CHAPTER IV
THE QUEEN'S MIRACLE
Where the eastern wing of the Louvre rose high above the Rue St. Thomaslay the apartments of Le Brusquet, at the end of a labyrinth ofpassages and galleries. Having brought me here my friend left me, witha warning not to stir forth until his return--a piece of advice I wasquite prepared to follow. Once alone I stepped out into a small,overhanging balcony, that clung like a beehive to the leprous grey ofthe wall, and, sitting well under cover of the battlements, lookedaround. Far below me was a walled courtyard, in which an archer of M.de Lorges' guard paced steadily backwards and forwards. Beyond thislay the narrow Rue St. Thomas du Louvre, its many-storeyed housescrowding one above the other, as if struggling for light and air. Herewere the spires of St. Thomas du Louvre, the church raised to themartyr of Canterbury, and St. Nicaise. There lay the Quinze Vingts.To the right stood the Campanile of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, allempurpled in the afterglow of the sunset. Still farther, where themouth of the street opened out, was a glimpse of the Seine; and with aturn of my head I could see, huge and vast, the enormous keep of theLouvre, built by Philip Augustus, and evilly known as the Philippine.But although my eyes, straining through the twilight, rested on theseand more, my thoughts were far away. At a puff my pyramid of cards,the little life I had built up for myself, had come down, and all mylabour and toil were in vain.
I am not of those who give way to despair; but the blue devils attackthe best hearted at times, and for once I felt the hopelessness of myposition, and began to think it useless to struggle further. Perhaps,after all, it would be better to accept defeat and surrender myself.Better that than being hunted like a hare, as I was. And then mythoughts were cut short. Something soft and furry sprang into my lap.It was Pompon, Le Brusquet's ape, and he looked into my face with soft,melancholy eyes.
"Poor little beast!"--and I stroked him. "You at least build nopyramids of cards."
"_Tudieu_!" said a voice, "that is true, but for pulling them down hehas no equal." And Le Brusquet appeared at the window, which openedout upon the balcony.
I rose and came in. Le Brusquet stepped back and seated himself on atable, and then for the first time I noticed a third person in theroom--a tall, soldierly man, with the collar of The Order at his neck.With a wave of his hand Le Brusquet presented me to the stranger, whomI found was M. de Lorgnac, the lieutenant of the Queen's guard--he inwhose house Pierrebon had obtained shelter.
I thanked him for the kindness he had shown in this, to one so utterlyunknown as I was to him; but he stayed me with a smile, saying that inthis or any other matter I could command him, as the friend of LeBrusquet, and went on to pay me a handsome compliment in regard to theaffair of the previous night.
"An affair that is like to place me on the road to Montfaucon," I saida little bitterly.
"On the contrary," replied De Lorgnac, "rather, perhaps, on the road tobetter things."
"Hearken not unto him!" said Le Brusquet; "he is for ever looking outfor recruits for his guard. Blaise de Lorgnac is as insatiable astirrer of the porridge of the times as I; only I use a longer ladle,as beseems a person of my wisdom. As for you, _mon ami_ Blaise,--youthrow your lures in vain! Know you that Monsieur Broussel is aphilosopher, who has found contentment in--fifty ecus a year, did younot say, monsieur?" And, reaching for his lute, he ran his fingersover the strings and began to sing:
"Mes amis, la terre est a moi. J'ai de quoi Vivre en roi Si l'eclat me tente. Les honneurs me sont devolus J'ai cinquante ecus, J'ai cinquante ecus, J'ai cinquante ecus de."
"_Mille tonnerres_! Stop! Do you want to bring half the Louvre hereto listen?" And De Lorgnac placed his hand over the singer's mouth,and took the lute from him.
"Enough!" said Le Brusquet; "you have banished the inspiration. I singno more. And as for you, Monsieur Blaise, take yourself off with thatlong sword of yours. It frightens the ape, and I have that to saywhich is for M. Broussel's ear alone."
"_Au revoir_!" said Lorgnac, but as he reached the door he turned to me.
"Your Pierrebon is safe and sound in the Rue Tire Boudin. He hasreceived orders not to stir forth. In the matter of the horses--youmust let that be my care." And without waiting for reply he went away.
"I know not how to thank M. de Lorgnac or you----" I began, but LeBrusquet cut in:
"As yet the thanks are due from me, and Lorgnac is helping me to pay mydebts. And now listen, _mon ami_. One half the world consists offools who give advice, and the other half of idiots who refuse tobenefit by it; let me for once see an exception to the rule."
"I hardly follow you."
