CHAPTER XIV.
THE RUE DES BONS ENFANTS.
The evening of the same day, which was Sunday, toward eight o'clock, atthe moment when a considerable group of men and women, assembled round astreet singer who was playing at the same time the cymbals with hisknees and the tambourine with his hands, obstructed the entrance to theRue de Valois, a musketeer and two of the light horse descended a backstaircase of the Palais Royal, and advanced toward the Passage du Lycee,which, as every one knows, opened on to that street; but seeing thecrowd which barred the way, the three soldiers stopped and appeared totake council. The result of their deliberation was doubtless that theymust take another route, for the musketeer, setting the example of a newmaneuver, threaded the Cour des Fontaines, turned the corner of the Ruedes Bons Enfants, and walking rapidly--though he was extremelycorpulent--arrived at No. 22, which opened as by enchantment at hisapproach, and closed again on him and his two companions.
At the moment when they commenced this little detour, a young man,dressed in a dark coat, wrapped in a mantle of the same color, andwearing a broad-brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes, quitted the groupwhich surrounded the singer, singing himself, to the tune of Les Pendus,"Vingt-quatre, vingt-quatre, vingt-quatre," and advancing rapidly towardthe Passage du Lycee, arrived at the further end in time to see thethree illustrious vagabonds enter the house as we have said. He threw aglance round him, and by the light of one of the three lanterns, whichlighted, or rather ought to have lighted, the whole length of thestreet, he perceived one of those immense coalheavers, with a face thecolor of soot, so well stereotyped by Greuze, who was resting againstone of the posts of the Hotel de la Roche-Guyon, on which he had hunghis bag. For an instant he appeared to hesitate to approach this man;but the coalheaver having sung the same air and the same burden, heappeared to lose all hesitation, and went straight to him.
"Well, captain," said the man in the cloak, "did you see them?"
"As plainly as I see you, colonel--a musketeer and two light horse; butI could not recognize them. However, as the musketeer hid his face inhis handkerchief, I presume it was the regent."
"Himself; and the two light horse are Simiane and Ravanne."
"Ah, ah! my scholar," said the captain, "I shall have great pleasure inseeing him again: he is a good boy."
"At any rate, captain, take care he does not recognize you."
"Recognize me! It must be the devil himself to recognize me, accouteredas I am. It is you, rather, chevalier, who should take the caution. Youhave an unfortunately aristocratic air, which does not suit at all withyour dress. However, there they are in the trap, and we must take carethey do not leave it. Have our people been told?"
"Your people, captain. I know no more of them than they do of me. Iquitted the group singing the burden which was our signal. Did they hearme? Did they understand me? I know nothing of it."
"Be easy, colonel. These fellows hear half a voice, and understand halfa word."
Indeed, as soon as the man in the cloak had left the group, a strangefluctuation which he had not foreseen began to take place in the crowd,which appeared to be composed only of passers-by, so that the song wasnot finished, nor the collection received. The crowd dispersed. A greatmany men left the circle, singly, or two and two, turning toward eachother with an imperceptible gesture of the hand, some by the Rue deValois, some by the Cour des Fontaines, some by the Palais Royal itself,thus surrounding the Rue des Bons Enfants, which seemed to be the centerof the rendezvous. In consequence of this maneuver, the intention ofwhich it is easy to understand, there only remained before the singerten or twelve women, some children, and a good bourgeois of about fortyyears old, who, seeing that the collection was about to begin again,quitted his place with an air of profound contempt for all these newsongs, and humming an old pastoral which he placed infinitely abovethem. It seemed to him that several men as he passed them made himsigns; but as he did not belong to any secret society or any masoniclodge, he went on, singing his favorite--
"Then let me go And let me play Beneath the hazel-tree,"
and after having followed the Rue St. Honore to the Barriere des DeuxSergents, turned the corner and disappeared. Almost at the same moment,the man in the cloak, who had been the first to leave the group,reappeared, and, accosting the singer--
"My friend," said he, "my wife is ill, and your music will prevent hersleeping. If you have no particular reason for remaining here, go to thePlace du Palais Royal, and here is a crown to indemnify you."
