CHAPTER XXIX.
Mazarin Triumphant.
Of my life during the next few months there is little to tell, beyondthe ordinary perils of a soldier's career. I carried the green scarfof Mazarin into several desperate battles, and stained my sword at thetaking of more than one hostile town. I marched and fought, waswounded and got well again, was complimented by Turenne and rewarded bythe Queen-Regent. In fine, I figured as a successful soldier as far asmy youth permitted.
Fortune favoured me, as the jade often does those who care nothing forher frowns or smiles, and in the affair at Brie Comte Robert, when theCourt was once more in danger, I distinguished myself sufficiently tobe thanked by our youthful monarch in person.
But the praises and rewards showered upon me were not honestly earned,for my deeds were due to recklessness rather than to true bravery. Dayand night I was ready to take my life in my hands, and I lived in awhirl of excitement. I made no new friends, though many dashingspirits offered me comradeship. My heart was still sore for the lossof Raoul, and except for Pillot and the sturdy Englishman, JohnHumphreys, I went my way alone.
While at Pontoise I saw much of Humphreys, who, in his bluff heartyway, did a good deal to cheer me. He talked freely of Raoul, and Iliked to listen to his praises of my dead friend. However, the fortuneof war was soon to cut me adrift from him. Things were going verybadly for us just at that time, and Turenne could barely hold his own.The Duke of Lorraine had returned to help Conde, and the Spanishgeneral, Fuensaldana, was hurrying with a strong army to the Duke'sside.
"The Cardinal has played a clever game," remarked Pillot, one evening,"but he has lost now. I heard it whispered this afternoon that he islikely to take another journey."
"The Queen will not desert him," said I.
"She cannot help herself, monsieur. Even her strongest friends areclamouring for the Cardinal's dismissal."
The next day I found that Pillot was right, and it was from Humphreys Iheard it.
"The matter has been all arranged," said he. "The King is to be askedto dismiss Mazarin, and he will agree. When that is done, it isthought the princes will lay down their arms."
"And if not?"
"The fighting will continue, I suppose. But even Turenne will not beable to defeat Conde and Lorraine and the Spaniards. They are too manyfor him."
"He will do his best."
"I grant you that, but even Turenne cannot accomplish impossibilities."
This was almost the last chat I had with Humphreys for several months.Things turned out as he had prophesied. Mazarin quitted the Court, andI accompanied him on the journey to Sedan. For a beaten man he wasvery cheerful, and I felt sure that, even then, he was reckoning on atriumphant return.
"This travelling is troublesome, De Lalande," said he, pleasantly, "butI have no doubt we shall find rest after a while."
Now, although I served him faithfully and to the best of my ability,the Cardinal was no favourite of mine, yet I found it impossible not toadmire him. My old idea of the huge spider returned to me in strongerforce. He was always spinning, and with patience almost incredible.Now a thread was broken, now several; sometimes it seemed as if the webwere entirely destroyed; yet still he persevered, never disheartened,never discouraged, never once, as far as I could judge, losing hope.
Couriers from the Court followed us on every stage, bringing countlessletters and messages, and Mazarin was always ready to send backinstructions or advice. He would write a despatch at two in themorning as cheerfully as at ten, and the worst tidings found him cooland collected. Even Pillot began to admire the man, though the poorfellow was in despair at being taken farther and farther away from hisbeloved Paris. He did not grumble, save in a comical manner, but hislong absence from the capital was undoubtedly a sore trial to him.
One evening--we were entering Soissons, if my memory serves me--amessenger galloped up in hot haste, and delivered a letter to theCardinal, who was, at the moment, on horseback. He read it through,and turning to the courier, said calmly, "Tell the Marshal there is noneed for alarm; I will find a plan."
During the remainder of the journey he rode in deep thought, but onreaching the house where he was to stay for the night, he said, with asmile, "De Lalande, I have yet another piece of work for you. Come tome in the morning as soon as you have breakfasted."
I saluted, and, turning away, ordered Pillot to see that the horseswere ready early, as we might have a long journey the next day.
"Perhaps it is to Paris, monsieur," he suggested, his eyes sparkling."I wonder if we could find our way to the inn in the Rue de Roi? Ifear not. It is so long since we were there. The citizens will takeme for a peasant!"
"Hardly that!" I answered laughing. "But why do you think we may go toParis?"
"I do not know," said he comically, "perhaps because I hoped it mightbe so."
Poor Pillot was fated to be disappointed, as I discovered in themorning. Mazarin had apparently been up for hours when I entered hisroom. His table was littered with papers and letters, one of which wasaddressed to the Duke of Lorraine.
"De Lalande," said he without ceremony, "how would you like to becaptured by the Spaniards?"
"Captured by the Spaniards, my Lord?"
"Why, yes," said he, "it does not sound pleasant, but I fear that iswhat will happen to you. This letter is addressed to the Duke ofLorraine, but it is really meant to fall into the hands of the Spanishgeneral."
"I understand, my Lord," I replied, though not with any degree of truth.