"I will explain. Between us there is this difference. In the searchfor happiness that every man makes I remained in the world, and youleft it and turned philosopher. The result is that I am fairlysatisfied with life, whereas you are sick of it in your heart. Yet,until this disaster came to you, you tried to play the happy man withyour lute, your 'Plutarch's Lives,' and your hermit's cell of a house.Is it not so?"
I made no answer, and he continued:
"Last night, for some reason of your own--perhaps because you stillclung to your belief in your own way of life--you refused a chance;that chance has gone; but another is left, and it remains for you totake it or not."
"What is left?"
"What is left is this. Last night you refused the sauce of a prince ofthe blood; to-day will you refuse the soup of a Queen?"
"Of a Queen!"
"Yes; of the Queen of France. In brief, the Queen wants a reliableperson to do something for her. It must be someone unknown to theCourt. Will you undertake the business or not? It will, at any rate,enable you to leave Paris in safety, in broad day if you will, thoughout of Paris you may have to look to your skin."
Like an old war-horse I scented the battle, and my blood flamed throughme. Le Brusquet was right. With cunning knowledge he had pulled at myheart-strings, and laid bare my secret to myself. Win or lose, I nowknew that I had to come back to the world; and it should be now. Irose to my feet.
"I accept," I said, "whatever is offered me."
"I thought you would," he answered; "and I may tell you that De Lorgnacknows of this. At first it was he who was to have undertaken theaffair; but he is too well known, and the Queen would have none of him.He it was who suggested your name to me; and," he went on, with asmile, "it was all prearranged that he should leave us together, sothat I might open the matter to you."
"But the Queen! Perhaps----"
"There is no perhaps about it. The Queen asked De Lorgnac to find heran agent, and he has named you."
"I was going to say that if the Queen finds I am bourgeois----"
"We can leave the matter of a coat-of-arms to the Queen." And helaughed as he continued: "Perhaps that may come to the plain MonsieurBroussel--and--it has just gone compline, and we, or rather you, mustsee the Queen."
"I am ready," I said.
"Then let us be away! Everything has gone well. The King has left forFontainebleau to hunt the boar. He started this afternoon; MadameDiane is with him. The royal children are at St. Germain-en-Laye, andbut for its guards the Louvre is deserted; there is no one here but theQueen. Come, then!"
With a whistle to the ape, which hopped along in front of us, he openedthe door and passed out, I following on his heels. Outside, we foundourselves in a maze of twisting passages, along which my guide wentwith quick, light steps. Finally, we turned into an arched doorway,and, ascending a stair, stood on the roof of one of the galleriesconnecting the wings of the Louvre with the great keep.
The twilight was dead, but the moon was rising in a clear, cloudlesssky. By her light we walked along the lonely battlements until wereached a flight of steps, upon which the shadow of the Philippine felldarkly. Arrived at the head of the steps we gained an embattledbalcony, giving access, by means of a lancet arch, into the keep.Through this we passed, and entered a long, low corridor. So low,indeed, that by raising th
e baton he carried in his hand Le Brusquet,though not a tall man, could easily reach the joints of the groinedroof. Here we stood for a space, where a banner of moonlight lay onthe floor--the ape a dark spot in its whiteness. All was silent as thegrave. Once there was a startling rush of wings as a homing-pigeonflew past the open arch and hissed off into the night. All was insemi-gloom, except where the moon lit the floor at our feet, and where,at intervals, a dim yellow halo marked the spot where a feeble lamp wasburning in a niche set far back in the huge walls.
"And this leads to the Queen's apartment," whispered Le Brusquet, witha shrug of his shoulders, as he led the way along the gallery, whichcurved with the shape of the keep. On rounding the curve it came to anabrupt ending. Here a lamp swung by a chain from the roof, and by itslight we dimly saw before us a large door, firmly closed, and seemingto bar all further progress. Near the door a man was seated in analcove in the wall, his knees almost up to his chin, his drawn sword inhis hand. He swung round on to his feet as we came up. It was DeLorgnac.
"The Queen awaits you," he said, without further greeting, and tappedtwice at the door. It was opened at once, and both Le Brusquet andmyself were about to step in when De Lorgnac laid his hand on theformer's arm.
"M. Broussel alone," he said, drawing Le Brusquet back, and I passedthrough the door.
I found myself in a small ante-chamber; but there was not a soulwithin. I stood for a moment irresolute, when the door behind meopened once again, and I heard De Lorgnac's voice.
"Onwards! Through the curtains ahead of you."