"Thank you, my lord," replied the singer, measuring the social positionof the giver by his generosity. "I will go directly. Have you anycommissions for the Rue Mouffetard?"
"No."
"Because I would have executed them into the bargain."
The man went away, and as he was at once the center and the cause of themeeting, all that remained disappeared with him. At this moment theclock of the Palais Royal struck nine. The young man drew from hispocket a watch, whose diamond setting contrasted strangely with hissimple costume. He set it exactly, then turned and went into the Rue desBons Enfants. On arriving opposite No. 24, he found the coalheaver.
"And the singer?" asked the latter.
"He is gone."
"Good."
"And the postchaise?" asked the man in the cloak.
"It is waiting at the corner of the Rue Baillif."
"Have they taken the precaution of wrapping the wheels and horses' hoofsin rags?"
"Yes."
"Very good. Now let us wait," said the man in the cloak.
"Let us wait," replied the coalheaver. And all was silent.
An hour passed, during which a few rare passers-by crossed the streetat intervals, but at length it became almost deserted. The few lightedwindows were darkened one after the other, and night, having now nothingto contend with but the two lanterns, one of which was opposite thechapel of St. Clare, and the other at the corner of the Rue Baillif, atlength reigned over the domain which it had long claimed. Another hourpassed. They heard the watch in the Rue de Valois; behind him, thekeeper of the passage came to close the door.
"Good," murmured the man in the cloak; "now we are sure not to beinterrupted."
"Provided," replied the coalheaver, "he leaves before day."
"If he were alone, we might fear his remaining, but Madame de Sabranwill scarcely keep all three."
"Peste! you are right, captain; and I had not thought of it; however,are all your precautions taken?"----"All."
"And your men believe that it is a question of a bet?"
"They appear to believe it, at least, and we cannot ask more."
"Then it is well understood, captain. You and your people are drunk. Youpush me. I fall between the regent and him who has his arm. I separatethem. You seize on him and gag him, and at a whistle the carriagearrives, while Simiane and Ravanne are held with pistols at theirthroats."
"But," answered the coalheaver, in a low voice, "if he declares hisname."
The man in the cloak replied, in a still lower tone, "In conspiraciesthere are no half measures. If he declares himself, you must kill him."
"Peste!" said the coalheaver; "let us try to prevent his doing so."
There was no reply, and all was again silent. A quarter of an hourpassed, and then the center windows were lighted up.
"Ah! ah! there is something new," they both exclaimed together.
At this moment they heard the step of a man, who came from the Rue St.Honore, and who was preparing to go the whole length of the street.
The coalheaver muttered a terrible oath; however, the man came on, butwhether the darkness sufficed to frighten him, or whether he sawsomething suspicious moving there, it was evident that he experiencedsome fear. As he reached the Hotel St. Clare, employing that old ruse ofcowards who wish to appear brave, he began to sing; but as he advanced,his voice trembled, and though the innocence of the song proved theserenity of his heart, on arriving opposite the passage he began tocough, which, as we
know, in the gamut of terror, indicates a greaterdegree of fear than singing. Seeing, however, that nothing moved roundhim, he took courage, and, in a voice more in harmony with his presentsituation than with the sense of the words, he began--
"Then let me go,"
but there he stopped short, not only in his song, but in his walk; for,having perceived two men standing in a doorway, he felt his voice andhis legs fail him at once, and he drew up, motionless and silent.Unfortunately, at this moment a shadow approached the window. Thecoalheaver saw that a cry might lose all, and moved, as if to spring onthe passenger; his companion held him back.
"Captain," said he, "do not hurt this man;" and then, approachinghim--"Pass on, my friend," said he, "but pass quickly, and do not lookback."
The singer did not wait to be told twice, but made off as fast as hislittle legs and his trembling condition allowed, so that in a fewminutes, he had disappeared at the corner of the Hotel de Toulouse.
