diseased and half-starvedscarecrows; erstwhile honest villagers, rendered desperate by hunger,prowled in the woods to pounce on any unwary traveller whom chanceshould deliver into their hands.
Pillot saw to his pistols and I loosened my sword, since it wasprobable we should have occasion for both. One ragged, unkempt fellowdid take a shot at us from behind a tree, but, missing his aim, hedashed into the thick wood and was lost to sight.
"_Parbleu!_ these peasants need not talk of the wickedness of Paris!"exclaimed my companion, "when a peaceful citizen cannot travel insafety on the king's highway."
"Starving men rarely distinguish between right and wrong, and thesepeople have been turned into wild beasts. Robbed and beaten as theyare, I don't wonder that they rise against those who oppress them!"
"Ah!" cried Pillot with a grin, "it is all the doing of the wickedCardinal, and these poor people perhaps recognise monsieur as hisfriend."
"I wonder you are not afraid to ride with me," said I, laughing at hisimpudence.
After this trifling adventure we rode warily, keeping a sharp look-outfor any further ambush, but perhaps our display of weapons frightenedthe robbers, as no one interfered with us again until we arrived at thegate of St. Denis just before it closed for the night. Here I partedwith Pillot, who had to make his report to my cousin Henri.
"Till our next merry meeting, monsieur!" cried he heartily. "By thattime I hope we shall both be on the same side. Mazarin is gone forgood, and you cannot do better than join us--we play the winning game."
The rascal bowed low and rode off, while I turned towards the city.