CHAPTER XII.
I have a Narrow Escape.
At breakfast, M. Belloc, who had not retired during the night, informedme that he had already received the Queen's commands, and was on thepoint of setting out for Havre, where the Cardinal was expected to befound.
"At present," he continued, "we must play a waiting game. Our timewill come when the new allies begin quarrelling, and that will not belong."
"Do I go with you?" I asked.
"No. It is possible you may be of some use to us in Paris, and I havetold Le Tellier where to find you. I have also given your name to theQueen, and informed her she may rely on your services. It may be thatI shall return shortly; if so, you will hear from me. Meanwhile, keepeyes and ears well open, and be ready to obey any order from Le Tellieror the Queen."
As soon as my friend had started--and he was in a desperate hurry--Ireturned to my rooms, feeling rather lonely and disappointed. On thetable was a brief note from Raoul, announcing that he had gone toHavre, and could not tell when he would be in Paris again.
"_Peste!_" I exclaimed moodily, "one might as well be at Vancey ashere. How shall I pass the time? It seems that, after all, I havebrought my produce to a bad market."
I had stayed at home several days doing nothing, when one evening mylandlord, bustling into the room, exclaimed, "Is it possible monsieurdoes not know that the city is _en fete_ in honour of the prince'sarrival? All the world has gone to witness the sights, and the princeis expected in an hour's time!"
I had no desire to swell the welcome to Conde, but to sit moping alonewas dreary work; so, buckling on my sword, I sallied out. Always atone extreme or the other, the Parisians had prepared a magnificentreception for their latest favourite. Lanterns were hung from thewindows of the houses, bonfires blazed, bands of nobles in gorgeousdresses lined the streets, splendid carriages with richly-caparisonedhorses were drawn up, ready to take part in the procession, while thepeople were cheering in their thousands for Conde.
"_Ma foi!_" exclaimed a strong voice, which sounded somewhat familiar,"one would imagine this Conde to be a king!" and looking round, Irecognised the Englishman who belonged to the Queen's Guards.
"Be careful," said I, warningly. "It is unwise to abuse Conde here."
"For to-day!" replied he, laughing. "To-morrow it may be different.Pardon me, monsieur, but I do not understand your people. They are toomuch like quicksilver; one is never sure where to catch them. Just nowthey welcome Conde as a hero, but who can say what they will do in aweek?"
"Monsieur makes the mistake of most strangers; he judges the country byParis, which is wrong," I remarked.
"Perhaps so. Paris is almost the only place with which I amacquainted. But are you, too, waiting to cheer Conde? If not, let usslip away from the crowd; the noise is becoming a nuisance."
He was such a pleasant fellow that I gladly joined him, and we strolledback together to the Palais Royal. His name, as I have mentioned, wasJohn Humphreys, and, although still a young man, he had already beenthrough numerous adventures. In the great English Civil War he hadfought at his father's side for King Charles. Then, being left aloneand penniless by the death of his father in the Low Countries, he hadjourneyed to Paris and taken service in the Queen's Guards. There werenumerous English exiles in Paris at that time, but most of them, Ithink, were in the pay of Conde.
Raoul had not returned, so that I was glad of the Englishman's company,and, indeed, we very soon became good friends. He was never tired oftalking about his country and of his hope one day to live there again.Sometimes I accompanied him to his quarters at the Palais Royal, wherehe introduced me to a few of his comrades, but more often we strolledabout the city.
For once in a while Paris was actually quiet. The people wentpeacefully to their daily work; the lowest classes retired to theirdens, and one could take a morning walk without meeting a howling mob.Every one repeated the same tale. Mazarin would never return; Condewas master, and the stupid Fronde was at an end.
Madame Coutance had returned to Paris with her niece, and occasionallyI spent an hour at her house, where she treated me with much kindness;only she would insist that I was a silly fellow not to abandon a lostcause.
For a time it really seemed that Conde's triumph was assured, but soonI began to hear whispers that all was not right in the Palais Royal.Bits of gossip picked up by the Englishman, and a word or two from LeTellier, made me imagine that Conde's position was less safe than heimagined.