"'Twas time," murmured the coalheaver; "they are opening the window."
The two men drew back as far as possible into the shade. The window wasopened, and one of the light horse appeared on the balcony.
"Well?" said a voice, which the coalheaver and his companion recognizedas that of the regent, from the interior of the room. "Well, Simiane,what kind of weather is it?"
"Oh!" replied Simiane, "I think it snows."
"You think it snows?"
"Or rains, I do not know which," continued Simiane.
"What!" said Ravanne, "can you not tell what is falling?" and he alsocame on to the balcony.
"After all," said Simiane, "I am not sure that anything is falling."
"He is dead drunk," said the regent.
"I!" said Simiane, wounded in his amour propre as a toper, "I deaddrunk! Come here, monseigneur, come."
Though the invitation was given in a strange manner, the regent joinedhis companions, laughing. By his gait it was easy to see that he himselfwas more than warmed.
"Ah! dead drunk," replied Simiane, holding out his hand to the prince;"well, I bet you a hundred louis that, regent of France as you are, youwill not do what I do."
"You hear, monseigneur," said a female voice from the room; "it is achallenge."
"And as such I accept it."
"Done, for a hundred louis."
"I go halves with whoever likes," said Ravanne.
"Bet with the marchioness," said Simiane; "I admit no one into mygames."
"Nor I," said the regent.
"Marchioness," cried Ravanne, "fifty louis to a kiss."
"Ask Philippe if he permits it."
"Yes," said the regent, "it is a golden bargain; you are sure to win.Well, are you ready, Simiane?"
"I am; will you follow me?"
"Everywhere. What are you going to do?"
"Look."
"Where the devil are you going?"
"I am going into the Palais Royal."
"How?"
"By the roofs."
And Simiane, seizing that kind of iron fan which we have said separatedthe windows of the drawing-room from those of the bedrooms, began toclimb like an ape.
"Monseigneur," cried Madame de Sabran, bounding on to the balcony, andcatching the prince by the arm, "I hope you will not follow."
"Not follow!" said the regent, freeing himself from the marchioness'sarm; "do you know that I hold as a principle that whatever another mantries I can do? If he goes up to the moon, devil take me if I am notthere to knock at the door as soon as he. Did you bet on me, Ravanne?"
"Yes, my prince," replied the young man, laughing.
"Then take your kiss, you have won;" and the regent seized the ironbars, climbing behind Simiane, who, active, tall, and slender, was in aninstant on the terrace.
"But I hope you, at least, will remain, Ravanne?" said the marchioness.
"Long enough to claim your stakes," said the young man, kissing thebeautiful fresh cheeks of Madame de Sabran. "Now, adieu," continued he,"I am monseigneur's page; you understand that I must follow him."
And Ravanne darted on to the perilous road already taken by hiscompanions. The coalheaver and the man in the cloak uttered anexclamation of astonishment, which was repeated along the street as ifevery door had an echo.
"Ah! what is that?" said Simiane, who had arrived first on the terrace.
"Do you see double, drunkard?" said the regent, seizing the railing ofthe terrace, "it is the watch, and you will get us taken to theguard-house; but I promise you I will leave you there."
At these words those who were in the street were silent, hoping that theduke and his companions would push the joke no further, but would comedown and go out by the ordinary road.
"Oh! here I am," said the regent, landing on the terrace; "have you hadenough, Simiane?"
"No, monseigneur," replied Simiane; and bending down to Ravanne, "thatis not the watch," continued he, "not a musket--not a jerkin."
"What is the matter?" asked the regent.
"Nothing," replied Simiane, making a sign to Ravanne, "except that Icontinue my ascent, and invite you to follow me."
And at these words, holding out his hand to the regent, he began toscale the roof, drawing him after him. Ravanne brought up the rear.
At this sight, as there was no longer any doubt of their intention, thecoalheaver uttered a malediction, and the man in the cloak a cry ofrage.
"Ah! ah!" said the regent, striding on the roof, and looking down thestreet, where, by the light from the open window, they saw eight or tenmen moving, "what the devil is that? a plot! Ah! one would suppose theywanted to scale the house--they are furious. I have a mind to ask themwhat we can do to help them."
"No joking, monseigneur," said Simiane; "let us go on."
"Turn by the Rue St. Honore," said the man in the cloak. "Forward,forward."
"They are pursuing us," said Simiane; "quick to the other side; back."
"I do not know what prevents me," said the man in the cloak, drawing apistol from his belt and aiming at the regent, "from bringing him downlike a partridge."
"Thousand furies!" cried the coalheaver, stopping him, "you will get usall hanged and quartered."
"But what are we to do?"
"Wait till they come down alone and break their necks, for if Providenceis just, that little surprise awaits us."
"What an idea, Roquefinette!"
"Eh! colonel; no names, if you please."
"You are right. Pardieu!"
"There is no need; let us have the idea."
"Follow me," cried the man in the cloak, springing into the passage."Let us break open the door and we will take them on the other side whenthey jump down."
And all that remained of his companions followed him. The others, to thenumber of five or six, were already making for the Rue St. Honore.
"Let us go, monseigneur," said Simiane; "we have not a minute to lose;slide on your back. It is not glorious, but it is safe."
"I think I hear them in the passage," said the regent; "what do youthink, Ravanne?"
"I do not think at all," said Ravanne, "I let myself slip."
And all three descended rapidly, and arrived on the terrace.
"Here, here!" said a woman's voice, at the moment when Simiane strodeover the parapet to descend his iron ladder.
"Ah! is it you, marchioness?" said the regent; "you are indeed a friendin need."
"Jump in here, and quickly."
The three fugitives sprang into the room.
"Do you like to stop here?" asked Madame de Sabran.
"Yes," said Ravanne; "I will go and look for Canillac and hisnight-watch."
"No, no," said the regent; "they will be scaling your house and treatingit as a town taken by assault. Let us gain the Palais Royal."
And they descended the staircase rapidly and opened the garden door.There they heard the despairing blows of their pursuers against the irongates.
"Strike, strike, my friends," said the regent, running with thecarelessness
and activity of a young man, "the gate is solid, and willgive you plenty of work."
"Quick, quick, monseigneur," cried Simiane, who, thanks to his greatheight, had jumped to the ground hanging by his arms, "there they are atthe end of the Rue de Valois. Put your foot on my shoulder--now theother--and let yourself slip into my arms. You are saved, thank God."
"Draw your sword, Ravanne, and let us charge these fellows," said theregent.
"In the name of Heaven, monseigneur," cried Simiane, "follow us. I amnot a coward, I believe, but what you would do is mere folly. Here,Ravanne."
And the young men, each taking one of the duke's arms, led him down apassage of the Palais Royal at the moment when those who were running bythe Rue de Valois were at twenty paces from them, and when the door ofthe passage fell under the efforts of the second troop. The wholereunited band rushed against the gate at the moment that the threegentlemen closed it behind them.
"Gentlemen," said the regent, saluting with his hand, for as to his hat,Heaven knows where that was; "I hope, for the sake of your heads, thatall this was only a joke, for you are attacking those who are strongerthan yourselves. Beware, to-morrow, of the lieutenant of police.Meanwhile, good-night."
And a triple shout of laughter petrified the two conspirators leaningagainst the gate at the head of their breathless companions.
"This man must have a compact with Satan," cried D'Harmental.
"We have lost the bet, my friends," said Roquefinette, addressing hismen, who stood waiting for orders, "but we do not dismiss you yet; it isonly postponed. As to the promised sum, you have already had half:to-morrow--you know where, for the rest. Good-evening. I shall be at therendezvous to-morrow."
All the people dispersed, and the two chiefs remained alone.
"Well, colonel," said Roquefinette, looking D'Harmental full in theface.
"Well, captain," replied the chevalier; "I have a great mind to ask onething of you."
"What?" asked Roquefinette.
"To follow me into some cross-road and blow my brains out with yourpistol, that this miserable head may be punished and not recognized."
"Why so?"
"Why? Because in such matters, when one fails one is but a fool: What amI to say to Madame de Maine now?"
"What!" cried Roquefinette, "is it about that little hop-o'-my-thumbthat you are bothering yourself? Pardieu! you are franticallysusceptible, colonel. Why the devil does not her lame husband attend tohis own affairs. I should like to have seen your prude with her twocardinals and her three or four marquises, who are bursting with fear atthis moment in a corner of the arsenal, while we remain masters of thefield of battle. I should like to have seen if they would have climbedwalls like lizards. Stay, colonel, listen to an old fox. To be a goodconspirator, you must have, first, what you have, courage; but you mustalso have what you have not, patience. Morbleu! if I had such an affairin my hands, I would answer for it that I would bring it to a good end,and if you like to make it over to me we will talk of that."
"But in my place," asked the colonel, "what would you say to Madame deMaine?"
"Oh! I should say, 'My princess, the regent must have been warned by hispolice, for he did not leave as we expected, and we saw none but hisroue companions.' Then the Prince de Cellamare will say to you, 'My dearD'Harmental, we have no resources but in you.' Madame de Maine will saythat all is not lost since the brave D'Harmental remains to us. TheCount de Laval will grasp your hand trying to pay you a compliment,which he will not finish, because since his jaw is broken his tongue isnot active, particularly for compliments. The Cardinal de Polignac willmake the sign of the cross. Alberoni will swear enough to shake theheavens--in this manner you will have conciliated everybody, saved youramour propre, and may return to hide in your attic, which I advise younot to leave for three or four days if you do not wish to be hanged.From time to time I will pay you a visit. You will continue to bestow onme some of the liberalities of Spain, because it is of importance to meto live agreeably, and keep up my spirits; then, at the firstopportunity we recall our brave fellows, and take our revenge."
"Yes, certainly," said D'Harmental; "that is what any other would do,but you see I have some foolish ideas--I cannot lie."
"Whoever cannot lie cannot act," replied the captain; "but what do I seethere? The bayonets of the watch; amicable institution, I recognize youthere; always a quarter of an hour too late. But now adieu, colonel,"continued he; "there is your road, we must separate," said the captain,showing the Passage du Palais Royal, "and here is mine," added he,pointing to the Rue Neuve des Petits-Champs; "go quietly, that they maynot know that you ought to run as fast as you can, your hand on your hipso, and singing 'La Mere Gaudichon.'" And the captain followed the Ruede Valois at the same pace as the watch, who were a hundred paces behindhim, singing carelessly as he went.
As to the chevalier, he re-entered the Rue des Bons Enfants, now asquiet as it had been noisy ten minutes before; and at the corner of theRue Baillif he found the carriage, which, according to its orders, hadnot moved, and was waiting with the door open, the servant at the step,and the coachman on his box.
"To the arsenal," said the chevalier.
"It is useless," said a voice which made D'Harmental start; "I know allthat has passed, and I will inform those who ought to know. A visit atthis hour would be dangerous for all."
"Is it you, abbe?" said D'Harmental, trying to recognize Brigaud in thelivery in which he was disguised; "you would render me a real service intaking the news instead of me, for on my honor I do not know what tosay."
"Well, I shall say," said Brigaud, "that you are a brave and loyalgentleman, and that if there were ten like you in France, all would soonbe finished; but we are not here to pay compliments: get inquickly--where shall I take you?"
"It is useless," said D'Harmental; "I will go on foot."
"Get in. It is safer."
D'Harmental complied, and Brigaud, dressed as he was, came and satbeside him.
"To the corner of the Rue du Gros Chenet and the Rue de Clery," said theabbe.
The coachman, impatient at having waited so long, obeyed quickly. At theplace indicated the carriage stopped; the chevalier got out, and soondisappeared round the corner of the Rue du Temps-Perdu. As to thecarriage, it rolled on noiselessly toward the Boulevards, like a fairycar which does not touch the earth.