"Hardly, De Lalande," said he lightly, "but I will make it clear toyou. Marshal Turenne has too many foes, and if we can induceFuensaldana to retreat, it will be a point in our favour. Should thisletter fall into his hands he will decide to go, but the affairrequires caution. That is why I have selected you. The Spaniards arenear Compiegne, and I want you to be taken prisoner as soon aspossible."
"I will do my best, my Lord, though it is a queer errand," I replied asI took my leave.
"_Parbleu!_ this Cardinal is a cunning fox," exclaimed Pillot, when Iinformed him of the kind of adventure in which we were engaged. "TheSpaniards will think Lorraine is making friends with the Court; theywill take fright and decamp. Truly this Mazarin is a shrewd rascal.But," he added more soberly, "the affair will be awkward for monsieur."
"Why, yes; it will not be altogether pleasant," I replied, "but theSpaniards will soon release me."
Mounting our horses, we rode off, and by early evening had reached theneighbourhood of the Spanish camp.
"Monsieur will soon have his wish," whispered Pillot, as we proceededthrough a small hamlet. "See, the road yonder is blocked by a body ofhorsemen. Does monsieur intend to show fight?"
"Why, no; yet I must not be caught too easily, or I shall arousesuspicion. Let us ride on carelessly, and turn when it is just toolate."
"Monsieur may get a bullet," suggested Pillot, but I told him I mustchance that, though he was, on no account, to risk his own life.
Accordingly we proceeded along the road toward the Spanish outpost,when suddenly a gruff voice roared some words in a foreign tongue. Ihave often laughed since at the remembrance of Pillot's face at thistime. The fellow was a born actor and might have made a fortune on thestage. Now, his eyes rolled in fright, he was the very picture ofmisery, and he cried in trembling accents, "Fly, monsieur, fly, or weare dead men! Oh, good people, I pray you, do not hurt us. I willgive you five pistoles--ten even----"
"Be still!" I exclaimed roughly, "what a coward you are!"
Again the gruff voice sounded, and just as I turned my horse's head, adozen men, or more, came rushing up, while some one shouted in badFrench, "Halt, or we fire!"
Pillot gave a scream of fright and jumped down, while I galloped off.The ride was not a long one, however, for my horse had scarcely gotinto his stride when a bullet struck him and he rolled over, pinning myleg to the ground. In an instant the soldiers were around me, andPillot was crying fearfully, "Do no
t kill him, good people. He is ahigh officer and a friend of the King's. He is on an errand for HisMajesty now. Oh, I will give you five, ten pistoles, and----"
"Cease that noise and answer my questions," exclaimed some one inFrench. "Who is your master, and where is he going?"
I did not hear Pillot's reply. My leg had been released, but the paincaused me to faint, and several days passed before I was able tounderstand what had happened. Then I found myself in a bed in a smallchamber, with Pillot waiting upon me. He would not talk much at first,but after a time he recounted in high glee how the soldiers haddiscovered Mazarin's note, and how the Spanish general had almostimmediately broken up the camp and withdrawn the greater part of histroops.
"And where are we now?" I asked.
"In Compiegne, monsieur. The surgeon says you will not be fit for thefield for months, but in a fortnight or so I am going to take you in acarriage to Paris," and his face beamed with delight.
"I wonder if the Cardinal knows what happened?"
"Yes, monsieur. I sent him word by a trusty courier. Monsieur shouldbe made a nobleman."
I did not wish that, but I was gratified when, on the very day beforesetting out for Paris, a special courier brought me this note, writtenby the Cardinal himself:
"Well done, De Lalande! Get well soon. Your services will not beforgotten."
My leg was still painful, and I could not use it at all, but Pillot hadhired a roomy carriage, and fitted it up with soft cushions. Indeed,his thoughtfulness was remarkable, and he treated me with as much careas if I had been a child. We did the journey by easy stages, and I atlength found myself back in my old rooms.
The surgeon whom Pillot now called in gave me small hope of a speedyrecovery, and as a matter of fact I did not leave the house till thebeginning of the new year. Before that time, however, many changesoccurred. Conde marched south with his troops and the Court returnedto Paris. This was a pleasant change, as John Humphreys was once moreat the Louvre, and hardly a day passed without his spending an hour orso with me.
Naturally, he brought all the news; so that I could easily follow thecourse of events. Day by day the Royal power increased; the peoplewere becoming fond of their youthful monarch, and Turenne was more thanholding his own against the rebels.
"Faith!" exclaimed Humphreys, one evening towards the close of theyear, "it looks as if that Cardinal of yours were going to win, afterall. He is back in France with an army, and is hurrying to meet theMarshal!"
"He will be in Paris before long," said I laughing, "and then we shallsee a sight."
Every day now brought news of some fresh success, and much of the gloryfell to the share of Mazarin. People began to talk of him as a greatgeneral, and to compare him, as a soldier, with Conde and Turenne.This was, of course, very absurd, but the talk increased the Cardinal'spopularity.
At the beginning of the new year, 1653, my leg was so much strongerthat I was able to go out, and every day I walked a little distance inthe streets, accompanied by Pillot. I could not ride as yet, but eventhat I was able to manage by the time Mazarin returned to Paris.