This I did, and entered a large room, richly furnished. The light,bright though soft, of the tall candles burning in grotesque holdersfell on the curtains of violet velvet, starred with the golden liliesof France, on the rare tapestry, that covered the walls, on embroideredcushions and quaint carvings. There were flowers in abundanceeverywhere; but their scent was killed by something that burned in acup held by a little bronze Ganymede, the odour of which filled theroom with a sweet but heavy scent. This room, like the other, waslikewise empty, and after glancing round twice to make sure, I took mystand near a table, upon which there were some writing materials and apair of richly embroidered gloves. The sight of the gloves brought oldCamus back to my mind, and I was about to take one up, to look at theworkmanship, when I heard a footfall; the curtains were set aside, anda woman stood before me.
It was Catherine de Medicis herself. It was years since I had seenher, then a young girl; but now, though still young, she was in thebloom of ripened womanhood. People said that, with all heraccomplishments, she lacked courage, and was dull and stupid. As myglance rested on the pale features, on the somewhat sullen mouth, andon the dark, expressionless eyes before me, I began to think they wereright. To-day, however, I was also to begin learning a new lesson.Others have since learned it too, and paid for the learning as lessonshave never been paid for before or after. She let fall the curtain sheheld as I sank on one knee before her and extended me a shapely hand.As I touched it with my lips she said in her deep-toned voice:
"M. Broussel, arise!"
I did so, and, moving towards the chair near the table, she sat down,and began toying with one of the gloves, her eyes not meeting my look,but surveying me with a swift sidelong glance.
"_Eh bien_!" she said, "you are that M. Broussel who came soopportunely to the rescue of my cousin of Vendome."
I bowed, and with another of her swift glances she asked:
"And you are to be trusted?"
"Your Majesty," I said, "I have but my word to offer for this--I havenone who will add his pledge to mine."
"No one? Are you sure?"
"Your Majesty, it is as I have said."
A faint smile parted her lips, and she looked up at me suddenly andquickly, her eyes as alive with intelligence as they had appeared dulland lifeless before.
"Well, monsieur, before I trust you," and she struck the glove she heldin her hand on the table, "it is necessary for me to tell yousomething. Listen. Many years ago--I was new to France then--a younggentleman of the best blood of Burgundy came to Paris, and entered atthe College of Cambrai. Well, he did what none other of his time did,nor has any of his order done the like since. He took the threecourses--took them brilliantly. You follow me?"
"I am all attention, madame." My voice was as cold and measured ashers, but in my heart I began to wonder if I would leave the room for ajourney to Montfaucon, with a halt by the way at the Chatelet.
"But," she continued, "this man was not a mere bookworm nor a pedant,though Le Brun, whose voice was the voice of the Sorbonne then,prophesied a red hat for him. The red hat never came, nor did amarshal's baton, though Bevilacqua himself foretold the latter one day,as he brushed away a chalk mark just over the heart, where this youngman's foil had touched him. Bevilacqua, mind you--the best sword inEurope!"
I made as if about to speak. I was about to ask her bluntly what wasto be the end of this, but with a wave of her hand she stayed me.
"Permit me to continue, monsieur! This man, or boy as he was then, wastrue metal all through, but he was cursed with an open heart andwealth. Let us say that the course of Philosophy unsettled his mind,that the two campaigns in Italy brought but withered laurels. Let itbe what you will, but back he came to Paris; and because his blood waswarm, his spirits high, and his heart full of vanity and vainimaginings, the red wine was poured forth, the dice rattled, fair womensmiled, and the gold crowns went. It was the old, old story; but thepity of it, monsieur, was that it was such pure good steel that wasfretting thus to rust! Was it not?"
She stopped, and looked at me again with her wonderful, searching eyes,and I braced myself, as one who was about to receive a death-blow.
"At last the end came. This brave, gallant--fool--yes, that is theword--quarrelled with his best friend over a lady of the Marais--of theMarais, mind you! This friend wanted to save him from himself. Theresult was that those two, who had been like brothers, met each othersword in hand under the lee of the Louvre, and one--it was not thefool--fell."
The words seemed to thunder in my ears. By some effort, I knew nothow, I managed to restrain myself, and her cold, passionless voice wenton:
"After that came ruin--ruin utter and hopeless. And he who might havebeen anything died like a dog of the streets."
Something like a gasp of relief broke from me; but the Medicis had notdone yet. She rose swiftly, and for one brief second let her whitehand, glittering with rings, rest on my shoulder. It was for a momentonly, and then she let fall her hand, with a smile on her face.
"They say, monsieur, that the age of miracles is past. Caraffa theLegate smiles if you mention them. But I--I believe, for I know. Thedead have come back before. Why not again, Bertrand d'Orrain? Wouldyou live again, and pledge your faith for that of the BourgeoisBroussel?"