Sitting alone one evening by the open window of my room, I noticed,approaching the house, a handsomely-dressed gallant, holding in hishand a naked sword on which were some fresh blood-stains. He, glancedup at me, smiling, and I, recognising Raoul, ran hastily to meet him.
"Why, it is as dangerous to visit you as a deposed favourite!" he criedmerrily.
"You come in such gorgeous plumage. Many a man in the Rue des Catonneswould cheerfully risk his life for the value of your gold braid. But,"glancing at the blood on his sword, "you have discovered that!"
"Yes, there is a poor wretch farther down nursing his arm and grumblingfrightfully at his own clumsiness; but I threw him a pistole or two tobuy some ointment. So you have not followed the Cardinal?"
"No! I am waiting here till his return," and we went upstairstogether, Raoul laughing heartily at what he called my impudence.
He did not refer to our last meeting at the Palais Royal, but chattedgaily about his sudden visit to Havre, though, of course, withoutrevealing to me the secrets of his party.
"Well," I remarked presently, "now that the wretched squabble is over,what have you gained by it?"
"Over?" he cried in astonishment; "come to the Pont Neuf and see foryourself what is going on. The cards have been shuffled again, and weare playing the game with different partners. Conde has gone too far,and Dame Anne will have none of him. He claims every office in theState for his friends, and three-fourths of the country for himself.Unless he is put down, as Mazarin says, there will be nothing left butto carry him to Rheims."
"Then you have broken with the prince?"
"Our party holds the scales at present; neither side can do anythingwithout us."
"What of De Retz?"
"That is the most comical part of all; he is hand in glove with theQueen, and has become Conde's bitterest enemy. At least that was thesituation this morning. To-morrow perhaps will furnish a fresh move."
"One has to blush for being a Frenchman! I shall go to MarshalTurenne; he is the only honest man in the country."
"Another broken reed, my friend! If rumour speaks truly, he has made abargain with Conde, and will support him even in open rebellion. Bythe way, do not wander about the city too much at night."
"Why?" I asked, looking at him in surprise.
"Because you have made two bitter enemies--Maubranne and Peleton. Theyhave both joined De Retz, and Peleton will work you all the mischief hecan. He is a dangerous man."
"A fig for Peleton! He is a coward."
"A coward can often strike a sure blow in the dark."
We were in the streets by this time, and, passing with difficultythrough the crowds of people, I was strongly reminded of the eveningwhen I accompanied the now exiled minister to the house of theastrologer.
The riff-raff of the city were out in large numbers; the hawkers werecrying their literary wares; the Black Mantles had gathered in knots toguard their property; while the young bloods swaggered along, laughingand joking, but toying with their swords as if longing for a chance touse them. On the previous occasion the rabble had roared themselveshoarse with cries against Mazarin and the Queen-Mother; now theyshouted with equal vigour against Conde and his friends.
"The Abbe is still alive," remarked Raoul, as we pushed a way throughthe crowd.
"Is this his doing?"
"Every bit of it, and your cousin Henri makes an able lieutenant. DeRetz is a dangerous enemy; all the blackguards in the city are underhis thumb. You will find that h
e will drive the prince out of Parisbefore he has finished."
"What are they doing to that fellow yonder? Why, it is Joli, and theyare making him cry 'Down with Conde!'"
Raoul burst out laughing. "Joli is Conde's henchman!" he exclaimed,"and a week ago he had the mob at his call. To-morrow as likely as notthe idiots will be bawling for Mazarin."
"The nobles have set them a good example. There goes Joli. I did notthink he could run so fast. But these fellows are becoming too daring.See, they have stopped a carriage at the corner of the street, and arethreatening the occupants."
"More of Conde's friends," said Raoul lightly. "Fortunately, Joli hasput the crowd in good humour, and there will be no mischief done unlessthose inside are obstinate."
"Listen. There is one woman not easily frightened!" and above theturmoil caused by the _canaille_ rose a defiant "_Vive le Prince!_"
"Imbecile!" cried Raoul angrily, "they will tear her in pieces!"
"She has plenty of pluck, whoever she is!" I replied.
The next instant we had drawn our swords; for the woman in the carriagewho had so proudly defied the ruffians of Paris was Madame Coutance,and by her side, pale yet undismayed, sat Marie.
The elder lady, marvellously handsome in her excitement, stood up infull view of the crowd. Her cheeks were flushed; her large black eyesflashed with surprising brilliancy; her lips were firm and compressed;and she gazed at the mob in scornful disdain. At first the peoplelaughed good-naturedly, telling her that if she would cry "Down withConde!" they would let her carriage pass. Then some of the fiercerones pressing closer, used threats, but Madame Coutance, eitherreckless from excitement or not understanding the danger, only smiled.
Raoul and I had reached the fringe of the now angry crowd, when,turning round at a touch on my shoulder, I perceived my English friend.
"What is it?" he asked. "Another revolution?"
"The people are trying to force a woman to cry 'Down with Conde.'"
"There's her answer," said he, as in a clear ringing voice MadameCoutance cried aloud, "Pah! You are not good enough for Conde to wipehis boots on!"
There was no disguising the bitterness of the insult. The aristocratflung it at them, flung it fight in their faces, and laughed as she sawit strike home. A howl of rage greeted the taunt, and, listening tothe wild, fierce yell--so different from the noisy bravado of a fewminutes before, I shuddered; there was something so stern andpurposeful about it.
For fully a minute each man stood in his place, nursing the insult hehad received; then, as if by one common impulse, the whole body sprangat the carriage. The uproar waxed furious; the narrow street became apandemonium; in their savage eagerness the people struggled and foughtwithout order or method.
The occupants of the houses on both sides, joining in the fray,showered missiles on the excited mob; the horses, maddened by the din,kicked and plunged; men shouted and women screamed; while Marie's auntstood laughing defiantly at the monster her words had conjured up. Shehad thrown one arm around her niece as if to protect her, andconfronted the mob with flashing eyes and scornful brow.
At the first sign of danger we had drawn our swords; now, flingingourselves headlong into the press, we struck out fiercely to right andleft, trying to force a passage to the carriage. Raoul cut and thrustin gallant style, and all the time he shouted with the full power ofhis lungs, "Orleans! Orleans! To me, friends of Orleans." I, takingmy cue, yelled for Conde; the Englishman shouted, "Way for the Queen'sGuards," while the mob endeavoured to drown our appeals by the uglymenace of "Death to the Nobles!"
There was scant leisure in which to look at the ladies, but MadameCoutance did not once alter her position, nor try to hide the sneeringsmile on her face.
Meanwhile our lusty shouts had brought assistance. Several BlackMantles, fearful lest the riot should spread, fought with us; a coupleof gentlemen, responding to the cry of "Conde!" had dashed in behindme, and presently from the street corner came a shout of "Beauchamp!Beauchamp!"
"Bravo, D'Arcy!" cried Raoul in answer, and we continued the fight withgreater zest. After all, the nobles of France were not quite dead tohonour; their lives were still at the service of their friends.
Taking the shortest cut through the crowd, John Humphreys and I hadreached the carriage door, and now stood with our backs to it, strivingdesperately to keep the ruffians off; Raoul, aided by several BlackMantles, was working round to the other side.
At first we fought with a certain amount of skill and method, onlyendeavouring to parry our opponents' strokes, but presently thestruggle became grim and deadly. Then the fading daylight rapidly gaveplace to darkness, which was hardly lessened by the lanterns swung fromthe windows or by the fitful glow of the glaring pitch in the _falot_at the corner of the street. The figures of the combatants, nowmomentarily lost in the black shadows, again springing forward intofull relief, were horribly grotesque.
Like ourselves, the people of the gutters were growing desperate,holding their own lives of no account, if only they could seize theirprey. Yelling and screaming, they struck out wildly with the oddest ofodd weapons, and sprang at us, gnashing their teeth like wild beasts.
[Transcriber's note: illustration missing from book]
Of the Black Mantles who supported us, two went down quickly and weretrampled on; Raoul was bleeding in the face, and I had received a nastycut across the head; but Armand d'Arcy and his friends were breakingthrough the crowd, while the cries of "Orleans!" and "Conde" redoubled.
Suddenly in the midst of it, my sword snapped against a pike-head, andin another instant I should have been killed but for Madame Coutance,who, with the heavy end of the coachman's whip, struck my assailantacross the forehead, felling him like a log.
Taken by surprise, I turned to glance at my deliverer, when a brawnyfellow with fiery red hair, whose weapon had been wrenched from him inthe fray, leaped at my throat. By the flame of a lackey's torch I sawhe was as ugly a rascal as one would find in Paris. He had a hugemouth, with yellow, wolf-like teeth; his face was scarred in a dozenplaces; the bridge of his nose had at one time been broken, while theveins of his neck stood out like cords, A pair of tattered breeches andthe remnant of a shirt constituted his fighting costume.
Missing my neck, he caught me round the body just under the arm-pits,but leaving my arms free. For a second or two I was held as in a vice;I thought my ribs would crack under the pressure, and struggled wildlyfor breath. The main fight went on around us unheeded, as we swayed toand fro, now lurching against the broken carriage, now pushed under theheels of the kicking horses, or stumbling beneath the weapons of theother combatants.
I could no longer distinguish anything clearly, and the shoutingsounded in my ears like the thunderous roaring of the ocean. Blood wasrunning from my nostrils; the pain in my chest might have been causedby red-hot knives; it was almost impossible to breathe. The fellow wasslowly crushing me, and I was helpless. I should have cried aloud inagony, but could make only a faint gurgling noise. Closer and closerpressed the iron grip; my eyes burned like fire, while my breath camein short, stifling gasps. Still I stood firmly on the ground with myfeet wide apart, and, strong as my assailant was, he had not beaten mecompletely.
If only I could get a breath of air into my lungs! It was my onechance and the last; but the brawny ruffian, guessing how nearly gone Iwas, hugged me ever the more tightly, till it seemed that the unequalstrife could not last another second. Whether the final result wasbrought about by my last desperate effort, or was due to chance, Icould not tell, but suddenly both of us, locked as we were in eachother's arms, fell. I was underneath, but, strangely enough, thepressure relaxed, and my assailant uttered a deep groan.
Presently the heavy weight lying across my body was removed; I began tobreathe, and to wonder what had happened. Very slowly I opened my eyesand gazed in astonishment at the altered scene.
The street was in possession of the Queen's Guards, at whose approachthe rioters, acting on ins
tructions from their leaders, had fled,carrying their wounded comrades with them. In the middle of theroadway stood a group of young gallants--all of whom had borne a partin the fray, and several Black Mantles, attending to a slightly injuredman! Raoul and Armand d'Arcy were wiping the blood from my face, whilethe Englishman was forcing some liquid between my teeth.
"How do you feel?" he asked. "Can you stand?"
"Yes, there is nothing much wrong; only I have had a bear's hug, whichwas by no means pleasant. What has become of my opponent?"
"His friends carried him off. He was insensible; one of the frightenedhorses kicked him. He was a savage customer."
"You had a narrow escape, my boy," said Raoul, smiling cheerfully; "youwere black in the face when we removed the fellow. Now, lean on me,you must pay your respects to the ladies."
"Salute the hero!" laughed D'Arcy. "Bring flowers and wreathe agarland for his brow. Let the conqueror be crowned on the tentedfield."
"Be still, D'Arcy," said Raoul, "your tongue runs like a woman's," andhe conducted me to Marie and her aunt, who, between them, made a prettyspeech in my honour. They wished me to enter the carriage, which,though badly damaged, remained fit for use; but to this I would notagree, preferring to walk beside it.
While the coachman put his harness straight, and quietened hisfrightened horses, the ladies spoke a few kind words to the woundedBlack Mantle who had fought for them so bravely. Fortunately he hadnot been seriously hurt, and was able, with the assistance of hisfriends, to walk home.
Suddenly young D'Arcy, who could never remain long in a serious humour,requested us to wait a few minutes, and without staying for answerdarted off to his friends, who immediately dispersed.
"What mischief is the young madcap bent on now?" I asked, wonderingly.
"Armand has a brilliant idea," Raoul replied, laughing, "be patient andyou will see."
Now that the excitement had cooled, I looked round for the Englishman,but he had vanished, for which, when D'Arcy's hare-brained schemebecame plain, I was not altogether sorry.