Yes, the great struggle was over, and, as I had foreseen in thebeginning, the _Frondeurs_ had been smitten hip and thigh. Conde,overshadowed by the genius of Turenne, was a fugitive; Gaston ofOrleans, who ever blew hot and cold in one breath, had left the capitalin disgrace; the parliament men had been brought to their knees; andthat sturdy rogue, De Retz, having lost all his power, was openlyarrested and imprisoned at Vincennes.
But the crowning triumph was the return, on 2nd February, of my earlypatron to the city which had hounded him out with hoots and jeers andsavage threats of death. The streets were gaily decorated, and thecitizens, apparently all of one mind, held high holiday in favour ofthe recalled exile.
I listened in vain for the ribald songs, the biting jests, the terriblethreats and vows of vengeance; in their stead I heard praises of theQueen-Mother; openly expressed admiration of the youthful monarch, whohas, since then, advanced his country to the highest pinnacle of fame;and words of good-will towards the wily Italian, who, whatever hisdefects, had toiled hard and successfully for France.
"The people are like dolls that jump when the showman pulls thestrings," remarked Pillot, as we made our way through the throng.
But if the common people bawled themselves hoarse in welcoming the manthey had more than once threatened to murder, the higher classestripped each other up in their eagerness to render him homage. Louishimself rode in state six miles from the city to greet him, and theproudest nobles in the land were glad to appear in the Cardinal'strain. The Royal Guard was mounted at the gate in his honour, andthousands welcomed, with joyful shouts, the Italian priest who hadreturned to govern their country as a master.
The _Black Mantles_ and the clergy, the cadets of illustrious houses,the inferior nobles, and those who had raised themselves within an aceof princely rank, nay, even princes of the blood royal, bent the kneeto this man against whom all France had pitted itself in vain! Thetriumph, indeed, was such as falls to the lot of few men, and it mustbe said that Mazarin bore his honours well. Many enemies who hadinsulted or injured him were in his power, but he took no vengeance,bidding them live at peace and devote their talents to the advancementof their country.
For my own part I had no cause to complain. On the very day after hisarrival he sent for me to attend him in his apartments at the Louvre.
"Well, De Lalande," said he smiling, "so we are back in our oldquarters! Have you recovered from your accident?"
"Yes, my Lord, I thank you."
"You are not looking well; you must go away for a change! Let me see,did we not have a talk once about a place called Vancey?"
"That was my father's estate, my Lord."
"Ah, and then it passed into the hands of Baron Maubranne? Yourfather, if I remember rightly, offended Cardinal Richelieu? Strange,that the father should anger one cardinal and the son gain the goodwillof another! Now, listen to me, De Lalande. Go home and rest, and tellyour parents that the title-deeds of Vancey are following you."
"My Lord!" I gasped.
"There are those who call Mazarin a niggard," said he, still smiling,"but there will be at least one to hold him a good paymaster. You havedone your share, De Lalande, and now I will do mine. There, go now;you must be anxious to see your parents. Some day I may need yourservices again."
* * * * *
I suppose that the story of my adventures really ends with my dismissalfrom the Cardinal's room, but there are a few matters on which myreaders may like a little further information.
I need not dwell on my reception at home; of my father's pride, of mymother's unfeigned joy as she kissed and embraced me; nor is itnecessary to add that the Cardinal was as good as his word, and thatVancey has long since been once again in the possession of the DeLalandes. I may, however, say a word or two about those whoseacquaintance I made during that stirring period of my life.
Lautrec, of the gorgeous attire, followed the fortunes of Conde and wasslain outside Bordeaux. Young Armand d'Arcy clung to the weak Gastonof Orleans and left Paris with the disgraced Duke. He was one of thefirst to congratulate me on my success, though he would never bow theknee to Mazarin. John Humphreys fought his way to a high rank in theQueen's Guards, and might have gained even further honours, but, in1660, he returned to England with King Charles, and had his richestates restored to him.
My old friend, Roland Belloc, had deservedly gained the King's favour,and spent several happy years as the youthful monarch's personalattendant, instructing him in the art of horsemanship and in the use ofa soldier's weapons. Afterwards he retired on an ample pension to hiscountry seat, and frequently paid a visit to Vancey, where he wasalways sure of a cordial welcome.
The unlucky Peleton never left the Bastille. Harassed by his owndifficulties, Conde had forgotten his prisoner, who remained in hiscell until released by a merciful death.
As for
Pillot, I tried hard to induce him to stay at Vancey, but hecould not tear himself from his beloved Paris; so I set aside for him asum of money on which he was able to live in comfort.
Only one other matter remains to be told, and my readers will readilyguess what it is. As soon as the troubles were at an end, I posteddown to Aunay, where I was received by the ladies with every mark ofpleasure. The old friendship was renewed, and in course of time Mariede Brione accompanied me to Vancey as my wife. Madame Coutance rarelyvisited Paris again, but spent the rest of her life quietly either onher own estate or with her niece at Vancey.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends