The Frown of Majesty: A Romance of the Days of Louis the Fourteenth

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THE FROWN OF MAJESTY

fvovon o( &iau$i^

A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF
LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH

BY

ALBERT LEE

I

Author of " The Key of the Holy House," « The

Gentleman Pensioner," " King Stork

of the Netherlands," &c.

jw*

London: Hutchinson & Co
Paternoster Row v» 1902

Em^

CONTENTS

CHAP. ,AGE

I THE CURE OF TOUR 7

II THE SUPPER 17

III THE LETTER IN THE BUREAU - - - 25

IV **l SHALL TELL THE KING*' - - 40

V THE STABLE AT GUECHE - ... 45

VI A COSTLY LETTER 6 1

VII THE queen's tailor 72

VIII "maintenon and NOAILLES" - • - 78

^ IX M. DE L'ePERON'S VISITOR - - - - 88

^ X THE PALACE CORRIDOR - - - - 98

XI THE WATER-PARTY I05

^ XII TWO LETTERS I17

C XIII MISSING 126

gj. XIV THE HOUSE IN THE FOREST - - - I35

^- XV A REMINDER OF SAINT BARTHOLOMEW - 1 45

^ XVI THE ORIENTAL RUBY 153

XVII THE COMTESSE ANGRY 161

XVIII IN THE CUL-DE-SAC 1 67

XIX THE chevalier's BALCONY - - - - 1 76

XX MANSART THE BUTCHER - - - 1 84

Contents

CMAP. PAGB

XXI THE OPEN WINDOW I90

XXII WHAT COULON SAW 1 97

XXIII COULON TURNS GUIDE - - - - 206

XXIV THE HUT IN THE FOREST - - - 214
XXV THE king's FROWN 223

XXVI THE LETTRE DE CACHET- - - - 232

XXVII THE RED JACKET ' 239

XXVIII THE CHAIN 249

XXIX THE FILE 255

XXX THE HOLLOW BEECH - - - - 264

XXXI DESPERATE MEASURES - - - - 274

XXXII THE HAUNTED COPSE - - - - 280

XXXIII THE madman's ROOM - - - . 290

XXXIV "FOR THE FALL OF FRANCE*'- - - 297
XXXV A DIFFICULT PROBLEM - - - . 306

XXXVI BETRAYED 3IS

XXXVII THE CORN ROOM 324

XXXVIII love's achievement - - - - 336

XXXIX THE CELLAR IN THE FOREST - - - 347

XL love's BOLDNESS 36 1

XLI THE king's WARRANT - - - * 37 2

THE FROWN OF MAJESTY

CHAPTER I

THE CURE OF TOUR

Father Calvisson, village priest and confessor, was
intolerable. I endeavoured to honour him because of
the sacred office which he filled, but the effort was too
severe to be sustained for any length of time. A
man must have had a genius for friendship to have
entered the Curd on his list of friends. Even in the
estimation of the most ill-conditioned of the district
— and this is a great deal to say, for they were bad to
the bone — the Curd brought infinite discredit to his
priestly office. None could say that he displayed the
beauty of a clean, self-respecting, upright life. The
most inveterate gossips felt that he surpassed them-
selves, for they had proved him slanderous, exacting,
selfish, fonder of the table and his flagon than of his
breviary, indifferent to the welfare of his holiness the
Pope and the prosperity of Mother Church — saying
so, indeed, in his drunken moments, when, like the
majority who indulge freely in wine, he spoke what
he really thought. Yet when sober, the pharisaism
of the man was displayed. He was, to outward

7

s Ube fto\on of Obaicsts

seeming, as full of zeal and as zealous for the Church's
good name as anyone throughout the length and
breadth of France.

There was another motive for the general lack of
love for this priest, and it fell in most convincingly
with my own experience.

Father Calvisson made confession a trading
matter, and when I confessed, hinted at bigger fees
than I deemed my delinquency warranted. The
trivial sin was magnified by his insinuations. If I
fought a duel, the Cur6 either contrived to be on the
ground at the critical moment — an indifferent Tele-
machus — or walked uninvited into my library, there
to say that he supposed I knew that there was a law
in the land against duelling. I knew it well enough,
but shrugged my shoulders with a show of disgust
when the priest went on to say that he should be in
the confession-box at four o'clock that afternoon. I
understood, from the look on his face, that the in-
formation given as to his whereabouts at that parti-
cular hour must needs be taken in the light of an
imperative command to me to be in attendance. If
the look had not been sufficient, the peremptory tone
removed all doubt in the matter. What could I do
but take the hint ?

France was so priest-ridden that I was powerless
in the Churchman's hands, although I was the
Vicomte de la Tour. The fact that I was counted
among the most powerful of the nobility of France,
and exceptionally wealthy, went for little. By »virtue
of the Church's domination — which did not exempt
the Grand Monarque^ Louis the Fourteenth — I was
at the beck and call of this lean-bodied, red-faced,

: .•• . . .

Ube Cure of Uout 9

pimple-nosed, wine-bibbing, snappy old priest, who
had it in his power to throw out hints, lying or
otherwise — he did not care which — that might make
Madame de Maintenon turn her back on me. Such
a thing as that was tantamount to social ruin. It
was worse, in a sense, since it would bring some of
his Majesty's Guardsmen to my gate, to know how
long I had been a Huguenot

In the estimation of the majority of the people in
Tour, the Cur£ was a trying man to deal with, so that
it was neither my fancy nor my prejudice. Con-
fession time was no season of consolation, but
something to be dreaded ; for while one confessed
with average honesty — only keeping back what was
too disagreeable to put into speech, or knowledge
which was best not known to the father confessor —
he would scold and comment to an extent which
would have aroused open resentment had it not been
a tonsured one who spoke.

A priest's person, of course, has been, from time
immemorial, traditionally sacred, and not to be mal-
treated with fist or steel. A dog could bark at him,
snap at his lean legs, and feel no concern for the
confusion and fright of the clerical mind. The
canine parishioner, having no sense of spiritual
responsibility or of priestly jurisdiction, was careless
as to having disturbed the priest's dignity, and in-
different to the vituperations which came from an
irate ecclesiastic's lips. He only troubled himself
concerning the stone which even a priest might
throw at him.

It was different with the men and women of Tour.
They were not caninely ungodly. Having so much

lo ubc jfrown of /ftajcsti?

at stake, they cowered before the Curd's baleful eyes,
and shrank from his anathemas, for they felt the
smart of the penance and exactions that followed.

There came times when it was as much as I could
do to keep my hands off my father confessor, and
one day especially there was a passage between us
which hurt me as much as if I had been wounded in
an affair of arms. It is important that I should name
it because it marks the beginning of a series of
events which make up the stirring story I have to
tell.

Father Calvisson was hearing me at confession,
and spoke with a studied insolence. He had put
some questions to which — being an obedient Catholic
— I returned straightforward answers. In comment-
ing on my confession, he told me that I had a stub-
born will, and a masterful pride that must be broken.
I had heard this so frequently that it did not affect
me; but something followed which moved me greatly.
I do not remember how he contrived to twist the
conversation, but he was presently reflecting on my
mother's memory, calling her a heretic, and intruding
on her womanly honour.

I could not tolerate this, however expedient it was
to be on friendly terms with the Curd in such perilous
times.

Rising to my feet in hot passion, I cried :

" Father, you say too much ! Leave my mother alone
with God! How dare you* speak such things to me,
her son ? If you were not my confessor, I would
strike you off your scat, and beat you like a dog ! "

It was madness on my part, some will say, but the
memory of my mother was very dear to me. She

Ube Cure of Uout 1 1

was the sweetest, truest, purest woman on God's earth
when living here. Rather than be silent under such
an insult to the memory of one I loved so much, I
would forfeit my whole estate, and toil in the swelter-
ing fields like the serfs whom I could see through the
open window of the church.

Calvisson's face turned blue-red with anger. There
was nothing about him at that moment which
savoured of the meekness of the Gospel he professed
to teach. His appearance was that of unrestrained
passion. The veins knotted in his forehead, his lips
had an ominous curl on them, and his eyes shot out
malignity. My sudden burst of temper was checked
on the instant, for this priest had the advantage every
way. It was polite to be conciliatory.

*' Father, pardon me I My anger carried me
away."

I could have said more, but I would not say that I
was sorry for having spoken for my mother's good
name, and so, by imputation, besmirch her honour by
reason of my own cowardice. Self-preservation may,
lead an honourable man to do much, but never so
much as that.

The Curd noticed the omission, but while he
frowned ominously, I think he felt it well just then
to be somewhat lenient

I had found on other occasions that with this priest
money covered many sins. He did not shrink from
Simony, since he often trafficked in holy things. I
drew a purse from my doublet, and laid it on the
little desk at which he sat He did what I had never
seen him do before ; he opened the purse, and putting
in the forefinger of his right hand, nioved the coins

12 xcbe frown of UsajceVs

one by one, and counted them. They were all of
gold, and he nodded his approval.

" Go in peace, my son," said he gravely ; " and in
future be more careful of your speech."

The rebuke made one feel somewhat like a whipped
cur.

As I was moving towards the aisle to come away,
he called to me. Looking round quickly, I saw a
sinister smile on his face.

" You spoke, father ? "

" I did. I want to say that such outbursts arc un-
seemly, my son, and expensive in more ways than one."

I quite comprehended that. A priest's resentment
was more to be thought of than a purse of gold,
although that which lay on the desk contained little
short of a hundred pistoles. At that moment some-
one entered the church, and the father confessor, for
the sake of appearances, instantly dissembled. The
evil look in his face died away, and he smiled
pleasantly when I turned and walked down the aisle
slowly, wondering how he had not followed up his
reproof by insisting on aves and credos in such
number as to be vexatious and inconvenient. Possibly
he had a heavier penance in store.

I was not at my ease when I reached the chateau.
Instead of going to the library, as was my wont, I
paced the terrace restlessly, until the great mastiff
was weary of walking up and down, and flung himself
on the stones at the doorway.

The heavy thud of the animal brought me back to
my surroundings.

" Ha, Bernouin, you have no father confessor, no
Father Calvisson ! Happy dog 1 "

Ube Cnre of ^nr 13

Bernouin, whose head had rested between his fore-
1^^, lifted it, and gazed into my face inquiringly.
When he found that I had nothing further to say, he
dropped into his old position, looked up at me from
underneath his eyebrows, and blinked contentedly.

A serving-man chanced Just then to come out of
the shady dining-hall, and striding over the mastiff,
asked if there was aught that 1 wished him to do.

" Yes, Rousard."

In my ceaseless walk I had come to the conclusion
— although I chafed at such helplessness — that it was
best to do something to appease the priest. Ill-
tempered ones always get extra consideration, and
having a presentiment that the purse had not proved
full enough, I had wondered what more I could do
to restore the Cur^ to good-humour.

" Go to Father Calvisson, and say that I desire his
company at supper to-night"

The man was off instantly, but I thought 1 beard
him mutter something to the effect that even his lord
must needs hold a candle to the devil. When the
broad-shouldered fellow hurried to the wicket, to pass
down the avenue of lime trees, there was little need
to wonder what his thoughts of the priest m^ht be.
He had undoubtedly seen his worst side, as I had
done so frequently of late.

While Rousard was on his errand, I loitered on
the terrace. Overhead was an almost cloudless sky,
which had lost the soft blue of the early morning,
and was become with the ageing day a metallic grey
by reason of the heat and haze. About me were all
the sounds of country life when summer is at its full
— the whirr of wings as a wild fowl careered through

14 XTbe frown of asaicsVs

the air, the lazy cooing of the pigeons in cote and

wood, the half-defiant, half-startled bark of an

awakened fox in the distant copse, the occasional

stamp of a sleepy horse in the courtyard, the snap-

- ping teeth of irritated dogs at the worrying flies, the

,., . impatient lowing of the kine that longed for milking

^ time, the faint rustle in the cornfields as the fitful

breeze dropped: on them, and the drove of burdened

bees that went by one's face on the way to flowers

they had not visited.

Scores of times I had listened with pleasure to
such sounds, but to-day they were unconsidered
trifles. I was ruffled and anxious, for a problem had
come before me for solution, and I could not put it
aside for future consideration. It must be dealt with
now.

Thinking over the Curb's scandalous life, I began
to question the reasonableness of his domination over
me and my conscience. Was he to interfere with
my most sacred feelings, while his own heart was so
sin-stained ? Was a man of rank and reputation to
put his conscience into such keeping? I had been
severe when criticising the Huguenots, but I was
beginning to admit the justice of their contention that
no unholy one had the right to come between a man and
his God. How could such a one as Father Calvisson
make peace for me ? I could not believe it possible,
. after having had such an experience, and after having
heard Bourdaloue preach a sermon in Notre Dame,
when I was last in Paris, from the text: "Be ye
clean that bear the vessels of the Lord." Uncon-
sciously I was beginning to rebel against these

Tlbe Cnre of Uont is

pretensions of the Churchmen. Mine was a labouring
heart and a perplexed mind.

Rousard was not long gone. He came back and
found me leaning idly on one elbow against the
carved stonework of the terrace, with Bernouin trying ^

to open the closed fingers of the hand which hung at j^
my side with his great wet muzzle.

" What said the Cur^ ? "

The man halted before me, hot and perspiring
with his hurried walk in the sun. He had come
so quickly that the wicket did not slam until he
answered.

" He will come, Vicomte."

" Was he pleasant in his speech ? "

I hoped by the question to discover the mood of
the father confessor.

" He smiled, monsieur ! His pimpled face was
glum enough when I walked down the aisle, for he
thought I was coming to confession, which he did not
wish to hear, seeing that he was already on his feet
to quit the church. But when I gave your message,
his steely eyes flashed with pleasure, and I vow he
licked his lips in anticipation of the good things he
will have at my master's table."

It was impossible not to smile. Rousard took the
rough liberty of an old and trusted servant — such
liberty as might be expected of one who had taught
me in my boyhood how to swim, to ride, to fence, to
shoot, and do a score of things which my pale-faced
tutor had neither the wit nor the physical strength to
teach. When I was a lad I had given the man much
of my confidence, and was the gainer considerably.
Manhood had not broken off the habit, and now I

i6

Ubc frown of Aajests

told the retainer of what had chanced between
myself and Father Calvisson.

He looked grave.

" Vicomte, I have long supposed that he disliked
you. I can only trust that he will do you no
harm."

I winced involuntarily at the suggestion of injury.
Here was the confirmation of my fears, yet I
pretended not to believe in the possibility.

" What harm can he do to me ? "

" What harm may not a priest do, Vicomte, if he
has the will ? "

" Heaven only knows,*' said I bitterly.

There was silence for a while. Presently Rousard,
with a whimsical look on his face, observed :

'^ I would like to see that lean priest dead. I
should know that my master was safe. Until
then—"

He shrugged his shoulders, and did not complete
the sentence.

C H AFTER I 1

THE SUPPER

Father CalvisSON flung open the wicket as the
great clock in the courtyard struck six — so punctually
that Broglie, my page, declared in a whisper to
Rousard, but loudly enough for me to hear, that the
priest had been hiding among the lime trees, so as to
slip in at the precise moment

" I hope supper will be late, for I would love to
have old Fimple-face go hungry," observed the boy
mischievously, looking round at the Cur^ while he
was speaking, to be assured that he was not near
enough to hear.

" Don't talk nonsense, my lad," said Rousard,
trying to look as well as speak sternly ; but Br(^Ue
saw a tremor of the speaker's lips, and laughed
gaily.

" Ha, Rousard ! You blow hot and cold ! You
talk to me of nonsense, and see — you smile ! "

The retainer burst into loud laughter when he saw
the page pointing at him with his forefinger.

To hide all suspicion of complicity in this by-play,
in case the priest should overhear, I busied myself in
readjusting my doublet, which was somewhat awry.
Then I turned and bade my visitor welcome, hating
myself for the compulsory hypocrisy.

i8 xcbe frown of /DajcBts

There was such a suavity about the priest's manner
when he entered that a stranger would never have
believed that he had been so bitter and spiteful in
the confession-box ; but he was a consummate actor,
provided he had not been too long at the wine. He
could hide his feelings and display a kindliness of
spirit which deceived the most acute of onlookers. I
believe he would have cheated the King. On this
occasion he was all smiles and geniality when I led
the way to the table.

Lean though he was, Calvisson was second to none
as a trencherman. When the Cur(5 was passing into
the dining-hall, Broglie whispered to one of the
kitchen wenches who was standing at the sideboard,
and I was so near that I heard the words expressive
of the lad's belief that he had discovered the secret
of the priest's laziness.

" Susanne, look at him ! He is skin and bones
because he works so hard while eating so much.
Keep your eye on him whenever you come in during
the meal."

Susanne threw back her head and laughed so
loudly that I was obliged to look round sternly, and
express my disapproval. It would be sorry work if
the father confessor imagined that my servants
laughed at him ; for his moods were as changeable as
the weather in April.

During the supper-time he was all sunshine, and if
one could have forgotten past experiences — the ill
repute and baseness of the Churchman's character —
he would have said it was a pity that such geniality
had so unprepossessing a mask.

There are some tempers in this world which change

XTbe Snppet 19

without any apparent cause, or with a very small one.
An unfortunate accident that summer's evening
wrought havoc with the Curb's artificial equanimity,
when the dishes were removed, and the wine came
on the table.

Rousard had been standing behind my guest's
chair to anticipate his wants, and seeing that the
priest's glass was nearly empty, went to the side-
board to fetch a flagon to refill it. He chanced to
pour in some claret instead of Rhenish, not having
noticed that Broglie, out of pure mischief, had shifted
the flagons, knowing the retainer's mechanical
methods. Calvisson, unconscious of the error, tossed
off" the contents — then exploded with anger. The
back of his good-humour was broken, and there were
no more smiles, and no more pleasantries. Hence-
forth it was all sour criticism and complaint, although
I had the Madeira served.

One would have thought that such a plentiful
supply of wine, and of such a quality, too, would have
induced a genial spirit and a generous softness, even
in this Cur^. On the contrary, each glass belied the
Scriptural idea concerning wine, "Which maketh
glad the heart." It was so much venom added to the
ecclesiastic's temper.

" He is seeking a quarrel, and I must beware," said
I, beneath my breath. I could feel my colour
mounting, but I resolved to let the Cur^ have his
say, and exhaust his ill-will.

" Come, father, you do not praise my wine," I cried,
pretending to be in no sense daunted by his lack of
friendliness. "I think his Majesty, were he here,
would pronounce it good," I added, forcing a smile ;

20 xcbe frown of ObaicsVs

but smiles were so foreign to my feelings just then
that I should have been delighted to kick the priest
into the courtyard.

He did not so much as deign an answer. Instead
of speaking, he held up his glass to the evening sun-
light with the air of a practised drinker. Leaning
against the table, with one arm asprawl, and the
other playing with the glass, he looked across at me
with drunken fierceness. Had any other person
spoken, I should have been disposed to smile when,
without anything to lead up to it, he broke the silence
by saying that I was a playgoer, who should be a
religious man. Wliat if I had been ? Did not all
the nobles of France patronise the players — even his
Majesty ? It was just as absurd when he went on
to say that I knew more of Molifere's plays than my
breviary, and that instead of going to hear my own
father confessor preach, I went to listen to Bourdaloue
and Massilon.

The charges were trivial. But when the priest
began to say that he smelt heresy in the chateau,
and said so without regard to the presence of Rousard
or Broglie, I was exasperated.

" Father," I cried, " you forget that your talk is not
fit for a boy's ears ! "

" What ? " snapped the Cur^, bringing his glass to
the table with such force that it shivered into pieces,
the red wine splashing over his bony hand.

" You forget that your talk is not fit for a boy's
ears," I repeated sharply, pointing to Broglie, who
was standing by the sideboard with a startled look
on his face. The priest's drunken fierceness had
frightened all the mischief out of him.

XTbe Snoper 21

" Then let him get out of the room," he snarled.
' Go out of the room at once," he cried, turning to
the page, who was only to glad too be relieved of duty,
and get away from the father confessor. He looked
at me first, however, to see whether he ought to obey,
and at my nod went, pulling the door after him with
some alacrity.

Father Calvisson reached forward for another
glass, which he filled, after having wiped his hand
on his gown.

He was about to continue his talk on the unwelcome
subject of heresy, but I interposed.

" Father, you speak before my servants without
regard to my dignity."

" Ha ! My lord of Tour does not care for his
serving-man to hear of his weaknesses," he responded,
staring round at Rousard.

"I do not care that any servant of mine should
be made to think me a libertine, a heretic, and a
scoundrel generally, when I am an honourable noble-
man, and as loyal a son of the Church as yourself," I
retorted hotly, no longer careful as to consequences ;
for patience may be carried to such extremes that a
man loses his self-respect — a thing I was not prepared
to part with.

Calvisson laughed drunkenly. Taking up his glass,
which he had overturned in his boisterous mirth, he
said something which made Rousard mutter an oath
under his breath, while my own hand went uncon-
sciously to my dagger-hilt. The serving-man's fist
closed up with anger, the action showing that it
would have boded ill for the speaker had he been
anything but a priest. A nod from me, and he

22 TTbe frown of fliajestj?

would have tossed the Cur6 into the river or the
horse-trough — whichever would have pleased me
most

But that would have been madness. Father
Calvisson had but to whisper abroad that Fulcran de
Belliot, Vicomte de la Tour, was a Huguenot, to
achieve my ruin, whether the assertion were true or
false. The ruin in its degree would be as complete
for Rousard, if he followed the impulse to lay violent
hands on the truculent ecclesiastic.

" Shall I leave you, monsieur ? " said the retainer
in my ear.

" No," came my reply, after a moment's pause.

Seeing that it was dangerous to retort, we allowed
the priest to have his say, waiting with what content
we could, while there was so much to exasperate us.
In time the wine began to overpower him. Seasoned
drinker though he was, he could not hold out
interminably against the potent drink which he took,
in spite of my suggestion that he had had sufficient.
The glass, which was half-way to his lips, slipped
from his fingers and shivered on the stones, his chin
fell on his chest, his hands hung helplessly at cither
side, his body reclined against the high-backed chair,
and in a few minutes the reverend father slept a
drunkard's heavy sleep.

Rousard looked on in scorn. Like me, he felt it
shameful that this priest should be what he was in a
world where men cheat, deceive, lie, contest, rob, and
murder. God knows, the times were such that no
priest could be too holy and eager to interfere for
the bettering of men. There were other Churchmen
in France who bent beneath the burden of their work.

Ubc Snppet 23

who watched over their people with solicitude,
trembling when they saw the destroyer, hawk-like,
hovering over them. It was never so with Calvisson,
who brought shame to his order, and made men scoff
at religion. It was the common talk among the
people throughout my vast estate, and beyond its
borders, as to the devilries he had perpetrated. I
never heard one word about any charity he had
displayed, either in the dispensing of simple gifts, or
in the exercise of a loving-kindness which exhibits
the tenderness of spirit and care for another's weal,
that might well come from one who professed to
follow Christ Not a word ! The man was face to
face with doubtful, hard, and vexing issues ; yet none
of them moved him in the least degree.

" What shall we do with him, Rousard ? "

" Throw him into the horse-pond, monsieur," said
the other, giving the sleeper a kick, by way of
revenge for the many penances prescribed in bygone
days, when the retainer had no option but obedience.

" It would never do."

Yet I felt that the drunken Cure deserved it.

"No, I am afraid it would not," said Rousard
dubiously. ** I had better carry him home, and when
he wakes he may think he has been dreaming."

When I nodded approval, the strong fellow stooped,
then lifting the lean priest in his arms, bore him out
of the chateau, careless as to whether the confessor's
head banged against the door-posts when he passed
out of the room, and down the passage, into the
outer air. I followed to the terrace and saw Rousard
go down the steps, across the courtyard, then out at
the iron gates, following the beaten path through the

S4 XTbe frown of ObaicaVsl

meadow, which led towards the Curb's home. It
was nearer through the wicket, and down the lime
tree avenue ; but he went that way, I think, hoping
that some of the peasants might see him with his
burden.

While Rousard was absent, I walked to and fro in
the moonlight, thinking of the change, not in the
priest's habits — for there was none — but in his atti-
tude towards myself. He had once been compara-
tively friendly ; of late he had lost no opportunity of
being disagreeable. Under ordinary circumstances,
one in my station would have resented such insolence
as had been displayed at confession and the supper-
table. But these were no ordinary times. I had
seen the necessity of being circumspect, and conse-
quently had stayed at home a great deal, so as to
escape the perils of the Court, to avoid having any-
thing to do with the tangled skein of intrigue, to
abstain from taking sides with one or other of the
parties which kept the nation in unrest. It seemed
to me, while I paced the terrace, that all my caution
had gone for naught, and that I had deprived myself
to no purpose of the delights and excitements
which were to be found in the Court of the Grand
Monarque, I had even run the risk of my absence
being misconstrued.

When Rousard came back, slamming the gate
behind him, I was no nearer an answer to the
puzzling question as to why the Cur^ had changed
so much of late?

CHAPTER III

THE LETTER IN THE BUREAU

Isabel — the woman who looked after the priest's
home — came to the chateau on the following morn-
ing from the father confessor. There was a scared
look on her face, and she spoke with considerable
hesitation. She did not like being the bearer of the
imperative message she brought, bidding me, the
Vicomte de la Tour, go at once to the Cur^.

" I do but repeat what Father Calvisson bade me
say, M. le Vicomte, and he threatened me with extra
penance if I did not give his message exactly as
he worded it," said she, accompanying her words
with a gesture which betokened her helplessness.

This was a reversal of established usage, that the
lord of the chateau should turn lackey to his chaplain,
and go to him on demand. It was for the priest —
dependent on my bounty — to wait on me ; and
realising the reversal, and angrily disapproving, I
sent back a curt refusal.

The woman looked at me with a sort of mute
entreaty, as if she felt that the reply she had to
carry might bring harm to someone. Before she
turned to go away, she threw out her hands depre-
catingly, and delivered herself of what was on her
mind.

25

26 ubc frown of Aajests

" I do not know what has come over the priest.
He IS either going mad, or is growing very wicked."

It went against the grain to chide her, but I felt
compelled to speak reprovingly.

" You should never criticise your priest."

She looked at me with a puzzled expression on
her face, as if she wondered in her own mind as to
what I had done — whether I had been guilty of some
heinous sin which made her master unusually angry,
and was being sent for to make amends, and do
penance. She must have seen on my face signs of
anger, annoyance, vexation, but no trace of guilt ;
and curtseying low, she turned and walked away.

Before many minutes had passed, she came back,
white-faced and trembling. She spoke falteringly,
stammering out the sentences of her message, where,
usually, she was so free of speech. She hesitated so
much, that she only said what the priest's words were,
after I had given her encouragement.

" Father Calvisson is angry, monsieur. He insists
on your coming. Forgive me, but I only say what
he told me to say — not one word more. He bade
me tell you that if you did not come, it would be
worse for you."

Rousard was standing by, his face flushing with
anger, and an oath escaped his lips. It was well
that the Cur^ did not hear him. Like the noblest in
the land, I was under the bondage of fear, but my
answer was emphatic.

"Let the priest come here to me. Go and tell
your master so."

" It will mean trouble, monsieur," Isabel expostu-
lated ; not that she cared for her master's wishes

XTbe letter in tbe Sureau 27

being frustrated. It was easy to read her honest
face, and see that all her fear was for me.

'^ But why should I go ? "

" I cannot say, monsieur. I only know that I did
not like the look on the Curb's face. It was a very
cruel one."

I felt the need of a friend at such a juncture. To
ask counsel of one's retainer would seem a lowering
of dignity ; yet when crises come, formalities and the
usages observed among men may well go for once,
Rousard, looking first to Isabel, then to me, and back
again to the woman, decided the matter, waiting for
no approach on my part, and running all risk of
causing offence by apparent forwardness. It was the
privilege of long service, and I could not, and did not
want to resent such a thing.

" I would go, monsieur."

" But who ever heard of one in my station waiting
on his Curd whenever he might choose to send his
orders ? "

" True, Vicomte, but 1 verily believe the devil has
got into the priest, and mischief may come if you
refuse."

The woman — who crossed herself at the suggestion
of Satanic possession — stood aside, pale and frightened,
loath to carry back anything like a refusal from me,
while Rousard and I, in face of a presentiment of
danger, talked the matter over. It ended in a
message that I would shortly wait upon Calvisson.

I found the Curd in his chair, dishevelled and un-
washed after his night's debauch ; for it could not well
be styled less. It needed no telling that Rousard was
to blame for the blood-stained cloth which was

28 Xtbc fvoxm of ADajcstB

wrapped about the Churchman's head. The serving-
man had carried the unconscious ecclesiastic without
regard to obstacles in the way, having the pleasure of
revenge in doing so, while the memory of unreason-
able penances and innumerable aves and credos,
was busy in his mind.

" It is not usual, father, for the priest to make a
lackey of one in my station," said I sternly, standing
before Calvisson.

"Certainly not usual," the answer came, with a
snap ; " but there are exceptions to every rule, and
this is one."

" I do not see why there should be an exception in
my case/' was my hot retort ; for the walk from the
chateau had in no sense lessened my choler.

"Perhaps you do not." And this with all the
exasperating insolence of the preceding night. His
sleep had in no sense improved the father confessor's
temper.

**Then explain, I pray you," said I, making a
great effort to restrain my anger.

"Precisely; I will explain," the other responded
meaningly, alike in tone of voice and expression of
face.

The priest had some regard for propriety, however,
that morning, for he turned to the woman who was
in the room.

" Isabel, go into the garden, and remain there until
I call you. Stay under the beech tree, where I can
see you ; for then I shall know that you are not
listening."

The woman's comely face flushed crimson, but she
went out meekly. Presently I saw her sitting on the

XTbe letter in tbe Sureau 29

rustic seat, with the shadows of the slowly-moving
branches playing on her. Not far behind her were
the bushes which bordered what was known in all
the country-side as the Haunted Copse, so that it
was a piece of cruelty on the Curd's part to send
her there, although it was broad daylight

" Now for the answer to your question, Vicomte,"
began Calvisson, turning round in his chair and
facing me, so soon as he saw where Isabel had placed
herself. There was an expression in his eyes which
I did not like, and it was the more galling because I
remembered that it was my money which kept this
man in luxury. Even the house in which he lived
was mine. Surely the times were bad when one of
the highest nobles in the land should be at the beck
and call of a disreputable parish Cur6 ! I did not
want him to cringe, but it was not too much to look
for courtesy. Other priests were deferential — this
one was insolent, and I could not think why.

" Say on," said I curtly, for Calvisson was slow to
speak, spending his time in a prolonged stare into
my face. He sat silent in his chair, turning his lean
thumbs one over the other with provoking slowness,
and did not proceed until I had spoken once more.

" You sent for me. For what purpose ? "

'* Vicomte, did you ever hear of the Revocation ? "

" Certainly ! "

It was a very ridiculous question for any French-
man to put to one of his countrymen ; for who had
not heard of the signing of that document by the
King, whereby the Protestant population in France
lost all their liberties, and every privilege ?

"Precisely," the priest observed, looking at me

30 XCbe ftovon of flDajcstu

from beneath his eyebrows. "One thing I do not
think."

He was exasperating to a degree. He held me on
tenter-hooks of uncertainty while he turned his
thumbs again, and gave a sardonic smile time to
play over his lean and pimpled face. It spread
slowly.

" What thing do you not think ? " I asked im-
patiently, tired of this slow measure of speech.

*• Well, to speak plainly — stand aside, Vicomte, for
I want to see where that woman is. I have some-
thing to say which is best said in your ears only, and
Isabel's are long, and her tongue wags too freely
when she is among the peasants."

He bent forward, and looked through the window
into the garden. He was satisfied with what he saw,
for his housekeeper was still sitting within the shifting
shadows of the beech.

" To speak plainly," he resumed, sitting back once
more, "I did not think that Fulcran de Belliot,
trusted at Court, and posing before France as a good
Catholic, would be among those who set the decree
of King Louis aside."

He not only gazed at me to see how I received his
words, but he rubbed his hands together, as if he
enjoyed my confusion.

My answer came sharply :

" I have never set the decree aside."

"Softly," the other interposed, pointing his lean
forefinger at me. " Softly."

"I speak the truth. Father Calvisson," was my
emphatic assertion, for here was a slur on my
veracity.

Ube Xetter in tbe Suteau s^

" The whole truth ? "

I was being examined much as if I were a criminal,
and was naturally restive under the examination, and
by such a judge.

" Yes."

Surely there could be no doubt as to the sincerity
of my reply ; yet the priest pretended not to think
so, for he said :

" Think again."

" You are insolent, father. You throw a doubt on
my honour. There needs no thought in the matter.
I have never set the decree aside. No other man
should question my truthfulness as you are doing ! "

** I chance to be a priest," the confessor chuckled.

He knew that few men would venture to lay hands
on an ecclesiastic.

** Explain your words," I demanded. " I am in no
humour to be played with. In times like these I am
not prepared to have such an accusation as that thrust
at me You have said much to me of late, father,
and have frequently spoken words which in others
would be treated as insolence."

Father Calvisson's response was deliberate.

" An accusation must be thrust at you, if you are
guilty."

I looked keenly at the Cur^, whose face still had
that provoking smile upon it

"What reason have you for saying this? I am
tired of innuendos."

" Oh, but this is no innuendo, my son. I have
come to a plain assertion of fact"

The Cur6 got up from his chair and walked across
the floor unsteadily. It was plain that he had not yet

32 XCbc fvovon of fltojcsti?

recovered from his indulgence at the chateau, or if he
had, had been drinking more wine since he awoke.
He went to the bureau, where such treasures as he
possessed were kept, and papers which he did not
wish Isabel to see. He was in no hurry. Taking a
key from his bosom slowly, he opened one of the
drawers. A small bundle of papers lay therein, tied
round with a blue riband, which he undid de-
liberately. He was evidently pursuing a policy of
suspense.

" I have a paper here, my son, which may interest
you, if you will read it But stay, I will read it to
you," he said, selecting one out of the bundle.

He gazed at the opened letter for a time, now
holding it at arm's length, then bringing it nearer to
his eyes.

" You had better read it yourself, for my eyes do
not serve me well this morning, and I have mislaid
my spectacles. I bless the clever Italian who
invented such things, but I wish he had made them
so that they should never get lost."

I was consumed with impatience, and eagerly took
the paper from the priest's trembling fingers. My
own hand, usually so steady, shook as much as my
companion's when I perused what was written. While
I read I turned first hot, then cold, then faint. The
lines seemed to swim before me, and the room, with
the blurred image of the smiling Cure, was whirling
round. It was only by a supreme effort of will that
I recovered myself, and was able to look at Father
Calvisson, who observed me curiously, as though he
watched a criminal who should convict himself by his
bearing. Indeed, the priest — to read my face the

XTbe Xetter in tbe Sureau 33

better — ^bent forward so closely that his breath, which
smelt of wine, mingled with my own.

" Is it true, Vicomte ? "

The Cur6 was slowly rubbing his hands together,
while his eyes were screwed up, as if he would see
my face more plainly.

" It is abominably false ! "

** Nonsense ! My informant knew what he was
about He charges you with being a Huguenot, and
also with having employed a Huguenot in your
household, contrary to the King's decree."

"I say it is abominably false! Who is this
Huguenot whom I have harboured ? "

" That is best known to yourself," he answered in
oily tones, which were worse to hear than if he had
been violent in his speech. '' And doubtless you
know, as well as I do, that none are permitted to hire
or harbour Huguenots, under the heaviest penalties.
The penalty which concerns you in this case is the
galleys."

" The galleys ? God forbid ! The whole letter is
a lie," said I, but now more quietly, for I saw that it
would be well to conciliate the Cur^, rather than
cross him. " God knows I am no Huguenot, but an
honest Catholic."

"We will take that for granted for the nonce,
Vicomte," the priest observed. "What about the
Huguenot servant?"

" So far as I am aware, I have not a Huguenot on

my estate, much less in my household. I have regard

for my liberty and my good name, and would not

barter them so insanely."

Father Calvisson smiled, as though he had often

c

34 XTbe fvovon of /Dajestfi

heard such repudiations. He made no comment on
my words, but simply said, after a short pause :

" The paper goes to the King to-night."

" But it is full of falsehood — shamefully so ! '* I
reiterated.

We stood in silence for a while, mentally measur-
ing each other. Our faces must have indicated the
different conclusions at which we had arrived, as to
the issue of a contest, if it came to one. I knew
myself helpless ; the priest was confident of victory.
This was no physical trial of strength, otherwise the
Churchman would have been hopelessly beaten ; for
in point of stature I towered over him a full head,
at least. But there was a moral force behind the
ecclesiastic which rendered strength of body, and
even a patent of nobility and favour at Court, of no
avail.

My position was a startling one ; for the feeling
against the Huguenots and those who befriended
them was so intense that there was always the fear of
an outburst such as that which made the fatal Eve of
St. Bartholomew so infamous. The one-sided strife
of creeds gave the stronger party the power of life
and death over any whom they hated ; and to achieve
the ruin of a rival, or force him to part with some of
his wealth as the price of silence, was an easy task.
The King himself had the utmost hatred for the
Huguenots. He had no great men about him, and
the second-rate advisers flattered him into the belief
that the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes was not
only a testimony to his religious zeal, but a splendid
example of his sagacity. The bigoted Madame de
Maintenon, who was practically the monarch of

Ube Xetter in tbe Snreau 35

France, being omnipotent over Louis, told him
plainly that the Revocation would cover him with
glory before God and man.

I knew, therefore, that Calvisson had but to speak,
in order to achieve my ruin. Not to go so far as the
Court, at his behest any of the men and women within
my own domain — unless they had nobler natures
than most — would rise against their master, simply
to save themselves. I had no reason to suppose that
these dependents of mine would slay the human
nature in them for my sake. The fact that I had fed
and sheltered them in famine and cold would go for
naught when the testing time came, for the spirit of
self-preservation was strong in days when life was full
of perils, and the way beset with difficulties.

I was not blind to the possibilities which almost
resolved themselves into certainties. Suppose that
the letter went to the King — a word from His Majesty
would bring me to beggary, and I should spend my
days at the galleys, chained to the worst of criminals.
Or 1 might awake some night and find that the
peasants were overrunning the chateau, ready to
plunge their knives into my heart, or set the
mansion in flames, and shut me in to their mercy.
Such things had been done a score of times since the
Edict of Nantes had been revoked. It fell in with
the wishes of the rabble, who hailed the opportunity
of sacking the houses of the Huguenots. The mur-
derously disposed not only got their booty, but
received medals from the authorities, in recognition
of their zeal in rooting out heresy.

Then for the priest himself, looking at the man,
thin-lipped, crafty, with shifty eyes, it was easy to

36 Ube fvoxon of /Dajcstu

believe him one who would bring me to such a fate
without compunction. I thought of him while he
stood there, as scheming for my downfall, eager to
hurl me from a position envied by my fellows down
to the most despised; but what his motive was, I
could not divine. Nor could I think of anything I
had ever done to him to make him wishful to effect
my ruin.

I turned to the window, overcome by the extremity
of my perplexity and danger. This had come to me
like a thunderbolt from heaven.

The priest stood by without a word. His cold-
blooded cruelty in contemplating all this peril with
such a smiling face bewildered me. I no longer
wondered at the fiendish tortures practised by the
Inquisitors, if those of the Holy Office were such
men as Father Calvisson ; and doubtless they
were.

Isabel was in the garden, sitting there with her
hands in her lap, and her eyes upon the park and the
beautiful chateau of which I was so proud. She did
not stir, but gazed before her as if the priest had
looked at her with the eyes of Medusa, and had
turned her into stone. She would not move lest her
master should accuse her of listening, although it
would have been impossible for her to hear anything
while she was so far away.

The Cur6*s housekeeper, however, had little place
in my thoughts, for the nearer and all-absorbing
concerns — matters that affected my own destiny —
possessed me, and took up all my attention. She
was but an unconsidered object that I saw, and yet
did not see.

XTbe Xetter in tbe Surean 37

This was the question which held me with an
insistence that was painful to the point of agony :
Would the Curd send that letter on to the King?
It was false from end to end, but if it bore the signa-
ture of a priest, even of such a priest, the King,
bitter beyond words against Huguenots, would
accept the charges contained in it ; and then —
the galleys, or a living death in one of the
dungeons of Paris.

I knew something of the character of Calvisson.
There was his love of money — an inordinate love —
and the thought came that he might be bribed into
silence. Avarice holds principle with a slack grip.
So sordid a passion would override loyalty to the
Throne, or to the Church. Nothing is so mean that
the cloak of greed may not cover it. Surely, then,
with so much at my disposal, I might buy him over
to silence ; whereas an appeal to tenderness or
sympathy would altogether fail. In the case of any
one who has a lust for wealth, loyalty goes down
before the onslaught of gold like a stricken man in
the battle-field.

But what if the priest would not take the gold I
offered ? Suggestions came in now for consideration.
A resolve to see the King was put aside because it
did not seem practicable ; a determination to brave
the matter out and abide by my chances followed ;
but although I am no coward, I shrank from that, for
I feared that the prolonged anxiety would break my
spirit.

My reverie was broken in upon by Father Calvisson,
who spoke with an irritative arrogance.

" You had better go home, Vicomte. I have work

38 XTbe frown of Oiaicsvs

to do, and your presence prevents my doing it.
Isabel ! "

The woman rose to her feet instantly, and crossed
the browned grass.

This did not please me.

" I would say a word, father. Tell the woman to
stay where she is a moment or two longer."

" I want her," was the sharp rejoinder, as if he
resented my words. "Go, for I would be at my
work!"

There was no escape from such peremptory
words.

" And this letter ? " said I, putting on a bold front,
although conscious of an inward and unspeakable
dread, when I pointed to that damnable paper as it
lay on the table. An ominous band of black lay
across the scrawling lines — the shadow of one of the
iron bars in the window. It reminded me of the
dark lines which might fall across the floor of a
prison cell.

" It will go to the King to-night," was the
priest's answer. " Isabel, get me my dinner ; I am
hungry."

The woman was at the door, glad to be called
away from the garden, and waiting to know why she
had been summoned. When she heard the Curb's
words she went to the kitchen, and once more the
priest and I were alone.

" Will not money serve to bring about the destruc-
tion of yonder letter?" said I, pointing to the
document with my forefinger. I was growing
desperate, and made this dangerous bid for de-
liverance. It was dangerous because, if the fact

XTbe Xetter in tbe Sncean

39

leaked out that I had offered the priest money, my
action might be construed into an admission of
guilt

"No!"

The answer was too emphatic to be mistaken.

CHAPTER IV

"I SHALL TELL THE KING"

The remainder of the morning was spent in restless
wandering. To settle down to any definite occupation
was impossible. I went to my library, and sought
for calmness among my books ; but whereas at other
times they had such charm for me, I now read page
after page without comprehending a single thought.
I tried Auguste de Thou's "History of his Time,"
but the facts of one page were fugitive before I had
turned over the leaf. Francis Malherbe had always
interested me, but now I found him — what others,
who had little love for true poetry and fine language,
had called him — " A tyrant of words and syllables."
Either he was no poet, or I was lacking in discrimi-
nation. The cultured of my time were enthusiastic
over the songs of that prince of poets, Pierre de
Rousard ; but while his verses had hitherto tripped
to the music of my soul, now they were lifeless
and uninspiring ; for on every page I saw a picture
of the priest holding that lying letter in his hand,
and looking at me with the irritating smile on his
face. I flung the book of this once poet-laureate
across the room, breaking the costly covers away as
the volume overturned the iron dogs of the fireplace,

then hurried out of the apartment Up and down

40

u

3 Sball xrell tbe tang '' 41

the corridors, through other chambers, into the
kitchens, startling the cook and his helpers by this
unusual visit ; away to the terrace, to the stable, to
the village — I went anywhere to get away from my
thoughts !

The news of the orgy of the Curd had got abroad.
Probably Broglie and Susanne — hand-and-glove in
any mischief that was going — had passed it on
assiduously, glad to have something out of the
common run to report. Whoever was responsible,
it effectually disturbed the usual serenity of the
domestic life of the village. When I walked down
the street I found the women in little groups, hands
on hips, while they gossiped over the evil doings of
the ecclesiastic who dared to serve as a priest of
God, and yet led such a scandalous life.

Now and again I heard scraps of the chatter. The
women were refreshing each other's memory with the
doings of this one and that among the tonsured priests
— telling how one was a profligate, another a liar,
someone else an adulterer, others dice-players, while
a few had not hesitated at murder.

It was chiefly said in low tones, only a word here
and there escaping the lips of a louder speaker, and
with many a glance around, and a certain fearsome-
ness, lest Father Calvisson himself might overhear
them, or someone be traitorous enough to play the
listener, and carry word to the Curd.

It was one of those days which the most sensitive
look back upon with pain, not so much because of
any physical suffering or unusual vexations, but by
reason of memories which made so great a break- in
upon our moral courage. To me the aspect of every-

42 Ube frown of Aalestfi

thing appeared to have undergone a change. Things
that were usually so full of charm had lost their
attractiveness.

I came to a hillock, and gazed around with a lack
of appreciation one might have expected from a blind
man. I was thinking of other things, and not of the
scene before me ; yet it was a brilliant summer day,
and the glory of the sunshine filled the landscape. I
was out of harmony with it all, and the stillness of
the country life did not serve to hush down the
clamour in my own soul.

After that I walked till I was hot and weary,
getting home too tired to eat, although Rousard
pressed me to try this thing and that on which the
men in the kitchen had bestowed such care.

" I have something else to think of," said I, some-
what impatiently, brushing aside the servant, who saw
that I needed food.

"Then take this glass of wine, monsieur," he
insisted, bringing to me some choice Madeira.

I took the wine, and felt the better for it. Another
glass brought back my appetite, and while I sat I
relieved my mind by telling Rousard what had
happened at the priest's house. The serving-man
stood with folded arms, and a grave look which
presently altered into one approaching consternation.

" Can you not bribe the Cur6 ? " he asked eagerly.

" I said to Father Calvisson, * Will not money
bring about the destruction of the letter?' and he
answered me sharply enough in the negative."

** Try him again, monsieur. It would go hard with
the priest if he should be called upon to say * No ' to
an offer of a few hundred pistoles."

^^JSballUcUtbcftfna" 43

" I would offer him a thousand to get the thing
done with. Not that I am guilty of heresy," I added
hastily. " God knows that I am no Huguenot, and
have no sympathy with their practices, while I
commiserate their sufferings."

Rousard looked at me sharply, after he had glanced
round the room.

** That was scarcely a wise thing for my master to
say, for sympathy of any sort with the Huguenots is
not palatable to those who are in authority."

" I am talking to you, Rousard — "

"I know, Vicomte," the man interrupted, "and
what you say is safe in my hearing. But suppose
others had been here?"

" Then I should not have said such words."

" Pardon me, master, but walls, they say, have ears."

He had scarcely spoken when the door swung
open, and Father Calvisson walked in with all the
assurance of one who could afford to throw ceremony
aside. Broglie was in the doorway, a little behind
my unexpected visitor, looking behind him at me
with a scared look on his face, as though he feared
my anger at his having shown in the priest without
first inquiring whether it was my will to see him. The
history of that entrance, so far as I could read it, was
this : that the C\ir6 came into the great hall, and bade
the boy show him into the library instantly. Broglie
dared not refuse, whatever risk he ran of rebuke from
me.

" You can leave the room, Rousard," said Calvisson,
who seemed to imagine that he had the right to order
my servants at his pleasure. ''I would speak with
M. le Vicomte alone."

44 Ube frown of Aaleste

I nodded obedience to my retainer, who looked at
me to know my will.

" Well, father ? " said I, with such ease as I could
command.

To still the tremor which shook me somewhat, I
sat well back in my chair, and grasped its carved
arms with a certain nonchalance.

His answer astounded me.

" I want the loan of a horse to ride to Paris."

" To Paris ? What takes you to Paris, father ? "

" Need you ask ? "

I put on a bold look, determined that he should
not think that he had frightened me.

" You mean to carry to His Majesty the letter we
were reading this morning ? "

« Precisely."

*' The course is a remarkable one, father. You
come to me to borrow the rope with which I am to
be hung."

"If you choose to think so."

" Do you positively mean to take the letter to the
King ? "

" Positively."

His calmness angered me, but I strove to appear
cool. And meanwhile I swiftly reasoned. If the
letter must needs go, and my fate was so assured,
why should I oblige this priest ? Whoever heard of
a man making a noose with which his enemy might
comfortably hang him?

"You shall not have my horse, Father Calvisson.
If you are resolved to carry a lying letter to Paris,
you shall find your own means of getting there.
Rousard I "

44

?SbaIIUeU tbefcftid" 45

The man came in at my call.

" Saddle two horses — one for me and one for
yourself, and be in readiness to start for Paris in an
hour."

When the retainer had gone, the Churchman
looked at me with some amazement in his face.

" You would run into death's jaws, M. le Vicomte,
if you rode into Paris."

" Perhaps so," I answered coolly. " I should wait
for death if I remained here — or the galleys, I think
you said this morning. It were better, I think, to be
on the move, and meet my undeserved punishment
in the midst of activity, than stay here for the arrival
of His Majesty's messengers."

There was a look on his face which puzzled me.
Was he relenting? Had he merely assumed the
insolence of the previous night, and made the threats
in the morning, in order to frighten me ? He did not
reply to my words, but stood with his back to the
empty fire-place, watching me as I moved about the
room, gathering up such things as my sword, a
dagger, a brace of pistols, and a bag of money from
a handsome coffer, ornamented with gilded reliefs
and paintings. I thought, when I turned round
hastily, that there was a look of greed on the ecclesi-
astic's face, and a certain hesitancy. Perhaps it was
fancy, but it was not improbable.

** You mean to go, my son ? "

** I do. I intend to tell the King of the letter you
have received concerning me, so that he may be
prepared."

" It is madness — self-murder ! "

"Better be murdered by my own act than by

46 Zbc frown of Aajests

yours, father," I answered sharply, looking up
boldly.

The spirit of resistance had come upon me in this
way, and surprised me, as it certainly must have
astonished the father confessor. He did not reply.

" It is no more madness," I went on, ** than to wait
here. And to tell the honest truth, father, since
I am to die, I would rather have the distractions of
a journey than think of facing death here, amid the
monotony of country life."

I had come back to the table, and turned out such
money as was in the bag, ostensibly to see if I had
sufficient to take me to Paris. It glanced and
glittered in the sunlight which fell across the table —
a goodly show of golden coins, enough to make some
esteem themselves rich, but barely so for the needs of
one who was going to see the King.

The Churchman came forward a step or two in-
voluntarily. Gold was always a magnet to him.
When I glanced up he was bending forward slightly,
one hand playing with his silver crucifix, the other
met the chin, the bent forefinger being pressed
against the two or three front teeth that yet
remained.

I began to think that this display had saved me ;
but he disappointed me. He did not say a word.

While I gathered the coins together, and dropped
them into the purse, a few at a time, so that the
chink of gold came musically, I spoke.

" Father Calvisson, I asked you this morning
whether money would serve to destroy that lying
letter, and you said * No.' I would have given you
as much as you have now seen, not in so doing

making any avowal of guilt — for I am innocent, as
God can bear me witness, and as you must feel and
know — but to avoid the scandal which would make
men scoff at religion, since one of its chief upholders
was a Huguenot in disguise, and to prevent the
trouble which would necessarily come while I sought
to clear myself of an infamous charge. I must needs
spend this money in going to Court"

Having gazed at me, then at the bag as I placed
it in my bosom, the Cur6 passed by my words as
though I had not spoken, and said what was in his
own mind.

"My son, you must remain here, and not go to
Paris."

I looked up in simulated surprise.

'• Why ? "

*' Because I bid you stay."

" That is no good reason, father."

'* It is. I am your spiritual adviser, and in that
sense you must needs obey me."

" And stay here to wait for death ? "

« Why not ? "

This was insolently spoken — callously, as if I were
nothing but a chessman in the player's hand,
someone without a heart, without anything at
stake. It roused me to strenuous opposition. If I
had experienced any hesitation before he spoke, the
impulse came upon me strongly to revolt against the
dictatorial attitude of one who so abused his sacred
office.

" I will not stay here," I exclaimed resolutely. " I
am going to obey a stronger voice than yours, father
— the voice that urges me to self-preservation. I

48 Ube frown of Aajests

shall tell the King of your own methods of discharging
duty— of your drunkenness, of your general unworthi-
ness to fill the office you hold, and of the endeavour
you have made to achieve my ruin on a charge which
is absolutely false. What your motive is I cannot
fathom. I am going now, so I will trouble you to
quit the chateau."

I was convinced that his resolution to ruin me was
a fixed one, and therefore it mattered not if I dis-
pleased him more. I was resolved to die fighting.
What could extra hate, more or less, harm me now ?
This Churchman should no longer be the jailor and
turnkey of my mind and conscience. I would think
for myself.

Father Calvisson passed me with an angry look
and a muttered imprecation. He halted and turned
round, however, when I followed him into the
corridor and pulled the door after me. I thought he
would speak, but after a baleful look from those
bloodshot eyes of his, he turned his back upon me,
and walked away without a word.

When he descended the winding staircase, I re-
turned to the room, and crossing to the window,
looked into the courtyard. Presently he appeared
below, went slowly and with bent head towards the
iron gates, waited while the porter opened one of
them for him to pass through, and then disappeared.

CHAPTER V

THE STABLE AT GUECHE

The afternoon was growing somewhat old before we
lost sight of the chateau, but Rousard and I rode on
rapidly, intending to halt at an inn which stood on
the edge of the high road leading to the capital.
There we could rest for the night, and ride forward in
the cool of the morning, since the sweltering heat of
mid-day was exhausting, alike to horse and rider.

We rode hard, for I was anxious to have speech
with His Majesty before anyone on the priest's behalf
could tamper with him, and arouse his prejudice.
Otherwise I was condemned already, for Louis'
detestation of Protestantism in any of its forms made
him forgetful of service rendered either to himself or
to the State, and indifferent as to the rank and
prestige of the person suspected of being tainted with
heresy. A Huguenot — active and virulent, or obscure
and harmless — was regarded at Court as a traitor,
someone to be treated with unrelenting severity, as
being desirous of shattering the political fabric, and
scoffing at the pretension implied in the King's
historic declaration, " I am the State ! "

The air, it is true, was full of pretensions to just
treatment, but it was equally full of murder. When
some of us were talking one day of the state of affairs

so Ube frown of Aajeetp

since the signing of the Revocation, M. Anquettl
said, in little more than a whisper, that the quiet
assassination of Calvinists went steadily on all over
the kingdom ; the da^er, the prison, and the slow
execution of the secret cell destroyed them.

Those words recurred to me. I realised my danger
now that Father Calvisson had so distinctly displayed
his hatred. The thought was a spur to me, and
again and again I urged my horse forward, telling
Rousard that every moment was golden. I think he
realised the fact, for he responded without fail to
my call.

The night stars were appearing in the heavens, and
the distant horizon, which had been aglow with
colour, was deepening into blackness when we drew
near to the hostelry of Gueche. The lights that
shone from the windows were somewhat blurred by
the wraith-like mist which hovered over the river and
the meadows ; but we knew the country well, and
rode up to the door at such speed as the tired horses
could carry us.

When the landlord saw us, be bade us welcome in
one breath, and expressed his r^ret at seeing me in
the next

" I am sorry to see you to-night, M. le Vicomta"

I had lived at such tension during the last few days
that the landlord's greeting came as a shock to me,
and I began to fear lest the Cur6 had tampered with
the bloodhounds, if the leash had not already been
slipped.

My question came sharply : " Why, Tonnay ? "

I was infinitely relieved when I heard the answer,
- for the r^ret was simply that of an obsequious

ti;be stable at Onecbe 51

landlord, unable to oblige a customer whose money
was worth having.

" I am Sony to see you, M, le Vicomte, because the
hostelry is full." I drew a deep breath, which did not
escape Rousard's attention, for he looked at me
intently while Tonnay proceeded. " I have not a
room at liberty unless anyone of those already here
is content to sleep in the stable, and give up his bed
to you."

The civil-tongued fellow knew well enough that
the bare suggestion of such a thing was absurd,
and shrugged his shoulders accordingly. Rousard
chuckled quietly, and not without reason, for what
man would make room for a nobleman 7

" There is nothing for it but the stable-loft," said I,
determined to sleep there, rather than take my
tired horses two or three les^ues farther on that
night

" Nay, the stable is not for such as you, M. le
Vicomte. Let me consider."

We halted a while to give the landlord time to
think of some way out of the difficulty. Tonnay
knew me as a good paymaster, and was doubly
anxious to please me. There were one or two inside
whom he would gladly turn out, because they were
doubtful characters — gallows-birds, he said — but there
was the chance of disturbance. Some of his customers
would intervene if he made such an arrangement in
favour of one of the hated class of nobles, and there
would probably be considerable damage to property
as the result He mentioned the possible course, and
the almost certain consequences, but expected me to
disapprove — which I did.

59 tTbe ftown of fHaieets

" Is there any house in the village ? " I asked.

Tonnay walked away, and spoke to a wench who
was coming down the stone-paved passage with an
empty wine-jug. She said something in answer, and
laying down the vessel, skipped past us, and along
the village street, soon being lost in the fast^athering
darkness. She came back before long, breathless
with her run, to say that Jehan Sault, the tanner, had
some rooms in which M. le Vicomte and his retainer
might lodge for the night, but no stabling for the
horses.

" Then of what avail is that ? " I cried impatiently.
" Can I leave the horses in the street, or suffer them
to crop the grass at the roadside ? "

" Nay," interposed Tonnay. " The horses may be
stabled here."

I was in a sufficently ill temper barely to thank
the landlord, and turned away from the door after
dismounting.

•' Let this girl show us where the tanner lives."

Mine was Hobson's choice, as I have heard the
English say, so that it was Jehan Sault's house that
night, or no lodgings at all.

Rousard had made a face when the tavern girl
said that Sault could take us in for the night His
first question was bluntly spoken :

"Is the place clean enough for M. le Vicomte?"
and although the girl curtsied, and said that every-
thing was as clean as a new pin, we had some doubt
on the matter, and held ourselves in readiness to ride
on to the next village if the accommodation offered
did not suit us. The girl's expression of satisfaction
was not necessarily conclusive, for she had been

XCbc Stable at 6necbe S3

brought up among the people, whose bouses were
filthy and malodorous.

The apartment, however, into which Jehan Sault
showed us was so clean that Rousard and I declared
ourselves content, whereupon the girl who had con-
ducted us to the house could not help saying
somewhat tartly to my retainer :

" What did I tell you ? "

"All right, my pretty chuck, I crave your pardon,"
answered the burly fellow, giving the girl a kiss
behind my back, and sending her to the inn quite
satisfied.

The room stood off the landing of the first flight
of stairs, and was low-ceilinged, wainscoted, and
somewhat small, but clean. Such cleanliness was
a rarity, for dirt and dilapidation were too general,
alike in village and city, throughout France.

" We should be glad to have supper," said I, after
I had flung myself into the chair by the open
window with considerable pleasure. Being some-
what of a bookworm, to sit in quietness and read
at my leisure from the Essays of Michel de
Montaigne, which I had brought with me in case
an idle hour fell to my lot, was infinitely better than
being shut in the public room of a hostelry with
' people of all sorts — mountebanks, soldiers, sharpers,
men who only found pleasure in the clicking of the
dice, or in bellowing some drunken song which the
average man would blush at, even if there were no
women in the place. The poor fare which the
tanner could offer us was amply compensated for,
since to a man studiously inclined, a quiet
read is better with the plainest eating than tempt-

54 Vbe ftowt of Oisieets

ing food served amid an uproar of oaths and
quarrels.

Rousard, hankering for company of a more jovial
character than a book-loving master afforded, be^ed
permission to go to La Machine — as the inn was
called — where he might find some kindred spirits,
and nodding assent, I sat cross-kneed, glad to be
alone. One could not have enjoyed Montaigne
while a fidgeting, loud^yawning serving-man was -
sitting on his stool, rolling his head against the wall,
creaking his shoes, or kicking his legs about with
the energy of Chrysippus.

From the window at which I sat I could, without
any trouble, see the street which passed the hostelry,
as well as the white winding road which ran on to
Tour ; but I was so absorbed with what I read that
I did not note the wayfarers. It is true that soon
after Rousard had gone, I looked up at the sound
of a horse's feet on the stones, and saw what looked
like a priest riding by ; but having no care for a
stray traveller, I turned once more to my book,

I had read a great many pages, and my eyes were
somewhat smarting by reason of the badness of the
light from the smoky lamp, when the door opened
noisily, and Rousard bundled in without so much as
asking for leave to enter.

" How now ! " I exclaimed testily, for I was not
particularly pleased at being brought so roughly
out of Montaigne's world of pleasant gossip and
incoherent fancies back to this one where there
were so many unwelcome realities.

A sight of Rousard's face ended my annoyance,
for it was agape with news. There was no need to

tax stable at Onecbe ss

question him; for as soon as he had come in, and
closed the door behind him, he began.

He had gone to the hostelry, and after winning a
score or two of livres from a strolling player there,
and. In company with the loser, consuming a re-
spectable quantity of wine which he paid for out
of his gains, he went to have a last look at the
horses, to see that they were comfortably stalled for
the night When he had first gone to the stable,
one of the stalls was empty ; on this second visit
it was filled. Taking the lanthom from the p^ to
have a look at the animal that was munching his
com, he exclaimed in astonishment It was a roan,
with a peijuliar white dagger-shaped spot on each of
the fore fetlocks. He rubbed his eyes to be certain
that be was not dreaming.

" Marot ! " he cried, using the name of a horse
that had been left in the stable at Tour.

The beautiful creature, bearing signs of having
been ridden hard, left his oats at once, turned
round sharply on hearing the well-known voice,
nibbing his nose affectionately on the man's
shoulder in the way he was wont to do.

Rousard, without staying to ask any questions of
the stableman, came ofi* to me at a run, much to
the astonishment of the foot-passengers who chanced
to be making their way homewards. Then hurrying
up the stairs, three steps at a time, he came into the
room, bursting with the news.

"You must have been drinking, and so got to
dreaming," said I, not being able to credit his story ;
but he swore by the Mother of God that he was as
sober as anybody in Gueche, doing so with an

56 Zbc ftovm of iCajests

emphasis that went far to convince me that he
had reason for his belief.

" We will go and see this queer creature," said I,
reluctant to leave my boolc ; but Montaigne's dis-
quisitions could wait, whereas a valuable horse
might readily disappear, and we should not get to
the bottom of what was likely to prove a mystery.

Going down the stairs, and walking along the
passage, we heard a voice in the room on our right
The door was sufficiently ajar to show the sandy-
bearded face of the tanner, who was speaking to a
person standing back out of sight

"Perhaps I can manage for you, father," Jehan
Sault was saying, but with a certain amount of
hesitation.

" A priest wanting the tanner to do something queer,
I'll warrant," muttered my man, as we stepped into
the street, where the moon, high in the heavens, cast
short shadows. While there was no taint of heresy
in Rousard, he had smalt reverence for the spiritual
advisers of the day. Like the Huguenot, who fought
against a cunning Jesuitism, he, in his degree, sought
to tear off and rend the false fig-leaves of ecclesiastical
pretension, and nothing but a dread of the conse-
quences of omission would have taken him to a
confessor. His knowledge of Father Calvisson was
a disquieting one, and having no great acquaintance
with others who were priests, he classed them all
within the same category. The time occupied by
our walk to the hostelry was filled in by him with
comments on the iniquity of wolves who dared to
don sheep's clothing, and he muttered, as he
swung along behind me, that if he had his way, every

Ube Stable at Ouecbe S7

Churchman in the land should wear a cravat of hemp,
the Cardinal included. He would hang them all with
pleasure.

It was nothing new to hear htm talk thus, so that
I did not enter into any dispute. I merely cautioned
him that it was well, while there was such widespread
ill-will for the Huguenots, to keep a still tongue in
his head, lest he might be classed among the heretics.
He was a sensible fellow, and took the quiet rebuke
in good part, owning that there was something in
what I said. A few minutes of silence followed, the
only sound being that of our stumbling boots on the
uneven cobble-stones. Then he drew level with me
to express his surmise concerning the presence of the
roan in the stable of La Miukine.

It was nothing less than this — that Calvisson,
knowing of our departure for Paris, had waited a
while, and when we had a good start, went to the
chftteau stables, and bade the hostlers saddle the best
horse there. He would possibly say that he had
important news for M. le Vicomte, and none would
demur.

There was no time to talk over this disturbing
su^estion, for we were at the stable door. A
hostler was inside, having a look round before locking
up for the night When he saw us enter he scowled.
Evidently he thought we wanted our horses saddled,
and he was in a hurry to get to bed. He soon threw
aside ill-temper for curiosity when I took the lanthom
from his hand, and walked into the stall where the
roan was lying on his bed of straw.

" Marot," said I, in a tone my horses knew so well.

The splendid creature was on his feet immediately ;

58 tn>e jTrown of ttaiesvs

so also were the others that had brought us hither,
and a three-fold whinny set the stable in commotion.
As for Marot, there was no need to examine him for
tokens of his identity. It was my roan without
question.

" Hostler, who rode this horse into Gueche ? "

" A priest," was the prompt reply.

" What was he like ? "

" Sharp-featured, lean of figure, pimple-faced, and
ugly-tempered," the stableman answered, without
hesitation.

" Father Calvisson," said Rousard quietly, and for
my ear only.

" It must be so," I muttered. Turning to the
stableman, I bade him under no condition to suffer
the horse to leave the stall, since it was mine, and
had been used without my permission. A couple of
livres, and the promise of more in the morning,
brought the assurance that my instructions should be
followed out, priest or no priest, and when I had
tossed an extra handful of corn into each of the three
feeding troughs, we came away, waiting outside to
see the door securely locked.

The lights were being turned out in the inn when
I walked down the passage, and opened the kitchen
door.

" Tonnay," said I to the landlord, who was playing
cards with a couple of soldiers. The man came
forward instantly, and waited to know my business.

" Have you a priest here ? "

"A priest, M. le Vicomte? God forbid!" he
exclaimed indiscreetly.

The soldiers roared with laughter, and rattled their

tCbe Stable at Onecbe 59

empty mugs on the table by way of approval.
Tonnay, affecting not to hear them — although he
coloured up at the thought of his indiscretion before
one such as myself— went on :

" I have seen no priest since yesterday, and that was
Father Beauce, who was going to give absolution to
the old fellow who lives in the house opposite. But
why do you ask ? "

" There is a horse in the stable which belongs to
me."

" Two/* the landlord interrupted.

** Yes, I know that. But I mean a third horse — a
roan ; one with white dagger-shaped spots on the
fore fetlocks. You have seen him before."

There was no doubt as to the man's genuine surprise.

" Tell your master what kind of individual brought
the horse," said I, turning to the hostler, who had
followed us into the inn.

Tonnay listened, but declared that no one answering
to the description given was in the place In spite of
this, I insisted on seeing for myself. We went from
the kitchen to the other rooms, looking into each to
see whether the priest was among the few who yet
sat at the tables, or slept in their chairs, too drunken
to get into the street, or up to their beds, without
assistance. Not one of any who were sober enough
to answer had seen him for whom we were searching.

" Will he be in one of the sleeping rooms ? "

" How could he be?" asked the landlord querulously.
" Did I not refuse you, M. le Vicomte, because I had
not room? Do you suppose I would have refused
you if I had had a bed at liberty ? "

" Well, see to it that no one takes any of my three

6o

Ube frown of Aajest?

horses in the morning without my permission. I will
hold you accountable for them."

The landlord bowed low, and waited at the door-step
while Rousard followed me down the street to the
house of the tanner.

^•^m

CHAPTER VI

A COSTLY LETTER

Mounting the Stairs, with Rousard close at my heels,
I reached the landing, where I halted, and my retainer,
being unable to see because of the darkness, bundled
on, nearly overturning me.

When I had ascended with Jehan Sault as my
guide, I had not noticed another door next to
that by which I entered the room placed at my
disposal. Judging so from the fact that side by side
were two lines of light close to the floor, and two rays
proceeding from as many keyholes, I concluded now
that there were two doorways, and was puzzled as to
which I should choose.

" Which is my room, Rousard ? " I asked, speaking
low, not to disturb the tanner's lodgers, if there were
such besides ourselves.

" I do not know, monsieur."

" What did you do when you came up to tell me of
MarotP There were two rooms then, I suppose?"

" I only saw light beneath one door, Vicomte,"

We stood silent for a full minute. The tanner
had evidently gone to bed, for the door of his living-
room downstairs, when we passed it, was wide open,
and we could see the moon looking in at the window.
I had no wish to trouble anyone, to wake a sleeper

6i Ube frown of tHajcBtg

from his first sleep, or disturb someone at his devo-
tions before retiring for the night. People, however
amiable ordinarily, have no superabundant supply of
courtesy when so intruded upon.

" Which room shall we try ? " I asked.

" The one to the right is more likely to be yours,
monsieur," Kousard replied, somewhat impatiently, I
thought ; for he had no such qualms as I in the
matter of disturbing a stranger whom he might never
see again. If anyone proved rough in speech, he was
always ready to answer back in the same spirit, and
loved a shindy. It made the blood run more quickly
through his veins, and did his soul good.

" If we are wrong we can but back out and try the
next door. But I am certain 'tis the one to the right,"
he added confidently.

Advancing, I felt for the handle, and opened the
door carelessly ; but when it swung against the wall
noisily, I stepped back in some amazement, treading
heavily on the toes of my servant, who had followed
at my heels.

I saw at a glance that the room was not mine, for
the walls were unpanelled, and whitewashed. It was,
moreover, scantily provided with comforts, a round
table in the centre, a rude bedstead, and a couple of
broken chairs being all that the chamber contained in
the matter of furniture.

The mere mistake as to the room did not account
for my astonishment. It was a sight of the occupant
which took me aback, and made Kousard, who saw
over my shoulder, cross himself religiously, and
exclaim, in a low voice, " Holy Mother of God I "

A smoking lamp threw its light on the face of one

a Costly Xettet 63

who sat with his left arm on the table. Before him
was a flagon, and his right hand grasped a wine-cup.
He was in the act of raising the cup to his lips, and
as the door opened, the man's eyes met mine. We
knew each other on the instant, and the Cur6 — for it
was my own confessor— sprang to his feet with what
sounded like an oath. His surprise caused him to
drop the cup, and the red wine — like blood in the
dismal lamp-light — ran across the table in a stream,
and dripped on the floor.

" What are you doing here. Father Calvisson ? " I
cried, stepping into the room. Rousard halted at the
door, not wishing to intrude, but curious to know how
the priest would answer.

The confessor's unwholesome face was a deep
crimson, but that might have been due to the wine
he had drunk, or to the glowing sun while riding.
Quite probably it had its cause in this sudden con-
frontation. His lean countenance seemed to grow
leaner, and the hairless jaw-bones moved restlessly,
as though he would speak, yet knew not what to say,
now that he was taken unawares.

But this was only for a few moments. His sang-
froid returned, and he was the wily one again, pre-
pared to answer my questions if he chose to do so,
or meet them with the studied insolence which made
it so difficult for a man of spirit to keep his hands off
him. It was just possible that he would try to
bully me into submission, now that we were face
to face.

" Send that man away ! " he cried, pointing past me
to my retainer, who was filling up the doorway, and
staring at the Cur^ in a manner that must have

fi4 Ube frown of Aajest?

incensed him, and was disconcerting to the most
self-possessed.

Rousard went away unwillingly enough, as if not
caring to leave me alone with Father Calvisson. He
shut the door of my room noisily, an assurance on
his part to me that he was not at the keyhole.

At intervals he bawled out a song which the
Catholics were wont to sing, to show their contempt
for the Huguenots ; another intimation from him that
he was not playing the part of eavesdropper, so that
I need have no fear of speaking my whole mind to
the priest

" Father Calvisson," said I, when the door slammed,
" I would like to know why you are here, instead of
looking after your parish ? "

" I have come hither with good cause, you may be
sure," he answered, but with a quietness which took
me aback considerably.

I had expected angry words, such as he had spoken
when he confronted me in his own room at Tour.
His voice was gentle, almost tremulous. Was he
regretting his exposure of himself through having
drunk so heavily ? And did he wish now to make
amends ? On the other hand, was he playing a part,
with intent to overreach me ? There was no telling,
for I knew him of old as a famous actor, kind or
violent as his schemes required.

He paused a while to mark the surprise on my
face ; then went on :

"You thought I should come in anger, M. le
Vicomte. On the contrary, I have come eager
to hinder you from bringing about your own
destruction."

a coetve xetter 65

It was incredible t I rubbed my eyes that I might
see the priest more plainly. Fortune was surely
playing the fool with me. The Cur6 had avowed his
inteation of compassing my ruin, yet here, in the
tanner's house at Gueche, he was assuring me of his
anxiety to save me from what he chose to consider
my ruin.

"I cannot comprehend!" I exclaimed bluntly.
"When at Tour, you charged me with being a
Huguenot — "

" I charge you with being such now," he interposed
calmly, but very decisively.

" Then I am still less able to comprehend," I
retorted sharply, being certain that he had no care
for my safety, but was playing for his own hand.
" If you charge me with being a Huguenot, how are
you going to save me? You declared only this
morning that you purposed sending that lying letter
— and probably a forged one — to the King."

He winced at that su^^tion of forgery, I thought.
I went on, watching him keenly, hoping to fathom his
motive, and discover whether he were acting falsely.

" I told you of my intention to see the King, father
— of forestalling you, or any other false witness."

I was not sparing him, and he again displayed
some restlessness. He did not wait for mc to say
more, but spoke at once.

" Let me explain, my son. When you had gone, I
considered matters well. I thought of the danger
you were riding into ; of the certainty— if you got to
Court — of the King discarding you, foi^etful of all
the service rendered by your family in the past for
the safety of the Throne. You do not seem to know

66 ube frown of Aajests

tlie hatred His Majesty has for all who are suspected
of heresy. It is common talk that he would send his
own son to the scaffold, were he proved to be a
Huguenot The middle course he once pursued — as
Catherine de Medici did, before she started her grim
scheme of murder — is forsaken. Louis the Four-
teenth is now an extremist, moved to it by Madame
de Maintenon, who is anxious, by a studied devotion
to the Catholic cause, to win over the priests. The
policy of conciliation is come to an end, and noble
after noble, to say nothing of the common people,
goes to the Bastille, or is flung from the hangman's
ladder,"

I knew all this. It was patent to everyone ; but
what of it? While I listened, it began to dawn on
me that the priest had a motive in hindering me from
going to Paris. It was absurd to suppose that he
wished to keep me out of danger for my own sake.
Did he want to delay me while another carried the
letter on to the Louvre, or to Versailles, or wherever
else the King might be ? Or had he a fear that the
letter which he now held, and purposed to show to
His Majesty, would not prove sufficiently convincing
to bring about my downfall 7 In such an event,
he would fain have me return to my chateau, while
he thought out some other scheme.

I knew not what to say. If the Cur^ expected me
to reply, I must needs keep him waiting until an
answer was forthcoming. Fortunately for me, a respite
came. Rousard, anxious, no doubt, to assure me that
he was not listening, was shouting out a song much in
vogue in the auberges of Paris and the country inns,
and so loudly did he bawl that Jehan Sault came out

H Co6fl? Xetter ^7

of his bed and protested against an]K)ne singing at
an hour when honest men ought to be able to sleep.

" Alright, Jehan. I am trying to keep myself
awake while M, le Vicomte is gossiping with your
lodger in the next room. They are old friends," I
heard Rousard say ; but I fancy he must have winked
at the tanner when he spoke those last words. There
was a sentence more by way of protest, and Saulf s
feet were heard presently on the stairs, and some
audible grumbles at tired men not being allowed to
rest after a hard day's work.

During this pause I had found my answer to what
the Cur£ had said ; but he forestalled me as soon as
we heard the tanner slam his door. His words,
however, came haltingly, as if even he, a person of no
great sensitiveness, were half ashamed to speak.

" My son, we parted in anger, and naturally so
when you showed me the way out of the library."
He paused, then went on again : " God knows, 1 do
not want any harm to come to you. If the letter
goes to the King, you die, or will be sent to the
gall^s, and I know not which is worse. But there
is no need for it to go."

There came another pause, during which he
fingered his crucifix nervously, and partly turned
away from me. There was something to say, but he
could not bring himself to say it, and it was not for
me to help him, and therefore I stood in silence.
Presently he went on quickly, as a horse might do
when it has had the cut of a whip after scuffling
along the road sleepily.

" There can be an accommodation. I am in sore
need of money — never mind for what purpose. The

68 tCbe frown or Aaiests

fact of my want must suffice. 'Tis in the interest of
another who is in trouble ; indirectly, it is to serve the
Church. Give me a thousand pistoles, and you shall
burn the letter here oa the hearth, and go your way
— back to'your chSteau, or where you will"
QA mental nausea came upon me. All my previous
contempt for this Churchman was of small dimensions
compared to the feeling of indignant disgust at one
who was willing to forego what was clearly his duty
as a Catholic, if he possessed what he considered con-
vincing and honest proof of my heresy. Never did I
see a man so extreme a worldling, who, by his vows,
was set apart for the dischar^ of solemn and sacred
duties. He was drunken and venal, and therefore
an unworthy priest Yet was he worse than many
others? I had but to call to mind the grasping
nature of a higher Churchman than Calvisson —
Cardinal Mazarin. The Cardinal, in a manner which
was more than questionable, had amassed such
wealth that when he died he left behind him no
less a fortune than fifty million Hvres. Calvisson was
but following the example of his famous superior.

This display of sordid greed, regardless of the high
claims of his holy office, made me think of him as
one of the Politigues, who preferred civil and temporal
interests to their religious orthodoxy. There was a
difference in Calvisson's case, however. With the
Politiques it was part of the play of policy resorted
to without creating much public scandal ; but this
priest was looking after his temporal gains, under the
plea that he was anxious to serve another, and, as he
su^ested, indirectly serve the Church.
I did not like this purchase of safety. But when

H CostVg Xener 69

the bitterness of religious faction was so extreme
that trial was a lottery, and condemnation was almost
certain, since a layman's word was met by the asser-
tion of a priest ; and since, also, life is precious, more
especially when we are young, I was not ready to
resist the temptation, much as I loathed my weak-
ness. I gave the Cur^ what he desired, paying him
some money in, actual coin, and drawing an order on
M. Momay, a banker at Nevers, for the remainder.

" Before you take this, father," said I, while I
looked at the paper on which the ink was wet, " you
must give me the letter, and we will burn it here."

" Do you not trust me ? " he asked, somewhat
querulously, for he must have seen distrust in my
face.

" 'Tis not a matter of trust, but a business trans-
action. Here is a note for value received, if you
choose to put it so, and if I do not get the value, I
shall not part with the money."

That was my answer, and when I saw that the
Cur£ demurred, I drew back the paper, and prepared
to tear it to pieces.

" Take it," said the priest, laying the letter on the
table with a reluctance which showed that my pre-
caution was not altogether unnecessary. I instantly
threw the note for the banker across to him, and his
fingers clutched it greedily. This was the Churchman
who, in the eyes of the world, was naturally arrayed
against wealth, and preached an ascetic morality —
the man who was supposed to open the gates of
Heaven to the poor I

" And here is the gold, father," said I scornfully,
as I pushed the heap of coins midway. He scooped

70 Vbe frown of Aajests

them towards him, counted the pieces one by one,
and placed them in the lining at the breast of his
gown.

" Father, such words as are on this paper ought
never to have been written," said I sternly, when he
patted his breast to flatten the little hoard and remove
the traces of its presence. " God knows, I am as true
a Catholic as yourself. You know it I think, too,
that His Majesty knows it; if he does not, he shall
know it some day. As for this paper" — and I held
up the letter between my thumb and forefinger, as
though it were something an honest man did not care
to touch — " 'tis best to destroy it."

I rose to my feet, turning over the rickety
chair on which I had sat while writing out
the banker's order. Going to the lamp, I held
the accusing epistle over the flame, then laid it on
the hearthstone. The heat contorted the paper, the
writing showing up in white marks as the letter
twisted about ; but before long it lay still, black, and
crisp, until I put my heavy boot on it and crushed it
to powder.

The priest looked at me, then at the pulverised
blot upon the hearth, from that to the paper in his
hands. Seeing that the ink was dry, he folded it
slowly, and placed it between the pages of his
breviary.

" Does my son go back to the chSteau to-morrow ? "
he asked, in better humour than I had observed for
many a day gone by.

" That is my business," I answered curtly. " Go
your way, and I will go mine."

How could a man be civil to such a priest i I had

B Costly Xetter

71

no capacity for civility just then, and turning on my
heel, I left the room.

Rousard shrugged his shoulders when I told him
what had transpired, and he gave expression to my
own thoughts. The letter was destroyed, the priest
was subsidised — but was I safe?

CHAPTER VII

THE QUEEN'S TAILOR

Away in the far-oiT sky was a sea of burnished gold

and silver, whose glittering waters washed the shores

and cliffs of islands innumerable. Castles, mansions,

and homesteads were on the distant mainland, hemmed

in by mighty forests of emerald green and ruby — a

brilliant stretch of landscape into which no sorrow

intruded, and where none of the sordid passions that

make earth so sad had any place. Ch&teau, river,

meadows, and trees which were about us, all were

bathed in the glowing light of the fiery sunset

There could be no such holiness and peace in the

capital towards which Rousard and I were riding,

and which lay between us and that sapphire sea.

Licentious corruption and abandoned profligacy were

to be found within the shadows of the magnificent

Church of Notre Dame, and coarseness underlay all

the politeness one met with. It was impossible to

forget that in a city which looked so beautiful from

without were intrigues and resolutions which led to

shameful breaches of solemn promises, to tyranny

and schism. These had already culminated in horror

and bloodshed that have rendered the capital of

France so infamous.

I had suffered Father Calvisson to have the use of

72

Sbe Qneen's ^tlot 73

one of my horses — I would not trust him with Marot
— so that he might ride first to Nevers, and then to
Tour, after he had obtained the gold for which he had
such a hankering. With unbounded assurance, he
had almost commanded me to return with him, but I
bade him sharply not to interfere with my concerns,
but go his way, and leave me to please myself as to
my own movements.

Why I rode to Paris I hardly knew. The restless
night which followed my interview with the Cur^ had
been passed in framing and discarding one scheme
after another. The thought possessed me that the
ch&teau just now would be intolerable. The quiet-
ness of the country did not promise well for my
disturbed spirit. If I moved from Gueche in any
direction, it must needs be towards Paris, where a
life of action would suit my present mood.

Hence it came about that when the many-coloured
roofs and the churches of the capital were bathed in
sunset gloiy, we approached the city by way of
Vincennes, entering by the gate of St Antoine.
One and another of my acquaintances stopped my
progress to welcome me to the gay life of Paris, so
that it was growing late when we had passed through
the narrow, winding, filthy streets, and pulled up at
the house where I had been wont to lodge, near the
Tour de Nesle.

"What is your will, monsieur?" asked a bare-
armed woman who came to the door, and filled up
the open space with a sharp assertiveness, as if
resenting Rousard's noisy summons.

" I want Ren£ Bandelet," I explained.

"He is gone. Went three months since to the

74 XTbe frown of asajcBVs

Rue de Richelieu," came the quick answer, and as if
angered at being brought from her work for naught,
she shut the door on us.

We did not care so long as we knew where to find
the tailor to the Queen — for Ren6 Bandelet had been
such when Her Majesty was alive, and still held the
title, if one may call it such. Moving forward with
much noisy clatter, we rode to the house we wanted.

The fat little proprietor hurried out to see who had
banged so heavily on his street door after work hours,
but when he saw me and his quondam crony, he gave
us hearty greeting, and asked what our will might
be.

'* Need you ask, since I never think of staying with
anyone else when I come up to Paris?" I cried.
" Am I not welcome ? "

The tailor waved his hands deprecatingly, and
shrugged his shoulders, wagging his head to right
and left, as if he would emphasise his disclaimer of
anything like lack of hospitality.

" How could M. le Vicomte doubt ? Welcome ?
There is no one in all France whom I would rather
have as my guest, but — "

He paused and washed his hands more vigorously,
thrusting forward his bullet head, bedaubed with
pomade, shaking it until Rousard exclaimed :

"By the Blessed Virgin, the man will w«^ his
head off! Speak up, Ren6. What of your * buts ' ? "

" I have no rooms fit for monsieur. There is only
the dingy apartment here on the ground floor, which
commands a view of the street" He paused again,
twisted his head a bit, and showed the palms and
open fingers of his hands, as if to say that the

XTbe (Hueen'e XCatlor 75

thoroughfare had no attractions. " But the bedroom
IS better, and looks out on the garden."

"Why must I take the dingy room, Ren^?" I
asked, satisfied, however, now that I knew I had no
need to go farther; for Bandelet was the best of
hosts.

** Someone has taken the other apartments, M. le
Vicomte; a courtier, I am given to understand. I
call him a human hog, bedecked with jewels, and
dressed in silk and satin. There is such coming and
going, such shouting and scraps of plays from actors
and dancers who come here, and laughter, and o&ths,
and songs — such a medley, that one is inside the gates
of perdition, and monsieur may not sleep o' nights,
and so have to listen against his will."

The Queen's tailor was almost breathless when he
had done, and waited for my answer.

" One might get used to that, Ren6. But who is
this courtier ? "

The little man looked up to me while I towered
above him in my saddle, screwing up his eyes, and
making a face so wry that it was impossible not to
laugh aloud. He took it in good part, save to glance
at Rousard reproachfully, as if to protest that he —
whatever M. le Vicomte might do — should not laugh
at an old comrade.

" Don't look at me like that ! " cried Rousard.
" Thou wert always full of mystery, and thy face so
melancholy at a trifle, that one cannot but have his
laugh out to see it."

Ren6 made no answer to his crony, but replied to
my own question.

"Tis M. de TEperon, monsieur. That is all I

76 XTbe frown of Aajeets

know, and he rents the best floor. What is more,**
he rattled on, working away with his needle-pricked
hands as quickly as ever, now and again throwing
them back, palms outward, while his lips splashed out
the words, " he has taken them for three years, and
only signed the contract the day before yesterday."

"Never mind that Our fellow-lodgers need not
frighten us away. So long as I can be under your
roof, and there is a garret for Rousard — '*

"There is," was the eager interruption. "If there
were not, I would make him a bed in the cellar for
old friendship's sake," he added, giving a roguish
look at my retainer, who laughed again, and made a
cut at the tailor with his riding-whip. The other
avoided it deftly, and stood a little distance off,
waiting to hear what else I had to say.

"And does Madame Bandelet cook as well as
ever ? "

"Who would question her skill? Madame dc
Maintenon would fain have her at her chateau, but I
could not spare her."

"Thou art a model husband, Ren6," exclaimed
Rousard. " Is it the wife or the cook thou lovest?"

"Both! both!" responded the little tailor, with
much good-humour and twinkling eyes. " But is M.
le Vicomte content to stay ? "

" Ay, Ren6. Can we have some supper ? "

" In a few minutes, monsieur. Rousard, Daguin,
in the Rue des Magons, will stable the horses. Will
monsieur step in and see his rooms ? "

I had barely dismounted when there emerged from
the dusk a man of medium height, and dressed in
black of the richest quality. He came down the

XTbe (llueen'0 xi;aiIor 77

street with heavy step, and somewhat slowly, but
when he drew near he glanped at us, as if he would
have us stand aside, so that he might enter the house
before which we halted. The very gesture displayed
the courtier, but I did not know him. I had been so
long absent from the Court, only going up rarely, and
for such brief stays, that there were many about the
King whose faces were unknown to me.

" 'Tis M. de TEperon," whispered Ren6.

He was a handsome man, yet I took an instant
dislike to him. The dark face, with its large nose
and wide mouth, displeased me. The black and
heavy eyebrows shaded eyes that were shifty, and
instead of confronting me with a full glance, the look
came from beneath the brows.

" He will know me again," thought I, as we bowed
distantly, and M. de TEperon passed down the
passage. His right hand was bandaged, and
suspended by a scarf about his neck.

" Has he been fighting ? " asked Rousard.

" Yes," answered the tailor. " He runs all manner
of risks, cares naught for regulations, and fights duels
in spite of the King's prohibition. I believe he got
worsted in a fight yesterday morning, for he came
back badly injured."

CHAPTER VIII

"MAINTENON AND NOAILLES "

What Reni Bandelet had said as to the company
which his lodger kept was amply verified before the
night was very far advanced. One after another
tramped along the passage, and stamped up the
narrow staircase, whistling or singing some scrap
from Moli^re, or the latest thing which Racine had
written. Some, with oaths that were the exclusive
property of the Court, so far as I could judge — for I
never heard them elsewhere — crossed the threshold,
and loitered in the passage just outside my door, to
finish a bit of scandal before they mounted the stairs
to join the company there.

Some of the voices were familiar. They belonged
to men of rank whom I knew well, and who would
have come into my room to give me a pleasant
greeting if they had known that I was in Paris again.
Once or twice I heard scraps of women's chatter —
possibly they were actresses who had come in to sing
or dance for the special pleasure of M. de I'Eperon's
visitors,

Rousard entered my room after an hour or two had
gone, to see whether I had need of him. He shrugged
his shoulders when he had entered and closed the
door behind him.

78

" Aatntenon an& floafUes " 79

" Poor Ren6 ! " said he. " It is as he declares. He
feels as if his house had become a portion of perdi-
tion, and that was why he was so loath to take my
master in, especially since you must needs hear all
this tramping, and singing, and dicing, and I know
not what, right overhead."

He paused for a few minutes, looking at my
disgusted face I had been trying to enjoy a few
pages of Moli^re, only to fait, and become exceed-
ingly annoyed.

1 was on the point of speaking, when Rousard
started again.

" Listen, monsieur I I have heard it said that one
dares not sing Maintenon and Noailles without fear
of the Bastille, but that is sung boldly enough. No
doubt the singer is Du Fort, who went upstairs an
hour ago. She is the opera dancer, monsieur, who,
men say, is mistress to the Due de Valentinois.
'T would be bad for Ren^ if any of the watch passed
by and heard it ! " *

We had come into queer company, and ran some
risk in consequence. Presently little Bandelet came
in, washing his dry hands as was his wont whenever
he was perturbed.

" M. le Vicomte, I deplored your coming, as you
know. I deplore it more. Had I known that M. de
I'Eperon would do as he is doing to-night, I would
have shut the door in your face, asking your pardon
the while,.since I should have done it out of r^ard
for your comfort and your safety."

" Have no care for me, my good Ren6 ! I am
content to stay with you, for M. de I'Eperon's visitors
will not go on much longer."

So TTbc frown of asajcevs

I said this, hoping to soothe the little man, who
was in a state bordering on frantic excitement.

"But I must care for you! They were singing
that song — did you not hear it? — Maintenon and
Noailles. Only last week Comte de Peront was
taken to the Bastille for humming it as he walked
along the streets. Suppose the watch passed by this
house and heard it! And to think of it! I have
signed a bond with M. de TEperon, so that he keeps
my rooms for three years. Three whole years, and
this may go on every night ! "

The tailor was in tears, but Rousard good-naturedly
patted him on the back, by way of comfort.

" They are not singing it now, Ren6.*'

" But they were singing it a little while since," he
cried ; " and they may sing it again. There ! they
are at it now ! Maintenon and Noailles I " screamed
Ren^. " Suppose the watch went by I "

To advise him to go upstairs and protest was to
place him in the way of possible mischief. I had no
certain knowledge as to the character of the people
overhead. Some had come and gone, several of them
men to whom I was known intimately. Still, it were
shame to sit and suffer the tailor not only to lose his
custom at Court, but risk his being hurried ofT to a
noisome dungeon in the Bastille. But what could
I do?

"Go up, Ren6, and protest," said I, not knowing
what else to advise.

" I dare not, monsieur. Some of them have drunk
so deeply that they have no reason left They would
run their swords through me, and how should I be
the gainer then ? "

"/Itafntenon an& noatlles" 8>

The thought of his dangers wrought htm into such
a frenzy that he was past all action which must needs
be accompanied with judgment. Yet at any moment
the watch might pass by ; then would come a raid,
and while those who were overhead would well
deserve what they got, since they joined in the
scurrilous refrain, it was cruel to sit there, book in
hand, and suffer the poor fellow to be ruined.

The song ceased, which was well for all concerned.
Rousard had gone to the street door, and came back
hastily, bidding jne look through the window. Three
or four of the King's gens i^armes were walking slowly
by, but they halted when they came opposite the door
of Rent's house, and looked up and down the street
It was probably with no other purpose than to be
certain that all was quiet ; but what if they had come
a minute or two sooner ? or what if Du Fort should
start the song again in her shrill treble?

Ren^ almost screamed with fear when he saw the
soldiers standing in a group. He gasped with relief
when the men walked on, after a quick glance up to
the window of the chamber where the roysterers
were.

"They will come back again," was the tailor's
sobbing remark. " Listen, monsieur. There goes
that devilish song again I "

The^ewi d'armes had barely got round the street
comer when Bandelet thus cried out, with too much
reason, for Du Fort was singing the song afresh, and
louder than before, as if she had been dared not
to do so.

"I will go up to them myself, Ren^," said I,
walking to the door.

82 ^be ftoxm ol Aajests

"You must not, monsieur. They will turn on
you," objected the tailor, throwing his arms wide
open to prevent me.

"What matter? Stand aside. I am going," I
insisted.

"And so am I," said Rousard resolutely, taking
Keni by the collar, and pulling him aside un-
ceremoniously. " Sit there in the chair, and leave
things to us."

The faithful fellow was at my heels as I walked up
the stairs, and when we stood outside the door he
wanted me to stand back, so that he might be the
first to enter.

" Certainly not," I rejoined, putting out a hand to
hinder him.

"Someone will dig at you with his dagger for
interfering," Rousard expostulated.

"If they do, so much the worse for the 'some-
one,'" said J, lifting the latch, and walking into
the room.

The song ended abruptly. It was being sung by
Du Fort, as Rousard had surmised. She had been
so ptied with wine that she could scarcely stand. She
was between two men who held her on her feet, while,
with her beautiful voice, she sang the forbidden words
which cast such a slur on the King's mistress, Madame
de Maintenon.

Three other women^-courtesans, beyond all doubt —
and ten or a dozen men were in the place. Some were
of moderate rank, without influence ; others actors ;
one or two were officers in the King's household. I
looked for men of high degree, for I had heard the
voices of such in the passage, or at the street door.

" /ftatntcnon anB HoaiUcs " 83

I had almost expected to see the Due de Valentinois,
the Grand Prieur, and the Due d'E^trades, but they
were not in the room when I glanced around,
scanning the different faces. Seated at the various
tables were men and women, drinking, the cards
which were lying before them being splashed with
wine that had been spilt freely. Some had been
playing at basset, but when 1 entered with such scant
ceremony, they gathered up their cards eagerly, and
thrust them out of sight, looking at me with a studied
indifference. They knew that the game they played
was ill^al, and that the King had decreed that all
persons discovered at it should be fined a thousand
livres.

"Who are you, monsieur?" exclaimed M. de
I'Eperon, with a suavity quite unexpected. "And
what may your business be?"

I ignored the first question. As for the second, I
spoke briefly, for none could tell how soon the gens
^armes might return.

"I am here, gentlemen, to remind you that you
run the risk of a lodging in the Bastille by singing
the song which His Majesty has prohibited."

De I'Eperon did not speak, but one of the
courtesans, watching the angry look on his face —
one which betokened resentment at my intrusion —
cried out boldly :

" What song ? "

I took no notice of the strumpet's question,
although she repeated it, adding some saucy words
which ill became a woman's lips, and drew derisive
laughter from the other women, and approving
glances from three or four of the men.

84 Ube frown of Aajeetp

" Monsieur," said one whose left arm was about the
waist of the woman who had questioned me.

1 did not know him, but he had the appearance of
a player. His right hand toyed with a wine-glass,
and his voice was already thick with hard drinking.

" Monsieur," he said a^ain, after a short pause, as
if, for the moment, he had lost the control of his
voice, and must needs make some effort to compel
his lips to frame the words aright, " this lady asked
you a civil question, and I would have you give her
a civil answer."

I looked at him with surprise, that one of his grade
should speak with such measured insolence to me,
and un behalf of an abandoned creature whom he
was fondling drunkenly. One may quarrel with his
equals, but deem a quarrel with his inferiors an im-
possibility. Consequently, while my fingers itched
to deal with him summarily, I passed his words
without a reply. It was M. de I'Eperon with whom
I had to defj.

The men and women were growing restless at
seeing me — a stranger — standing in the open door-
way, with Rousard filling up the space behind me.
They could not understand my silence ; neither could
they tell whether I was an officer in His Majesty's
service, with other men waiting for a word before
they entered to effect arrests. They needed not to
be told that they had been saying and doing things
which were hanging matters in the present temper of
the King and his powerful mistress. The singing
that night of airs from the play, La Fausse Prude,
which Louis had forbidden because Madame de
Maintenon realised herself in the character as-

'' Aafntenon an^ floailles'' 35

sailed therein, might lead to the halter, to a ruinous
fine, or prolonged incarceration in the dismal cells of
the Conciergerie or the Bastille.

I read the suspicion in their faces, but it was none
of my business to undeceive them. I was only con-
cerned with the fact that they had compromised the
Queen's tailor and all in his house by this defiance of
royal decrees.

It was time for someone to speak. Everyone
looked from me to De TEperon, who had not spoken
since I had answered him, and he thought it best to
say something.

"What business may our doings be to you,
monsieur? Are you acting on the King's behalf?"

"I am acting within my rights when you com-
promise those who are in this house by permitting a
scurrilous song to be sung here against the King's
express decree, and when I see some of your company
playing at basset^

This was unwise, and it did not mend matters when
I pointed across the room to the men who had slipped
the forbidden cards into their pockets.

De I'Eperon had become red with anger at my
intrusion. Now his colour deepened, and an oath
escaped his lips. I did not heed this, however. I
had come to put a stop to the orgy — at all events, to
that portion which imperilled Ren^ Bandelet, and I
said what I had to say.

"I have but to call in the city watch, M. De

I'Eperon ; and for the rest," said I, with a shrug of the

shoulders, which goes so far with Frenchmen, " you

must judge for yourself."

There was an outburst of anger and mockery.

86 xnx frown of Aajestv

Language came from the lips of the courtesans which
one might have expected in a camp. A wine-glass
sped past me, and shivered when it crashed against
the doorpost, leaving a gleaming trail of red wine as
it travelled through the air. The woman who had
first spoken struggled out of the arms of the man
who held her, then picked up a pewter flagon, and
with her whole force hurled it at my head ; but it
missed me, and Rousard, who saw it coming, caught
it in his hand. The wine splashed over his face and
scarf and doublet, but did him no other harm, and
with a nonchalance which was habitual when matters
grew serious, he tossed the vessel down the stairs. I
could hear it clatter on the steps and along the stone
passage, and then a cry from the tailor who was at
the street door, anxiously looking up and down in
the hope that none of the gens d'afmes were near
enough to hear the clamour.

" Let the watch go to the devil, and go you with
them I " cried M. De I'Eperon, turning round to the
wall, where his rapier was hanging on a nail.

'"T would be well to come away, monsieur," said
Rousard, stepping between me and the angry
roysterers. He took hold of the latch and drew the
door ti^ether quickly. After that, pushing me before
him, gainst my will, although in full accord with my
judgment, he began to descend the stairs. "You
have entered your protest, and there will be mischief
if you press the matter farther," said he firmly, but
with all respect

What else he said I did not hear, for there came a
roar of laughter, then a defiant chorus, which might
have been beard at the distant corner of the Rue de

"Aaintenon anD noatlles" s?

Richelieu. An instinct of liberty took us both to the
front door, where we found Bandelet and his spouse
wringing their hands, and bewailing their helplessness.
At an open window, here and there, a oight-capped
head was thrust out, and more than one questioned
us as to the cause of the uproar, and why we did not
call in the watch.

The chorus, however, came to an end, silence
followed abruptly ; there were sounds as of chairs
being thrust back, or overturned, then heavy steps on
the stairs. One by one, with a certain stealth, the
guests of De I'Eperon passed into the street, looked
up and down, as if to see whether the watch were
near, and finding the way clear, walked oflf quickly,
not paying any attention to our little group of four.

CHAPTER IX

M. DE L'EPERON'S VISITOR

The neighbours saw clearly that Ren^ Bandelet was
no party to the treasonable and scurrilous doings of
the night ; but they would certainly hold him respon-
sible if there was anything like a repetition. Those
who were within earshot expressed their sympathy,
or advised Ren6 to give information, so as to clear
himself ; then, one by one, the heads were drawn in,
the windows closed, and the Rue de Richelieu became
quiet enough for tired ones to fall asleep.

Ren6 looked relieved when he saw the last of De
TEperon's company disappear round the street corner ;
but when we had crossed the threshold once more, he
entered my room with me, and asked for advice as to
the course he should pursue.

"Go upstairs and give M. de TEperon notice to
quit forthwith," I answered.

" By the Mother of God, I would do so gladly ! "

he exclaimed earnestly ; " but of what avail ? He

would laugh in my face, for he has taken the rooms

for three whole years, and signed the paper but a day

or two since. I wish he had got pricked in his right

hand before that day, so that he could not have held

the quill, for then he should have gone neck and

crop. Fortune is against me ! " the little man

88

A« be l'£peton*0 IDfsftot ^9

grumbled bitterly. "He used that hand freely to
draw up the paper and sign his name, then got
wounded within twelve hours. Whclt can I do
now ? "

" Tell him to quit, notwithstanding," said I. " Tell
him that if he does not cancel the bond, and get out
of the house to-morrow, you will lodge information
with M. de Biron, the Chief of Police, concerning
what we have heard, and what Rousard and I have
seen. We saw — I did, at all events — three or four
engaged at basset, which is a forbidden game."

" I saw it," interposed my retainer, eager to
corroborate my words ; " and Til stick to that, come
what will."

" Then go and tell him so, Ren6. He will scarcely
face out the double charge."

" I dare not ! He would laugh in my face. I know
these men. They brazen it out, say they have power-
ful friends at Court, and I know not what, and one
walks away like a cur with his tail between his legs."

Bandelet's case was so serious that matters could
not be suffered to take their course. The law was
severe towards those who did not possess the ear of
the influential, and the tailor knew that He was
ignorant as to the influence his lodger upstairs pos-
sessed. There were courtiers who were nonentities,
mere hangers-on ; men who went to Court and looked
about, but said nothing, or if they spoke, were not
listened to. Others could mould events, and win the
King's attention. To which of these did M. de
TEperon belong ? It was certain that he had visitors
of eminence — men like those I have already men-
tioned, some coming in disguise who might be princes

go Vbe jf town of Aajests

of the blood, for all that one could tell. To cross
him, therefore, was to risk incalculable possibilities
for mischief.

Bandelet's prosperous condition was the reverse of
an assurance of safety. Some of the nobles were rich
beyond the dreams of avarice, and vied with the old
Romans in their extravagant display ; but many
were impecunious, and in order to obtain money,
resorted to tyranny and extortion at the expense of
the bourgeoisie^ whose business tact and energy had
made them affluent. Ren^ Bandelet was credited
with having great wealth. Aware of the fact that he
possessed this reputation, he knew that if he went to
those who administered justice, he would only obtain
it on costly terms. Just as probably he would not
get what he paid for. M. de TEperon might have
friends at Court who would take the tailor's money,
and make many promises, but set others to work to
render his life so intolerable for making complaint
that he would only purchase immunity from ruin by
parting with a heavy sum from his hidden store.

The little man knew this, and lacked the moral
courage to face one who might set such dangerous
machinery in motion. It was this sense of helpless-
ness that made him somewhat of a craven, who, under
other circumstances, might have been a man of fine
spirit The accident of one's surroundings is respon-
sible for many of the undesirable traits of character
which are displayed. A man of courage, conscious
of an indiscriminating tyranny which never admits of
remedy, accepts the inevitable, bowing to the tyran-
nical in the hope of retaining the fruits of his industry.
At the bottom of all the submission one meets with

as. ^e l'Eperon'0 tMsftot 91

among the oppressed lies the hope of avoiding a
further descent in wretchedness. France, with Louis
the Fourteenth as King, was dominated by an oli-
garchy of extravagance, and Bandelet, like others of
his class, having gathered in money by continuous
toil, believed in the policy of allowing sleeping dogs
to lie. He was willing to bear his present disabili-
ties, rather than attract an attention which meant
impoverishment

There was every reason why the tailor should not
arouse the wrath of the man who rented his rooms,
and whose influence was an unknown quantity. He
was not likely to gain a single louis ; he had every-
thing to lose by an impulsive protest In my case,
however, I could interfere to some purpose. My
rank was my guarantee. If De TEperon had friends
at Court, whom he might prejudice against me, I
surely had as great, so that at most I had but to face
possible discomfort which might come of intrigue and
jealousy.

" I will go up and see him," said I, when I marked
Bandelet's natural hesitation.

"It will bring you trouble, M. le Vicomte,*' the
little man objected half-heartedly, yet considerably
relieved on hearing the suggestion.

I was about to leave the room and march upstairs,
when some footsteps were heard in the passage.

'* I thought they had all gone," Rousard observed.

Under the impression that someone had come down
from the apartment overhead, and passed into the
street — the more convinced that such was the case on
hearing a man stumbling at the doorstep — I went out
a minute or two later to find M. de TEperon, and

92 TOk jftown of Aajests

say what I had to say before he went to bed for as
much of the night as yet remained.

Ren^ stood in the passage with a lamp held
high to light the way, and show me the turning in
the staircase. When he saw that I had taken the
twist safely, he went into his room and shut the door,
leaving me in darkness. I could see a streak of light
on the floor from left to right, showing the entrance
plainly, and a bright spot half-way up the door, giving
me guidance to the latch.

A knock for admission was not answered at first.
A second summons was followed by an impatient
call to enter. Opening the door without hesitation, I
entered, apologising for having once more intruded,
and at so late an hour.

" But my business is important, monsieur," I was
saying, after I had pushed the door behind me.

A smothered exclamation made me look round to
my right, where the window was. Before me sat the
man I had come to see, and expected to find alone.
The lamplight, however, showed up the robed form
of the Cuy6, On his face was a look of extreme
annoyance, and before I had time to speak, he
cried :

" I thought you were at Tour, M. le Vicomte ! "

" I thought the same concerning yourself. Father
Calvisson,'* said I, in response to his querulous remark.
" Duty should have taken you there," I added, " to
say nothing of your solemn assurance that it was your
purpose to return thither."

He had recovered from his surprise by this time,
and thought to browbeat me as he had done at Tour
so short a while before. That was a tyranny to which

Ob. de XXperon'0 IDfsftot 93

I would not submit, and I asked the priest pointedly
why he had deceived me.

" Two may ask that question, M. de Belliot."

" You are insolent," I retorted ; and indeed he was.
His attitude towards me roused all my spirit of
resistance, and I resolved to show this Churchman
that I was not to be ruled by him. He was my
spiritual adviser, but he was not my master. Was
rank to count for nothing ? Did he not live on my
bounty, and a liberal one? There were scores of
cur6s who knew and envied Father Calvisson, and
would gladly accept his post at half the money he
received, and with one-half the privileges he enjoyed.
It was evident that he was growing too great for the
space he occupied, or there was still in his mind that
false charge of heresy. Yet I was near the King,
and although, to my chagrin, the father confessor was
now in Paris, I could have audience with His Majesty
at an early hour to-morrow.

Those words of mine — "You are insolent" — rankled,
and robbed him of his self-possession.

" And if I am insolent, Vicomte, what are you ? "

M. de TEperon looked at each in turn, bending over
the table, and shading his eyes with his un maimed
hand, in order to see our faces more readily.

" Pardon me, monsieur," said he, turning to me,
and speaking before I made answer to Calvisson.
" May I ask two questions ? "

I nodded by way of assent.

" First, I have not the pleasure of knowing your
name."

" I am the Vicomte de la Tour."

" Ha ! known to some as Fulcran de Belliot ? "

94 Ube jfrown ot ObajcBVe

" You appear to know so much," said I, somewhat
stiffly. The suspicion crossed my mind that I was
not a stranger to him, and I did not care to be
catechised by one who was my inferior in rank.

"I have heard the name," he answered suavely;
but the softness — with such a thought in my mind —
irritated me.

" Your other question, monsieur?" I asked abruptly,
and not disposed to discuss the matter of my name
with him.

He drew himself up, realising that I should consider
any further question on that point an intrusion.

" Well, M. le Vicomte, I should like to know your
business. Is it with me, or with my visitor ? "

"With you. It may be for your comfort that I
should speak of it to you in private. Father Calvisson,
I must ask you to leave the room awhile."

"No!" said De TEperon decisively. "Father
Calvisson may hear all that you have to say. There
is naught that you would speak of which he may not
hear. I have more than once gone to him as my
father confessor."

" The question of his presence, of course, is one for
you to judge upon. If it is naught to you that the
Cur6 here should listen, I am not concerned as to the
consequences to you. I ought to say, however, that
it is a matter of grave import It may affect your
liberty."

I paused. The priest and De TEperon exchanged
looks. There was no gesture, but the glances between
them were significant

" May I proceed ? "

De TEperon merely nodded.

A. &e X'Eperon's Vfsftor 9S

" You have taken these rooms for three years," I
bt^an.

"What is that to you?" said the other angrily.
" Have you come here to pry into my private
concerns?"

" I have not come to pry into any man's private
concerns, but I have come to speak of things that
concern the King."

"Ha!"

" You have taken these rooms for three years," I
repeated, regardless of the impatient movement of
the man who sat at the table. " I am come to ask
you to cancel the arrangement, and take lodgings
elsewhere;"

He stared at me in blank amazement, then laughed
in my face.

" Why ? " he asked, when he had had his laugh out
If he had been more sober, he would have seen
that something underlay my purpose which was no
laughing matter. " You want these rooms for
yourself? "

" If you are not prepared to hear me, monsieur,"
said I, when he went on jeerlngly, " I will say no
more to you, but at once lodge information with the
City Aldermen as to the company you have had
to-night, and the songs they have been singing."

This sobered him.

" What do you mean ? " he cried ; and there was
anxiety in the tone, in spite of his assumed
indifference.

"As for your company, the King may say little.
But if, when I see him, I tell him that among your
visitors to-night were the Due de Valentinots, the

96 XLbc jf town of Aajesti?

Grand Prieur, and the Due d'Estrades, and that
during your drinking you were all singing a song
concerning which the King has spoken with such
disapproval, you not only compromise your visitors,
but run the risk of a lodging in the Bastille or the
Conciergerie."

His face had been red with drinking, but now it
was livid. It was easy to see that he was greatly
disturbed, and that his assumed indifference had
deserted him.

"And there was some play going on, M. de
TEperon, which will end in a heavy money penalty,
if it be known — a thousand livres, I believe, is the
limit," I continued, with quiet persistency; for I
was ill-pleased at having been treated so inso-
lently.

" But what has this to do with my quitting these
rooms ? " he asked quietly.

" Ren^ Bandelet had no thought of the company
you would keep when he entered into an arrangement
with you. Naturally, he is not disposed to have you
imperil him, if you choose to put your own self in
jeopardy. I am come on his behalf to say that if
you remain here I shall speak to the King, with
whom I have audience to-morrow, and tell him of
what I heard and saw here. I think, monsieur, that
the retention of these rooms is not worth such a
penalty ; but since Bandelet has no wish to be ruined
by you, there is your alternative. If you go quietly,
having handed me the paper on which the terms are
set forth, nothing more will be said."

*' And if I refuse ? "

** Everything will be said"

as. ^e

'0 IDisitor

97

The Cur6 had so far been silent, but now he
interfered.

" M. de I'Eperon, your going may not be pleasant
to you ; but if you stay, it may compromise the
noblemen who were here. I should advise you to

go-
The other rose to his feet without a word. There

was a bureau in the recess by the fire-place, and going

thither, he took out a piece of parchment, which he

gave to me unwillingly. Then crossing to the door,

he opened it, and bowed me out.

Returning the bow, but not deigning any look for
Calvisson, I passed down the stairs to the room where
Ren^ Bandelet was impatiently awaiting my coming.

I had achieved my purpose. But I had uncon-
sciously let loose some evil forces which brought me
infinite peril, and a course of suffering which one
may well deem incredible, when the story is told.

CHAPTER X

THE PALACE CORRIDOR

It was a common saying among those who frequented
the Court that Madame de Maintenon, hunting, and
excursions to Marly, were the only amusements
which the King took pleasure in. He was often
erratic in his movements in consequence. He was in
Paris to-day, and gone to-morrow, glad to escape
from the intrigues and jealousies which became so
burdensome, to enjoy the freshness of woodland
paths or quiet water-parties in the company of
the brilliant woman who exercised such boundless
influence over him.

When I went to the palace to see the King on the
following morning, I found that he had risen early,
and had gone with Madame de Maintenon to Marly,
accompanied by a few of the courtiers who were most
in favour at the time.

To intrude upon His Majesty in his retirement

was impossible. None who valued his good-will

would have dared such a thing — not even the princes

of the blood. Madame de Montespan — the King's

discarded mistress — had ventured one day to go

there uninvited ; but powerful as her influence over

His Majesty was at the time, she never repeated her

indiscretion, and never regained what she had lost by

98

Ube palace Corrfbor 99

her folly. Everyone took the hint The open glades,
henceforth, were as secure from intrusion as if closed
in by high walls and bolted doors, so that the King
was able to enjoy the company of the woman who
controlled the destinies of the nation without espial
or interruption.

There was no alternative for me but to wait in
patience for His Majesty's return, and since none
other could have audience while he was at Marly,
I had no immediate reason to be troubled at the
presence of Father Calvisson in Paris. Yet it was
impossible to set aside the sense of uneasiness which
the Curb's appearance produced in my mind and
Rousard's.

" He is here for mischief/* my man had said when
I told him, while undressing for the night, of M. de
TEperon's visitor. " He means to get at the King
with that trumped-up story of your heresy, or intends
to blackmail you. I would rise early, monsieur, and
be among the first to see His Majesty."

The King often received in the morning before he
went to prayers ; as soon, in fact, as his barber and
others in attendance had completed his toilet. But
on this particular morning, when I paced the
corridors, and came to the door of the royal sleeping
chamber, I found that His Majesty had gone un-
expectedly. In unusually good-humour with him-
self, he had risen, and was dressed before the nobles
who should have been present to assist had arrived.
He delighted in the thought of their confusion when,
coming at the usual hour to perform their morning
duties, they should find that their august master had

^^"^^^

loo ube jftown of Aajesti?

stolen out of the city. Such escapades relieved the
monotony of palace life.

The uneasiness which aifected me was increased
when, on turning from the captain of the guard to
retrace my steps, I saw, far down the richly decorated
corridor, the long dark robe of a priest. Yet I had
seen a dozen priests already since I passed through
the palace gates, and was not disturbed. The King's
favourite instruments were the Jesuits, who ruled
over his conscience, so that they were naturally in
evidence within the palace, and I had gone by them
without notice ; but here was one who bore himself
in a way I knew too well. Going forward quickly,
to draw level with him, I looked into the Church-
man's facd. It was Father Calvisson. He must
have seen me before, for he displayed no token of
surprise when he found me at his side.

" Why are you here, father ? " I asked quietly, for
men were coming and going on business, and there
was no reason why I should attract their attention.

" May I not do as I please ? " he replied, in a tone
as quiet as mine.

" Not if, as I imagine, it means harm to myself

" How can my presence here mean harm to you ? "
came the question evasively.

" Need you ask after what occurred at Gueche ? "
I returned. " You received a thousand pistoles, and
left me with the understanding that no more should
be said relative to the trumped-up charge of heresy.
It was understood that you should go back to Tour ;
but you have not been there, and are where you first
declared it your intention to come — to His Majesty.
Why ? "

Ube palace Corribor loi

" On business/* was the curt answer.

" My business, Father Calvisson ? "

" Perhaps — perhaps not ! " This was said sharply
enough for me to look round quickly to see whether
any were sufficiently near to hear the insolent tone
of the priest's reply.

"One would have supposed that you had some
honour, father," I observed, sick at the thought of
what might happen to me if by any means the King
were interviewed by the Cur6 before I had the
opportunity of speech with His Majesty. Who was
there in France who did not know that Louis, en-
couraged by his sagacious mistress, was resolute to
crush out the religious faction for which he had such
deadly and unreasoning hatred? I believe he would
have banished the Dauphin had he any suspicion of
his being tainted with Huguenotism.

I have an idea that the thought flashed through
the Cure's mind that he mi<,'ht evade me by duplicity.
He saw that his savage outburst while supping with
me at Tour had been unwise. His Jesuitical pro-
clivities now came to his aid, and he spoke suavely,
dropping the sharpness quickly.

" I promised you, my son, but I had a private
reason for going from the promise. Do not let us
quarrel. You persist hi your desire to know why
I am here. The reason is that I want a favour.
The Abb6 de Brune is dead, and I wish to succeed
him. You surely have no objection?" he added,
looking at me with a sneer ; for he knew that I
should be glad to welcome his successor at
Tour.
*• None, if that is all," I remarked.

I02 TTbe J'rown of ObajceVs

"It is all," he answered, and turned away to .ook
out on the palace yard, where the waters of the
gorgeous fountain scintillated in the sunshine.

But he had not deceived me. I saw by the look
on his face that I had paid down my thousand
pistoles to no purpose, and that this story of succeed-
ing the dead Abb6 was apocryphal. Calvisson was
in Paris — and I could have sworn it — to follow up
his charge of heresy ; so that it would be a race
between us as to which of the two should first gain
the ear of the King.

On the other hand, the natural question was:
Why should he wish to do this? What had he to
gain? I could not see that by the ordinary process
of giving information he would obtain a single louis,
and I had no knowledge of any priest having received
promotion by betraying a Huguenot. One would
consider it in his interest to be my friend, for he was
growing rich in my service, since I was always
sending him the best from the chateau larder, and
paying him liberally whenever I went to confession.
I had, moreover, added to the Curb's stipend, so that
it was double that which any parish priest received
in the province in which Tour lay.

The suspicion dawned on me, as we stood in the
recess, that he had something in view besides his
pretended zeal for the Church — something by which
he would gain in breaking with me. If so, was he
working for another ? But what interest had another
in my downfall ?

I could not imagine.

Just then I turned, purely by accident, and saw
Comte de Boissergent coming jauntily along the

TTbe palace Corcf^or 103

corridor. He was one of the most dissolute nobles
in France, yet in great favour with the Churchmen,
because he had hunted down three or four Huguenot
noblemen who had posed as Catholics. The Comte's
history, which was common property, flashed through
my mind, and set moving there a train of thought
which lent a possible explanation of the remarkable
attitude of Father Calvisson. De Boissergent had
had no inheritance; was actually dependent on
gratuities which he received from distant relatives,
and on his winnings at the gaming tables. He
suddenly became a great landed proprietor, having
received from the King the estates of Vicomte
d'Urban, a Huguenot, who was now at the galleys.
The whisper went the round of the courtiers, and
notably among the ladies who had attended the
Queen, that De Boissergent had employed a Cur6
to disclose the admissions of the Vicomte at the
confessional.

I watched the priest's face, and thought that it
flushed somewhat when he saw the Comte pass by.
The altered expression was an apparent confirmation
of my suspicion. I touched the Curd's arm to make
him look at me, but he could not meet my eyes with
his.

" I must go," said he hastily, moving away ; but I
detained him.

"Stay, father!" I exclaimed, clutching at his
robe. "I want to know something before you

go."
" What ? " he asked querulously, trying with his

fingers to disengage himself.

•* Why have you so changed ? Why have you

I04 XTbe J'rown of Aaiests

deceived me ? Why have you persisted in this fable
of heresy ? "

He did not answer. For a second time his
effrontery failed him, and he would not look me
in the face.

" Is it money you want ? You know you had but
to ask for it in reason, and I would give it to you.
Then you would not have perjured your soul by
laying so foul a charge against me."

He was still silent, and his fingers were busier than
before, while his breath came and went quickly. I
had never seen him so disturbed. He started when I
deliberately put the test question, to take him by
surprise, and his unwholesome face grew mottled.

" Father Calvisson, that was the Comte de Bois-
sergent who passed just now, and doubtless you know
how he became rich after having been so poor ? "

" Mother of God ! " he cried, and although my hand
held him firmly, he wrenched himself away, and
hurried down the corridor.

I did not follow, for several ladies came round the
corner, laughing gaily, and I was anxious not to
create a scene. I drew within the curtains not to be
observed, and, alone, thought out the matter carefully.
This much I was certain of, that I was in danger, that
a scheme for my undoing was being concocted, and
that someone was following on the lines which had
been pursued so successfully by the Comte de
Boissergent

What could be worse for me than this unfortunate
visit of the King to Marly ?

CHAPTER XI

THE WATER-PARTY

It was reported that the King would not return to
Paris until the week was out, so that I had some
respite. If I remained excluded from the royal
presence, neither could any other have audience. I
had but to be alert, and take my opportunity when
it came.

My inclination was to remain in the seclusion of
my room in the Rue de Richelieu, among the books
I bought or borrowed of my friends ; or go to a
cabaret in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier, where I should
meet Boileau, Racine, La Fontaine, or others of the
famous literati of the capital. It was a relief when-
ever one had had a spell at Court to join such men,
and be able for a time to shut out the frivolity and
heartlessness, the brilliance and immorality, which
jarred on one who was accustomed to the quietness
of country life. These men — highly educated, philo-
sophical, some of them speculative — had their fun and
nonsense, their jests and epigrams, their raillery and
irony, and the room in which they met sometimes
rang with laughter. But they were in such contrast
to those men and women who fluttered like moths
about the great central light within the palace,

reckless and heedless of the graver matters of life.

105

io6 xrbe J'rown of ftsaicsVs

But one is never master of himself, and is com-
pelled to pay the tribute levied by Society. Not
caring, therefore, to carry my heart on my sleeve,
I went here and there in the city, dining with my
friends, attending card-parties and musical masses,
going to the opera and comedy theatre, to dances,
wherever fancy took me, or my presence was
demanded.

Such things were the penalties of station. There
was a certain compulsion to play one's part in the
maze of beauty and brilliancy, and amid the infinities
of compliments, affectations, and civilities. Had it
not been for the tyranny of Society, I should have
preferred the pleasures of the cabaret I have named,
and to be away from circles where modesty was rare,
and where, as one of my friends declared, without
any stretch of truth — I think it was Nicolas Boileau —
" Every standard of right and wrong is overthrown
by the brilliant, and witty, and well-dressed vices
crowding in."

One morning I called to see my cousin, the
beautiful Comtesse du Roure.

" Ha, M. le Vicomte, my messenger is on his way
to the Rue de Richelieu with a billet-doux for you ! "
she exclaimed laughingly, as I crossed the richly
carpeted floor to kiss her hand.

'' Indeed, madame ? I had no idea that you cared
for me sufficiently to write me a love-letter," I
responded mischievously, for she and I were always
at cross-purposes — wilfully so.

" Fie on you, Monsieur de Belliot ; what conceit ! "
she answered, slapping my fingers with her jewelled
fan.

TTbe T[aiater<>parts 107

"But you said it was a bilUt-doux^ Comtesse,'* I
persisted. " And is not that a love-letter ? "

" No, monsieur ; just a dear little note, and richly
perfumed to lower your spirits and render you less
refractory. 'Twas to ask you to join my water-party
this afternoon."

" All depends, madame, on the company," I said
teasingly. " Will it be suitable for such as I ? "

"Now, Fulcran, do not be so tormenting," said
she, pouting her ruby lips, which needed no art on
her dresser's part to lend them any charm. " I do
not think you shall go with us. You have come to
the capital a dull countryman in everything, save in
your capacity for being disagreeable to the best
friend you have in all the world. What do you
say to that?" she asked, pointing her fan at me
with mock severity.

" What can a poor countryman say, cousin, whose
only mentor is his cur6, and that cur6 Father
Calvisson ? "

She lifted her hands with a gesture of impatience —
not with me, but with the Churchman.

" That Calvisson I The shameful man ! Compare
him with my affectionate little Abb6, as good a man
as ever walked the earth. If I were the Archbishop,
I would unfrock your parish priest He is lewd,
drunken, lying, scandalous in every way. Why do
you keep him in your parish ? Why does not that
big fellow Rousard duck him in the horse-pond ? "

" He would do so if I would allow it"

"I will tell him not to heed you, Fulcran, the
next ,time I see him. What is Father Calvisson
doing in Paris? Has he no duties at Tour? I

io8 TTbe J'rown of /ftajcsts

saw him loitering about the palace this morning
when I came away from Madame's apartments."

She meant Madame de Maintenon.

"Did he see the King, Catherine?" I asked,
dropping all banter, and talking freely to the woman
with whom I had played and squabbled in our
childhood.

** The King is still at Marly, and Madame is with
him. Besides, you amaze me with your question.
What should such as he want with His Majesty ? "
she asked sharply, displaying the prejudice of her
rank, and expressing her disapproval thereby of the
liberty of access which the King allowed his subjects.

We had often exchanged confidences, being as
brother and sister to each other ; and now, longing
for someone in whom to confide, I told her what
had brought me up to the capital.

" Shall I tell Madame de Maintenon ? " she asked
presently, while I sat beside her on the gilded couch.
"You know how she saved De Girardon by her
interference."

"Wait a while, cousin. I am here to have the
first word with the King, unless he should return
unexpectedly."

•"Very well. I will send you word if I get to
know of the time of his coming. I think it will
not be yet, for Madame loves to have him to her-
self at Marly. There she can work her sweet will
with him, and forward her own pet schemes. By
the way, why do you not approach her yourself?
She is not half as bitter against the Huguenots as
the King is, so that if you are tainted with the
heresy — "

TTbe Mater^patts ^09

" I am not, cousin ! " I interrupted emphatically.

She had been looking anxious, but spoke
immediately with great relief:

"So much the better, then. She would make it
right with the King, even should Calvisson get the
first audience with His Majesty. She is omnipotent
over Louis," she added. " Tis true she is a bigot,
but she always recommends milder measures. I
know for a fact that she has several Huguenot
servants whom she shields — her own dresser, for
example. Get Madame on your side."

" I have never spoken with her in private, cousin,"
said I, somewhat dolefully.

"Leave it to me, Fulcran. A fine, handsome
fellow like you should win her heart, where the
lean-faced, sour-looking priest would rouse all her
resentment But let it pass. There is plenty of
time. Now about this water-party — will you come ?
I have the loveliest maiden coming. I shall tell
you nothing about her," she added, when I asked
the Comtesse to describe her. "You will see her
if you care to join us."

" Oh, but I will ! " I cried, easier at heart now that
I had confided in one whose influence was great at
Court.

" Then please leave me now, for I want to com-
plete my arrangements. We start at two, and it is
now eleven! Inconsiderate man, to hinder me so,
when I have such weighty matters in hand!" she
cried, with mock severity, turning to the table, on
which a silver bell was standing.

I left the Comtesse with a light heart, knowing
that she was in favour with the King, and possessed

no xTbe J'rown of Aaiests

of great influence with that remarkable woman who
ruled him, and was said to be privately married to
His Majesty. Neither one of them was accessible
as yet, but I felt freer than at any moment since I
rode through the gateway of my chiteau at Tour.
I could trust the Comtesse to do her utmost now
that I had told her all ; and feeling thus, I entered
into the full pleasure of the day.

There was never a more glowing afternoon than
that when the bargemen cast off from the marble
steps at the end of the Comtesse's garden, and
suffered the many-coloured and gilded craft to
float down the stream. The purple sail filled out
before the breeze, and carried us onward, past the
flowered meadows, against whose banks we some-
times brushed slowly when the wind had dropped.
Then one snatched at the yellow iris, or pulled up
some water-scorpion grass, which he laid in the lap
of the woman who had planned this excursion.

The ladies fell into the mood of that summer-time
upon the river. One dropped her bejewelled hand
over the barge's side, and about it the waters played
and splashed, and in the sunshine the liquid drops
vied with the precious stones for glancing beauty.
Another sang a song in vogue at Court with all the
abandon of one inured to the license of the palace.
Presently one of the gentlemen drew out a copy of
the Mercure Galant^ a Society paper, from which,
with the Comtesse's permission, he read bits of
gossip and tales of gallantry, which made eyes fall
in turn on this one or that, and brought a flush to the
face, or sallies of laughter.

When the tittle-tattle had been exhausted, and the

XTbe XRnater^parts m

paper was tossed out on the waters amid the protests
of some of the ladies, the Comtesse looked round for
someone else who might amuse the company. Jean
de la Fontaine was there, and Jean Racine, too — the
one, that day, heavy and dull, unmoved by the com-
panionship of so many gaily dressed and laughing
beauties, because of his lapse into dreamland in
search of another fable with which to charm the
world ; the other — I mean Racine — incessant with
his biting raillery, which set the idle men upon their
mettle, and made the women yet more vivacious, and
praise him boldly for his championship of their sex.
It was pungency among so much that was insipid,
strength amid so many puerilities, to hear a man
speak without regard to the prejudices that swayed
the frequenters of a Court where lies and intrigues
were as daily bread.

Racine responded to my cousin's look. What he
said was taken in good part, and one and all sat
spell-bound in the barge, hanging on the player's
words. Some of the^ ladies, listening, went from
sympathetic tears to sudden laughter. Even the
bargemen, with knowing looks, thrust their thumbs
into their neighbours' ribs, and bade them mark well
what was being said, and take it all to heart for
future amendment

We were resting at the time at a bit of wooded
waterside, and Racine read some portions of his
greatest play. It was Phidre, and the listeners had
already seen the play upon the stage at the H6tel de
Bourgogne. That afternoon he rehearsed it with the
passion that had won him fame. The men's eyes
were fixed on the player's face, and their cheeks

112 XTbe J'rown of Aa jests

paled when he lashed at Vice. The women, who sat
with folded hands and parted lips while he was doing
so, relapsed into smiles when he rewarded Virtue, and
flung contempt on Evil and her seductions. From
time to time they clapped their hands, turning their
laughing, mocking faces to the gallants, whose con-
sciences the scathing lines hit mercilessly. When
Racine passed from this graver theme, they shrieked
with an ecstasy of delight.

I had eyes and ears for one woman only while this
was going on. The Comtesse had brought with her
the acknowledged beauties of Paris, but none could
compare with Louise de St Andre. When my
cousin presented me, I was amazed at her loveliness.
I cannot describe it. The fact that she was somewhat
embonpoint was an addition to her charms. It accorded
more with my own ideal of beauty. Her gaze was
frank and open, and her blue eyes gave one no
thought of the wantonness that lurked behind the
demure looks of the other ladies who greeted me.

** Fulcran, you are smitten," whispered my cousin,
when the talk began after Racine had folded his
manuscript, and flung himself back in his seat to chat
with one of the ladies.

" Smitten ? I am bewildered. I had no idea that
there was such an one in Paris."

" There was not until a month ago. She has been
shut up by her jealous sister in the chateau at
Broneau, and this is her first look out on the world.
Beware how you treat her, Fulcran. I do not want
her spoilt"

"Spoilt? How could I dare? She is too good,
too beautiful ! "

TTbe Matet^patti? 113

"Do not venture. I fear the Dauphin. He has
already seen her, and is pestering me to help his
suit, which, of course, I shall not do. Louise is a
thousand times too good to be his mistress. The
other men will try, but I shall guard her well in this
abominable city, where we have so much wanton
flattery, such high living, and low thinking. Listen,
Fulcran," went on the Comtesse, tapping my shoulder
with her fan to attract my attention, for my eyes were
wandering to the girl, whose dainty hand hung over
the barge and caught the waters.

" I am listening, cousin.'*

" The women there who are caressing her so fondly
— look at Madame Croisat, for example — will awaken
to her charms, and be madly jealous. For how will
the men resist such beauty ? I almost wish I had not
brought her to the capital."

" Then I should not have seen her."

" Suppose the King should see her ? What con-
fusion if Madame de Maintenon should realise that
he had lost his heart to her ! "

" God forbid ! '* I exclaimed jealously, although I
had not yet touched mademoiselle's hand, and scarcely
knew the sound of her voice. " But look ! " said I
abruptly, pointing to the meadow on the other side
of the river, forgetting Louise de St. Andrd and all
the others in my sudden excitement.

Two men and a woman were standing in the
middle of a group of elms, some little distance from
the bank. One was M. de TEperon — his bandaged
arm was the guarantee of his identity — the other
man was the Curd of Tour. The woman I did not
know.

H

H4 Ztx frown of ttaicsts

" Who are they ? and what of them ? " asked the
Comtesse, when she turned at my touch upon her
hand. Like me, she saw the three in busy converse,
and so absorbed that they did not observe us, " Ha !
the woman's face is familiar, but I cannot recall
her in any way. One of the canaille — a grisette,
perhaps. You can tell that it is so by the manner of
the creature as she stands, by the style of her dress,
by the gesture, by her whole bearing. I am ashamed
of De I'Eperon, a gentleman bom, and of a priest, to
come so far afield with such as she."

The woman turned while the Comtesse whispered
to someone, and then I saw the face. There was an
evil look upon it, and a strange twist of the mouth as
the sun and shadow played on it through the leaves
which shifted in the breeze. The woman's whole
expression was fixed in my memory with that one
glance \ fixed because a suspicion was aroused with
seeing her in such company. I wondered whether
that conference concerned me.

Before my cousin was free to speak with me again,
the three who made up that incongruous group
among the trees began to move away, and presently
disappeared behind the hedgerow.

I turned to my immediate surroundings, and when,
not long afterwards, we stepped upon the bank, and
scattered about the meadow while the servants were
spreading the meal upon the grass beneath the
willows, the Comtesse took Louise and me apart,
and walked with us a little time. Presently she went
away to see that the repast was arranged to suit her
fastidious taste, so that Louise and I were left alone
tt^ether.

Ube matet'pattB "5

Walking alor^ the edge of the stream, we came
to some flowers — the fleur de luce — and my com-
panion, stooping, picked two or three of the purple
blossoms, and held them up for me to smelt, smiling
while she did so. But a look of dismay came into
her face.

" I have lost my ring t " she cried, looking at her
white hand.

I went down on my knees at once, and after long
seeking found the treasure. It was an Oriental ruby
of inestimable value and wonderful beauty, embedded
in a massive ring of gold, so shaped that the ruby
itself was held between a thumb and two finger-tips
of the precious metal. The ruby light in the heavens,
as the sun sank westwards, was rich and vivid, but not
more so than that which flashed from the jewel I
held.

Louise clapped her hands with pleasure when she
saw that I had found it, and taking it from me
eagerly, returned it to her Rnger.

" *Tis a trifle too large for me, as you see, but I
love to wear it, because it was my mother's, and I
loved her dearly," she added simply, and with a
tremor in her voice. " I thank you, M. le Vicomte,
with all my heart."

I saw, by her sparkling eyes and her grateful tone,
that she laid great store by the ring, and that she
considered I had rendered her a service. After that
all strangeness between us was gone, and we walked
on and on until the signal came for our return to the
barge.

What we talked of I do not know ; but when we

ii6

XTbe fvoym of Aajests

parted that evening, I was not the same as he who,
a few days before, had left the chateau at Tour. For
I had learned to love ; and to do that is to change
one's whole nature. It is regeneration.

CHAPTER XII

TWO LETTERS

The King remained at Marly.

The talk among the judges, courtiers, military men,
and ministers was that the State — so much to Louis
— had become, for the time being, a secondary thing
with His Majesty, and that the hold which Madame
de Maintenon had upon him was more pronounced
than it had ever been since the King had first suc-
cumbed to the then widow Scarron. Monseigneur ^
and the Dauphin were content at the King's absence,
for whenever Louis was in Paris he was to them a sort
of watch-dog, hampering their movements, and per-
petually frustrating them in their scandalous intrigues
with the ladies of the Court

" When the cat's away, the mice will play," said my
cousin the Comtesse laughingly, a few mornings after
the water-party. Someone had been retailing what
she called some refreshing Court gossip, in which
these royalties were inculpated, and she told it to me.
" But what matter ? Is Louis the Fourteenth himself
immaculate ? "

" That is treason, cousin," I remonstrated, looking
round quickly to see whether any were in the room

^ Francois Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Conti.

117

ii8 XTbc frown of Aajests

besides ourselves, to carry words to the King's ears
which might have brought her trouble.

" Tis all right, Fulcran. There's not a soul within
hearing," she declared, with pretended contrition.
" And the Grand Monarque will never know unless
you turn traitor, and tell him. Cousin," she said, after
a momentary pause, " Louise is gone to the Chelteau
de Neure."

" Near Marly ? " I asked eagerly, and flushing at
the unexpected mention of the name of the woman
who had so completely conquered me, supplanting
everyone and everything that had hitherto interested
me. "Then she will not join us at the dance
to-night ? " I added, with a feeling of intense disap-
pointment ; for I had been looking forward to the
entertainment, for which the Comtesse was making
such elaborate preparations. " What made her go
while the dance was so near ? "

" She would not have gone but for a letter which
came, bidding her join Marie, Marquise de Lauzun,
at once, because she was taken suddenly ill, and
wished to see her. Here is the letter. Louise read it
to me, and tossed it on the table petulantly, saying
that her cousin was always doing something at
inopportune times. You can read it for yourself,
Fulcran."

I was not interested in the epistle, — only concerned
at the absence of the woman with whom I had hoped
to dance ; but since the Comtesse held it out to me,
and it would have been rude to decline, I took it and
glanced it through — one of the most ordinary of
notes, but for its somewhat peremptory wording.
Something in the handwriting, however, attracted

XCwo Xetters 119

my attention. I had seen it elsewhere — ^yes, and, as I
thought, very recently. I looked at it so intently,
and for so long a time, that the Comtesse grew
impatient

" You must have read it through and through, and
got it off by heart, Fulcran. Have you fallen in love
with the writer ? I warn you she is no beauty, and
her husband would not object to be rid of her, I
think."

I took no notice of the bantering words, but put
the question which was running in my own mind.

" Who is the writer ? Not the Marquise ? "

"Oh, dear, no! She writes a scrawly letter, a
dozen words to the page, and undecipherable, with
all the lines running uphill."

" The writing here is small, distinct, and straight
I wonder why she employed an amanuensis ? That,
perhaps, is explained by her illness. It looks fami-
liar, cousin. Do you object to my keeping the letter
for a day or two? I am studying handwriting just
now. Racine and I were talking of resemblances in
writing only yesterday, and this is strikingly like
some which I read last night May I take it ? "

" By all means," the Comtesse answered indiffer-
ently, and dismissing the matter by talking of the
coming dance, and some of the ladies with whom she
desired me to be pleasant.

Half an hour later I was striding along the streets,
brushing by all whom I met, gentlemen, cobblers,
and rag-patchers — any who chanced to be in the way
of one who had no eyes for what was going on,
because of being buried deep in thought. I suppose
that some of them turned round and stared after me;

lao Zbc frown of Obaiestg

possibly they indulged in comments anything but
flattering — the rich at my rudeness, or for cutting my
acquaintance, which was a social crime I would not
have been guilty of willingly ; the poor at my
brutality in treating them as canaille, and regardless
of their being heavy-laden. One lady, who was
passing in a sedan-chair, waved her fan at me by
way of greeting. I bowed mechanically, and went
on, although she thrust her head out of the window,
and called after me.

When I reached the house in the Rue de Richelieu,
I nearly overturned Ren^ Bandelet, who was doing
his best to fill up the wide doorway ; then tramping
by him without a word, and down the pass£^e, I
turned into my room, and went straight to the
bureau. Unlocking one of the drawers, I took out a
letter I had received the night before from Father
Calvisson, wherein he humbly asked for five hundred
pistoles, since he had incurred some heavy liabilities
for one to whom he wished to be of service. He
added that if I could oblige him, he should be able
to return to Tour at once

It looked like safety for me, and as if the threatened
chaise of Huguenotism would come to nothing.

" By all means," I had said, with a deep breath of
relief. " Anything to get the Cur6 out of Paris."

The pistoles went at once to the Rue Galande by
the hand of Rousard, who wanted no telling to be
quick about hts business, when I told him its nature.
The idea that I was to be freed from this threaten-
ing personal peril was not the reason for my eager
perusal of Calvisson's letter. Therewas another motive.
I took it to the window-sill, and spread it open beside

XCwo Xettets i^i

the epistle which had been received by Louise de
St Andrd. The first glance, by way of coniparison,
caused me to clench my fists, and I turned sick with
dread. Then I traced the lines of both letters
slowly.

"What can it mean?" said I, aloud again and
again, leaving ihe two letters side by side, while I
walked up and down the narrow room, only to return
from time to time to re-examine the epistles.

Rousard stood in the open doorway of the apart-
ment, and watched me for a while as I tramped
about without taking any notice of him, presently
halting to stare through the window into the street
He only spoke when he saw the sweat-drops on my
forehead — the consequences of a terrible suggestion
that had swept through my mind.

" Anything wrong, monsieur ? " he asked anxiously,
more loyal than curious, and stepping into the
room.

" Shut the door and come here."

The man obeyed, and was at my side promptly.

" Look at these two letters, and tell me what you
think about them. You need not read them," I
added, and he glanced at me strangely, naturally
wondering why he should be asked for an opinion on
two epistles, if he could not peruse them. He turned
them over and over in his hands, shook his head, and
spoke candidly.

" If I must not read them, I do not see the use of
looking at them, monsieur."

" It is not the contents I am concerned with.
Look at the two letters, and tell me what strikes your
mind concerning them."

132 XTbe jfrown of Aajests

"Nothing more than this, that they are both
written by Father Calvisson," he answered bluntly,
somewhat testily, too.

" But why by the Cur6 ? Why not by two
different persons ? "

"Well, that is easily answered, monsieur. The
handwriting is the same in each. There is the letter
you showed me yesterday, and here is another written
by the same hand."

'• That was what I wanted to know, Rousard. Now
you can read them both, and tell me your own ideas
about them."

The man was a slow reader, but his wit was certain
and quick. When he had laid the two epistles on the
window-sill again, his opinion coincided with mine —
with that suggestion which filled me with a fear so
terrible that it caused the sweat-drops to stand out
on my forehead.

"The names in the two letters are different,
monsieur, but the same hand wrote them. It looks
to me as if the Cur6 sent to you for money without
any intention of going back to Tour, and that this
letter to Mademoiselle de St. Andrd is a decoy."

" Mon Dieu I I thought the same, Rousard ! " I
cried, nearly beside myself with dread for the safety
of Louise.

A fearful suspicion came, based on some private
knowledge which the Comtesse had imparted to me.
Louise was at heart a Huguenot, although she passed
as a good Catholic. She was rich, too, enormously
rich, holding lands which would be sufficient dowry
had she wedded one of the princes of the blood. She
was surpassingly beautiful and accomplished ; a rich

XTwo Xcttcrs 123

man would have taken her gladly had she been as
poor as any of the peasant girls, and would have
thought himself fortunate in possessing her. One of
these facts would influence the Cur6. Calvisson
may have discovered her heresy, but that was doubt-
ful, since, as my cousin assured me, Louise had kept
the knowledge to herself— had been, as it were,
judiciously worshipping in the House of Rimmon,
by reason of her danger if she were suspected of
Huguenotism.

It was common knowledge that a man convicted
of being a Huguenot would be sent to the galleys ;
that a heretic woman, whatever her rank, her wealth,
or her beauty, would be condemned to lifelong im-
prisonment in the Tower of Constance or the Castle
of Sommieres, each as infamous for the tortures
inflicted as any of the prison chambers of the
Inquisition, since the Edict had been revoked.

The horror in either place was assured, and seemed
to set my hair on end ; for I knew that over the gate
of the Tower of Constance was an inscription similar
to that which the Florentine dreamer saw written
over the doorway of Hell: "All hope abandon, ye
who enter here ! " The bare possibility of the in-
carceration of such a woman in such a place nearly
drove me mad. The fact of her having so much
wealth would the more readily seal her doom, for the
estates, on her conviction, would be conflscated to
the Crown ; and it was well known that the King's
need of money was at the time a desperate one ; or
if the fancy took His Majesty, they would go to
whomsoever he was disposed to reward.

While tramping up and down the room, followed

124 iTbe jftown of ObaieeVs

by the eyes of my faithful retainer, who did not know
what to say, there came the memory of that pleasure
trip upon the Seine, and of that group of three
among the elms — the Cur6, M. de TEperon, and the
evil-looking woman with the twisted mouth.

Had the interview of those three anything to do
with this decoy letter ? for I was certain it was such.
Was De TEperon wishful to marry Louise, to get her
money, having the Cur6 as his accomplice, and
purposing to make this woman her jailer — this
creature who was surely a stranger to tenderness and
pity?

The thoughts poured in upon one another, and
became so intolerable that I sat down at the table,
where I buried my face in my hands, savage at my
helplessness.

" Some wine, Rousard !*' I cried, fearing lest I should
yield to the faintness that crept upon me.

The man went to the sideboard and brought a cup
of Madeira, which put new vigour into me when I
drank it off.

" One for yourself, Rousard ; then we will talk the
matter over."

"What say you?" said I, while my companion
drank.

He laid the empty cup on the table, and answered
briefly :

'* Ride as fast as horse can carry you to the Chclteau
de Neure, monsieur. And let me ride with you," he
added.

" *Tis a good suggestion. Look to the horses, while
I see to our being fitly armed. There may be some
rough work to be done. But stay," I cried, when

XCwo Xetters

Z25

Rousard was turning to the door, "would it be
well to take someone with us ? "

"The fewer the better, to start with, monsieur,"
was the reply ; and seeing me nod approval, the other
walked away.

CHAPTER XIII

MISSING

In less than an hour we were riding westward along
the road which led to Marly, but it was not until
we rode past the chclteau that had belonged to
Cardinal Richelieu, that I grew sufficiently calm to
think matters over. I had come from the capital,
actuated by some wild impulse, without having con-
sidered my right to institute a search for Louise de
St Andr6. Had the ladies and gentlemen in Paris
been acquainted with the actual relationship between
us, and had they heard of my self-imposed task, I
suppose they would have pronounced my enterprise
Quixotic. And one could scarcely blame them. I
was engaged on an errand of rescue before I knew
that Mademoiselle de St Andr6 was in any peril.
If she were really missing, I was bent on finding one
to whom I had never spoken a word of love — of
whom, indeed, I was scarcely a friend, barely more
than a mere acquaintance. She might have passed
out of my life as quickly and unexpectedly as she
had entered it

But all such thoughts I set aside impatiently.
While I might be nothing to her, she was everything
to me. She had my love; she was possibly in

danger. There must be some conspiracy to do her

126

harm, and that was sufficient motive for my self-
imposed mission.

Jealousy, too, played some part in the matter.
The recurring memory of that incongruous group in
the meadow associated itself with this disappearance,

" M. de TEperon," thought I, " is in league with
Calvisson to cajole her into marriage — he to get her
wealth, the money-loving priest to perform the cere-
mony, and receive a large sum in payment for his
share in the abduction." The part of the woman with
the twisted mouth I could not conceive, but possibly
the abducted girl was to be placed in her keeping.

Imagination turning me into this new direction, led
me to suppose the Cur^ intruding on Louise, with the
woman as her jailer, telling the poor girl that she was
in direst danger because of her heresy, working thus
upon her fears. Then I seemed to hear him assuring
her that she could escape the penalty by marrying
M. de TEperon, who was in love with her. How easy
for the courtier to pay the priest a large sum of
money after she had been frightened into consent
Ten thousand, or even twenty thousand pistoles
would scarcely be missed as the price of such service
when once De TEperon was master of Louise de St
Andre's fortune.

Whatever scheme my fancy suggested, it was
maddening. It all meant unhappiness for Louise —
most probably extreme danger — and certainly the
frustration of my own hopes of making her my wife,
if once she got to know me intimately.

I spurred my horse vigorously, and rode along the
street of Reuil at a furious gallop, which brought the
people to their doors, and drew Rousard after me in

138 XTbe jftown of Aa jests

a state of wonderment as to what had caused me to
make such a sudden dash.

" Have you seen anything, monsieur ? " he asked
eagerly, when my horse slowed down after a long
run, and he was enabled to draw level with me.

" Nothing," I answered, riding on without vouch-
safing any explanation.

At the bend of the Seine the road to the Chateau
de Neure broke off from that which led to Marly, and
ran towards Noisy. It was necessary, in order to
reach the house of the Marquise de Lauzun by the
shortest route, to leave that town to the left, and
traverse the forest of Marly for a couple of miles
along a path barely wide enough for a coach to pass,
and so deserted that few cared to travel it alone.
Someone had erected a rude crucifix at the en-
trance, and to a tree close by was affixed, upon a
rough bracket, an image of the Virgin. A peasant
was kneeling at the cross, but when he saw us turning
our horses to take the winding road, he rose to his
feet quickly, and threw his arms wide open, as if to
hinder us. On being challenged for an explanation,
he declared that the path was haunted, and that none
ever passed that way. I scorned his suggestion that
we should ride along the forest edge, and so avoid the
ghostly perils he enumerated, and we both rode past
him. It was an unusual act of grace on the peasant's
part towards one of my class, seeing that the nobles
were so soundly hated by the people.

There were no houses on the way after we left the
open country behind us, save one which stood back a
hundred yards or thereabouts to our left. It dis-
played no great pretensions when seen from the

Afssfno 129

distance, but had evidently once been the abode of a
man of wealth. The walls were covered with ivy,
which hung in such heavy festoons over the windows
that Rousard remarked that the rooms must have
been as dark as if they had been shuttered. The
chimneys were smokeless, the outhouses in a deplor-
able state of dilapidation, the doors tightly closed
and ivy-covered, and nothing living was at hand to
suggest that the place was occupied. But there was
no need for us to take the trouble to find out whether
the house had any occupants. We were bent on
assuring ourselves that Louise de St Andr^ was with
the Marquise de Lauzun.

As we rode along this woodland path I had to
think of the explanation I should give for my visit to
the chateau. If I found her with the Marquise, what
should I say ? Could I tell her that I had established
myself as her knight-errant when I possessed no claim
to anything more than friendship, and that only of
a few days' standing? That would be absurd, and
might be readily construed into an intrusion. I had
no alternative but to resort to a bit of pardonable
duplicity, explaining my presence at the chateau by
saying that, having heard of the illness of the Mar-
quise, I had turned out of my way to make inquiries.
That would seem reasonable, since I knew her
intimately.

After a time we rode along the avenue which
wound its way through the magnificent park for
nearly a mile. It ended abruptly at a stream which
ran briskly by to join the Seine. From the opposite
bank stretched the greensward, bounded by some
rising ground, on the slope of which stood an ancient

ISO TTbe jfrown of Aajests

house, its grey, weather-beaten walls and embattled
towers looking formidable in their simple severity, as
the sunshine of the summer afternoon fell on them.
The drawbridge had been lowered, and we could look
into the spacious courtyard.

Before crossing the bridge which spanned the
stream, we halted, and at that moment saw a little
company ride forth, preceded by a lady on horseback.
Some dogs were leaping about her, noisily expressing
their delight at the prospect of a run across the
undulating, tree-dotted country.

The rider who led the way did not follow the
winding road, but came across the grass in a straight
line, her horse's feet occasionally kicking up the
gravel and dust where the path swept round to inter-
cept her. She was riding to the bridge, on the other
side of which we had halted, and the dogs, taking
notice of our presence, bounded forward with loud
clamour.

Seeing us, the lady rode towards us at a hand-gallop,
and pulled up for a moment at the other end of the
bridge.

" I give you greeting, M. le Vicomte," she cried
merrily. " Welcome to De Neure ! Have you come
to stay ? "

She approached when she had spoken, meeting
me midway on the bridge, with her gloved hand
extended.

My answer took her by surprise.

" I heard that you were seriously ill, madame."

I tried to speak cheerfully, but it was not possible.
Here was proof that the letter which induced Louise
to leave my cousin, the Comtesse, and ride to the

ObiseinQ 131

Chateau de Neure was what I had suspected — a
decoy.

The Marquise laughed gaily at the bare suggestion
of illness, and as she sat in her saddle, with her
hounds loitering about her, and her restless horse
keeping her hand in constant motion as he tossed his
head, or shifted from side to side, she looked like a
woman who did not know what sickness meant The
glow of health was in her cheeks, and the fresh
country air played on a face that had no need of
cosmetics.

" I have not had a day's sickness, M. le Vicomte,
for ten years or more ; and so far from being ill, I hope
to ride to St Germain and back before we sup. I
would ask you to join us, but perhaps your horses are
tired ? " She did not give me time to speak. " If
you would care to come, your horse may be stalled,
and you shall ride one of mine. Now come, I pray
you, monsieur," she added. '* I am longing to hear
what is doing in Paris. Is it true that the King is
still with Madame de Maintenon at Marly ? And is
it true that my lovely cousin, Louise de St. Andr^,
is with the Comtesse du Roure ? "

She spoke so volubly, and her animal spirits carried
her on so fluently, that I could not say anything ; but
when she mentioned Louise by name, I broke in
upon her words, heedless as to whether she thought
me lacking in courtesy or otherwise.

"Madame, 'tis because of Mademoiselle de St
Andr6 that I am here to-day."

" Fie on you, M. le Vicomte ! " she cried, laughing
again. " I thought you had come to see fne ! Have
you, then, lost your heart to her, as I hear other

133 Vbc frown of Aajesti?

gallants have done? I have been told that the
decree against duelling is likely to become a dead
letter in Paris on her account, and 'tis even whispered
that the Dauphin is smitten. M. le Vicomte, I have
half a mind to ride on and bid you good-day," she
added, with mock severity.

•* Seriously, madame," I interposed ; but she went
on again before I could say another word. It was a
text for her, and she took it up flippantly.

" Who would say * Seriously, madame * on such a
glorious day ? Come, monsieur, your horse does not
look so tired after all ; so join me, and let us ride
on.

"One moment, I pray you," said I, moving my
horse close to her side. '' I have something serious
to say."

The laughing face became grave, and the vivacity
passed. She sat her horse silently, and waited.

" A letter reached Louise this morning — pardon
the apparent liberty I take in speaking of her thus I "
I exclaimed, breaking off when I saw that she looked
at me in some surprise because of the familiarity I
had inadvertently displayed in my anxiety. Then
1 went on quickly, for this was no time for
explanations: "A letter came to her this morning
from yourself, bidding her come to you without delay,
since you were very ill, and likely to die."

The eyes of the Marquise opened wide, and a look
of wonder swept across her face. She doubtless
thought me demented.

" Monsieur, I have not written to my cousin for six
months or more ! " she cried.

" Then you did not write this ? " I asked, drawing

AfSSfnO 133

the suspected letter from my breast, where I had held
it in safe keeping.

She took it from my hand, glanced at it quickly,
then held it out at arm's length in scorn.

"If Louise thought that I wrote this letter, she
must be gone mad. Tis no more of my writing than
it is that of my mastiff yonder. 'Tis written with a
man's hand, as anyone may see."

"So I thought, and so I feared, madame," I
answered. " But since you did not write that letter,
matters must be serious for mademoiselle, and there
must be some devilry afoot. Is she not here ? "

" Here ? I have not seen her for two months.
Then she was at St Germain, driving the gentlemen
mad with love and jealousy," she replied, with forced
gaiety ; but it was easy to see that she was anxious.

" I waited on my cousin, the Comtesse du Roure,
this morning, and she gave me this letter to read.
Mademoiselle Louise had started some hours before
because of it ; she was so anxious when she heard
that you were ill."

** Foolish girl, to suppose that I should write such a
man's hand as that I " said the Marquise, displaying
considerable annoyance in look and tone.

"She may have concluded that, being ill, you
employed some one to serve as your amanuensis,
madame. 'Tis a growing custom with ladies of
rank."

" Of course; naturally," she admitted.

We were silent for a while, each engaged in anxious
thought Her horse fretted at the enforced halt,
and the ladies in attendance, and grooms behind,
gazed at us curiously, wondering what had reduced

134 trbe frown at Aajestt?

the Marquise from vivacity to perplexity, and to such
obvious anxiety.

" Come to the chAteau, M. le Vicomte," said the
lady, breaking the awkward silence.

" Excuse me, madame. If mademoiselle is not
here, I must seek her instantly. This letter has been
sent, as I feared, to serve as a decoy for some villain's
purpose. Farewell, madame 1 "

I was gathering up the reins, when she asked me
simply :

" Is my cousin anything to you, that you take this
so much to heart?"

" She is the world to me, madame. To her I am
probably nothing — perhaps less than nothing ; but
because she is so much to me, I am going to find her.
Farewell ! "

" God speed you, monsieur I I, too, will send
everywhere to seek for her. Heaven grant that she
may have come to no harm I "

She waved her hand in grave adieu, and we swung
our horses round, to ride away in opposite directions.

CHAPTER XIV

THE HOUSE IN THE FOREST

I HAD told the Marquise de Lauzun that it was my
intention to find Louise; but when I turned my
horse's head to face the road which ted to Paris, I had
no idea as to what course was the best to pursue.

We had not gone far along the winding avenue
before I halted and held conference with Rousard,
who, having heard all that had passed between me
and the Marquise, required no explanation. My own
brain was fertile with imagination as to the peril of
Louise, but sluggish in suggestions concerning the
course to be followed in order to find her. The
detective instinct was not strong with me ; my mind
was not like that of many — prolific in expedients.
My book-lore — even such close acquaintance with
the satires of Rabelais — had not taught me much
as to the wiles of those who were bent on crime.
Rousard, for the nonce, was equally bewildered,
although I had hitherto found him quick-witted and
capable.

As a matter of fact, we had not compassed the
possibilities while riding to the chateau. The mind
is not capable of projecting itself beyond a certain
point. One grasps eventualities, but centres his
mind on these only for a while. He does not display

135

T3< trbe frown ot Aajests

any extraordinary capacity for remedies so long as
the uncertainty exists. It is when the average man
is face to face with new demands, when hopes have
proved chimerical, and only cruel facts are before
him, that he grapples with the difficulties, and forces
his mind to act under the new conditions.

As yet, while we consulted together in the avenue,
our minds were in a state of chaos. But gradually it
dawned upon us that it was alt<^ether unlikely, if
Louise had been decoyed, that her abductors would
bring her anywhere near to the spot named in the
letter. If they met her on the way they would con-
trive to lead her as far from the Chateau de Neure as
possible, lest, if any suspicion arose, they might be
quickly overtaken.

" We had better return to Paris, Rousard, and start
afresh. We might learn something when we are in
the city, or on the road."

" Yes, monsieur. We must also do what we ought
to have done, and what we did not do, while coming
hither — inquire at inns and houses whether any such
company as that we are seeking had passed."

The retainer hinted thus at our flagrant stupidity ;
for while travelling to inquire of the Marquise, we had
asked no questions of the wayfarers we had met, and
none of the innkeepers, as to their having seen any
persons going in the direction of the Chiteau de
Neure, who would answer to the Cur6, Louise, or De
I'Eperon. We had ridden hastily, only bent on reach-
ing the home of the Marquise de Lauzun. I had not
even made any inquiry as to the nature of Louise's
escort when she left the house of the Comtesse.

We resolved on retracing our steps towards Paris,

TCbe Douse in tbe forest 137

and be guided by such information as we might
pick up while on the road. Thereupon we spurred
our horses along the avenue, and into the winding
forest path.

I had forgotten the lonely house until we saw it
once more. It was as desolate as before ; a place
which a peasant would have passed quickly if alone,
crossing himself by way of warding oflF any possible
evil, supernatural or otherwise. Its stillness in such
a solitude gave the great building a threatening
aspect, so that I did not now wonder at the warning
we had received when we essayed the journey
through the forest.

"No use turning aside to make inquiries there,"
observed Rousard, as we drew the horses into
walking pace, the better to see whether there were
now any signs of life.

It seemed so improbable, after our scrutiny, that
anyone could be dwelling in a place so dilapidated,
that we did not halt ; but when we had ridden past,
the creaking sound of rusty hinges moving caused
me to turn quickly, my hand resting on the horse's
flank. Instantly curiosity was changed to wonder,
and an exclamation of astonishment coming from
my lips, Rousard, who had apparently not heeded
the sound, even if he had heard it, pulled up
his horse, saw in what direction I was gazing,
and looked back eagerly.

The shutter of one of the lower windows was open,
brushing back the heavy festoons of ivy, and a
woman was peering at us. There were her bare
arms, one hand resting on the sill, the other holding
the bolt Her bodice was open at the neck, and as

138 tCbe f tovm ot Aajeets

the light of the low-lying sun fell on her face, I saw
it plainly. Fancy may have been sporting with me,
but I thought I saw that evil-looking creature with
the twisted mouth. This was the picture of a
moment only — a quick flash, as it were, in the
slanting sunshine ; for the woman's face changed
swiftly from impudent satisfaction to alarm. Then
the shutter closed with a prolonged scream, and
the house assumed once more its appearance of
solitariness.

It was no dream on my part, some imaginary
vision of one about whom I had been thinking during
the forest ride, but a reality ; for Rousard cried :

" I saw a woman's face ! "

" You did. It belonged to her whom I saw in the
meadow the other day, talking with Father Calvisson
and M. de I'Eperon. What shall we do ? "

"Go to the house, and see what she may have
to tell us, monsieur."

We turned our horses, and rode across the so(t,
root-strewn moss and grass, reaching the door,
which, however, was fastened when I stooped from
the saddle and tried the latch. Not only were there
the marks of hoofs on the soil, but signs of a recent
entrance having been effected. Grass, ivy, climbing
plants, moss, and fungi had asserted themselves here,
hiding the stone doorstep, but had been roughly
broken tn upon by the opening of a door which had
not been used, perhaps, for years. Although it was
now closed tightly, some of the tendrils had fallen
inwards after the retreating door, and were caught
and crushed as in a vice which would not release
them ^ain.

XOic Douse in tbe forest 139

Dismounting, we knocked loudly for admission,
but no response came. There was that sound which
induces the sense of emptiness when a house is
uninhabited ; something so different to what is
heard when it is occupied. The blows fell heavily
and swiftly, but vainly, for we obtained no answer.

After a time Rousard looked to the windows, while
I remained at the door, to listen for any signs of
someone stirring within the house. They were too
firmly fastened to be opened by anyone outside, and
none could enter by them because they were securely
barred. When my servant returned and told me he
saw no possibility of entrance, I left him in charge
of the horses, and bade him continue knocking, while
I took my turn in seeking some mode of ingress.
He did as I desired, and his blows were loud
enough to wake any but the dead.

Stretching away to right and left of the house,
and in a line with it, was a wall, whether of stone
or timber I could not tell, it was so bunched and
overgrown with masses of evergreen. Passing along
the front face to the left, I came to some dense
brushwood, which, filling up the spaces among the
thickly-growing trees, completely hid the other
portion of the green boundary from the sight of
any who travelled on the forest path. It went 'off
at right angles for a great distance, and I followed
it until I came to a spot where the ivy had formed
a natural ladder. Pulling myself up among the
tangled growth, I was able to see what lay inside.

At one time there must have been an ordered
dignity within the enclosure, but Ruin had stalked
through the garden. Vines, olives, chestnuts, walnut,

I40 XTbe jftown of Aajests

apple, almond, and citron trees massed together.
Nature had her revenge on man for having robbed
her of a portion of her domain, for on regaining pos-
session, she effaced every token of his care. Amid
all this rank growth three or four cedars were stand-
ing. Wild vines had wound their clinging tendrils
about the trunks and branches, strangling the life out
of them, so that the once-green, over-hanging boughs
coloured and shrivelled, and drooped in the helpless-
ness of death.

Looking towards the house, I saw something mov-
ing — a woman. She was pushing her way among the
tall grass and weeds and thorns, but halted a moment
for a backward look at the house from whence she
seemed to be coming. When she turned again I saw
her plainly. Her bosom was bared to the sun, and
her hair was dishevelled. Her mouth was awry and
cruel ; her face was one to make a timid woman
shudder with dread — a face full of evil passions, and
scarred with blows she had received in drunken fights.
She was of the same stamp with those who had
screamed out the death-cry on the Eve of St
Bartholomew, and revelled in the bloodshed. One
could have imagined her among the murderous
Jacquerie who, three hundred years before, marched
through the land, athirst for the blood of the nobles.

Was it possible that Louise, so gentle and refined,
was in the keeping of such a creature, who was
swearing as she passed, and in such terms as to make
one marvel at the language human lips could frame ?
If so. Father Calvisson was infamous beyond concep-
tion. Even against a proved heretic such conduct
was inexcusable.

Ubc fMuse in tbe forest 141

I called aloud to her to stop, but when she heard
my voice she looked round quickly, then fled with
what speed she could, and with a frightened cry, to a
dense mass of shrub into which she plunged. One
could trace her course by the moving vegetation, and
by the crackle of the snapping twigs. It was impos-
sible to enter at that spot because of the dense bush
of thorns beneath, and having lost sight of her, I
climbed down and passed along outside the wall as
quickly as the tangled growth would allow.

At one place the ivy's ravages had broken down
the wall, and here I forced my way into the garden,
where the weeds and nettles were almost shoulder
high. Above the singing of the birds I could hear
at intervals Rousard's stentorian voice, and then a
volley of blows upon the door, but deadened by the
distance. It was clear that he had not succeeded in
getting anyone to answer his demand.

When I stood in the garden and looked around,
there was no sign of life, save that of the birds and
squirrels that had free access to the place. The fruit
bushes, gone wild, grew in great bunches here and
there, thickly enough to enable anyone to watch my
movements without being seen. Possibly the woman
was doing that now. If De I'Eperon had been within
the enclosure, he could have picked me off with a
musket readily, and none would have told his
Whereabouts but for the blue curl of smoke above
the bush.

At the bottom, where I supposed the virago to be
lurking, I could see between the trees the same stretch
of undergrowth that marked the boundary, and
beyond it the mighty trees of the forest. To my

143 TCbe f tovm of Aajestp

right was the house. It looked like the dwellir^ of a
well-to-do bourgeois, who had chosen to live there in
ease after a busy life in some Paris quarter. The
portion which faced the forest path was so overrun
with greenery that one could not tell whether it was
plain or ornamented ; but now I saw a terraced
dwelling, with three or four moss-grown steps which
led upwards to a doorway, overarched with rotten>
carved woodwork, about which ivy had grown, and
climbing plants had draped their heavy festoons.

The iron-barred windows had shutters also, some
of which were unclosed. Here one was fastened back
to the stuccoed wall, while another stood out at an
angle, just as the last wind had left it It was easy
to suppose that in bygone days the dwellers in this
place had looked out on an extensive garden, bright
and beautiful with its flower-beds and well-cut lawn,
and that many light-hearted groups had loitered in
the gravelled paths, or walked through shrubberies,
and beneath the trees which now towered over rank
grass and weeds, and tangled growth. In the centre
of the lawn stood a sun-dial, a horologist that had lost
the count of years, and now could barely mark the
time of day because rank weeds and ivy had twined
about the gnomon, and hid the mildewed plate.

I crossed to the terrace, loosening my rapier as I
went, to guard against any possible danger ; for how
could one say what he might expect P Mounting the
marble steps, I placed my hand on the massive door.
I had thought to find it fastened, but it opened slowly
when I pressed against it. Before me was a long
passage, which widened midway into a large square
hall, in semi-darkness, although it was daylight outside;

X£bc Donee in tbe forest 143

Overhead was an oak ceiling, beautifully embellished
with the carver's art, but black with age. At the
further end was the door on which Rousard was still
beating vigorously. It was bolted, twice barred, and
chained ; and wasting no time, I went thither, opened
it, and stood face to face with my retainer, who was
red in the face with so much shouting.

He stared at me open-mouthed, for he had not
expected to see me.

" Where's that woman, monsieur ? She must be
stone deaf, for I have yelled till I am hoarse, and
have banged upon this door loudly enough to rouse
the Seven Sleepers."

Had I not heard him, the door furnished abundant
evidence of his endeavours, for it was deeply dented
with the heavy blows he had beaten on it with the
pommel of his sword.

Standing in the open doorway, I told him what 1
had seen, and how I had got into the house. There
was no need to tell him of the spacious, tangled
garden, for looking along the passage, we could see it
plainly, and the forest at the further end.

" We ought to go through the house and garden,"
said I.

" True, monsieur, but we dare not leave the horses.
While we were away someone might mount them,
and be off. Let me look round for stable room."

" That would be safer," I observed, " Such tumble-
down places, as those outhouses are, could be
entered easily."

Rousard reflected for a few moments, then walked
to the door nearest to him in the passage. He flung
it wide open, and peered in.

144 TTbe frown ot Aajeetv

" Could not be better ! '' he cried, beckoning to me.

We looked into a large chamber, evidently used by
the late owner as a lumber room, but now empty,
with the exception of two or three boxes. The place
was in semi-darkness, but my companion, crossing
the stone floor, opened the shutter and the small
window, letting in the air and sunlight

" I can stable the horses here, monsieur. They
can do with a rest and a meal, seeing that they have
bad so long a journey."

In a few minutes the tired creatures were brought
in, the boxes served as tables on which the nose-bags
rested, and we left them munching their oats con-
tentedly while we prosecuted our search. To avoid
unnecessary risk, Rousard fastened them in, taking
chai^ of the key.

CHAPTER XV

A REMINDER OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW

Going down the passage, we opened the doors one
by one, and peered into every room. The second
apartment detained us a little while because of its
contents. There was in it a rough oaken table, on
which were some baskets that contained food and
wine, fresh and appetising to hungry men. A long
time had passed since we tasted food or drink, and
consequently we did not hesitate to help ourselves
freely, eating until we were satisfied.

After that we began our examination of the house.

The rooms were all — save one — in semi-darkness,
for the windows were either shuttered, or the ever-
greens had grown over them, matting together so
closely as to obscure what light might otherwise have
found its way through. From each apartment came
the musty smell that tells of doors long closed, and
the exclusion of air as well as light In none of them
was there any sign of life, except when a rat was
disturbed by the sudden opening of the doors. Our
entrance was followed by the scramble of the creature's
feet upon the floor as he fled to some corner where he
knew of safety.

The floors in some of the rooms were bare ; on
others were carpets, rat- and moth-eaten, but with

146 Ube frown of flBaJcetp

sufficient of them remaining to show that the owner
had been a man of considerable means. They broke
into fragments when we set foot upon them, or
crumbled into dust. Pictures richly framed hung
on the walls, or had fallen to the floor, but the canvas
was blotched and mildewed, so that only a black and
indistinguishable mass was visible. In some rooms
were silver lamps — blackened for want of an attentive
hand — hung on the walls, or suspended from the
ceiling. The cornices had once been richly gilded,
but now they were black with age, while the silken
coverings of the walls and the tapestries were torn
and streaked, some portions hanging in colourless
shreds. Most of the apartments were handsomely
furnished, but in the style in vogue a century and
more before, while there were everywhere the spoils
of different lands, showing that the owner of this
mansion had travelled far, and relished rarities.

One chamber was exceptionally rich in its appoint-
ments, bearing out my notion that this had been the
dwelling of a rich trader, who had quitted his business
house in the Marais, or some other quarter of the
capital, and had come hither to enjoy the fortune he
had amassed. Many of the bourgeoisie of Paris were
more wealthy than those who squandered their time
in dangling about the Court, ogling the women, and
joining in some dangerous or disreputable intrigue.
Not only were they more wealthy, but their homes
were, in many cases, even more luxurious.

The curtains of flowered silk in this apartment
were transparent, but the sun, which had once dis-
played the gorgeous colours, now shone through
darkened patterns, and the handsome scadet damask

a KemfnDec of St Sactbolomew 147

covers on the chairs were faded. The gilded frame-
work and oaken panels of the bureaus had turned
black in the course of years, or from lack of attention.
Here, as in the other rooms, there was dust every-
where ; on the floor, on the seats, on the ornaments
of silver and china, thick on the shattered remnants
of a malachite vase which had been overturned from
its pedestal of black marble, on the hearth, and on
the brass dogs in the fire-place. The air that entered
when the door was opened stirred the flne particles,
so that they not only irritated one's nostrils and
throat, but drifted about like mist

Close by the window stood a table, on which lay an
open book with heavy clasps, and massive silver rims
along the edges of the covers. I did not cross the
floor to look at it, for something else attracted our
attention, and caused our lips to open with awe — an
awe which robbed us of speech. At the table sat a
strange figure, once richly clothed ; but now the dust-
covered garments hung in tatters. It was all that
remained of a man of wealth — a dead man, whose
flesh had gone, and of whose body nothing was left
but the grim skeleton. He was bending over the
table, the bony hands clasped tt^ether as if in prayer,
and the skull rested, face downvvards, on the open
page. The handle of a butcher's knife stood out of
the dark-coloured doublet, and told the story as well
as words could do. Someone had entered stealthily,
and plunged the weapon into the reader's back,
straight to the heart, and then had fled, leaving the
instrument of death to.tell what the end had been.

It was too terrible a place to linger in. The sweat-
drops came upon my forehead when I thought that

148 TEbe f town of Aajests

Louise might be in such another place as this. If she
had been shown into this room in passing, with the
wanton cruelty which such a woman I had seen was
capable of, it must surely have driven her mad with
terror to know that she was imprisoned in a house
containing such a fearful thing.

" Come away, monsieur," said Rousard, gazing into
my face, and doubtless interpreting the look he saw
upon it

There were ten rooms in all on the ground floor,
but that was the only one which had any token
of death or life — whatever one may choose to
term it.

From the great hall, the walls of which were
covered with armour, a handsomely-carved winding
staircase, panelled with oak, led to the rooms above.
Up this we stepped cautiously, wondering what we
might see. There had been no trace of Louise in
the apartments below. When my foot touched the
bottom step, an ejaculatory prayer went silently
from my heart, that I might find her, and carry her
away.

Nothing unusual could be seen when we looked
up before we began our ascent, save some blackened
spots like splashes here and there on steps and walls,
and dark streaks which ran from one step to the next
below. But when we had taken the final turn, which
gave us a full view of the wide corridor straight before
us, we could not suppress a cry of horror. It was
terrible enough to see what was there in each other's
company ; I cannot think what we might have felt
had we come upon the sight alone.

Across the top step, with the head overhanging, lay

a nemindet ot St Xartbolomew mq

a woman, her knees drawn up. A dagger was clutched
in her bony fingers, while the other hand was lying
on the breast. As with the man in the room below,
there was nothing but a skeleton. Such, too, were
the bodies lying on the floor of the passage, men to
the front, women behind ; some close by, with
weapons in their hands, or within reach, others lying
across the thresholds of rooms that lined the corridor,
some of them small children. One was a tiny babe,
clasped in the arms of a kneeling woman, who might
have been its mother. That seemed the most pitiful
thing of all.

The story told itself. It was an awful remnant,
lingering in France, not far away from the city from
whose church towers had rung out the wild alarum
which gave the signal for massacre on the Eve of St.
Bartholomew, nearly a hundred and twenty years
before. The murderous work had first been done in
the capital ; then the people, thirsting for blood, had
come — a turbulent mob^to this lonely spot in the
forest, knowing that a Huguenot and his family dwelt
there, and suspecting that many had escaped from
Paris to hide in his home during the sanguinary
horrors of that fearful night.

It may have been that the master of the mansion
was deaf, and so read on and prayed in spite of the
outcries of the mob, and the awful confusion in the
corridors. The assassin had stolen in and caught
him unawares, while he sat at his open Bible. Mean-
while, there was the fierce fight on the part of the
sons and men of the household at the top of the
stairs, ending, as all those terrible doings of that
never-to-be-forgotten week had done, in death for

ISO TOe frown ot Aa jests

the heretics. One of the frenzied crowd had died— a
woman as forbidding and dreadful, perhaps, as she
whom I had seen in the garden. Others had been
wounded, likewise, without a doubt, for the swords
in the hands of the dead defenders, whose faces were
to the stairs, had stains upon them, while the pistols
in the hands of some of the women were empty-
One would have been glad to turn away and see
no more, but that was impossible while we were
unaware of the whereabouts of the woman we were
seeking. Those who had decoyed her might be
callous enough to bring her upstairs, to prevail upon
her the more readily to yield to their demands,
whatever they might prove to be. What would not
one of her high-strung nature do to get away from
the horrible place, and breathe God's pure, fresh air,
and look around on the beautiful world outside ?
Now that Calvisson had displayed his true nature,
taking to himself— as I firmly believed — such an
accomplice as the evil-faced creature who had hurried
into hiding in the garden, I could conceive the
possibility of so base an act of intimidation as
that.

"This is fearful," said I, half beside myself. " It
may be that mademoiselle is in one of those
rooms."

"Surely not I "cried Rousard emphatically. "None
would do so horrible a thing, monsieur, as bring a
lady here."

But When I told him what I thought as to the
probable motives of her abductors, he acquiesced,
and even stepped beyond me to be the first to peer
in at the doors.

a 1lemin&et of St Xartbolomew 151

We did not miss a single room, but Louise was not
in any one of them. In two of the chambers we
found the remains of some dead Huguenots ; in one
of them a sombrely-dressed merchant, sitting on the
ground, one arm on the seat of the high-backed chair,
and just below the helpless hand a dagger, which
had fallen from his grasp. On the costly coverlet of
the curtained bedstead lay a woman, the blood-stains
showing how her death had come. In the other
room was a boy who had stood before a girl — ^his
sister, perhaps — to shield her from the fatal blow.

But nowhere was there any trace of Louise,
although we tore down curtains in our search, and
opened cupboards, and even tested the walls by
tapping on them, in the hope of finding some secret
hiding-place. There was no sign of her presence,
nor did any voice respond to our repeated calls.

We looked out of one of the windows into the
garden to see whether any trace of the woman who
had passed me had been left. If we could lay hands
upon her, gold would probably shake her loyalty to
her colleagues, when threats might prove unavailing.
I judged that she was of the sort that could be
bought, and, to release Louise and carry her to
the Chateau de Neure, I would gladly part with
thousands of pistoles, if needs be — anything save
honour.

While we were gazing into the tangled wilderness,
I thought I saw a face among the brushwood behind
one of the cedars. I pointed at it, in the hope that
Rousard might see it also ; but if it had really been
there, it disappeared. Imagination often peoples the
world with that which we wish to see, and Rousard,

152

Ube frown ot Aajestsl

who had not seen the face, thought that fancy had
been sporting with me.

We lingered there awhile, but seeing nothing living
save the birds, and hearing nothing but their song
and our own heavy breathing, or an occasional snort,
or the stamp of the horses' feet on the floor of their
improvised stable, we went into the passage, stepped
carefully over those grim objects lying in our way,
and hurried down the stairs into the garden, to
breathe the fresh country air.

CHAPTER XVI

THE ORIENTAL RUBY

There had been no indication of the presence of
any cellars to this lonely mansion, but eager to make
our search complete, we began afresh, starting from
the door by which Rousard had entered. We passed
from room to room, throwing open the shutters, some
of the hinges of which broke off, after having been
eaten away with the rust of six-score years. This
second search served to show that Louise was no-
where in the house. It also enforced the fact that
this had been the abode of one whose wealth had
been considerable.

Whether the owner had been a man of family, one
would not care to say, and it mattered little now
since he and his were dead and gone ; but, as in the
houses of men of rank, he had hung upon the walls
the relics of fighting days — either the arms of his
ancestors, or such as he had purchased in the capital,
with which to make a show. The walls of the broad
passages were covered with corselets, iron helmets,
gauntlets, leg-pieces, pikes, halberds, petronels, cali-
vers, muskets, and many an obsolete weapon that
had done its work in the warlike days.

In the rooms on either hand were curios ; china
which now had a fabulous value by reason of its

IS3

JSbe frown of Aajeetv

, flagons and cups of solid silver, lamps of
the same precious metal, with small round mirrors
behind them, vessels of antique bronze, gone green
with age and neglect, tables and cabinets, vases and
Bohemian glass. All these, and the carpets, the
tapestries, the pictures, and the superb furniture,
bore witness to the taste and opulence of the now
dead owner.

But there was nowhere any trace of Louise de
St Andr^ ; none in the out-houses and dilapidated
stables, none in the bedrooms upstairs which we
visited ; not so much as a foot-mark upon any of
the dusty floors. Incredible as it may appea;-, the
mob had come hither on that fatal day, but had not
stayed to plunder; for the house stood undisturbed,
its gold and silver ornaments standing in their places,
just as they had done while there was no thought of
perfidy on the part of Charles the Ninth. Even the
money-chests we opened in one of the bed-chambers
had remained untouched. When wc raised the lids
we saw the dull golden coins, and the parcels which
doubtless contained jewels of great price.

It may well be supposed that the people had more
lust for blood than thoughts of spoils ; more hate for
heretics in their bigoted frenzy ; and having slain all
whom they found in the place, had hurried on else-
where to add to the death-roll, thinking to return for
plunder later. When the murderous feeling had
passed, they feared to return to a house which they
had turned into a shambles. Being superstitious,
they had a dread lest the protesting spirits of the
slain should meet them at the threshold. The
mansion speedily gathered to itself a ghostly re-

Ube Oriental nnbi? 155

putation, and none came near. Even the road
through the forest was deserted, travellers preferring
a longer journey by a roundabout way, rather than
approach this charnel-house.

By the time our search indoors had ended, evening
was approaching. We walked slowly down the
marble steps from the terrace, and stood on what
had once been a gravel path. The garden had not
been explored, and it was possible that some hut or
out-house might be there in which Louise was con-
cealed. Yet before we could prosecute our search it
would be dark.

What could we do ?

We waited idly, looking around aimlessly, hoping
for some haphazard inspiration, since information as
to the missing one's whereabouts was not forth-
coming. Rousard, who had stood at the bottom
of the steps while I paced to and fro in uneasy
cogitation, aroused my curiosity by a loud exclama-
tion ; then added to it by bending low and taking
something from among the grass which grew up be-
tween the cracks of the steps. He looked so eagerly
at what he had found that I hurried to his side. A
blood-red flash was followed by another, and yet
more. As by some intuition, I seemed to know what
it was, and almost snatched the treasure from his
hand in my eagerness.

It was a costly ring — a golden thumb and two
finger-tips holding an Oriental ruby, the facets of
which caught the light at every turn. It was none
other than the ring I had found for Louise in the
meadow on the day I first met her. If I had any
doubts as to its ownership, the legend within the

is6 Vbe frown oT Aajeets

circlet of gold would have dispelled them. Cut into
the precious metal was the word " IXJUISE," followed
by the Latin motto, " Ne cede malts" ' What could
be more appropriate than this in her present
circumstances ?

" 'Tis mademoiselle's ! " I cried. " There is her
name, the same as her mother's, and the family
motto. She has been down these steps, and the ring,
fitting so loosely, has fallen from her hand." To
assure him that it was no play of fancy, I told
Rousard how I had found it a few days before among
the rushes, while on the water-trip.

After some deliberation we separated, Rousard
taking the left side of the garden, with drawn sword,
and I the right, rapier in hand. Forcing our way
through the tangled growth, we pressed forward,
using our- eyes in the fast-deepening twilight, to
discover, if possible, anything like an out-house into
which she might have been hurried. As we went we
shouted aloud, disturbing the birds and rabbits, and
waiting at intervals for an answer, in case the lost
one heard our cries,

" Mademoiselle, where are you ? "

" Mademoiselle Louise I "

" Mademoiselle de St Andr^ ! "

We varied our call so that if Louise heard us, she
would know that we sought her.

On and on we went, tripping at times over hidden
roots, catching our feet in creepers, stung with nettles,
torn on hands and faces with thorn branches which
stood in our way. We touched the bottom boundary
at last, ragged and bleeding, breathless with our calls
^ " Do not yidd to nusfortune."

XLbc Oriental nnbs ^si

and struggles in that enclosed wilderness, without
having heard any response. No cry, no sob, no wail
of distress, no shrill scream had come to tell us of
the whereabouts of her whom we were seeking.

We exchanged positions and turned our faces
to the house, fighting with the tangled growth, and
heedless of the pain as the thorn branches swished
back against the skin, or penetrated our garments
and held us fast When we reached the terrace steps
once more, it was almost dark. We could see the
building as it marked off its roof against the sky, but
behind us the garden was in blackness. No sound
came to our ears that was human, save our own hard
breathing after that fight with the dense growth of
bush and tree.

"Did you hear aught?" 1 asked of Rousard.

" Not a whisper, monsieur," the other answered
savagely, cursing the Cur6, the woman, and all others
who had had a hand in this abduction. It did me
some sort of good to hear him, for he spoke my own
mind in the matter. I only regretted that curses
had such little efficacy that they broke no bones,
and brought no deserved suffering on the evil-
doers.

When he had relieved himself to my complete
satisfaction and his own, my companion suggested
that we should rest the night through, and begin our
search afresh in the garden at day-dawn.

To sleep in a house which had such ghostly oc-
cupants was not pleasant, but the night air was
beginning to be chill. We turned into the room
next to the horses, when Rousard had found them
some water, and while he slept I kept watch. He

158 Vbe frown of iCaJesti;

was to sleep for three hours, and then allow me to
rest

I judged the hours as welt as I could, and after the
long vigil, began to think it time to awake my com-
panion. I was about to do so when I heard some
stealthy movements in the passage. Walking quietly
to the door, I listened, but everything was so quiet
that I concluded I had been mistaken. The sounds,
however, came again. A chain dropped so quietly
that there was only the faint scrape of metal as the
links rubbed on each other. My hand went to the
latch, but I did not lift it, thinking I would first go
to Rousard and awake him. It was a safeguard in
one sense, for who could tell what danger might
be outside ? The delay, however, proved to be a
mistake, for a sudden opening of the door would not
only have awakened my companion, it would have
taken the person outside by surprise.

Bending over the sleeper, I awoke him. He sat
up instantly, rubbing his eyes.

" Time to change, monsieur ? "

" Silence," I answered, in a whisper. " Listen.
There is someone outside."

He stretched out his hand for his sword, which lay
close by, but before he could rise to his feet there
was the loud metallic clang of a falling iron bar upon
the stones of the passage, then a smothered exclama-
tion of fear, the rush of footsteps, and the slamming
of a door on that side of the house where the garden
lay.

It was dark, so that I lost some time in getting to
the door, and when I drew it open and entered the

IOk 9cfental Itnbp is9

passage, the silence was as it had been while Rousard
slept

"Someone was trying to get out by the door
yonder," he suggested, when we stood on the terrace.
" I'll go down the passage and see."

He was absent a short time, and in the interval I
looked around. The moon, a little above the horizon,
was shining among the trees and bushes, and casting
long dark shadows. Some of the leaves, which
trembled in the breeze, sent back silver glintings as
the pale light fell upon them. One could hear the
croaking of the frogs, the loud, monotonous hoot of
the brown owl, and the churning note of the night-
jar as it swept among the trees. But nothing living
could be seen.

" 'Twas as I said, monsieur," Rousard called back.
" The chains are down, and one of the bars removed.
If you will go in and sleep, I will keep watch here.
When daylight comes I will wake you, and we may
begin our search afresh."

Nothing would please him, before I turned into the
room for my rest, but to open the door and look out
on the forest through which we had ridden the day
before. The bit of open ground was so lighted by
the moon that if a rabbit had scuttled by we should
have seen it The trees stood weirdly in the silver
light, but behind them was an impenetrable blackness.
The sounds of Nature could be heard, and the low
rostle of the trees in the slight breeze that moved
among them ; but nothing to tell of men or women
stirring. Not satisfied with the quietness, Rousard
left the threshold while I stood in the open doorway,
and crept along under the shadow of the house and

i6o

Ubc f cown ot Aajests

wall to the right, to see if anyone was in hiding, and
waiting for the door to be opened Coming back, he
went past me in the other direction, returned after a
short absence, and re-entering, silently fastened the
door, and stood on guard.

CHAPTER XVII

THE COMTESSE ANGRY

The search was renewed when morning came, but it
was altogether useless. Nothing in the mansion, and
nothing in the garden, gave token of any hiding-place.
Passing through a doorway in the wall which ran
along the bottom of the garden, we traversed the
forest, going in all directions until we were famished
and weary, but all in vain. There was neither trace
of Louise nor of the woman who was probably her
jailer. Nothing transpired to give any token of the
presence of Father Calvisson, or his supposed colleague
in this abduction, M. de I'Eperon.

Had it not been for the finding of the ruby ring, I
should have concluded that the woman's presence in
the garden was nothing more than a coincidence. It
was the discovery of the jewel which convinced me
that she had played some part in the disappearance
of Louise, for if the maiden for whom we sought had
not been on the steps, how did the ring get there ?

The whole matter was an impenetrable mystery.

We returned to the house for food, aud then re-
newed our search, prosecuting it until nearly nightfall.

The want of success compelled us reluctantly to
give up all hope of finding Louise, and ride to the
Chiteau de Neure, to learn whether the Marquise de

l6l L

i62 Ube frown of Aajests

Lauzun had been more fortunate. My first glance at
her face, when I met her in the hall, convinced me
that she knew nothing.

There was no alternative but to return to Paris on
the following morning, to make inquiries there. It
was just possible that Louise had suspected mischief,
and turned back before she could be waylaid ; so that
when I neared the capital, my hope grew stronger
that I might find her in my cousin's home.

Nothing came of our inquiries at the aubtrges and
hdielleries on the way. There was no trace of Louise
having passed, none of the woman whom we suspected,
none of the Cur^, none of M. de I'Eperon, Had
Louise disappeared during the night, one could have
understood the passing of a party in the darkness ;
but she started in the broad daylight, when the road
had scores of packmen on it, and when it was difficult
to go past the auberges which were frequented by the
common wayfarers without being seen. A woman
was crossing the road at a lonely spot, going to a
well, and we questioned her.

" Such a lady did not go by, monsieur. I sat at the
door the whole of the morning, plying my spinning-
wheel, and saw all who went by — messengers to and
from Marly, packmen and pedlars, but none such
as you describe ; at all events. Mademoiselle de St.
Andr^ was not this way, for I know the beautiful lady
well."

When I entered the house of my cousin, the
Comtesse, things were going on very much as usual.
A dandy stood upon the steps which led into the
street, chucking the chin of a wench who was return-
ing from some errand, while another was inside,

TCbe Comtesee Hndn? ^^s

bandying words with the old serving-man who refused
to admit him into his mistress's boudoir, since she
had ^ven the word that she was not to be disturbed.
The Abb^ de Mornay, who was the Comtesse's father
confessor, had come to see her, and was contentedly
awaiting her pleasure, sitting, meanwhile, on a velvet-
covered stool, and busy with his breviary, oblivious to
the wrangle between the two men close by. Some
sedan-chairmen were in the street, waiting my cousin's
coming, ready to return if they were not wanted, and
laughing with the maid who had taken out a message
to them.

Too anxious to take much notice of these everyday
matters, I walked across the marbled floor, and pass-
ing behind the stairs, tapped on the door of my
cousin's boudoir. She called out " Enter ! " thinking,
I suppose, that it was one of the household. I was
about to go in when Burgot came after me, uncere-
moniously leaving the man with whom he had been
wrangling, and hastening after me to say that the
Comtesse must not be disturbed,

" 'Tis too late, Bui^ot My cousin has called to me
to enter ; " and with that I walked into the Comtesse's
private room, the man standing in perplexity, and
debating with himself whether he should tell his
mistress that he had sought to preserve her privacy.
' She was seated at an open bureau, busied with some
papers she was turning over hurriedly, as they lay in
confusion in one of the drawers. This occupation so
■ absorbed her that she did not turn to see who entered,
but she looked round quickly when I spoke.

I had expected a smile, but she gazed at me crossly.
' " I thought to receive courtesy from you, Fulcran,

i64 TTbe frown of Utaieste

and not nideoess ! " she exclaimed, taking me aback
by this unlooked-for greeting. She went on with
characteristic impetuosity :

" You promised to come to my dance, and were ill-
mannered enough not merely to stay away, but not
so much as to send me a word expressive either of
your inability or your unwillingness to come. What
if l^uise could not be there? You need not have
been wanting in good manners. A lackey, even, would
have sent to say that he could not come, if one of his
friends had invited him out But you are so absorbed
in your calf-love for this dfbutante that your best
friends are no longer worthy of consideration. I am
ashamed of you, Fulcran ! "

She was so incensed that she turned her back upon
me, and began to move the hands of the handsome
timepiece on a bracket above the bureau.

Until then I had no chance of saying a word, but
crossing the floor quickly, and standing at her side, I
spoke the words that came first :

" Do you not know of Louise? "

" I know nothing of her ! How could I, since she
is gone to the Chiteau de Neure?" she answered
indignantly, turning her back on me afresh, and
showing how deeply I had offended her.

" Then I have bad news for you, cousin," I cried ;
" Louise has disappeared 1 "

That brought her face to face with me on the
instant

" What do you mean, Fulcran ? "

The anger was gone, and the face grew pale. A
startled look came into her eyes, while she took my
hand in hers impulsively. Her lips parted with

Ubc Comtesse Hndn? ^^s

horror when I spoke of what I had seen while search-
ing the forest mansion. Her thought coincided with
my own when I showed her the ruby ring, and told
her where I had found it. Louise must have been
carried there, and the ring was dropped while she was
taken down the terrace steps to some hiding-place in
the garden.

" Concerning the woman with the twisted mouth,
Fulcran, tell me what she was like."

As soon as I had described the creature who had
passed me while I looked over the garden wall, the
Comtesse said :

" I know her ! She is Margot Cartier, an abandoned
woman who lives in a hovel by the Tower of Jean-
sans-Peur. But the thing seems incredible, cousin,"
she went on. "De TEperon is a profligate, but he
would surely have naught to do with such a woman ;
and as for the Cur6, 'tis impossible that he would
associate with a courtesan of her type. Think of it !
It would be an outrage on decency, an unpardonable
degradation of the sacred office."

" Nevertheless, Catherine, you saw him with her in
the meadow when we were on the barge. I remember
your criticism of these same two men, the courtier
and the priest And mark what happened within so
short a time. The priest wrote the letter which drew
Louise away from you — you will have no doubt of
that when I place the two letters side by side for
your perusal. More than that, I saw the woman,
Margot Cartier, in the garden, and this ring, too, was
there. Does it not look like a conspiracy in which
these three have played their parts ? "

There was no gainsaying this, and we stood face

i66

xi;be ftown of Obaicsvs

to face, anxious, but unable to devise any scheme
whereby we might regain possession of Louise, and
spoil the intrigue against her. The King was
unapproachable ; Madame de Maintenon equally so.
Marly was as inaccessible as if it had been surrounded
by massive walls, with drawbridge, portcullis, and
moat. One dared not venture even to send a
message into the groves where His Majesty was
keeping holiday. As for the Dauphin, he was equally
impossible. He cared only to hear mass at the
Oratory, and to see the grisettes and fishwives
curtseying to him when he rode along the streets.
He would have listened if I had appealed to him,
would have made all sorts of promises ; and there, so
far as he was concerned, the matter would have
ended.

Our interview was broken in upon by the untimely
arrival of Monseigneur, and since the Archbishop
could not be denied admission, I turned away
reluctantly, having first promised to come to the
Comtesse at nightfall, when there were to be some
private theatricals in her salon.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE "CUL DE SAC "

The day was spent in fruitless search for some
information concerning the whereabouts of Louise, or
any of those whom I suspected of having had some
share in her abduction. Leaving Rousard at my
lodgings, I went to the Tower of Jean-sans-Peur, to
make it the starting-place of my inquiries for Margot
Cartier. I asked a fishwife if she knew the woman,
and her retort was a ready one :

" Ask me if I know the devil ! " Looking me up
and down, she added : " What does one of your rank
want with such a creature; monsieur ? "

The expression upon her face was one of some
surprise. She evidently considered that none who
were respectable could have dealings with the
abandoned creature for whom I was inquiring.

" I do not know her, mistress ; but it is important
that I should find her, since she can give me valuable
information."

" Then take the first turning on the right ; 'tis a
cul de sac close by a butcher's shop, and she dwells
there when she is at home."

The woman's contempt for Cartier was so supreme

that she spat on the ground, as if the very talk about

her was nauseating.

167

i68 TTbe jfrown of Aajesti?

The butcher was none the less surprised when I
made my inquiry of him. He had been bawling out
the merits and prices of meat while slicing a piece of
mutton when I accosted him ; and tossing the knife
on the block, he stood, hands on hips, to hear what I
had to say.

"She is not often asked for by such as you,
monsieur," was the answer to my question.

" Perhaps not, my good fellow, but it is necessary
that I should see her."

It was no business of his, and he said so ; but he
stared at me curiously, as if by his looks he would
worm out my motive for finding her. Then pointing
to the house with his greasy forefinger, he nodded
me farewell, picked up his knife, and went on with
the task I had interrupted.

The street in which I made these inquiries was
long and narrow, but crowded with citizens in their
work-day clothes, who jostled the richly-dressed
gallants that were making their morning calls. Some
of these latter, who knew me, wondered to see me
talking with such a man as the butcher, and did not
forbear a joke at my expense when they saw me tite-
d-tite with the fishwife. I turned their banter aside
with a forced laugh, and walked down the A116e de
Couv6e.

It was crowded with children, some of whom were
crawling about amid the offal and filth, naked as when
they were born, screaming and squalling, cursing and
kicking, in imitation of their elders, who were drink-
ing at the auberge^ half-way down the narrow cul de
sac. It was all a revelation to me, for I had never wit-
nessed such squalor and foulness. It had been talked

3n tbc **Cttl ^c Sac" 169

of by the ladies and gallants, some of whom freely
sprinkled their kerchiefs with rose-water, and held it
to their faces, as if they felt that the recounting of
what they had seen or heard of contaminated the air
of the room in which they chanced to be. In the
salons of the wealthy, the realities of life, as they
affected the people, were unknown — apocryphal. In
such resorts were to be found none but brilliant,
prosperous, and dazzling ones, "well fed, well
dressed, and well amused," as I once heard Madame
de S^vign6 say. Under such conditions life was a
delightful and enjoyable thing.

But here, in the cut de sac I It was a hot-bed of
vice. B^gars, courtesans, grisettes, creatures of both
sexes who had no appetite for anything but cruelty,
and pedlars who replenished their baskets by robbery,
were there. So were people who had seen better
days, but had been brought down, in spite of honest
effort, to indigence, and to such an environment.
They knew nothing of country air and sun, green
meadows and pleasant odours, now that they had
come hither. Fate showed in their case how viciously
she can deal with those whom her heartless sister
Misfortune has flouted, as if they had not already
received the full measure of stripes, and more
besides.

The alley was infamous in every way. The stench
from the open gutter down the centre, the garbage
which lay about in one's path, ready to slip the feet
from beneath the unwary, the foul air that came out
of the houses, the doors of which, on either side, one
could almost touch by stretching the arms wide open,
made the whole place a plague centre, from whence

I70 xi;be jfrown of asaiesvs

might spread a contagion that would invade mansion
and palace, regardless of persons.

My intrusion into this alley, sacred, one might say,
to the poor and lawless, created some commotion.
Two men who were fighting with knives stopped to
look at me. Children who were scooping up the
mud they had made with dust and water held up
handfuls, and seemed to wait for the word to be-
spatter my rich dress, while some of the loungers
cast greedy looks at the gold buttons on my coat.
The women, dirty and draggled, came to the doors,
and stood on the steps with their bare arms akimbo,
commenting on my face and figure. Some of the
beggars who had been drinking and laughing drew
near, and made whining pleas for help.

The position was not a pleasant one. The two
who had been in murderous conflict forewent their
quarrel, and with a word to their supporters, who
were quite as brutalised^ they drew somewhat nearer.
One of them, a big fellow, a head taller than myself,
became the spokesman of the alley, and demanded
my business. There was no reason why I should
resent the inquiry, and I answered coolly :

" I want Margot Cartier."

" You ? "

The man spoke as if it were a miracle that anyone
of my rank could wish to say aught to one of
their community. But I responded with a grave
question :

« Why not ? "

" We do not want such as you down here," said he,
and the knife, wet with the blood he had drawn from
his antagonist's arm, seemed to move menacingly.

3tt tbc **Cttl &c Sac** 171

" But I have business with her," I said, with as little
haughtiness as possible, turning my back on the man
to speak with a woman close by.

" Can you tell me where Margot Cartier dwells ? "

•* If I choose to do so," came the answer, with an
insolent gesture, assumed, without a doubt, and evi-
dently designed to cover a certain timidity in the
presence of her semi-savage neighbours.

" Do not tell him, Coulon ! " cried the man with the
knife.

" Why not, Mongorge ? " asked the woman, putting
on some effrontery.

"Because I dare you! That's why!*' said the
fellow.

The look on his face cowed her, for she drew back,
and walked down the alley to get out of harm's way.

I looked round hastily, feeling that it was better to
return to the street along which the people passed
without so much as a glance down the cul de sac, or,
if any chanced to loiter, only to indulge in the wonder
why a gallant could be so mad as to venture into such
a death-trap. The glance convinced me that it was
well to waste no time. The others were closing in
about me ; the children held up their mud in readiness
to throw it ; some of the women were encouraging the
men to spoil the face of the dandy; others did as
Coulon had done, and disappeared, to avoid being
mixed up in the fray that was certainly coming. I
saw all this, and wished myself safely in the street
again.

But what affected me most was the glimpse of a
face in the window of the house opposite. Judging
from the dress, it was that of a priest, standing well

172 TTbe jfrown of Aajests

back in the room, the features barely visible, but the
body somewhat bent, as if the Churchman peered at
me. Was it Father Calvisson ? Had it not been for
my immediate danger, I should have put my face
against the grimy glass to satisfy myself as to the
man's identity, but a snatch at my jewelled garter
made me turn quickly, and face the people who were
blocking up the passage. I kicked the fellow who
had gone on his knees to get at my buckle, and he
rolled over with a howl, holding his face with his
filthy hands.

It was the signal for an outburst. Mongorge made
a dash at my throat, his knife flashing as he held it
back to strike; but he tripped and fell across the
man who had already tumbled.

By this time my rapier was out, and it had such an
ugly look that the others who had been crowding
round, meaning to clutch at my jewels, dropped back
out of reach of the long, straight, thin, and narrow
blade of Solingen steel They formed a semi-circle
before me, leaving me with my back to the wall, while
they considered how they could punish me for my
temerity in intruding on their domain, or get such
booty as my ornaments and purse would provide. In
such a case, where it would be " first come, first
served," the men waited their opportunity to push
past their fellows, and make the first snatch. The
children, mixed up with their elders, threw the mud
they had been making. Some of it found lodgment
on my velvet coat, but mostly it splashed on the wall
and window near which I stood.

The priest made no effort to allay the tumult, but
some of the women called on the men from the door-

3tt tbc **Cttl &c Sac" 173

steps to let me alone, and suffer me to go my way.
Three or four went so far as to cuff the children, or
their husbands, who possibly held them in wholesome
fear, for one or two of the men slunk away from the
milie^ to get out of reach of the tongues and blows of
these viragoes. One woman, seeing the second fighter
about to creep up at my side and strike at me, came
behind him, and wrenched the murderous-looking
weapon from his hand. He turned upon her and
battered at her face so savagely that my blood boiled.
I could not refrain from running my rapier through
his arm as he brought it back to strike the woman
more freely. He swung round with an oath, and I
expected him to leap upon me ; but he had no wish
to spit himself upon that long blade which was in
readiness.

Gradually I worked my way up the alley, those to
my right drawing back as I moved towards them,
since I made a rapier thrust from time to time. I
had passed three or four doors in this fashion when
Mongorge, having picked himself up and kicked three
or four mud-throwing children out of his way, came
at me on my left with a rush. A woman in the open
doorway before which I chanced to be standing at
the moment, gave me a word of warning. It was
Coulon. None saw her speak, for with her arms
folded, she leaned against the doorpost, apparently
without any concern as to the issue of the contest.

"Look to your left, monsieur. Kill him, the
devil ! " she said, in an undertone.

The fellow came on. Stepping back quickly, so
that I stood in the doorway beside the woman, I
thrust out my foot Mongorge fell over it heavily,

174 XTbe ftoxQti of Aajests

and his head striking against the sharp corner of the
doorpost, he rolled over on the stones, and lay still
and unconscious.

" Run your rapier into him, monsieur 1 " exclaimed
Coulon, in the same low tone. "He is the devil
himself — a murderer ! " she added, as passionately
as she dared without attracting attention.

A woman against whose feet he fell kicked the
ruffian surreptitiously, and more than one smile of
satisfaction flitted across the faces of some of those
who looked at him.

I made no reply to her who stood at my side, but
seeing that all eyes were on the fallen rogue, I cleared
a path for myself, such as blocked my way falling
back before my threatening weapon, which had
already drawn blood.

When I reached the street I saw the butcher. He
had been watching the affray, and nodded approvingly
as I emerged from the cul de sac,

"'Tis mad work for such as you to go there,
monsieur," he ventured to say, while I stood for a
moment or two to return my rapier to its sheath, and
wipe off the filth with which the children had be-
spattered me. Seeing this, he asked me to go into
his shop and put myself tidy. His wife, who had
been looking down the alley at her husband's side,
took me into the room behind, and cleansed my
clothes as far as it was possible.

" I do not know what business you had with Margot
Cartier," said she, for her husband had told her of
my inquiry for the virago. " She is best kept at a
distance, monsieur. She has a dreadful tongue, is
lewd, cruel, quarrelsome — everything that is bad"

3ntbc"Cttl DcSac'*

I7S

" I do not know her," I remarked, for the woman
seemed concerned, wondering what one of my rank
could want with her. " But it is necessary that I
should see her, since she can save a lady from trouble
if she will."

" She will not," was the emphatic rejoinder. " She
would rather see one suffer than do aught to spare
her, especially if she be a lady of rank. But you
could not have found her down there. She went
away two or three days ago, and one of the women
who came here for some meat was wondering what
had become of her."

" Why did you not tell me, Adele ? " cried the
butcher, somewhat reproachfully. " I might have
told monsieur, and spared him a fruitless and risky
errand."

" I gave it no thought, Pierre."

" Did a priest go down at any time ? " I asked,
curious to know whether I had really seen Calvisson
in the alley.

" I saw one turn the corner an hour ago," the
butcher replied. " Who it was I do not know, for the
cowl was drawn over his face ; and more than that, I
was busy serving a customer."

CHAPTER XIX

THE CHEVALIER'S BALCONY

The King's reign had seen the advent of much that
was covering his reign with glory — much that gave
warrant to the title of Grand Monarque, He stimu-
lated many industries, and encouraged the progress
of science, letters, and art, and many another monu-
ment testified to his public spirit. But he never
succeeded in providing an efficient police, any more
than he knew how to render the capital wholesome
and clean. Consequently, Rousard followed me un-
bidden when I started at nightfall to visit the Cheva-
lier de Goudrin. It was common knowledge that the
streets were never safe after the sunset angelus, and
he knew that alone I should run considerable risk,
whereas, with his companionship, few would venture
to molest me.

When we reached the house in which the Chevalier
lodged, the concierge told me that he was not in, but
would return shortly.

Mounting the dimly-lighted stairs to reach the

apartments where I would await his return, I entered

a richly-furnished room. I have heard it said that

Louis the Fourteenth's reign was a triumph of gilded

wood ; and here was ample evidence of it Two

high-backed arm-chairs, richly carved, a couch covered

176

XTbe CbevaIfer*0 Salconi? 177

with blue velvet, like everything else in the suite, a
gorgeous cabinet, a closed bureau, a bookcase and
monumental armoires with pilasters and arched
headings, with other pieces of costly furniture, all of
gilded wood, were in the spacious chamber, and, seen
by the light of hanging lamps, were as dazzling
as anything to be met with in the King's palace.

But I had been here many times, so that it was not
new to me, and while Rousard waited on the landing
outside, I stepped on to the balcony at the open
window to breathe some of the cool air from the river,
which swept along the end of the garden. There
were sun-curtains about this projecting gallery, so
that I could not be seen if any were on the balconies
of other houses to right and left unless I drew back
the hangings.

It was growing dark. Here and there a light
could be seen on the river, and at intervals came the
call of boatmen. Once there was a scream, as of
someone in pain — no unusual night-sound on that
part of the Seine, which was within the city boun-
daries. On the river, as in the streets, a man found
safety in his own caution or the promptness of his
blows.

There were other sounds in the summer evening
air. The houses in this quarter were occupied by
men and women of high degree who followed the
Court, and from one open window and another came
sounds of laughter, a song, the strains of music which
accompanied the minuet, the Giga, or any other
dance which fell in with the fancy of the company.
But after a while I forgot them all in listening to
something which absorbed my whole attention.

M

173 XTbe frown of Aa jests

To my right, and outside the window of the
house next to the Chevalier's, was a handsome
balcony, bathed in light that poured through the
open window to which it was attached. It was
empty for some time after I had stepped into the
open air, but presently I heard a voice, and look-
ing in that direction through the slightly parted
curtains, I saw a cavalier appear. The light fell on
his face, and I knew him — M. de TEperon. He took
his stand at the comer, and leaned indolently against
the ornamental ironwork which railed the gallery.
A few moments later he was joined by one whose
voice I had not yet heard; but as the new-comer
stepped into the open air, he spoke, and I knew
at once that he was Father Calvisson. He was
objecting to carrying on his conversation out of doors.

" 'Tis too hot, father," said De TEperon, " and we
can talk as privately here."

He went on without a pause to make an assertion
which not only roused my curiosity, but set my
heart beating.

" I fear that Margot Cartier has fooled us."

" I do not fear it ; I know it," replied the Cur6
angrily. "She was to carry Mademoiselle de St
Andr^ to a house in Chatillon, but when I went
there this morning, neither mademoiselle nor Cartier
had been near the place."

De TEperon broke in sharply on the grumbling
words of the priest.

"Chatillon was never mentioned between us,
father. The woman was to see that the lady
was waylaid, and taken to a lonely mansion in
the forest of Marly — "

^Tbe Cbevalfer's Salcons >79

" I know that," the Cur6 interrupted ; " but when
I thought matters over, I feared that she would be
too near to her cousin, and our plans be in some
way frustrated."

Careless as to whether he gave offence or not,
De I'Eperon retorted savagely :

"You had no right to change our plans without
consulting me. I told you plainly that if we got
her to the haunted mansion, the horrors there would
frighten her into a promise to marry me. Then I
should have paid you down the ten thousand pistoles
I promised you. Now, curse you — "

His passion rendered him regardless of the fact
that priests could not well be cursed with impunity.
He was going on to say more, but he stopped on
the instant, when the Cur^ swung round and faced
him. There was a ring of resentment in Calvisson's
words :

" My son, you forget ! "

De rEperon realised his folly. Men who wanted
to curry favour with the King had not yet learned
defiance to the priests, for they knew full well that
His Majesty was little better than the tool of the
Jesuits. It was common knowledge that Louis
called himself lord of the persons and wills of his
people; but every man and woman at Court knew
that his favourite instruments — the Jesuits — ruled
over his conscience, and more or less directly had
their own way in everything. Catvisson had but
to go to Thre la Chaise, the King's confessor, and
De I'Eperon from that hour would be a social out-
cast without appeal ; and if the Cur^ pressed his
advanU^e and revenge, a victim at the galleys,

I So TOc frown of ffiajcsts

"Fot^ve me, father," said the courtier, cooling
down on the instant "My passion got the better
of me, but you should know best"

" Had some been so spoken to, my son, it would
have gone hard with you," the Cur^ observed.

" I know it, father. I am thankful I have to deal
with you, and not with others. You must remember
my passionate nature."

" I do. Some day it will be your undoing."

It was marvellous how men with the spirit of
De I'Eperon could bend to such priests as this
Calvisson, and I thought so during that altercation.
But while listening, I remembered my own jeopardy.
My lease of liberty was a short one. 1 had with-
stood the Cur^, and he only waited to have his way
with the woman I loved, and for the return of the
King from Marly. What was my life worth after
that? In my eagerness to find Louise I had
partially forgotten my own peril, but the know-
ledge of De I'Eperon's yielding brought it all back
with overwhelming force, and set me thinking a^ to
whether I should abide in Paris to see the King, or
go in search of Louise, and run all risks.

I decided on the latter course, for who could tell
what experiences the missing one was undei^oing
while in the keeping of Margot Cartier?

The two men now discussed the matter afresh.

" Why has not Cartier taken mademoiselle to
Chatiilon, father?"

" I cannot think, unless she has been taking our
money, and is working for another who pays her
better."

An oath escaped De I'Eperon's lips, and be

XTbe CbevaUefs Salconi? isi

brought down his hand heavily on the ironwork,
so that it shook, and gave forth a low, metallic
ring.

** If it be so, father, there is no money for you."

" And none for you," the other interrupted, giving
the retort in an angry tone.

'^ Mon Dieul I know it! And if I lose I am
ruined I "

I do not suppose that many among all the
gallants of the capital would have expended much
regret on learning of De TEperon's ruin, for he was
no favourite. Some fraternised with him, and many
of such were men and women of the highest rank ;
but their fraternity only lasted so long as he could
serve them. They would ignore him the moment
their purposes had been achieved. One talks of
honour among thieves, but the honour is non-
existent; the real thing is expediency, nothing
more. And De TEperon knew that

" The greater reason why you should strain every
nerve to find her," said the Cur6, when his companion
expressed his fear.

" But how can we start ? Where are we likely to
find her ? " came the sharp interrogations.

" I cannot say. As I have told you, mademoiselle
is not at Chatillon. I know for a certainty that she
is not at the Chateau de Neure, and has not been
there, for one of the servants has sent me word that
she has not arrived; indeed, he added that the
Vicomte de la Tour had been to see the Marquise de
Lauzun, and that she is scouring the country to find
her. It is even said that she talks of running the risk
of censure, and of intruding on the privacy of Marly,

i82 XTbe frown ot Aajests

appealing either to the King or to Madame de
Maintenon."

" And what of the Vicomte ? " asked De PEperon.

" I know nothing of his whereabouts. He must be
searching for her, having found out something of this
attempt at abduction."

For some reason he kept back the knowledge of
my adventure in the cul de sac^ and waited to hear
what the other had to say.

" Cannot you get him out of the way ? We agreed
to accuse him of Huguenotism, so that I might have
his estate conferred on me, seeing that the King owes
me some acknowledgment for service rendered."

" I cannot proceed until the King returns."

" And what of Cartier ? "

" I have been to the All^e de Couv6e, and she dis-
appeared a day or two ago," was the priest's reply.

There was a prolonged silence, and De TEperon
was the first to break it

" We must make sure of mademoiselle, and leave
M. le Vicomte alone until then. There is no hurry
so far as he is concerned, and we can easily deal
with him when we have settled this matter satis-
factorily."

The Cur6 grumbled somewhat at the proposed
delay, but acquiesced. What more they said I did
not hear, for they went indoors in accordance with
De TEperon's suggestion that they should take some
wine before his expected company arrived.

I reflected as I leaned over the balcony railings,
and looked out on the dark night. I had discovered
this conspiracy against myself. It was to be a
repetition of the scheme of which I had been re-

••

XTbe Cbevalfers Salconi?

183

minded when talking to Father Calvisson in the
palace corridor, whereby Comte de Boissergent had
obtained the estates of Vicomte d'Urban, who, for
aught one knew, was at the galleys. It was some-
thing to know that ; and something, also, to know
that I was to go free so long as Louise was unheard
of. But after that ? What matter, so long as I found
her ? The first free moment after such a fortunate
event, I would wait upon the King.

CHAPTER XX

MANSART, THE BUTCHER

He who knows what absolute bewilderment is will
imagine my position when I left the house of the
Chevalier de Goudrin. My bewilderment begot the
sense of helplessness, and from that I passed to
despair. By the time I reached my own rooms I
had given up all hope of ever finding Louise, for I
had not one shred of information as to her where-
abouts, and nothing save the ring which would serve
as a clue. As I have shown, I had endeavoured to
work on that, but nothing came of it The only
suggestion that I could set any store by, which came
after long thought, was to find Margot Cartier, and
bribe her to divulge what she knew.

But she was as unapproachable as Louise. Calvis-
son, on his own confession, had been to the Allde de
Couvfe, and found no trace of the virago. His
priest's cloak had been some sort of safeguard for
him, so that he was able to venture among the
vagabonds of the cul de sac without risk, whereas to
me it would be tantamount to suicide to go thither,
especially after my recent experience.

I thought at one time of going to the Governor of

the city, and telling him what had transpired, ask

him to send some men to search the houses in the

1 84

Aansartt tbe JSutcber 185

alley for Margot Cartier, or to obtain some definite
information as to where she was hiding. The thought
of difficulties which I will not here recount changed
my purpose.

I was under promise to go to the house of my
cousin, the Comtesse, and not caring to offend her a
second time, I dressed and went thither, covering
my rich clothing with a long, dark-coloured cloak.
Rousard bore me company as usual, and when I
entered the salon, joined the lackeys, who, like him,
had escorted their masters or ladies. The hostess
greeted me on my arrival, and, drawing me aside,
asked eagerly for news. I had none to give her,
beyond what I have already written here.

"Be careful, Fulcran," said she anxiously, on
hearing of the risk I had run while in the All^e de
Couv^e.

" Don't worry, cousin ! The real trouble is — how
am I to get some clue as to Louise's whereabouts ? "

" Moil Dieu ! " she exclaimed, her bright eyes
glistening with tears ; " if I could only throw out a
suggestion, but I cannot."

The theatricals went on their brilliant way, as if
none present that night had any care. The salon
was full of men and women who spent their lives at
receptions, entertainments, and pageants, and were
brimful of high spirits, careful only for amusements
and self-indulgence. The frivolous, shallow-brained
women among whom I sat irritated me, and one and
another added to my irritation by offering me money
for my thoughts, or made me an object of banter
because of my moodiness. Now and again I roused
myself to attention, then they playfully patted me

1 86 XTbe frown ot Aa jests

with their fans, talking to me when I devoutly wished
they would listen to Du Fort, who was singing on
the stage at the end of the decorated chamber.

They added to my torment by asking how Made-
moiselle de St Andr^ was ? whether the talk in the
salons was correct that she and I were to be married^
and if so, whetjier we should withdraw from Court,
and vegetate at the Chateau de Tour, or reside
permanently in Paris?

Another mischievously asked if there was any
truth in the report that I was captivated by the
charms of a certain fishwife, whose stall was near to
the Tower of Jean-sans-Peur ? I had been seen
talking to the jade on very friendly terms, the beauty
declared, with a toss of the head, as if she wondered
how I could have dealings with the canaille.

I wished these brainless chatterers farther, with
their coquetry and caprice, wounding me as they
were doing — unwittingly, of course — by making
Louise the butt of their pleasantries. Had they
known of her disappearance they would have changed
their tone, and pestered me with inquiries ; but the
Comtesse had contented herself with telling the
grandes dames of the letter which called her away to
the Chateau de Neure, and had said nothing concern-
ing the fraud which had been practised. She thought
it best to be silent a while, and I agreed.

I sat there for one long hour, wishing for Gyges'
ring, so that I might have become invisible ; then my
neighbours would have turned their wit on each
other, leaving me to my own thoughts. When an
opportunity offered I left the salon, and putting on
my cloak, went into the street. What object I had

AaitBatt, tbe JSntcber 187

in view I cannot say. I do not think I had any other
than to get away from the chatter of the women who
sat near me.

Where I wandered I do not remember ; but after
a while I turned of set purpose to the Tower of Jean-
sans-Peur, resolved to run all risks, and once more
seek for information concerning the whereabouts of
Margot Cartier. As fortune would have it, Pierre
Mansart, the butcher, whose acquaintance I had
made that same day, was standing at his shop door
talking to someone, but when he saw me he bade the
other a curt good-night, and came forward to greet
me.

" Pardon my presumption, monsieur," he ex-
claimed, " but I fear you are going to run the risk
again, and enter the alley ! "

He had not misjudged my intention, for a moment
later I should have turned the corner. I answered
him readily :

" Tis true, my good fellow, for the finding of that
woman Cartier is a matter of life and death."

" But she is not there, monsieur. Coulon, one of
the women who live down there, was here just before
I shut the shop door, and we got to talking about
you. I chanced to mention your desire to see Cartier,
and she shook her head, wondering that one of your
station should have dealings with such a creature."

" Coulon ? That was the woman to whom I was
speaking. Perhaps she will know something of her
whereabouts ? "

" I doubt it," said Mansart, shaking his head.
" Cartier lodges in her house, but keeps her counsel
as to her movements. Moreover, how would you get

i88 xtbe frown of ObajcsVs

at Coulon ? The Allde de Couv6e is a den of wicked-
ness at any time, and doubly so after nightfall.
Murder is no uncommon thing there. You went
away this afternoon, and Mongorge, the fellow who
tried to get at you with his knife, when he came back
to consciousness and saw that you had escaped, vowed
that he would draw blood from someone. He caught
sight of his antagonist in the fight you interrupted,
and rushing at him unawares, drove his knife into
him three or four times before anyone could inter-
fere. Coulon tells me that Beat^ is not likely to see
daybreak."

" My friend," said I, when he had finished, " the life
of a lady of rank is in jeopardy. I would like to see
Coulon, if it were possible ! "

The butcher stood silent, with folded arms, holding
his chin with one of his hands, as if thinking deeply.
He did not even return the greeting of a belated
citizen who passed by, nor did he answer his wife's
call from within.

" I might get you in at her window, which overlooks
my garden," said he presently.

I jumped at the proposal, for, without any real
reason, I had a conviction that the woman could tell
me something. At all events, I was not disposed to
return to my lodgings without a strenuous attempt to
interview her.

I turned to follow Mansart into the shop, and saw
a burly fellow a pace or two from my elbow. The
man's face was in the shade, but the figure was too
familiar to be mistaken.

" Is it Rousard ? " I asked.

" Yes, monsieur."

Aansartt tbe JSntcber 189

" Why are you here ? "

He was not disturbed at the testiness in my tone,
but answered frankly :

" I came to see that none molested my master."

" Then stay here until I return."

His answer came instantly :

"Nay, monsieur. Pardon me, but I overheard
what you said to this man, and since it is your pur-
pose to have dealings with people in the cut de saCy I
intend to be near you, to see that you come to no
hurt."

There was no disrespect, yet I could not but
observe the resolution in his tone, which showed that
he would be difficult to shake off. In a sense I was
annoyed ; on the other hand, I could not fail to
appreciate the fellow's fidelity. My safety was his
first care ; his own jeopardy was not considered.

" 'Tis kind, Rousard," I answered ; and without
waiting for any invitation, he followed closely, almost
brushing against me when I stepped over the thres-
hold, as if he expected that Mansart might shut the
door upon him. The butcher, however, thought it
wise that my man should accompany me ; for he
went so far as to advise Rousard not to let me out of
sight

CHAPTER XXI

THE OPEN WINDOW

Mansart*s garden was in darkness when we passed
into it in his company. To the left were other
gardens, all void of any sign of life, save in one, to
which some convives had come, quitting the house to
breathe the cooler air. A flaming lamp showed us a
magnificent cedar tree, the great branches of which,
like outstretched arms, formed a black canopy over
the group of men and women who sat about a table
and talked together. The dwellers of neighbouring
houses had gone to bed, for window after window was
without light.

On the right, the backs of the houses of one side
of the A116e de Couv6e formed a wall to Mansart's
garden. The people dwelling there were night birds,
for late as it was, nearly every room had a light in it.
Some of the windows were open because the night
was warm, and the air of those fever dens stifling, so
that much of what was said came to our ears.

Bad as it all was in the daytime, the night aspect

of the cul de sac was infinitely more distasteful. The

hum of city life had died away, and most of the

citizens were sleeping off* their weariness ; but here

wickedness was running riot It was shame to know

that men and women could talk so foully, or sing

190

XCbe ©pen TOltnlyow ^9'

such songs as fell upon our ears at that midnight
hour. Precious as land was in Paris, I was surprised
to find that Mansarfs garden was so long. There
was no wall between it and the houses of the All^e de
Couvde, so that while we passed slowly among the
fruit trees and bushes, we could look into some of
the lower rooms. In one some were gambling, and
squabbling over their paltry gains and losses. In
another, three women drank, slowly and quietly, as if
they had come together for that purpose. A fourth
sat with her head buried in her bare arms upon the
table. Yet farther down the garden we looked into a
dimly-lighted chamber where lay a woman, all alone,
nearly naked, clutching wildly at times at the wood-
work of the bedstead. Suddenly she leapt upon the
floor with a wild cry, flung up her hands with a
gesture of despair, then fell across the bed, and lay
still. One could not but shudder alike at the sight
and the cry. We waited a while, but none heeded
her scream, nor entered the room.

At another spot we saw an open window, and halt-
ing among the bushes, could see without being seen.
Mongorge was seated at a table, and facing the
garden. His only companion was a woman, about
whose waist he had thrown an arm. In the hand
that was free he held a string of diamonds, which
scintillated as they moved, and caught the light from
a lamp hanging on the filthy wall. I saw the
woman's face when she looked up to watch the
dice-box in her hands. It was Coulon's.

She was beautifully dressed, in striking contrast to
the rags she wore when I saw her in the afternoon.
Seen from where we stood, she seemed to be in rose-

192 XTbe jf town of ftaicsvs

coloured silk, adorned with French point lace. The
short sleeves and full petticoats' gave her the appear-
ance of a lady of fashion, such as one might expect
to see at Court, or in the houses of the noble. Her
shoulders — the colour of old ivory, from want of
cleansing — were bare, and on her breast was a golden
pendant with a device wrought in precious stones
which flashed with every breath she drew.

Mansart exclaimed in wonder :

"Tis Coulon! To think of that drab in such
attire! What fool has squandered his wealth on
her?"

In her love for gaming — or for some other purpose
— she had set aside her aversion for Mongorge. She
had bid me kill him ; but women in her station
quarrelled and made friends again in a short space
of time.

She gazed at the squares of ivory, collected them,
and threw again. Pointing at the dice with her
forefinger, and with an eagerness that was startling,
she sprang to her feet, clapped her hands, and cried :

" Mine ! Give them to me, Mongorge ! "

Without a doubt the fellow had thought to win
the jewels for himself, for his look of triumph
changed, and he held the diamonds out of Coulon's
reach.

" Nay, 'twas not a fair throw," he answered.

" It was ! They are mine ! " the woman screamed.

"Throw again, you drunken jade," shouted
Mongorge savagely. "You cheated."

" I did not ! " retorted Coulon, snatching at the
precious stones. " They are mine ! I won them !
Give them to me ! "

XTbe ®t>en TRIlfnDow 193

Mongoi^e still held them out of the woman's reach,
but she made an unexpected spring upon his knees,
then tore the diamonds from his hands, breaking the
silken cord on which they were strung, so that some
of them fell to the floor, sparkling like coloured
lightning as they dropped.

The man gazed at the remnants for a moment or
two, then rose to his feet, the woman, who had
remained on his knees, falling heavily to the floor.
She rose at once, however, and danced before him,
clutching the gems, and shrieking :

" I have some of them I Give me the others,
Mongorge! They are mine! I won them! They
are mine ! "

Mongorge muttered something between his teeth,
but held her at arm's length, when Coulon went
forward to snatch at his hand. Again and again
she sought to get at her prize, heedless of her dress,
which was torn in the struggle, and finally she struck
at the man's face in anger. He returned the blow,
and followed with another. The second blow seemed
to rouse his savage nature, and like a wild beast that
has tasted blood, he struck again and again, until the
woman fell back from him, seeking to guard her face
with her uplifted hands. At last she picked up one
of the pewter cups from the table, and was about to
throw it at his head ; but seeing her do this, Mongorge,
hastily laying his precious handful on the table,
rushed at her, snatched the cup from Coulon's hand,
and beat her on her body with it till she cried for
mercy. But he did not desist until she fell back
against the open window.

We did not dare to interfere. I wanted to go for-

N

194 Ube fvovon of Aajests

ward and climb into the room to put an end to the
struggle, but Mansart and Rousard held me back,
declaring that it was tantamount to suicide to
venture.

" They are used to it, monsieur," said the butcher.
"To-morrow Coulon will repay every blow with
interest"

Mongorge, when he saw the woman at the open
window, laughed loudly, as if a thought had come.
Tossing the cup across the room, he lifted her in his
arms, and without caring for her further cries for
mercy, threw her into the garden below. The dis-
tance was not great, but she fell on the grass with a
heavy thud. She did not move after she had flung
out an arm in the helplessness of swift-coming
insensibility, but lay there, to all appearance dead.

The ruffian looked out of the window, then leaning
on the sill, he laughed.

" Coulon," said he presently, in a mocking tone ;
but there was no answer. " My sweet, is your bed a
soft one ? "

While he was there we did not dare to venture
from our obscurity to see if the woman lived, lest the
fellow should rouse the people of the cul de sac, and
invade the garden. We had Mansart to think of;
for if their anger was stirred they might burn his
house about his ears. The Grand Monarque, with all
his splendour, could not crush out the human vermin,
as he called such who dwelt in the alleys of the capital,
and the butcher would have found it useless to call
for his King's protection.

Mongorge did not wait for more than a minute or
two. Going from the window, he went to the table.

XCbe ®pen TRIlfnbow 19s

picked up the sparkling stones, took the lamp 'from
the wall, searched the floor for such as had fallen in
his struggle with the woman, and then chuckling,
came and looked into the garden once more.

" Still asleep, my beauty ? Tis not healthy to lie
on the grass o' nights. But there, you know best.
Have your own way."

After a wish that Coulon might have pleasant
dreams, and bidding her a mocking farewell, he
turned from the window, crossed the floor, and
passed out at the door, which he slammed behind
him.

We went to see if the woman was dead. Kneeling
at her side, I put my ear to her face, and found that
she was breathing. She moved her arm while I was
on my knees, then turned on her side. Seeing us,
she raised herself on her elbow.

" Who are you ? What did Mongorge do to me ?
Ah, I remember ! Curse him ! He tossed me out of
the window ! But never mind ! I shall have my
turn ! Mansart, hold me. I feel faint. I believe the
scoundrel has broken my back."

She fell to the grass again, and moaned, then lay
still.

" I will carry her to the house, lest she should die,
and that were a pity, for she is the best of the whole
nestful of rogues," said Mansart, lifting her in his
strong arms. When he did so, Rousard stooped and
picked up a slipper with a silver buckle set with
precious stones, wrought in a monogram, which, in
the darkness, could not be deciphered.

The mystery was this: How did such a woman,
poor as the poorest, starving more frequently than

196 ube jfrown of Aajests

satisfied, so one would think, foul, also, from life in
such a filthy place — how did such as she come to be
richly clothed and so bejewelled ? The less wealthy
among the fashionable ladies of France contented
themselves with jet ornaments, since they could not
afford diamonds. Only the rich wore real gems ; but
here was a creature from the gutter wearing a dress
and jewels such as would content the proudest of the
women I had left in the salon of my cousin, the
Comtesse.

" Adele ! " cried the butcher, when he stumbled up
the steps with his heavy load, and entered the
room in which his wife was sitting.

Madame Mansart swung round, wondering at her
husband's breathless call. " Great Heaven ! what have
you there ? A lady of rank ? " She came forward,
and gazed at the woman whom the butcher had laid
upon the floor, since her dead weight had tried his
strength. " Why, 'tis Coulon I And in such a dress I
She, a harlot, a beggar, in silk and gems ! "

"Bring her to her senses," said Mansart, who
breathed heavily after bearing his unwonted burden,
and gazed at the beaten, bleeding face of the un-
conscious one. " I will tell you all about it
presently."

/

CHAPTER XXII

WHAT COULON SAW

Two or three hours passed before the battered face
showed any signs of returning consciousness, and it
was broad daylight when Coulon spoke. Even then
her words were incoherent, and when left alone for a
little while she fell into a deep sleep, from which we
did not attempt to rouse her.

The golden pendant about the woman's neck had
meanwhile attracted my attention, and after having
examined it intently, I became filled with a feverish
anxiety. It bore a monogram made up of diamonds,
sapphires, and rubies, forming the letters " L. S. A,"
These could very well have denoted Louise de St.
Andr6, and if so, Coulon was able to throw some
light on the whereabouts of the maiden for whom I
had been seeking.

Taking the pendant with me, Rousard and I re-
turned to my rooms, where I vainly attempted to
sleep for a few hours, proposing later to carry the
jewel to the Comtesse, and ask her if she could
identify it. She knew it instantly, and expressed
her willingness to go with me to Mansart's house to
see the dress Coulon wore.

The chairmen who carried her thither looked at

each other when my cousin got out of her sedan-chair,

197

198 XTbe jfrown of Aajests

and went with me into the butcher's shop. On
entering the room where Coulon had been lying, we
found her still asleep, as if making up for the loss of
rest during many a night At the first glance the
Comtesse exclaimed:

" 'Tis the dress Louise wore when she left me to go
to the Chateau de Neure. It was a new one which
she put on to show to me, and when the letter came
she did not stay to change, but threw a travelling
cloak over it, and went away. To think of that drab
putting it upon her filthy body ! " she cried in disgust,
looking at the sleeper with all the scorn which Court
ladies were wont to display for women of Coulon's
class. "You must not lose sight of her, Fulcran.
She ought to be carried to the Conciergerie, and be
made to tell what she knows."

"Nay, 'twere better to keep this matter to our-
selves," I answered. " Some money will loosen her
tongue, and if I give her sufficient, she may render
me valuable assistance in finding Louise."

Catherine swung round impatiently, turning her
back on the sleeper.

"A twist of the thumb-screw would suit such a
strumpet," said she, anger and scorn in her voice and
face. "She will take your money, and lead you a
chase, then leave you no wiser than before."

"I think not, cousin. If she knows anything, a
few gold pieces will set her tongue going. I will
take care to make it worth her while."

"As you will, Fulcran." she answered, after she
had turned and gazed at the woman in silence. " It
may be so, but I have grave doubts of her telling
you anything. Take me home, please."

TRIlbat Conlon Saw 199

I walked by the chair and talked to the Comtesse
on her way homewards, and parting with her at her
door, returned to Mansart, in the hope that Coulon
had ended her sleep. She was sitting up when I
entered the room, and expressing her wonder at
finding herself in the house of the butcher. She had
only opened her eyes a few moments before, and was
asking what had happened to bring her there.

"I remember," was her response, when she had
heard Mansart's explanation; but seeing me enter,
she looked surprised, and pointing her finger at me,
exclaimed: "Tis the gallant who was fool enough
to enter the alley ! '*

" True, Coulon. I have to thank you for serving
me during the fight," said I.

She lapsed into good-nature at once.

" Mongorge nearly did for you then, monsieur. But
what made you come into the All^ de Couv^e ? "

Mansart and his wife went to the shop, and left me
with the woman to do my business how I would.

" Shall I go, monsieur ?" asked Rousard ; and when
I nodded in the affirmative, he sauntered into the
street to await my summons.

"Coulon," said I, when we were alone, and wasting
no time, "where did you get this?" I held the
pendant before her. " And the clothes you wear ? "

She looked down at the costly dress with some
amusement, then smoothed her dirty hands over her
lap to feel the silk. She laughed when she saw me
looking at her.

" That's telling, monsieur," she answered, with easy
good-nature, which made me think that if I treated
her skilfully, I should get at her secret.

200 ube fvovm of Aajests

" But it is telling that might be worth your while.
Suppose I gave you this to tell me ? "

I held up a golden pistole, and her eyes gleamed.

" I will tell you if you will give it to me."

'* Take it. But I want the truth."

" Tis the truth I am going to tell you," she cried,
adding an oath with a facility which made me stare
at her. "I got them from that she-devil, Mai^ot
Cartier."

" But she is far away from here," said I.

" She was. She is now."

I looked at her keenly, my heart beating. The
thought had come, that if Cartier was in the All^ de
Couv6e it might be worth while to get some of the
city guard into the cul de sac, and take her by force
— then compel her to divulge what she knew. But
the words " She is now ** disappointed me. She was
far away, doubtless where Louise was hidden. I
shuddered when I thought of her being with such a
woman, stripped of h^ rich dress, and robbed of her
valuables, perhaps treated with hideous brutality;
for how could Cartier do anything that savoured of
gentleness ?

A sly look came into Coulon's face when she saw
my anxiety. She gazed at the piece of gold in her
hand, and shook her head.

" Monsieur, I can tell you something, but I won't
do it for this paltry coin."

It was to be a matter of bargain, and since I was
resolute to find Louise at all costs, I was indifferent
on the point of money.

" How much do you want, Coulon ? "

She looked me up and down, as if to judge, not of

TRIlbat Coulon Saw 201

my resources, but of the probabilities of obtaining a
big price. Her fingers fidgeted with the point lace
on her bosom, and presently she named the sum.

" A hundred pistoles, monsieur."

" That is a large amount"

" But I know you are anxious to hear what I can
tell you," she answered candidly.

I was anxious ; sick with dread, in fact, and I
dallied no longer.

"Very well. You shall have a hundred pistoles,
provided you tell me the story from beginning to
end."

Her eyes glistened at the promise of so much
wealth.

" When shall I have it ? " she asked eagerly.

" When I have proved the truth of your story."

" But I want the money now."

" You shall have ten pistoles when you have told
me everything, and a hundred when I have proved
that you have kept nothing back," I responded.

" Then listen ! " she exclaimed, folding her hands,
and suffering them to lie in her lap on the rose-
coloured silk. She paused for a few moments,
thinking how she could best tell her story.

"Margot Cartier lives in my house — I suppose
you know that? Pierre Mansart will have told
you ? "

I nodded.

" Father Calvisson came to her one night, while she
and I were drinking together. He said he wanted to
see Margot alone, so I went out of the room ; but I
listened outside. I heard him say that he wanted her
to waylay Mademoiselle de St Andr6, a beautiful

aoa jok frown of Aajests

lady who was visiting the Comtesse du Roure, and
carry her away to a place he would tell her of later.
He gave her some money, I know, because I heard
the chink of gold, and when they had made their
plans, he went away.

" Margot would not tell me what the priest wanted
with her ; but she did not know that I had heard it
all," Coulon added, with a laugh, rubbing her dirty
forefinger across her lip, then folding her hands
again.

" She was so nasty-tempered that I made up my
mind to spoil the game for her. Why should she
have so much money, and I none ? Who is Margot
Cartier? A she-cat, a liar, a drunken drab, the
devil's spouse — if ever he married ! "

Coulon spoke savagely when she thought of Cartier,
just as she had spoken of Mongorge in the alley,
when he and the others gathered about me.

" Never mind that, Coulon. I want to hear about
mademoiselle."

"Am I not telling you?" she replied sharply.
" Do not interrupt me, or I shall give you the story
wrongly." She rubbed her lips again, and said : " I
want some wine. I am thirsty."

She went on once more, when she had had a
draught :

"I followed up Margot Cartier. Wherever she
went, I went, taking care she should not see me. I
saw her talking to a man one night near a doorway
of Notre Dame. I could not see the gallant's face,
but I heard what passed between them." She
laughed aloud at the thought, but went on again:
" Margot told the man that someone — she did not

TPOlbat Coulon Saw 303

name Father Calvisson — had arranged with her to
carry mademoiselle away, and he offered to double
the amount the priest had promised.

" I went after Margot into the haunted forest She
had half-a-dozen men there — Mongorge among
them — and when mademoiselle rode along the
winding path, they suddenly rushed out, killed the
two varlets, and carried away the lady and her maid
to a great house among the trees.

" I remember seeing Margot dance when she
entered the mansion, as if she had successfully
accomplished her purpose. They all went in,
Mongorge brushing past the woman, and leading the
way down the passage. He entered one of the rooms,
but came out trembling, white in the face, and
looking scared, as if he had seen a ghost The door
of the house was left wide open, and I followed
stealthily, so that I saw all this. The others peeped
into the chamber, then drew away in horror, crossing
themselves. Mademoiselle, whom they carried, saw
what they saw — what I, too, saw when I followed.
She screamed dreadfully, and then became silent, as
if she had died. Her hand hung helplessly, swinging
to and fro, while the carriers and Margot hurried into
the open air.

*'They passed down some steps into a garden
which was in ruin. Walking towards the lower wall,
they bore the lady and her unconscious maid among the
bushes, and passed out of my sight ; but I followed
swiftly, heedless of the thorns which scratched me,
and the undergrowth which caught my feet, and
threw me down. Is that what you want to hear,
monsieur ? " she asked abruptly.

204 Ube ftovm of Aajesti?

" Go on," I answered eagerly. " Tell me everything,
and do not pause."

She nodded.

•' I lost sight of the others when I fell, but pre-
sently heard the men cursing at the thorns. By
stealthy following I marked their course until they
arrived at a hut in the forest, all covered with creepers,
and into it they carried the two women.

" I dared not stay any longer lest they should see
me. I thought I would return to the hut, if needs
be, to discover what came of the scheme which
Margot had in hand. Hurrying to the house, I ran
down the passage, my heart beating as if it would
burst because of that horrible thing I had seen, then
out at the door, and into the forest path. I did not
halt until I got into the road where a cross was
standing. Some packmen were passing, and since
they were going my way to Paris, they gave me a
lift, and so I got home. I had intended to go back,
but could not muster courage. That house was too
dreadful a place to enter alone.

"Last night Margot Cartier came home with a
bundle, which she placed in her room. After locking
the door, she went away again. What was in the
bundle? She had never locked the door before;
hence, thought I, it must contain something precious.
I followed her to the city gate, and seeing her mount
a pack-horse and ride away, I returned to the alley.

" My curiosity would not suffer me to lose sight of
the closed door, and when Mongorge came in he
asked me what I was doing. His eyes glistened
when I whispered in his ear. No one was near, so
he put his shoulder to Margot's door, and burst it in.

TRIlbat Coulon Saw

205

We found the bundle in the chimney, and carrying it
into my room, opened it on the table. It contained
this dress, and these slippers, the golden pendant,
and a string of diamonds. I wanted the jewels, and
so did Mongorge ; hence we agreed to play for them,
so soon as I had put on the dress. I won the
pendant, and then we played for the string of
diamonds — "

" I know the rest," said I, when Coulon put out her
hand for the wine-cup.

CHAPTER XXIII

COULON TURNS GUIDE

The woman's story so far corresponded with what I
already knew that I unhesitatingly believed all that
she told me. Before an hour had gone I was busy
arranging for another journey to the mansion in the
forest of Marly, while Madame Mansart gathered
such clothing from her wardrobe as would enable
Coulon to travel with me without attracting the
scandal of wayfarers.

She was willing enough to go when I had con-
cluded a bargain to her satisfaction, and on her own
initiative proposed that I should pick her up on the
road outside the city. She had no wish to run the
risk of seeing Mongorge or any of the people who
lived in the A]\6e de Couv6e, for if they saw her on
horseback they might ridicule her, and she was
sensitive to criticism from those of her own class.
Her reasonable suggestion that if Mongorge saw her
riding with me towards the forest he might become
suspicious, and hasten to give Margot notice of our
approach, induced me to suffer her to go out of my
sight for a while. Her anxiety to obtain the money

I had promised, however, was sufficient guarantee

206

Coulon XTums Guide 207

that she would not fail to be at the appointed
place.

We met but few on the road whom we knew, and
none took notice of Coulon, who rode ahead and
alone, as if she did not belong to us. Dressed in the
respectable garments which the butcher's wife had
given her, and veiled to hide the bruises on her face,
none of her cronies of the cul de sac would have
known her had they passed ; nor would any foot-
pads say aught, or molest her, while two well-armed
horsemen were a few yards behind.

After a time a company approached us, riding from
Versailles. With noisy laughter they drew their
horses across the road to bar the way, and demand
my business so far from the capital. Racine was
among them. There was always that strange in-
congruity in the matter of companionships in Parisian
society. Men like La Fontaine, Corneille, and
Racine associated with shallow-brained people about
the Court, who idolised them, not because they ap-
preciated worth of intellect, but because these literary
geniuses had obtained the patronage of royalty.
They knew nothing of the beauty of poetry, nor of
the subtlety of thought which such pen-workers had
put into words ; but these literati were the fashion
until the whim of His Majesty or Madame de
Maintenon changed. Once that should be, the
things they had applauded would be esteemed worth-
less ; the men on whom the courtiers had showered
their attentions would become social outcasts ; they
would be howled down and scorned. It was the way
of the world — the brilliant world that made up the
Court in Paris, or at Marly. I call to mind what

2o8 XTbe frown ot asajcsVs

Madame de S6vign^ once said to me, that there was
a certain social god in the midst of a parterre of
young and lovely women, with ribbons, plumes,
bright colours, suave voices, smiles and perfumes,
while abb^s, courtiers, and poets stood round in
attendance, an apparently appreciative and enthusi-
astic audience.

It was Racine's day just then. He was the being
whom the world delighted to honour, and these gay
women and gallants — the pensioned lackeys of the
Court — were always with him.

Rousard rode forward to keep an eye on Coulon's
safety, and to induce her to wait somewhere out of
sight until I should be at liberty, which did not
promise to be for some time to come. These idlers
had nothing on hand just now, and were willing to
pass an hour in gossip, regardless of my own wish to
ride on, since time was precious, and my whole soul
seethed with impatience. Every woman had her
question to ask, and every man his banter to dispose
of. When I thought I had told all I knew as to the
doings in the capital during the last four-and-twenty
hours, one fair and frivolous creature insisted on my
listening while Racine recited his latest tirade. A
hundred inquiries followed as to my business out of
Paris, for beneath all the flattering courtesies there was
among the men and women of quality a curiosity as
keen and rude as any that was bluntly expressed by
men and women who were branded as canaille.

I was on the point of gathering up my reins when
two horsemen came along the road from Paris. One
was M. de TEperon, the other Father Calvisson,
riding my own horse which I had lent him when

Conlon XTums Guide 209

at Gueche, so that he might return to his duties at
Tour. Those who were about me were so full of
laughter because of a bit of gossip which I retailed
for the sake of putting myself into good odour with
them, that none essayed to hinder the priest or his
companion. They contented themselves with a
respectful salute for the Churchman, and a curt nod
for the other, who was in no sense popular among
those that paid court to the King or his mistress.

When I got away from the noisy group, Calvisson
and his companion were hidden in the distance by
a cloud of dust Coulon was no rider, and had we
gone on quickly she could not have followed us. I
had thought to overtake the priest, and keep in his
company — whether welcome or otherwise — and so
frustrate him if he had any idea of going to the forest
mansion, the supposition being that Mongorge had
sold his secret as to the whereabouts of Louise. For
a time I kept them well in sight, having left Rousard
behind to come on with the woman as swiftly as she
could travel. I gave up the pursuit when they
turned away from the forest path, and took the road
which led towards Marly.

Waiting for Rousard and Coulon at the spot where

the cross was standing, I found myself wondering

whether the priest and his companion really meant

to run the risk and intrude upon His Majesty's

privacy. If so, they were surely purposing to bring

about my downfall, and put into effect that scheme

of theirs which I had overheard on the Chevalier's

balcony — to obtain my estates, and get me sent to

the galleys. My ears burned at the thought of my

peril, and my face flushed and smarted, although the

o

2IO Ube frown of Aajests

day was balmy, and the air without a sting. But
what matter ? I would procure the release of Louise,
and after that take my chance of righting myself
with the King. There should be no change of
purpose. It had animated me from the moment
when I discovered my dilemma, and I pursued my
plan, practically ignoring my own safety while I
sought to achieve the liberty of the woman who,
unknown to herself, had won my heart An inward
monitor whispered the word "Danger!" again and
again, until I found myself spurring Marot down
the forest path, then pulling him up suddenly, and
wheeling round, to return to the cross where I had
promised to await the arrival of Coulon and her escort

After long waiting they came, and we entered the
forest, coming at last to the house into which Louise
had been carried.

The door was closed, but not fastened. When we
tramped in there was the hollow echo which tells of
the absence of everything like human life. Coulon
stood outside shuddering, glancing down the passage
fearfully, afraid to enter because of that terrible
presence in one of the rooms. What would she have
done had she known of the death-group at the top of
the staircase ?

We took the horses into the room we had already
used as a stable, and were then free to commence
our search. The woman hesitated when I told her
to follow.

" I am afraid."

" Nonsense ! The dead can never hurt the living,"
said Rousard, laying a hand on Coulon's arm.
" Come along, and do not be stupid."

Cottlon Curtis GnfOe an

She yielded reluctantly, but insisted on walking
between us, gripping our arms tightly when we drew
near to the door of the room in which the dead
master sat I felt her hand shaking, and looking
round, saw the bruised face white with fear, and
heard her chattering teeth.

" Mother of God, protect me ! " she cried, snatching
her hand from my arm for a moment, while she
crossed herself. " That horrible thing I Oh, why
did I come here again 7 Let me go back,"

She turned quickly as if she would run out to the
forest, but Rousard caught her by the arm, and held
her with a grip from which she could not release
herself, in spite of her frantic struggles.

" Let me go ! I pray you be kind ! I shall die if
I see that horrible thing ! "

" Nonsense, Coulon," said I ; " 'twill never touch
you."

Rousard, to reassure the frightened creature, flung
his arm about her waist, and almost lifting her from
her feet, hurried past the door, only halting when he
got to the terrace in the garden.

" Now you are safe enough, so pluck up courage,"
said the retainer, with rough good-nature, for he saw
that the woman was genuinely alarmed. She could
have faced the fists of men in a quarrel in the All^
de Couv^, and was accustomed to the flash of steel
in that hot-bed of violence and murder ; but here was
Death in his most appalling aspect, and not without
good reason her spirit failed her absolutely. When
Rousard took his arm away from her she sank to the
stones, and buried her face in her lunds, weeping
hysterically. We began to wish we had come

212 XTbe frown of Aajeats

without her, but her presence was indispensable.
She knew where the hut lay, and diligently as
we had searched the forest, we had found no trace
of it For some time she struggled with her terror,
and only overcame it when Rousard shut the house
door, and led her down the terrace steps. A draught
of wine from his flask revived her courage, and she
stood ready to show the way.

The path through the tangled garden was no easier
to traverse than before, but we went forward, covering
our hands with gloves, in order to deal with the thorns
that barred the way. At last we came to the wall
which formed the bottom boundary.

By this time Coulon was herself again, cool and
alert. She stood a while in the open doorway, and
gazed about her; then pointing to the left, led us
among the trees and bushes. Here and there the
soil was soft, and looking down we saw signs of
others having passed that way — the footprints of
men. My heart leaped with hope, and I felt kindly
disposed towards this strumpet, as the Comtesse had
called her, since she had not deceived me. But a
fear followed on the heels of such a hope. Was
Louise still in the hut we were seeking? Or had
Margot Cartier taken her away? One token after
another presented itself to our guide, assuring her
that she was going in the right direction ; here some
leaves scooped out of the carpeted level with the
feet of passers-by, there a soft patch of soil where the
imprint of heavy boots told their tale.

After a while Coulon, who had been leading, halted,
and pointed to a heap of evergreens among the trees,
a hundred yards ahead.

Coulon Uums Onibc

213

" They took her there 1 " she cried.

I did not wait to hear what next she would have
said, but hurrying past her, went forward at a run,
my eyes fixed on the ivy-covered hut Suddenly I
stopped, and my lips parted with an exclamation of
wonder.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE HUT IN THE FOREST

A WOMAN was crossing the bit of greensward in front
of the hut with uncertain steps. Her hands hung
helplessly at her sides, blood came from her forehead
in a thin red line which marked her face, and the
dishevelled hair fell over her shoulders. Once she
looked up, and the sun lighting her features, I saw
that it was Margot Cartier. That same moment her
feet caught in a tree root, and she fell, striking her
head against the point of a broken, low-jutting
branch. She screamed with the pain, then lay full
length upon the moss which spread out like a rich
green carpet.

While I looked across the open space at the fallen
woman, all was silent, but for the broken songs of
birds, and the strange murmur as the breeze of the
summer's day played among the leaves.

After that brief halt I hurried to the woman's side.

She lay as one in a swoon, motionless and quiet, but

for her quick breathing. When I called to Rousard

to hasten, he came to my side, followed by Coulon.

" Keep watch over her ! " I cried. " Do not let her

214

XTbe f)ut in tbe forest 215

get away from you ! 'Twere best, perhaps, to tie her
hands and feet."

Without waiting to say more, I went on and looked
for the entrance to the hut, but it was so covered with
ivy and creeping plants that I only found it by
tracing the footprints.

When I entered the dilapidated place, I saw
nothing but a basket containing food and wine. The
walls were covered with cobwebs, and streaked with
water-marks, while long streamers of green ivy hung
through the broken roof, fitfully admitting the sun-
shine in places. The window opposite the door was
massed up with matted v^etation, so that one could
barely see the outside forest Balmy as it was without,
the air within this dismal ruin was mouldy and chill.

On finding it unoccupied, I could not repress a cry
of bitter disappointment. My fears were realised, I
thought, and that she-devil whom I had seen had
hidden Louise elsewhere. Walking from corner to
comer to find some possible trace of her whom I was
seeking, my foot kicked against something which
jumped noisily across the floor. I looked at it, but
turned away impatiently, for it was nothing but a
heavy padlock. Going to the centre of the room, I
gazed about, swearing that I would put Margot
Cartier to torture, rather than suffer her to keep her
knowledge to herself. I think I was mad for a few
moments. I clenched my hands tightly, and breathed
heavily while I thought how I would press the woman
to the extremity of pain, if she did not give me my
answer instantly. Searching again around and over-
head for some sign of the loved one's presence, I
called aloud:

2i6 Zbc ftovon of Aajests

" Louise, where have they hidden you ? "

I had no thought of receiving an answer. It was
despair that brought the cry from my lips, and again
and again it came. I could see between the ivy
strands that hung over the doorway what was going
on outside. Rousard and Coulon were kneeling by
the fallen virago, not doing what I had bid them, but
watching the woman's face. Then Coulon clasped
her hands, bent low for a closer look, and sprang to
her feet with a cry. The retainer laid his hand on
Margot's bosom, as if to feel for the beating of her
heart; then shaking his head, he, too, arose and
stood at his companion's side, looking at the prostrate
one.

Wondering what had chanced, and eager to lose
no time, I went out of the hut

" Rousard ! *'

"Yes, monsieur," the man answered, casting a
backward look at Cartier as he came towards me.
" The woman's dead," he added, before I had time to
speak.

" Dead ? "

It made me angry to think that she had escaped
me, and was not available for imparting information
as to the missing one's whereabouts. The dead
woman's presence was evidence that Louise could not
be far away, but how could one find her in this tangled
forest ?

" Have you found mademoiselle ? " asked Rousard,
but in a doubtful tone, since he could see my face.

" The place is empty," I replied, striding past him
to look at the virago, who might have been of so
much use to me at this juncture.

XTbe f)ut in tbe forest 217

She lay bosom downwards, but her face was so
turned that we could see it It had that death-like
hue which tells that life has gone. A wound from
which the blood trickled slowly was on the temple,
another on the forehead. When I stooped, I saw
that the arms were broken. A discoloured mark
showed that, to all appearances, she had received
a blow from a heavy weapon across one of the
wrists. She had evidently been engaged in deadly
conflict with someone, and her latest fight had ended
in her undoing.

Coulon, who stood at my side, could not repress
an exclamation of relief She thought, perhaps, of
quarrels she had had with this dead woman when
they lived together in the cul de sac^ this unsexed
creature whose nature was brutal, and never softened
by any tenderness. She spat on her, then kicked
her viciously, in part repayment of the wrongs she
had endured.

"She killed my child I" she gasped; "the only
thing I ever loved."

Once more she spurned the dead one with her
foot. As if that did not satisfy her hate, and prove
sufficient in the way of revenge, she went upon her
knees and slapped the pale, disfigured, wicked face
again and again, with all her force. Rising to her
feet, she walked to and fro, and sobbed.

" She killed my child ! the only thing I ever
loved," said she repeatedly, while her feet brushed
through the forest leaves. But from this she passed
to another frenzy, expressive of her joy, and danced
upon the leafy soil. The dried leaves scattered with
the wind she raised by the swing of her skirts, and

2i8 XTbe frown of Aajests

she gave up only when she was weary. Too breath-
less to speak, and desiring to shut out the sight of
the dead woman who had wronged her so, she
walked to the hut ; but stumbling on the threshold,
fell heavily. She lay there for a few moments,
while Rousard and I stood by Cartier's side, won-
dering what we should do, since her secret had died
with her. We were startled by an eager call from
Coulon, and looking her way, saw that she had
partly raised herself, and was holding up a hand to
beckon us to her side.

" What is it ? " I cried, advancing swiftly.

" Listen ! "

She lowered her head till her ear touched the
floor. Listening intently, I heard nothing, and said
so.

" But listen ! " she exclaimed impatiently. " Do
you not hear?"

Her face filled with wonder when I, thinking she
had gone mad, shook my head.

"But / do," she persisted. "Kneel, monsieur.
Put your ear close to the board."

I was on my knees in an instant, listening in-
tently, and then I heard what set my heart beating
fiercely. A voice which seemed familiar was saying :

" Help, for God's sake ! "

I looked on the wooden floor, and cursed myself
for a fool. Now I understood the presence of the
padlock which my foot had spurned. I had come
into the place to gaze right and left, and upwards to
the broken roof, never giving a thought to the floor
I trod. By close scrutiny in the half twilight of
the darkened room, I saw a square-cornered trap

XTbe f)ut tn tbe forest 219

door which opened into a cellar, and Coulon was
lying across it. Pulling the woman away with scant
ceremony, I found a ring of iron, sunken in the
wood, and taking it in my hand, raised the door,
tossed it back noisily, and looked down into the
space beneath. A lanthorn threw a dismal light
about an earth-walled cellar, the floor of which
was reached by some wooden steps. Close to the
wall, and lying on her back, was a woman, whose
bare white arms were outspread on the dark soil.
Near to the steps another crouched, who looked as
though she had purposed to climb them, but had
not strength to make the attempt. Her face was
uplifted to catch a glimpse of him who was peering
down at her ; but none could have seen it, since the
candle-light behind her was too dim to do more
than just dispel the darkness.

" Are you Mademoiselle de St. Andr6 ? " I asked,
lying flat upon the floor, endeavouring to discover
for myself who this woman was.

There was no answer to my question, but she
who crouched asked faintly :

" Who are you ? "

"I am the Vicomte de la Tour," I responded,
and in a moment or two I had my feet on the
wooden steps in the act of descending into the
cellar.

" Ha ! thank God ! " came the words, but before
I had reached the bottom step the woman flung up
her hands, and fell back insensible.

Going down at a run, I bent over the prostrate
one, but could not see her face because of the
darkness. Her bare arms and shoulders were cold,

220 ubc frown ot /Dajestfi

and her breath scarcely perceptible. Had I not
marked the low breathing when I put my ear to
her lips, I should have thought her dead, she lay so
still. But for the cloak which had partly fallen from
her, she was scantily clad. If it were Louise, the
explanation of her lack of clothing was simple
enough. Margot Cartier had not only robbed her
of her jewels, but had stripped from her the rich
dress I had seen Coulon wearing.

Stepping over the other body, I crossed the floor
to get the lanthorn, so that I might see which of
these two was the woman I had been so eagerly
searching for. While doing so, I trod on some-
thing hard, and looking down, saw a sword at my
feet Kicking it aside, I returned with the light
First I bent over her who lay with outstretched
arms. It was Marguerite, the maid. She, too, had
been robbed of her dress, and such valuables as she
possessed, and now lay dead. Over her left breast
was a wound such as a sword-thrust might inflict,
and a red stream had flowed from it When I
placed my hand upon her, she was already cold,
and the face was set in death.

Striding over her, I knelt beside the other. She
was now breathing audibly, the breath coming in
little gasps, while her hands opened and closed
restlessly.

It was Louise, looking ghastly white in the dim
light of the solitary smoke-grimed lanthorn. She
opened her eyes while I waited for Coulon to come
down the steps and do something for her, since a
woman's hands are of more avail in such a case.

"Where am I?" she asked, looking about her, as

XTbe f)ut in tbe forest 221

if for Marguerite ; but seeing her lying still not far
away, she turned to Coulon, then to Rousard and
myself. The light evidently fell on my face, for she
spoke as if she fully recognised me. " Vicomte, did
you come hither to effect my rescue ? "

" I did, mademoiselle," I answered, taking her hand
in mine, and kissing it reverently.

" Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

She said no more. The light seemed to be too
much for her eyes, and she closed them ; then her
head fell wearily on Coulon's shoulder, and she lay
there, half-unconscious, and silent. She knew not
the character of the creature on whose bosom she was
lying — that she was a denizen of the cut de sac which
had such an evil reputation. In that moment of de-
pendence, distinctions were levelled, and the two were
women together. Coulon knelt there, doing what she
could for the lady of rank, pouring a cordial between
her lips, or chafing her hands to give them warmth ;
but a sense of her unworthiness came over her while
she looked upon the other's pure face, which nestled
against her. Her own flushed crimson, and when
she turned round to me for a moment, her eyes were
full of tears. One rolled down her cheeks, then
another, but she brushed them both away with the
corner of her camlet.

" Take her into your own arms, monsieur ! '* she
exclaimed. "'Tis not meet that such as I should
touch her."

" Nay ! " I cried, moved by the look of pain in the
woman's face, and the husky voice, which gave token
that goodness had not altogether died out of her soul.
" 'Tis better that she should be in a woman's arms,

222

Ube frown of Aajests

Coulon. Think naught of that, but do what you can
to restore her."

Kneeling about the unconscious one, unable to
bring her back to any knowledge of her surroundings,
we talked of the best plan to pursue. Before long it
was arranged, and Rousard, mounting the cellar
steps, strode through the wood towards the mansion,
to get his horse and ride with all speed to the chateau
of the Marquise de Lauzun.

CHAPTER XXV

THE KING'S FROWN

During the next four days I stayed at the Chateau
de Neure, whither we had brought Louise from the
forest hut.

She had not recovered consciousness, in spite of
the efforts of the leech who came from St Germain,
but lay in a fever on the bed to which she had been
carried, tossing her arms on the silken coverlet,
talking wildly and weeping in turn, knowing no one
when she looked at us, who stood anxiously at her
bedside.

By listening to what she said in her fever dreamsi
one might have told the greater part of her story,
from the moment she left Paris until I found her in
the cellar, with dead Marguerite for her only com-
pany. Sometimes she plaintively besought Mai^ot
Carticr to set her free, offering large sums of money
if she would but do so, or if she would tell her friends
of her whereabouts. Anon she would expostulate
against her detention, and threaten the woman who
had abducted her, only, however, to break off
suddenly with a wail of disappointment.
333

224 Ubc frown of Aajests

" Oh, you are cruel to place me at the mercy of a
libertine ! You say he wants to marry me ? Not he !
He wants my money. He is not infatuated with my
beauty. He has others as beautiful as myself. He
can have others as rich. He, who goes with wantons
— how can he dare to sully me ? "

She would be silent again, lying for a time with her
eyes closed, and her lips moving, as if she communed
with herself. When she opened them to gaze at us,
she did not know me, neither did she recognise her
cousin, the Marquise, nor take any notice of Coulon,
who had begged to be allowed to help in nursing the
sick one.

Sometimes she clutched at the bed*clothes with her
soft white hands, and sitting up, looked past us,
speaking indignantly.

" How dare you speak to me like that, monsieur —
to me, a woman who is pure in thought as well as life ?
Would you deal with me as though I were some
strumpet who cares for money more than for virtue ?
Am I naught but a grisette ? Do you dare to play
with me, and raise a scandal in the Court ? I will die
first. If you keep me here in this dreadful place,
where vermin crawl and render the darkness intoler-
able, I can but die ; but you shall never have your
way with me. Shame on you — a gentleman ! One
so near the throne, to serve a woman so ! "

The words were spoken with a spirit that made
poor Coulon look at her in amazement; but the
passion of the sick one passed to white heat which
brought tears to the eyes of the woman of the cul de
sac and made her cower. So did my own heart
tremble to see one so gentle telling, unconsciously.

Ube fcfng's frown 225

the story of those days when Rousard and I had
sought for her ceaselessly.

At another time she would lift her hand and gaze
at it with dismay.

" M. le Vicomte, I have lost my ring. It dropped
among the rushes. 'Twas my mother's, and I wore
it because I loved her so dearly. Ha! you have
found it ? I thank you, with all my heart ! "

She kissed her hand before offering it to me to
kiss, as was the courtly custom of the times. But
while I thought that she had come to herself again,
and this was the indication of returning consciousness,
she held her plump fingers to Coulon, or to the
Marquise. Then I knew it was a vain hope.

The third time she did this, I drew the ruby ring
from my own finger and placed it on hers. She
seemed to know what I had done, for gazing at it,
she kissed it, and then my own hand, murmuring
gratefully :

" M. le Vicomte, I thank you with all my heart
You do not know how much I loved my mother."
The tears sprang to her eyes, and rolled down her
cheeks when she spoke.

I thought I should go mad while I stood in the
room throughout the days and nights, and watched
the leech when he entered and drew near to the sick
one. I was hungering for a look or a word that would
tell of improvement ; but he shook his head, and
looked more grave, it seemed to me, each time he
went away.

One morning I mounted Marot for a scamper

across the park, and then travelled along the road which

led to Marly. The thought had come that I might

p

I

296 Ube frown of Aajestp

hear whether the King had returned to Paris. Each
day I had been told that he was yet in seclusion with
Madame de Maintenon, as if the cares of State did
not affect him, and his only thought in life was of
that fascinating woman who held him, body and soul,
in the closest bonds. If it transpired that His
Majesty had gone to the capital, it was my determin-
ation to follow him, and forestall De I'Eperon and
Calvisson.

We had ridden through the gateway, and were
cantering down the dusty road, when De I'Eperon and
the Cur6 of Tour passed us, as if they were coming
from Marly. They did not halt on seeing us, but the
look on their faces was such that I felt my heart beat
more quickly with apprehension. The courtier frowned,
and struck the spur into his horse's (lank, so that the
startled creature plunged, then tore madly down the
road. Father Calvisson did not alter his pace. There
was that same look on his ill-favoured countenance
which I had seen before — a prolonged and insolent
stare such as he had given me after Isabel had
brought his message, demanding my presence at his
house. He even turned to gaze after me, as if he
desired to see me plainly, and fix my appearance in
his memory.

Rousard, who was my companion, scowled. He
looked as if he would like to follow the priest and
horsewhip him, but he rode on at my side, merely
remarking, soon after I had turned my back on the
Cur^:

" I expect he has been to Marly, to see whether the
King intends to stay there much longer."

I made no answer, but flicked at the leaves of the

TEbe IKing's frown 327

overhanging branches with my whip. Presently an
exclamation from Rousard ended ray reverie.

"The King!"

I gazed down the long straight road and saw two
horsemen who, as they drew nearer, proved to be of the
King's bodyguard. Half a score of paces behind
these came two more, and the four swept by, without
a look to right or left, without so much as a salute,
which was customary when one of my rank was on
the way.

Then came such another company of ladies and
gallants as I had met when on my second search for
Louise. Not one among them all could excuse his
or her averted face on the plea that I was a stranger.
The Vicomte de la Tour was known to all who were
about the King's body, and every lady in Madame de
Maintenon's following knew me. Yet nearly all, on
seeing our horses drawn up at the roadside to suffer
them to pass, instead of looking about them at the
beauties of the countryside, began to be otherwise
occupied, and gathered up the reins, or turned to a
companion — anything to excuse themselves from
greeting me. Only one looked at me, and that was
the Comtesse. Her eyes, which usually sparkled with
laughter, were now brimming with tears, and there
was a little gesture of dismay and loving solicitude as
her horse trotted past me. She was on the other side
of the road, but seeing me, crossed, so that she might
come close to me, I caught her words when she rode
by.

" Dear cousin, my sympathy ! "

There was no time for more.

What did she mean i Was she referring to Louise,

228 XTbe frown of Aafesti?

lying at death's door in the chateau? Had I not
seen the faces of the others I might have thought so,
but not now. She was thinking of something else.
But what ?

While I sat in my saddle, waiting for the passing of
the King, Louis himself drew near. On his left hand
was a lady — that mildly imperious woman whose
nickname in the Court was La Devote. Her horse
was gorgeously caparisoned, and she, with her splen-
did figure and high-bred carriage, dressed as a queen
might be. Usually, when I came to Court, Madame
de Maintenon's lovely eyes were turned upon me with
pleasant greeting, and her deep coral-coloured lips
parted into a smile ; but when she saw me waiting
there, saluting, the sunshine on her face while she
talked with the Grand Monarque passed, and a frown
of disapproval was her only response to my courtesy.
She did not even bow to me.

The King was more severe. His large dark brown
eyes flashed angrily, and what the courtiers called
the " Hapsburg under-lip " curled with a scorn that
dumbfounded me. He went so far as to make the sign
of the cross, as if he feared that I might cast a spell
upon him, then slashing his golden-mounted riding-
whip upon the shoulders of the grey Arab charger
which he rode, he plunged by without a word of
greeting.

What need to go farther after such an episode,
which might well damn one in the eyes of the Court
and all the world ? It wanted no one to tell me what
had chanced. I could read into it well, and spell the
one word that was there, to the exclusion of all else —
Ruin. The King's frown could mean nothing less.

xrbc fttna'a frown 229

Calvisson and De I'Eperon had intruded on the
monarch at Marly, contrary to all precedent, daring
such a thing because of the story they had to tell.
They knew His Majesty's feeling towards everything
that savoured of heresy. Apart from the hold which
Madame de Maintenon had upon him, the King hated
Huguenotism intensely. The dislike was so complete
that he suffered everything to go, rather than pardon
those who were tainted with it, and pressed his
religious zeal so extremely that he drove the best and
most loyal of his subjects from the land.

It was strange that a monarch who lived so ques-
tionable a life should be so jealous for the Church's
honour. P^re la Chaise, his indulgent and astute
confessor, Bourdaloue, and others, politic to a degree,
condoned his immoralities, and encouraged him in his
dislike to Huguenotism. They compromised in this
matter. His life was scarcely less impure than that
of the disreputable second Charles of England, but
he was a more cultured man ; so that what was de-
nounced as glaring sin in the one was glossed over,
and mildly termed an indiscretion, in the other.

It was maddening to think that I should be robbed
of wealth in the name of religion, and deprived of
rank, for it must needs come to that, and be sent to
the galleys by one of such moral obliquity ; that one
like him should dare to condemn me in a matter of
conscience without hearing me in self-defence, and
without affording me any opportunity of asserting my
innocence.

I am not saying this in dispraise of the Grand
Monarque because of his treatment of me, nor am I
writing such words concerning the woman who ruled

230 Ubc frown of Aajeati?

him, simply for the reason that she turned her
back upon me. It is common knowledge. There
were few in France who did not know that Louis
was selfish and indifferent to the welfare of others,
just as all are aware that the Jesuits, accepting the
power his favour gave them, overlooked his worst
crimes against virtue and generosity of feeling.

Going back to that day when the King frowned
upon me, I remember how the lackeys who followed
him had their turn of insolence, just as the ass of
fable was bold enough to kick the dying lion. More
than one cried, when the horses dashed by, " A bos les
Huguenots 1 *' — the cry which, so tradition said, had
gone like wildfire through the streets of Paris on the
dreadful Eve of St Bartholomew.

I looked up when they had all passed, and saw
Rousard in his saddle^ with his mouth agape, gazing
after the last of the attendants who were fast disap-
pearing round the corner of the road. Then a curse
escaped him, and the loyal fellow ventured to express
in words what was in his mind.

"That devil, the priest, has got at the King,
monsieur ! "

" I fear so," I answered quietly.

My mind was in such bewilderment that I could
not think of anything else to say.

" When I see him — curse him ! — whether he
crosses my path in Paris, or at Tour, he shall know
what I think. If I find him near a horse-trough
anywhere, summer or winter, he shall stay in it until
he volunteers me absolution, and I warrant he shall
neither know how to sit, nor lie, nor stand for a long
week after. The devil ! "

Zbc HinQ's frown

«3i

The man's teeth went together with a snap when
he had exhausted his vocabulary in framing oaths and
curses.

It was sympathy, and it did me so much good that
I was not disposed to check or warn him.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE "LETTRE DE CACHET"

The King did not fail to follow up his frown.

Amid all the splendours of the Court, the high
spirits of the lords and ladies there, the fascinations
of La Devote, and a thousand distractions, such as
receptions and pageants, the Grand Monarque was
not allowed to forget the nobleman whom others
desired to be rid of from sinister motives of their
own. If De TEperon wanted me out of the way, he
knew some who were in high places who would
further his schemes, in the hope of securing his co-
operation later on for their own purposes. Possibly
the King had forgotten all about me before he
reached Versailles in the absorbing conversation of
his companion ; but I could well believe that
Madame de Maintenon — who, as St. Simon once
said of her, believed herself to be universal Abbess
in spiritual matters, and fancied herself a mother of
the Church — would say to the King, when he bade
her farewell :

** Sire, do not forget that the Vicomte de la Tour is

a Huguenot."

232

1

Zbc '*Xettre he Cacbet** 233

** I will not," would be the response, as La Devote
swept into her own apartment.

Before sunset, while I was walking to and fro on
the terrace, questioning the leech as to the prospects
of Louise's recovery, I saw half-a-dozen horsemen
riding along the winding road across the park. It
was no unusual sight, for gallants with their
attendants came and went; continually, at all
seasons, and especially when it became known
that Mademoiselle de St Andr6 was lying ill at
the chateau, and likely to die. There was a flutter
at my heart, however — a premonition of trouble for
myself. The doctor was surprised, no doubt, when
I turned away from his prosy explanation of the
complicated nature of the sick one's malady. But I
could not listen, for I felt certain that the cavalier
who was riding alone a yard or two ahead of the
others was not come to ask after Louise, but had
business with me.

Long before he dismounted in the courtyard, I
saw that he was M. de Biron, Chief of Police in Paris.
He mounted the steps with a nonchalance which
was cruel, seeing that he was on an errand which
meant untold misery for the man he was seeking ;
then seeing me, he made a low bow.

" May I speak with you alone, monsieur ? " said he,
approaching.

" I am alone," I answered stiffly.

" True," the other said ; " but I have that to give
you which should be placed in your hands unseen by
others."

" What does it matter who sees it ? " I asked ; for
I knew from repute that when the officer bore a

234 '^bc frown of /Dajeatu

leiire de cachet, he was instructed to deliver it secretly.
He would often wait till night had fallen, or meet
one in a lonely road, away from the eyes of the
curious, so that he who received the fatal epistle would
disappear, his whereabouts being unknown to his
friends.

It was no part of my duty to make the task of the
King's officer easy, so that I did not hesitate to put
that question : " What does it matter who sees it ? "

De Biron rejoined at once :

" 'Tis customary for me to do this in privacy."

"All the same, monsieur, I will receive it here,
whatever it may be that you have to give me.**

I had no desire to disappear without anyone
knowing the cause, or the method of my disappearance,
simply to oblige this man and his masters. Just then
Rousard came to the terrace, seeking me.

M. de Biron looked annoyed, but that was no
concern of mine. If he wished to arrest me, let him
do so in the broad light of day, and not allow the
world to suppose that I was riding off for my own
pleasure, without regard to the courtesy due to the
lady of the ch&teau.

" I might speak with you in one of the chambers
within the house, monsieur," he insisted; but I, as
persistent as he, replied :

** Speak here, M. de Biron. I have no wish at
present to go indoors. Let me know your will, and
here, if you please."

The Chief of Police looked sulky, and putting his
hand into his bosom, drew forth a letter which bore
the King's seal.

" Tis unusual, monsieur,*' he grumbled.

xrbc *'Xettre 6c Cacbct" 235

"'Tis unusual, monsieur, to arrest an innocent
man," I answered sharply. " The whole thing is
contrary to the law of France," I added, whereupon
he shrugged his shoulders, but said not a word.

I took the letter from his hand, but scarcely needed
to open it in order to discover its contents. The King's
frown had led me to expect such a thing as this;
nevertheless, I broke the seal and read, my face grow-
ing rigid while I perused the lines which bade me
consider myself under arrest for a crime unnamed.
This lettre de cachet — an unconstitutional violation of
the right of personal liberty — told me in formal terms
that I was to accompany De Biron wheresoever he
was instructed to take me, and without delay, under
danger of further penalties.

"You will come at once, M. le Vicomte?'* It was
a question, but none could avoid taking it as a
command.

"When I have said good-bye to my friends," 1
answered.

" Pardon me ; I cannot allow that You must come
at once."

" Without a word of farewell to those who are
within ? *' I cried.

" Certainly ! "

" But I must needs tell them why I am going
away."

" I cannot allow it, monsieur. It is my business to
take you away with all secrecy."

I stood before the Chief, stern and angry. The
injustice of the thing seemed to lessen the thought of
my hopeless case, and the extremity of my peril. I
found myself thinking of a day that would surely

23^ XTbe frown of Aajesti?

come — a day when the throne would be overturned
by the outburst of the nation's wrath, if such high-
handed proceedings as these were persisted in. But
the short reverie on illegalities and tyranny ended.
My anger gave place to the sense of my absolute
helplessness, and lack of hope, for I was in the King's
hand, and had no alternative but to obey. It was as
useless to protest against such an unconstitutional act
as the issue of that lettre de cachet as for a fly to
attempt to escape from a web after the spider had
begun to weave his further toils about the hapless
one, to hold him in.

If secrecy were desired by M. de Biron, I was re-
solved not to oblige him. I called out to Rousard.

" Rousard, I am under arrest by reason of a lettre
de cachet which this gentleman has brought me. Tell
the Marquise de Lauzun that I am not permitted to
say adieu."

" Monsieur," cried the officer angrily, " you violate
all custom — "

" What care I for custom that is contrary to the
law ? " I retorted savagely. " Does not His Majesty
violate my liberty by issuing such a thing as this ? "
I held out the letter, and saw how my hand was
trembling with wrath.

** It is unwise to create a scene," the Chief
expostulated.

" It is a crime, monsieur, to break in upon a man's
liberty, without specifying the reason for his arrest ! "
I cried, and so loudly, that a lady, whose dress I
could see at the door of the chateau, heard my words,
and stepped on to the terrace to know who spoke in
such angry tones.

XCbc ''Xettrc ^c Cacbcf* 237

It was the Marquise.

Seeing the Chief of Police, and noting my anger,
she hurried to me, and looking at the officer, asked
the meaning of his presence on her terrace.

" M. le Vicomte, I pray you to think of what I have
said," the other exclaimed, ignoring the lady's question
in his anxiety to preserve secrecy — so strong was this
habit become of doing everything after the manner
of the Inquisitors.

" Nay, M. de Biron, I shall speak what pleases me.
Madame, this is the Chief of Police, and here is a
lettre de cachet. I asked monsieur to allow me to say
farewell, but he wished me to go away silently, leaving
you all to surmise as to my whereabouts."

Tears sprang to her ^yts. She thought of the sick
one in the chateau, and of my longing to have one
word from her before she died, and her words
expressed her thought.

" M. de Biron, you will allow monsieur to say
good-bye to someone who is dying — a dear friend
of his ? "

The Chief shook his head.

" It is contrary to my instructions, madame. M.
de Belliot ought to have come with me instantly,
but he has broken in upon all established usages."

The Marquise dared not speak, lest such a letter
might be sent to her in return. She took my hand
in hers, and kissing it, said :

" I will say good-bye to her for you, dear friend.
Now, God be with you, and send you deliver-
ance ! "

Regardless of the King's officer, I stooped and
whispered :

238

XTbe frown of Aajests

" Tell her, if she recovers consciousness, that I love
her. God only knows how much ! "

After kissing her hand, I turned away.

" I will tell her that, monsieur, and more,"
the Marquise answered, walking slowly down the
terrace.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE RED JACKET

Montaigne quotes the following words in one of his
chapters : " It is in our own power to bury, as it were,
in a perpetual oblivion, all adverse accidents, and
to retain a pleasant and delightful memory of our
successes." He rightly prefaces the quotation by
declaring his belief that it is not true. From what I
know of life, it is as false as anything can be. If it
were true I should have no story to tell. My memory
would but permit me to traverse again the sunny lanes
of life, and all the mud and mire would be forgotten.
The care and sorrow, the pain and torture, the sleep-
less nights, the days of weariness and bitter experi-
ence, the shame that follows degradation, would be
no more than the dream of a night — less than that ;
something beyond recall.

But it was a dreadful reality. Montaigne's counter
quotation is true enough : " I do also remember what
I would not ; but I cannot forget what I would.'*

Hence, while I sit here, writing my story by the
open window, oblivious to the low murmur of the
river and the sounds of country life, I am compelled
against my will to see again the things that went to

239

240 TOic fvovon ot ObaiCBVS

make my misery ; to feel afresh the horror of the
environment ; to wince while one hears again — only
in fancy in this after-time, thank God ! — the hissing
of the burning iron that branded me as a galley
slave; to realise what agony comes to a loyal man
who is writhing under a lying charge of treason and
heresy.

When we entered Paris it was dark, so that none
of the passers-by, curious though they were, could
see the face of the rider at the side of the Chief of
Police. The streets, moreover, were not so full as
usual, and few of the gallants were out, since, owing
to the return of the King, they were at the Louvre.

After turning into the Rue St Antoine, we pulled
up at the doorway of the Palais des Tournelles, where,
centuries before, the Earl of Bedford had lived, while
acting as Regent for the young and incapable Eng-
lish king, Henry the Sixth. The glory of the place
had departed. It was malodorous and dilapidated
now, and instead of being the abode of kings, was a
prison-house for such period as the Grand Monarque
should choose to persecute the Huguenots.

Dismounting, I ascended the steps into the hall,
and awaited the pleasure of the officer who had
escorted me. He was courteous, although he must
have known of the degradation that was in store for
me ; but he left me standing there, as if to give me
an opportunity to think over the probabilities as to
my future.

The Palais des Tournelles was known throughout
the kingdom as the halting-place of the prisoners
who were travelling south to begin the life of toil at
the galleys. The halt at its entrance indicated the

XTbe IRed ^acftet 241

nature of my own punishment. The fate I had
feared when I sought to forestall Calvisson with the
King had come, and I had no need to cherish any
hope of returning to my home again as master of
Tour. Not even money would avail me. A man of
the middle classes might purchase his liberty by
recantation, and the payment of a thousand pistoles ;
a merchant might buy his freedom with a great
price, thus sending money into the empty exchequer ;
but what would secure the freedom of the lord of
Tour? The lettre de cachet meant more than im-
prisonment, and more than the toil of the galleys, for
in actual practice it ensured the forfeiture of one's
possessions, either to His Majesty, or to whomsoever
the King should name.

That morning I had been a man of wealth. At
nightfall I was no better off than the peasant I passed
on the road — poorer, for I was penniless, since the gold
I had about me would be taken away, and even the
clothes I wore were no longer my own.

I could see it all in my mind's eye. De TEperon
was to be master of Tour, and Calvisson, for aiding
and abetting him, was to receive his promised
pistoles.

I was ushered into a room at the back of the
palace. It was dark, so that on entering I could
not see whether I was alone; but when the door
closed behind me, and the key screamed in the lock,
someone spoke.

•* Who are you ? "

It was a woman's voice, and it came from one at
my feet

"Ay, who are you?" followed another question,

Q

242 Zbc frown of Aajests

this time from my right The speaker was a man,
for the strong tones declared the fact

What need to hide my identity ? Yet I did not
answer the question, but simply asked how many
were in the chamber.

" There were ten of us," the man replied. " Ten
when the sun went down, but there cannot be more
than nine now, for the woman at my side is still
and cold. She must be dead, for although I ha^e
bent my ear to her lips, I cannot hear her breathing,
and her heart no longer beats."

" Why are you here ? " said I, not wondering at an
occasional sigh and sob, which told of some who were
quietly weeping.

"We are Huguenots. The women — five of them
now, if it be true that my companion is dead — will
go to the Tour de Constance, so one of the guards
told me, but the men are for the galleys."

"God forbid!" I exclaimed, shuddering at the
thought of the journey which lay before the poor
creatures with whom I was now to herd.

" Ay, God forbid ! " cried the woman who had
first spoken. " But of what avail to say it ? There
is the terrible tramp for hundreds of miles, and
already we are footsore. My own feet are shoeless
and blistered, and I could scarcely crawl that last
mile to-day. I am praying for death. It will mean
release from sorrow and from sighing, and I shall
escape the agony of my loneliness, with my dear ones
left behind in the old home."

She was weeping, and the pent-up grief seemed to
burst from the lips, and the tears to find their way
between the fingers of the hands which I could faintly

ttbe 1RC& SacRct 243

see covering her face ; for I was getting used to the
darkness.

What need to hold back my own name, if these
partners of mine were prisoners for conscience' sake ?
When I told them briefly who I was, one from the
farther corner cried aloud :

" The Vicomte ? God help us, but you were no
H uguenot ! "

" I know the voice," said I, " but who may you
be?" I was trembling at the thought that the
sleuth-hounds had been on my own estate I
suddenly remembered whose voice it was. "Are
you Ren^ Bandelet, the tailor? "

" Yes," sobbed the little man. " Someone lodged
information against me that I was in the habit of
harbouring Huguenots, and was one myself 'Tis
true I have been one secretly for many a year, but I
did not think it was known."

He burst into a loud wail of sorrow, which I
endeavoured to soothe when 1 crossed to his side of
the room. We were brothers in misfortune now, and
putting all thought of difference of birth aside — for
we were brought to the same level here — I went on
my knees, and throwing my arms about the broken-
hearted man, spoke what helping words I could
command. There was a reciprocity about the
attempt It served to make me forget my own pains
and penalties for the time, so that when he had
quieted down, and presently lay on the floor to sleep,
I, too, wearied, and wanting rest after the vigils of
the last few days and nights, lost myself in heavy
slumber.

The noisy tramping of men awoke me, and before

344 Vbe frown of Aajesti?

I fully realised where I was, a soldier crossed the
floor, and roused me with his heavy boot

" Wake up ! " he exclaimed.

I sat up instantly, but scarcely understood as yet
why I was lying in a room with men and women I
had never seen befort

" Take this," said the soldier roughly, handing me
a huge piece of bread, in the scooped-out portion of
which was plumed a lump of beef In the other
hand he held a jug of wine. Two other,' men were
serving out the seune sort of fare to my comrades in
misery, while a fourth was bending over the still
body of a woman lying not far from the door.

*' Laporte," said this man, turning round to speak
to the soldier, who was growing impatient at my
slowness to take the food from his dirty hands.

" What's the matter ? "

" This woman's dead. Cold. She must have beea
dead for hours."

The Huguenot who had been lying near volunteered
no information, but was eating ravenously. He
seemed to know that the day's march would tax his
strength, and that he would need all the sustenance
he could get The women sat and ate with a weary
compulsion, as if, though life had no hope for them,
and no more promise of brightness, they must
swallow the food given to them, or add on to the
misery of their day's experience. Some could not
eat the whole of their share, and thrust the remainder
into their bosoms. It would be welcome on the
road, or be acceptable to the other hungry ones, if
they were unable to eat it themselves.

When the dead woman had been carried away,

TSbe Keb 3acftet 34s

and we had all been branded, the little company of
prisoners were left alone. The sunshine poured in
through the window, as if to cheer us, but the good
office failed. The brightness was a mockery, since
it seemed to laugh at our miseries, and present a
startling contrast to our gloom of heart. We settled
down to talk. Ren^ had already told his story to
the others when he entered the room at sunset It
was my story they wanted to hear, and I told them
what I deemed fitting, keeping back what bore on
my love for Louise. That was too sacred to be
imparted to others.

"'Twas that priest and M. de I'Eperonl" cried
Ren£, when I had finished. " Father Calvisson tried
to bribe me to say something against you, but when
I refused, he vowed it would be worse for two instead
of one."

There was no time to say more, for the door opened
siQain, and in tramped the same soldiers, bringing
with them some heavy chains.

" Here are your ornaments, monsieur," said one
of them, coming to me; "the badge of nobility,
Vicomte," he added, laughing loudly.

His insolence angered me, but it was madness to
say or do anything to express resentment It would
but add to my disabilities, and that would accentuate
my misery. All that I could do was to accept my
fate as stoically as possible, keeping an open eye
for any chance of escape. On that escape I was
resolved, even if it meant a life of poverty and exile.

Strong as the soldier was, he bent beneath the load
of iron he carried. Throwing it on the floor, he bade
me strip.

346 TTbe frown of ObaicstB

" Not before these women ! " I remonstrated.

The fellow laughed coarsely, then cried :

"Women, close your eyes, or turn your backs.
The Vicomte objects to perform his toilet in your
presence."

Instantly the women prisoners hid their faces in
their hands, or turned their backs upon us, while
Ren6 and I stripped to the skin, and clothed our-
selves in the garments which had been brought to us.
Last of all, we donned scarlet-coloured jackets, such
as the other men were wearing— the badge of
* heresy.

"You look respectable," said the soldier, picking
up my doublet, and searching it for my purse, which
he appropriated, together with the ring which he told
me to take off my hand. " You shall have a bracelet
instead," he observed, chuckling.

" Now for the finery," he added, stooping to lift the
heavy chains. Straining at the task, he flung them
over my shoulders, while, with a dexterity born of
practice, he brought the iron collar round my neck,
and closed the spring with a snap.

The weight nearly bent my back, and my knees
inclined to give beneath me, but with an effort I
maintained my footing, and stood waiting for the
next development in this cruel experience.

An hour later the men stood in the street, a long
string of prisoners, joined together by chains, the
weight of which was such, that it was difficult to move
without sinking beneath the load. As for Ren^
Bandelet, his burden was altogether beyond his
strength. The moment the soldier had flung the
chains on his shoulders, he fell in a bruised heap upon

Vbe KeD Sacltet >47

the floor, and when they raised him to his feet and
left him unsupported, his knees bent, and he staggered
into the arms of the man who had intended to adjust
the collar. It was clear that to him, so burdened,
travelling was impossible, and with much swearing
the soldier bore the chain away, either to get a lighter
one, or to have some portion of it removed.

While we stood there in the sunshine, which gave
promise of a hot day, the women came down the
steps with weary gait, and hopeless faces. An iron
collar was about their necks, but far less heavy, with
chains too strong for them to break, but light enough
to enable them to walk. Some sort of mercy had
been meted out to them, although it was but scant.

They were of all ages, like the men. Some were
grey-haired, others in the flush of youth. Not a few,
as was the case with many of the men, were criminals,
women such as one would And in the All^ de Couv^ ;
but there were women of rank — one could see that
it was so by the grace of their movements, and by
the unmistakable look of refinement on their faces.
There were women of all classes, a hundred of them,
who came out of the Palais des Tournelles, their faces
wet with tears. Even the hardened among them, the
women of the cul de sac, and the like, had lost their
bravado, and were softened by their weariness and
lack of hope.

It took a long time to attach these women to the
line of men, with whom they were placed side by side,
and joined by a chain to our iron collars ; but the
task was ended, and we began to move slowly, almost
at snail-like pace, so heavy were the chains.

It was late in the morning before we passed the

248

XTbe frown of Aajests

palace of the King, and there my sense of shame
asserted itself beyond all my former feeling. His
Majesty was about to sally forth for a walk in the
street, and now stood at the gate with Madame de
Maintenon. About them were lords and ladies whom
I knew — ladies with whom I had gossiped and
danced, who had known me ever since my first
appearance at the Court Some of the men, I know,
disliked' me because I would not connive at every
mad wickedness, but others had come to me for
money when they were in difficulties, and had been
great friends with me.

Not one of them looked at me with anything like
sympathy. They could not but see and know me, for
Madame de Maintenon exclaimed aloud, forgetting
her usual reserve :

" See ! the Vicomte de la Tour ! "

All eyes were turned in my direction, but not a
sign of recognition, nothing expressive of regret
There were sardonic smiles on the faces of some who
imagined that they had had reason in the past to be
jealous of me.

As for Madame de Maintenon, she frowned upon
me, and turned away. So did the King.

CHAPTER XXVIH

THE CHAIN

The journey was painful and prolonged. The heavy
chains were a burden in themselves, and in the blaz-
ing sun of that exceptionally hot summer, men fainted
and fell on the road. Still worse was it for the
women, whose shoulders were galled by the iron
collars, and their whole frame bent under the in-
humanely heavy load of metal which had been put
upon them.

There was no difference made in the treatment of
those who were part of that sad, long line of prisoners.
The women who were wont to toil in the sun, and be
on their feet in the fields from sunrise to sunset, felt
the fret and strain, so that they were exhausted before
they had gone five miles. To those whose lives had
been spent in affluence, whose hands were white and
soft, and who had been nursed in the lap of luxury,
the journey was a prolonged torture ; and one and
another hung heavily on the arm of the man with
whom she was walking, adding unwillingly but
compulsorily to the burden of the chain.

The lot of those women who had to carry babes in

their arms was intolerable, and there were three such

149

35° tEbe frown of Aajest?

among the prisoners. My own companion was a
young wife of eight-and-twenty, and she bore a lusty
boy who had been born six months before. Full of
hope that slie would be released ere long, she insisted
on bringing her treasure with her. I will not tell her
story more than this : that she was no Huguenot, but
her heart was tender, and with womanly pity she had
sheltered one of the preachers who was hunted by the
King's men. A spiteful neighbour betrayed her, and
she was sent down the country to be lodged in the
Tour de Constance.

The horrors of the women's prison so far away had
not been talked of in her village, so that she spoke
hopefully. If she lived the journey out, she felt sure
that her husband would prove her a loyal daughter of
the Church. That was why she would not part with
her child. Mother-like, she said that none would
look after him so well as she. What other woman's
breast would feed her boy ? Even in case a foster-
mother could be found, the neighbours would be sure
to neglect him. Did I not think so ? she asked me
wistfully.

The glaring sun taxed her strength, and I took the
babe from her, carrying it in one arm, while she, when
faint, hung on my other. That struggle to keep my
own footing under the added weight, served to lessen
my mental anguish. It was when we halted for the
night that my mind went back to the Chfktcau de
Neure, dwelling on the loved one whose feet, I could
but think, were already laved by the waters of the
River of Death. If I could have told her how I loved
herl Had she been able to look into my face con-
sciously for a moment or two, and, if incapable of

ttbe Cbafn 351

speech, strong enough to press my hand in token
that my love was not a vain one, it would have been
an inspiration while treading what, to me and these
other unfortunates, was the Dolorous Way.

Our journey lay through Gueche, but our progress
was so slow that a week had passed before we reached
it Jehan Sault, the tanner with whom I had lodged
the last time I rode that way, was standing at his
door, and as the procession went slowly by, he peered
into the face of every man. Another was at his side,
whose looks were even more eager — my own servant,
Rousard. There was no soldier near as I passed
close by him. The head of the child whom I carried
almost brushed his doublet, and in a low voice he
said :

" Have courage, monsieur."

"Mademoiselle Louise?" I asked quickly.

He understood, and the answer was instant :
" Better."

" Thank God I " was all I could say, and then
passed out of hearing. But I noticed that Rousard
followed idly, walking down the street as though he
wanted to see the prisoners entering their lodging.

We stayed that night at the village hostelry, the
women lying in an out-house, still chained to each
other, and some of the men in the stabla I lay in
the same stall in which my man had found Marot,
worn out with my iron burden, which was never
removed, and the extra effort demanded of me while
supporting Heloise Rion and her baby. But the
whispered news which Rousard had brought — God
bless the honest fellow t — was like wine to me. It
gave me something to live for. If I lived long

2S2 XTbe frown ot Aajests

enough to be chained to the galley seat, I would yet
escape and find her. She should hear from my own
lips that the galley slave loved her as he loved his
life. Of course, she could never marry one who had
the galley brand upon him, and in that thought lay
so much of the bitterness. How could I ask a
woman to be my wife — I, who was penniless, a felon,
an outcast who never dared to show his face in Paris,
and whose only hope of maintaining liberty was to
go into exile? Still, if I could but tell her how I
loved her ! If, when I told her, she should answer
that she loved me in return, although an exile, I
should have some share of joy — the joy that comes
when one knows that love is not resented, but
requited.

I saw no more of Rousard for seven whole days
and nights, and meanwhile poor Heloise broke down
completely. The sun had gone, and the rains set in,
making the roads doubly trying for those to whom a
single ounce of extra burden might bring the struggle
to an end. The mud clogged our shoes, so that there
was weight at the shoulders, heaviness at the heart,
and hindrance at the feet But the chain moved on,
and we had to go its pace. Heloise at last lost one
of her shoes ; before the day ended the other went,
and she travelled barefoot, for the stockings were
already full of holes.

Our journey on the sixth day after leaving Gueche
lay along the side of a river. The path was hardly
broad enough for the chain to traverse and allow the
soldiers to pass us when they would. Suddenly, a
little ahead of me, there was a splash in the water,
and those who, like myself, looked down to the river

Vbe Cbafn 353

which ran between the deep banks, saw a man beating
the water with his hands, frantically. I knew the
drowning one ; it was Ren^ Bandelet. He had con-
trived to slip the collar over his head unseen, and
had made the bold but fatal bid for liberty. Whether
he could swim I do not know ; I think he could not.
A soldier who had been swearing at one of the
women not far behind, came forward, saw the man
floating by, levelled his musket and fired. A cry of
pain followed, poor Bandelet threw up his hands,
then sank, and we saw no more of him. It was
better a hundred times to die, than tramp on to the
galleys, and endure the torture there.

It was nearing sunset when Heloise spoke faintly.

" I am ill, monsieur."

" Cling to my arm," I answered. " I will call to
the guard."

She did not speak, but shook her head, then stag-
gered on, now stumbling, so that I had to draw her
close to me, and fling my arm about her waist I
looked into her face while she mechanically put her
feet forward in their turn, and it was white and
death-like.

" Let me kiss my child."

t contrived still to hold her up, and bring the
babe's lips to hers. She whispered some loving
words to the little one, who fondled his mother's face
with his chubby hands, and crowed with pleasure.
But the woman's head drooped, and with a sob she
hung on my arm like one that was dead. I thought
her so, and cried to the guard who was near. The
fellow came up, wondering why I wanted him, then
called a halt.

254

XTbe frown ot Aajests

When we stood still, I lowered Heloise to the
ground gently, kneeling beside her to see what could
be done ; but Death had been merciful, and had set
her free. She belonged to the chain no more.

Three or four of the guards came and looked at
her, then the officer in charge, drawing forth a key,
gave it to one of the men, who bent down and
unlocked the collar. Without a word, the body was
lifted and tossed out into the middle of the stream,
where it sank like a stone.

The captain of the chain was about to turn away
when he caught sight of the child in my arms.

" Was that her baby ? " he asked roughly.

" Yes."

" Then give it to me.**

Thinking that he might pass it on to one of the
women, who might care for the little fellow that
crowed aloud, indifferent to his mother's fate, I
handed the babe to the soldier, who took it from me
so roughly that it screamed with terror. He swore
at it, then tossed it into the river. It struck the
waters near to the spot where Heloise had disap-
peared, and sank out of sight

CHAPTER XXIX

The night which followed after the next day was
spent in a hamlet some twenty miles farther south
than my own chiteau at Tour. In passing along the
street I again saw Rousard, this time standing at the
inn door talking with the landlord. He did not look
at me lest he might draw attention to himself, but
he knew full well that I was aware of his presence.

It was already growing dusk, and we were nearly
at the end of the day's weary tramp. The woman
who walked at my side, now that Heloise was gone,
had talked incessantly on the way. She was an
abandoned creature, who had lived in the AUte de
Couv6e, knew Mongorge, Margot Cartier, and Coulon,
but W2ks now on the way to the Tour de Constance
because of having murdered her husband, or the man
who passed as such. Apart from that, her company
was obnoxious for many reasons. She was vicious
and hard-hearted, turbulent and untamable, one who
spoke words which, if she had been a man, I would
have resented with a blow. She had never known
poor Heloise Rion, yet she sought to blacken her
character by making audacious charges.
»55

256 XTbe frown ot Aajests

But she rendered me an unintentional service.
That day's journey broke in upon her strength. The
sun had been exceptionally trying, and already ten
poor women had been released from the chain, some
of them falling dead, others not likely to see the day
out She had been quiet for an hour or two, and
before we reached the door of the hostelry, began to
sway. Suddenly she clutched my arm, and with a
loud cry fell to the ground, foaming at the lips, and
beating with her fists frantically.

The guards were scattered about the chain, none
chancing to be near me at the time. At my call the
procession halted, and the landlord, seeing the woman
biting and struggling, hurried forward to be of some
assistance. It was Rousard's opportunity, and follow-
ing the keeper of the hostelry, he knelt with me at
the woman's side.

" Take this, monsieur," he whispered, looking up to
be sure that none could see him, and bending forward
to cover our hands with his body.

My hand went to his instinctively, and took from
him something hard, and a few inches in length,
wrapped in a cloth. What was it? A dagger?
There was no time to think of that This I was
certain of, that it was something which would be of
service, and I received it gratefully.

*' Hide it, monsieur 1 "

I thrust it into my bosom, and had barely done so
when the guards began to gather. Anxious to get
to the bams which were to afford us shelter, the
captain of the chain produced his key for the eleventh
time that day, and set the violent one free from the
collar. Then calling to the women who had come

Vbe file 357

from the cott^es, he bade them attend to her, and
see that she did not get away when she recovered.

Rousard found opportunity in the confusion to
whisper to me :

" I shall keep near, monsieur. Try and get away
to-night. If you can do so, make for the forest, and
when there, hoot like an owl. That will tell me where
you are."

I rose to my feet at the officer's command, and
the chain was on the move to the bams. Rousard
followed curiously, as did many of the villagers, for
such a sight relieved the monotony of country life.

When it had grown nearly dark, the weary prisoners
had all fallen asleep. Being a hot and stifling night,
the sentinel who was stationed outside mercifully left
the door wide open, so that from where I lay I could
look out on the village, and to the forest which lay
eastward of it. The soldier, who had travelled with
us all the day, was too tired to tramp to and fro, and
sat in the doorway, just across the threshold, so that
he could see into the place where his chai^^e was
sleeping. He passed the time as well as his ingenuity
would serve, sometimes whistliag a tune, singing
a well-known song in a voice that scarcely tra-
velled to my ears, or looking to his musket and
dagger, which he polished carefully with a piece of
leather. It would be so much less to do in the
morning.

Meanwhile, lying prone on the straw, I stealthily
opened the little parcel which Rousard had contrived
to pass into my hands. Notwithstanding all my
care, there was a faint chink of metal, which did not,
however, attract the attention of the sentry. The first

258 XTbe frown of Aajests

thing that touched my fingers wais a small dagger,
which I slipped into my bosom contentedly, having
felt its keen point The other article was even more
to my purpose just then, and I thanked God for
Rousard's sensible assistance.

It was a file.

I did not waste a moment, but began to use it on
the collar at my neck. As the rough edge b^an to
bite into the iron, it seemed impossible that the noise
the file made, being so close to my ear, and the
rustling of the straw when my hand moved to and
fro, should not be heard. But I rubbed on, keeping
my eyes fixed on the sentry, so that if he turned his
head I could cease instantly, and hide the implement
which was to help me to liberty. He took no notice,
however. It was evident that the sound which
was so alarmingly loud in my ears was not perceived
elsewhere.

Once the captain of the chain came to the sentry,
who, hearing his approach, rose to his feet, and bore
every appearance of having been actively alert from
the first The man who accompanied the newcomer
carried a lanthorn in his hand, and threw the light
into the place to see that all were asleep, but then
moved on a yard or two, silhouetting, as it were,
the two soldiers who blocked up the doorway. Since
they were talking somewhat loudly, and could not
possibly discern the movement of my arm, I wrought
hard at my task, becoming more cautious as the officer
passed on, and the sentry dropped into silence,
leaning idly against the doorpost

Two hours went before I finished my task, for there
were many interruptions, sometimes from within,

Vbe f fie 359

when one of the sleepers stirred, or sighed in his
dreams, and again, when the sentry, to keep himself
awake, walked into the bam and moved up and down,
peering at the prisoners by the aid of a lanthom which
had been hangii^ outside the door. It was an awk-
ward, arm-aching task, for I bad to file crossways,
to avoid cutting into the neck, so that the work was
that much extended in point of time ; but at last the
tool had gone clean through, and the collar, which
worked on a hinge, was open.

My heart leapt when I felt the hinge move to my
touch. If I took the collar off, I was free, since the
chain which had kept me in the long line of prisoners
was fastened to it, and not to my hands. There are
moments in one's life which may be deemed supreme,
when everything hangs upon the opportunity it
affords ; when, if it be used successfully, a new life
may find its expression ; if lost, the future is discom-
fiture, and worse than that — little short of death, if
one can count its disabilities. Here was my supreme
moment If I failed, I must needs tread every inch of
the way to the galleys, and spend my dajrs at the
oars, writhing beneath the whip of hopelessness and
the heavy blows of the comite I '

My eyes felt as though they were starting from
their sockets, when I watched the sentry, hoping that
he would fall asleep. But no I While I was holding
the collar together, to prevent it from falling noisily to
the ground, now that it was loose, he yawned, then
stood upright, dropping the butt of his musket on the
stones, and waiting expectantly.

Listening, I began to be hopeless, for there was an
^ The salley slave-driver.

a6o tcbe frown ot Aajests

increasing sound of the steady tramp of soldiers.
Why were they coming ? To rouse us, and begin our
journey afresh, hours before daydawn ? Surely not.
To relieve the guard ?

Four men halted at the doorway. There was a
short, quick order, the sentry joined his comrades,
another took his place, and a few moments later all
was silent again. My heart became as lead when I
saw what had happened. How could I hope to get
away now that a soldier had come fresh to his
task ? I was face to face with a problem, from the
solution of which I shrank. If the soldier did not
sleep, I should have to kill him, unless I would be
content to await the morning, and take the conse-
quences of my night's labour. At the calling out of
die prisoners for a fresh day's tramp, a glance would
show that I had been working at my chain, and
after that, I should not be lost sight of, night nor
day.

I have prayed for many strange things in my
time, but that night I prayed to be saved from the
task of murder, and for sleep to overtake the sentry.
Meanwhile, waiting for my answer, I watched. The
man walked up and down for a time, and as he
paced to and fro, I noticed that he moved un-
steadily. His footsteps were uncertain. Sometimes
he stumbled, and once, when he tried to place his
back against the doorpost, he lurched and swore.
The thick-voiced words confirmed my suspicions,
and raised my hopes. The fellow had been drink-
ing heavily, and the potent liquor was working its
way with him. I had only to wait.

But it was weary waiting to one so eager to get

XTbe file 261

away. The moments went slowly, as if they were
loath to pass. It seemed to me that two long hours
had gone before the soldier slid down clumsily upon
the threshold ; as a matter of fact, it was not more
than a quarter of that time. He sat with the
musket across his knees, his head drooped on his
chest, and in a few minutes heavy snores told that
he was asleep.

Cautiously lowering the chains to the straw, I rose
to my feet, and looked about me. All were asleep,
poor fellows ! Even for the criminals I had a sort
of pity, for an experience was before them which
made men know what hell was like. They had no
need to die before they would endure some of its
horrors. There was no assistance possible from me
for any one of them. I could not have extended a
helping hand even to my own brother, if I had had
one there.

Crossing to the door, I waited to assure myself
that the sentry was asleep. He gave no token of
wakefulness, but his head sank lower, and his snores
grew louder. The man's drunkenness served me
well that night.

Stepping over the sleeper, I stood a moment in
the open air. The lanthorn at the doorway burned
so dimly that it would not betray my presence to
anyone a dozen yards away. To the east, and half
a mile distant, was the forest, becoming visible
because the belated moon was just arising. One
could see the uneven tree-tops like a black shadow
against the silvery light, and to the south the open
country, into which the forest had sent some solitary
sentinels.

262 zbc ftowx of Aajests

I dared not linger. A hundred yards away was
a giant elm, offering shelter while I decided on my
course. I hastened to it, tolerably secure from
observation, because the light of the moon was
scarcely strong enough to show a moving object,
and the grass deadened any sound while my feet
fell on it quickly.

When I got within the shadows, where none could
see me, there was a movement to my right ; scared
by the sound, I drew the dagger from my bosom.

A whisper followed :

" Monsieur ? "

The voice belonged to my faithful retainer, and
I whispered in reply :

" It is Rousard ? "

" Aye, monsieur. Come quickly."

No other word was spoken, and Rousard leading,
I followed at a run, so that we were breathless when
we halted in the forest Our stay was of short
duration, sufficient only to regain our breath after
the wild dash across the grass. That done, we went
forward, winding in and out among the trees until
we must have travelled a mile.

• "Are you hungry, monsieur?" asked Rousard,
standing at the foot of a tree, from whence we
looked down an open moonlit glade.

"Yes, my good fellow, but more thankful to you
for the service you have done me," was my answer ;
and reaching forth my hand, I clasped his, and
shook it gratefully.

" Now eat, monsieur, for we have a long journey,"
said my companion, whose voice shook somewhat,
as if my greeting moved him.

XTbe file 263

Taking the food from his hand, I bade him go
forward; I would rather eat as we moved, than
halt. I wanted to feel that no moment passed
without placing extra space between me and my
possible pursuers. True, they might not miss me
until the morning, when the weary, brow-beaten
prisoners were brought out to complete the chain
once more; but every yard made their task the
harder, and my own liberty more certain.

After a while the moon was high enough to send
her light through the overhanging branches, showing
up the ground we traversed, so that we made better
progress. When, after covering several miles, we
got into more open country, where the forest
seemed to straggle and thin out, and one could
see a sweeping valley on the left, Rousard halted,
and looked about him.

" It should be here," he said to himself. Then to
me:

"I know this ground well, monsieur, for I was
born here. Yonder, where the trees thicken, is my
father's hut He is a woodman, and being a Hugue-
not, will welcome you the more. Stay here. I will go
and awake him.''

I waited under the shadows of a beech-tree, backing
into the hollow trunk which afforded space for a
bigger man than myself to hide in. Some minutes
passed before Rousard returned, but when he stood
once more in front of me, he told of his father's
willingness to find me shelter,

CHAPTER XXX

THE HOLLOW BEECH

My hiding-place was in a line with the palisading
which formed the boundary to the ground which sur-
rounded the house belonging to my retainer's father.
It was the hollow trunk of a huge beech-tree, one side
of which presented a bold front to the forest, that
was not more than fifty yards distant Rousard knew
this hollow in his boyhood, and in it he had kept his
treasures, the possession of such being within his
exclusive knowledge. It was entered by climbing to
the fork on the house side, and dropping through a
hole large enough for a man's body to pass. The
opening was hidden with a thick and ragged mantle
of wild vine, so that none, even had they climbed the
tree, would have suspected any entrance to the space
beneath. This mass of leaves needed to be lifted on
entering, but it dropped back readily, and gave no
token of any place of concealment.

Leading me thither, Rousard bade me climb up
after him, and when I had done so, left me standing
in the fork while he went for a lanthom. He came

back with one in his hand, but unlighted ; then

264

TEbe ftollow Scccb »65

dropping into the hollow, he used his tinder-box, and
lit the candle.

The space which the light displayed was suffi-
ciently commodious for one to lean against the
side, and stretch his legs to their full extent, while
some leaves, which Rousard threw in plentifully
before he left me, made a comfortable bed, which
took off the hardness of the well-trodden floor.
Naturally enough, it boasted of no furniture ; but my
man, in his boydays, had brought hither a heavy log,
and it served as stool or table, just as one might
fancy. From the entrance it was a sheer drop of
eight or ten feet, and the sides afforded no foot or
band hold, whereby one could clamber out again. A
short ladder was there, however, so that the exit and
ingress were easy enough.

Having done what he could to make me com-
fortable, the kind-hearted fellow turned to put his
foot on the ladder. There was a queer smile on his
face when he looked at me.

" My father will not see you, monsieur, because he
wants to answer truthfully should any stop to ask
some awkward questions. He can say he has not
set eyes on you, without doing damage to his own
feelings. 'Tis a way he has when he wants to serve
other people, and some might take exception to it ;
but I have no doubt the old man will make his case
good when he stands before his Maker to explain
matters."

On being left alone, my weariness overcame me,
and I fell into a dreamless sleep. On awaking, I
saw that the leafy covering was thrown back from
the entrance overhead, and Rousard peering in, as if

a66 XTbe ftoxm of Aafests

to assure himself that I was safe. His ordinary dress
was exchanged for a peasant's garb — a necessary
precaution, in case any of the soldiers who marched
with the chain should remember having seen him
in the neighbourhood just before my escape. The
disguise was so complete that I was alarmed to see a
stranger looking down ; but the moment he greeted
me, I knew him.

Finding that I was aroused, he left me, but returned
a few minutes later with a basket. This he brought
down the ladder, and, having asked how I had slept,
spread the contents on the log. While I ate he dis-
appeared, but came presently with some clothing,
such as he wore himself.

" This, monsieur, will be a good exchange for the
tell-tale red jacket, which is only worn by galley
slaves. Should the opportunity come when we may
get away, it would never do to be dressed so
conspicuously," and he nodded his head sagaciously.

There is no necessity to recount my feelings during
the days I spent in hiding. They were monotonous ;
yet the need for care served to lessen the wearisome-
ness. Rousard would sometimes come to tell me
what he knew, but not so often as he would have
done, since there was one working for his father who
was excited at the news which had percolated the
forest, and had spread over the countryside beyond,
as to the escape of a notable prisoner from the
chain. He was so important a personage that the
chain was detained at the village while the district
was scoured, and a reward of a hundred pistoles had
been offered for information which would lead to his
capture.

«

tCbe ftollow Seecb 967

"We must beware of Pierre Basselin, monsieur,"
observed Rousard. " I heard him say this morning
that he would dearly like to earn the hundred pistoles,
since he wanted to marry the miller's wench at Fleury ;
and I verily believe he would stick at nothing to get
the money, he is so infatuated with the girl."

" Could we not buy him with a bigger sum ? " I
asked ; for the prospect of being shut in the hollow
tree day and night for weeks to come was not
exhilarating.

Rousard scratched his head and reflected for a
while.

" Yes, monsieur," he said dubiously, " we could buy
him, no doubt, if you have the pistoles."

It was the first time in all my life that I had known
the want of money, and now I experienced the
disabilities of poverty. I had not a coin of any sort
about me, nor a jewel which could be exchanged for
gold. I was as poor as the beggar who whined at
the street corners, or contemplated murder in order
to get bread I had been stripped to the skin in the
Palais des Toumelles, and all the wealth I once
possessed was swept away from me by the King, or
those of his creatures who had secured my downfall.

That was the moment when I realised the abso-
luteness of my descent and loss of place. If ever an
arrow rankled in my heart it was then, and Rousard,
leaning against the wooden wall, looked on with quiet
sympathy. He remembered the high estate from
which I had fallen, and cursed his clumsiness in
putting the truth before me. But how was he to
know ? He asked for pardon, and I took his hand in
token of my belief that he could have said no less ;

268 XTbe frown of Aajesti?

that sooner or later I should be compelled to measure
up my resources, and acknowledge my poverty.

The bitterness of it ! to know that a man is revered
in proportion to the fatness or leanness of his purse,
and that if the purse be lean, he is despised, go where
he will. There were men and women at Court who
had envied me, and paid me much attention. They
were glad to know me, were gratified if I gave them
a friendly nod, took it as a compliment if I invited
them to my table, were proud to be seen with me in
the street ; but that was when I was rich.

I looked down on my shabby peasant's garb, greasy
and jagged with the thorns which the previous wearer
had brushed against when he was hedging. Apart
from the fact that I was a reputed Huguenot, would
the men who watched the palace gates admit me ?
They would kick me away as they would a dog-
Suppose I succeeded in slipping into the corridors
or chambers where my lords and ladies gossiped
— how many would speak to me? What lady
would lay her soft white hand on my arm and laugh
with me as of old? They would slink away, and
the noisy corridor would become silent and empty,
save for the presence and the execration of the one
poor man who had flaunted his poverty before the
world.

There was nothing for it but to beware of Pierre
Basselin, the woodman.

Rousard and I had many a talk together, but
always at the time of sunset or at night, lest the
prying eyes of Basselin should mark his visits to the
beech tree. After the day's work was done, the
woodman went to the village in the valley to see his

XTbe t)oUow Seecb 269

Dulcinea, and frequently my man watched him go
that way, coming to me when the other disappeared,
bringing the food that was to serve me for the next
four-and-twenty hours. Once he came with a book
which he took from his father's room, hoping thus to
find me something that would serve to pass the time,
which went so slowly. It was Froissart's " Chronicles,"
and on the first reading it was full of interest But
one gets to the end of a book before long, and looks
round for fresh methods of whiling away the dreary
hours. Froissart served his turn, and then I wanted
no more of him, but sighed instead for my missing
copy of Montaigne.

Rousard came to me one afternoon, his face flushed,
and betraying signs of excitement. Dropping down
into my hiding-place, he delivered himself of some
startling news. A dozen of the King's body-guard,
who knew me personally, and could detect me among
a score of men, had been scouring the forest. They
halted at his father's house, and asked the old man if
he had seen the Vicomte de la Tour.

" I never set eyes on him ! " exclaimed the forester
doggedly, standing in his doorway, and not turning
a hair. He had kept to the letter of the truth with-
out volunteering any information, and felt that, under
the circumstances, his course was one of justifiable
duplicity.

"Where are the soldiers now?" was my eager
inquiry, especially when my companion asserted that
the leader was none other than M. de Biron, who had
arrested me at the Chateau de Neure.

" Gone in the direction of Fleury, and Basselin
after them as hard as he can run, in the hope of

270 XTbe frown of Aajestp

picking up some news, and earning the hundred
pistoles."

" Then if he be gone, may I not get out of this for
a while, and have a breath of the free air ? "

" ril go outside, monsieur, and look around," was
the answer.

The serving-man clambered up the ladder, and
standing in the fork of the tree, peered among the
leafy branches to be assured that none lurked either
in the garden or the forest

"Come, monsieur," said he at last, and with
alacrity I climbed into the open air, which I had
done many a time in the darkness, but had not
ventured to do in the broad daylight

Rousard was alert while I sat and enjoyed the
scene before me. Between the branches I could see
on one side the dense forest through which we had
come when seeking this shelter. Behind was a
garden gay with flowers, and at the other end the
unpretentious house in which my companion was
born. A white-haired man stood in the doorway,
tossing bread to the birds that came from the trees
around, chattering alike to him and to each other,
while they waited for another handful of crumbs.

" My father," observed Rousard, who had followed
my gaze, and marked the unspoken inquiry on my
face. " Do not let him see you, for he wants to be
truthful if he can, should M. de Biron come here
again."

The old man turned indoors, and then I turned to
look towards the open country. Far away, and on
the border of a splendid landscape, was a noble
building. My heart beat more quickly when I heard

Zbc twUow Bcecb 371

that it was the Chateau de St Andr^, the home of
Louise. Miles away to the right was another which
had a familiar look about it, and I could not forbear
an exclamation when Rousard said that it was my
own home at Tour.

Near to hand was the fertUe valley of Fleury, with
a winding river skirting the corn-fields, and circling
half-way round the village whose roofs were glittering
in the sun. A white and dusty road led thither, and
on it moved a dozen horsemen. They were searching
for me, and I found it difficult to repress a cry of
exultation at the thought that they had missed me.
Far behind was a solitary figure — a man whose hands
were held up at his sides, and who ran at his top-
most speed.

I pointed at him, but did not speak, and Rousard
answered my look :

"Pierre Basselin on the look-out for his hundred
pistoles,"

We waited in silence until the horsemen dis-
appeared behind the little church.

" I wish I could get rid of Basselin," said Rousard
regretfully, and as if to himself, " Now that he is
fairly on the hunt, he will follow up the search, for
he is mad on that wench. I know him well, and I
do not see how we are to get away. We cannot be
off in daylight, and last night I caught him prowling
about in the garden. God help us if by any means
he should guess that this tree is hollow."

" If I had some money ! " I exclaimed vainly. A
hundred and fifty pistoles were as impossible to me
as to the veriest beggar.

My companion said nothing, and an hour later we

272 XTbe frown of Aajestp

saw a man come from behind the church at Fleury,
and walk quickly along the road towards us. We
watched his progress, and kept him in view until he
took the bend at the hill. He would have to pass
very near to the tree if he proved to be Basselin ;
consequently I dropped into the hollow trunk.
Rousard replaced the mat of wild vines, and left me
to myself.

I saw no more of him that evening, and when it
was quite dark I began to think that I would climb
the ladder, and spend an hour or two in the open air.
It was company to hear the owl and the night-jar,
or listen to the passing of a wild boar. I had, how-
ever, a page or two of Froissart to read, and I did so
deliberately ; for time was cheap to me then, and
anything that would pass an hour was welcome, after
weeks of seclusion.

I closed the book when I had ended the chapter,
and stood on my feet. Then an exclamation of
wonder made me look up. The lanthom was burn-
ing dimly, but I saw everything plainly. The light
fell on something which sent a feeling of faintness
over me for the moment — the face of a man with
parted lips, and eyes showing their white rims, so
widely had they opened with astonishment

The fellow was a fool in one sense, for instead of
slipping away and giving the alarm on making such
a discovery, he had cried out and attracted my
attention. Now he was spell-bound, and could do
nothing but stare. Whether his good fortune had
paralysed him I cannot say. I had never seen him
before, but I was convinced that he was none other

Zbc Ibollow Beecb 273

than Pierre Basselin, who, in some way, chanced
upon this place in which I was hiding.

He was too high up for me to grapple with him,
and prevent his getting away, and I was altogether
at a loss to know how to deal with this real danger.
A parley with him was not likely to be of much
avail ; to ofTer him a bribe was to enter on a bargain
which a poor man could never complete.

" Who are you ? " he asked presently, still staring
at me.

Not knowing what to answer, but trying to puzzle
out a scheme equivalent to the difficulty, I began
with evasion. The stare relaxed while we talked,
and presently the fellow brought matters to a climax.

" Now tell the truth. Are you not the man who
escaped from the chain — the Vicomte de la Tour ? "

" I ? " was my questioning reply, putting as much
surprise into the tone as possible.

" Yes, you."

Suddenly his face, which had become radiant with
the thought of his discovery, changed, the mouth
screwed up, and an explosive exclamation of pain
escaped his lips. The next moment he tumbled into
the hollow, and after him came the big body of
Rousard.

CHAPTER XXXI

DESPERATE MEASURES

Basselin was SO thoroughly taken by surprise that
he was slow to rise to his feet, and when he did so,
found himself confronted by his master's son, who
was ready for such action as circumstances might
demand.

" What were you doing up there ? " asked Rousard,
with a nonchalance which thoroughly covered his
consternation at finding that our secret had been
surprised.

Basselin, who had been brushing himself out after
the rough handling, regained some of his presence of
mind, and put a couple of questions himself:

" What are you doing down here, Rousard ? And
this other man — who is he ? ** pointing at me.

He dropped his bravado, however, when he caught
sight of the retainer's face, and his mouth slowly
opened, indicative of fear as to his own safety. It
occurred to him that he would stand small chance
of getting off with a whole skin if he were disposed
to be rough with him, and that there was little pro-
bability of any help being forthcoming, since none

knew of his having gone prowling round the garden,

274

2)e0pecate Aeasnres 275

and certainly were not aware of this hiding-place in
the hollow beech. Rousard did not deign an answer,
and the woodman did not venture to repeat his
question.

" Basselin/' said my man deliberately, putting a
hand to his belt, and producing a dagger, which
looked ugly in the lanthorn light, " I asked you what
you were doing up there ? "

He pointed to the entrance with the weapon, and
the gesture, as much as the question, convinced the
woodman that it would be wise to answer.

"I was on the look-out for the Vicomte, who
escaped from the chain three or four weeks
since."

" I suppose you wanted the reward ? " Rousard
observed blandly.

" Yes," was the sulky reply.

Not a word was said for a minute or two, and
Basselin looked about him, overhead, and on the
floor, as if to find a possible way of escape, for the
weapon with which my man trifled was not
reassuring.

Rousard stepped back against the side of the
chamber, and spoke again.

" You wanted the money to enable you to marry
the miller's wench at Fleury, so I suspect The
girl's very pretty, and should make you a good wife.
I think it would be a pity if we spoiled her hopes of
wedding a fine fellow like you, which, of course, we
could do," he added, holding out his hand, so that
the dagger looked more uninviting than before. " But
what do you want the money for, Pierre ? Won't she
marry a poor man ? "

276 XTbe frown ot Aajestp

The woodman answered sullenly, compelled to
reply, it would seem, against his will.

"Old Mignard says he won't consent till I can
show a hundred pistoles, and all my own."

" So you thought you would play at spy to get the
pistoles ? "

" I didn't say so."

** Now, don't talk nonsense, Pierre ! You want
money. Suppose we gave you a hundred and fifty
pistoles — fifty more than M. de Biron offers — ^would
that keep your mouth shut as to what you have seen
here?"

I turned quickly, and looked at Rousard to see if
he had gone mad. How could I find a hundred and
fifty pistoles? But Basselin took him seriously
enough, and answered quickly:

« Try me."

" I should want to do more than try you. You
would have to swear one of the most solemn oaths a
man can swear never to whisper or give any hint
whatever as to this," and he waved his left hand, as
if to indicate all that was contained in the hollow
beech.

The woodman plucked up courage somewhat

" What's the use of talking about such a thing ?
What are you going to do with me ? "

'* I am going to show you a hundred and fifty
pistoles, and promise to pay them to you if you take
the oath I have spoken about"

I was astounded when my servitor drew a bag
from his bosom. Bidding me keep my eye on the
countryman, he knelt upon the floor, poured out the
contents on the wooden block, and slowly counted

desperate Aeaenres 277

the coins, one by one, placing them in little piles of
ten. I do not think the woodman had ever seen so
much money in a heap before, for he looked at the
pistoles greedily, and breathed quickly. His hands
began to fidget, and he found it difficult to stand
stilL

"A hundred and fifty," said Rousard decisively,
placing the last pile of ten alongside the other
fourteen, and throwing back his two wide-open hands.
" They are all yours if you care to have them."

"I do I" cried Basselin eagerly. "Give them to
me, and let me go ! "

" Nay, Pierre, not quite so fast as that," said my
man. " There are necessarily some conditions. You
must stay here while this gentleman and I talk the
matter over for a few minutes up there."

" Then you will make off, and not return," responded
Pierre craftily.

" Nothing of the sort. Besides, I will leave the
money on the block, and if we do not come back it is
yours. I will put it in the bag, and tie it well round ;
and mark you, I shall look down to see that you
don't take any out while we are talking."

There was no help for it. Basselin wanted to be
gone, but had to stay.

Leaving him below, Rousard and I climbed out and
seated ourselves in the tree while we talked together.
Then I got to know of the retainer's loyality, the
knowledge of it touching me to the heart. He had
spoken to his father, and the old man had gone to
his store, which, when he had counted it, amounted
to a hundred and fifty pistoles. It was his all, but he
insisted on his son taking it, so that if Basselin should

278 xcbe frown ot Aajestp

prove troublesome, the greater sum might make the
reward seem insignificant, and buy his silence, if not
his co-operation. I wanted to see the old man, and
thank him, but Rousard would not hear of it. His
father prided himself on his truthfulness, and would
feel that a lie had been forced upon him, since nothing
would lead him to betray me.

Then came the thought that now it was imperative
that we should be gone, unless we kept Basselin a
prisoner, which scarcely appeared possible. We might
detain him in the hollow beech for four-and-twenty
hours, and go the next night if the way proved tolerably
clear, and that we finally decided upon. Next came
the question of ways and means. We should be
compelled to quit the country, but how were we to
live when in another land ? and how should we keep
body and soul together while travelling to the border
or the sea, without money ?

Rousard was dubious. He knew that his father
had not another coin in his possession more than
sufficient to keep his house going for the next week,
and pay Pierre his wages. Out of nothing nothing
could come, he observed sententiously, after an
awkward pause, and some disconcerting reflections.

The decision to which we came was a desperate
one, and to carry it out was tantamount to running
into the lion's jaws, or dangerously near to them. I
knew of a secret entrance into my own ch&teau at
Tour — for I considered it my own, in spite of the
forfeiture of my estates — and I thought it possible to
enter, and get to the strong box which held my
money, or obtain possession of some valuables which

S)e0perate Aeasures

279

were negotiable. There were many other things we
could do if we timed our arrival at night.

" And what about Basselin ? " asked Rousard, fall-
ing in with the suggestions somewhat unwillingly,
and only because there seemed no help for it.

" Take him with us, and tell him he shall have the
pistoles, and more, if we can get any, so soon as we
are safely away from the ch&teau. He must go with
us so far."

When the details were arranged we re-entered the
hollow, and told the woodman what we had decided
upon. He looked somewhat glum at the prospect of
an imprisonment of four-and-twenty hours, but the
expectation of money sufficient to make him com-
paratively rich, reconciled him to the necessity for
patience. He took the discomfort philosophically,
knew that he could satisfactorily explain his enforced
absence to the girl for whom he was venturing so
much, and consequently threw himself on the ground
to sleep.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE HAUNTED COPSE

Taking him at his own estimate, Basselin was by
no means the commonplace countryman one might
reasonably have judged him to be, but one of very
considerable parts, and well versed in the ways of the
world — that is to say, of the rustic's world. In the
course of his incessant chatter he displayed himself as
the incarnation of boastfulness and self-satisfaction.
Before he had talked an hour, I knew him as the
most daring fellow of the countryside, standing higher
in the esteem of the maidens — especially the acknow-
ledged beauties — than any of those who, he was
honest enough to own, were more handsome than
himself. He had but to hold up an inviting fore-
finger, and half-a-dozen of the wenches were waiting
upon him.

Then he began to tell of the great things he in-
tended to do with this hundred and fifty pistoles, and
his plans were so astounding that it was a relief to
climb the ladder, and breathe the air which satisfied
everyday mortals.

I did this at considerable risk, for there was the

possibility, and not an extreme one, that M. de

280

TEbe DaunteCi Copse 381

Biron had left some soldiers in the neighbourhood to
watch the forest and the house close by. Rousard
was so impressed with this that he did not come near
to the beech tree until after sundown, but spent the
day in labouring as a common woodman ; a task
which afforded him a reasonable opportunity for
keeping a constant look-out on the forest, to be
assured that there were no strangers loitering round.

Once or twice the time hung heavily on Basselin's
hands, and he asked to go into the open for a walk
round. We were at close quarters in the hollow,
which was only comfortably large enough for one, so
that he had some excuse when he desired to stretch
himself, and fill his lungs with fresh air. I explained
to him the desirability of keeping out of sight, and
when he did not appreciate my plea for privacy, I had
to say plainly that a hundred and fifty pistoles were
far more to marry on than the paltry hundred which
the Chief of Police was ofTering.

Just before sundown he had talked himself empty,
and had not another word to say. His imagination
was unequal to any further invention, and conse-
quently he sat back with folded arms, and communed
with himself. Once or twice, while he indulged in his
own thoughts, closing his eyes the while, I saw his
shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I concluded
that he was thinking his part over, previous to re-
counting his adventures to the miller's daughter,
and that he was immensely satisfied with the mental
rehearsal. Judged by what happened later, my
conclusion was scarcely a correct one.

It was quite dark when Rousard dropped down
into the hollow, and said that the way was clear. I

282 ubc frown ot /DajcstB

rose to my feet instantly, glad to be on the move
again, even should the risk be ever so great. Nor
was Basselin less eager, for he shook himself, and
declared that the sooner we got away the better. He
had already taken the oath, a very solemn one, but
the serving-man, who knew him, made him go down
on his knees and say it over again, by way of re-
minder. I thought the woodman looked somewhat
pale when Rousard rehearsed the oath, and bade him
follow, but he pulled himself together, and declared
that he was too anxious to have the money to bother
about anything like treachery. We both believed
him.

We had four leagues to travel before we could
reach the chateau which had once been mine, and as
the night was moonless, and the rain began to fall in
torrents, we made such poor progress that signs of
dawn displayed themselves while we had yet a mile
to go.

To approach in broad daylight was out of the ques-
tion, so that we were compelled to look around for a
place of concealment It was too wet to remain in
the open if any house proved available, and now
being in a neighbourhood we knew well, Rousard and
I drew apart, and talked the matter over. There was
considerable uncertainty as to what might be the
attitude of the rustics, who doubtless knew of my
having been sent to the galleys for heresy. Rousard
might enter their homes, for no charge had been
made against him, and he might eat and sleep to his
heart's content. Basselin also might accompany him
without any demur on their parts. The difficulties
centred about myself. The people on the estate

Ube Daunte^ Copse 283

would perhaps shut the door in my face, either
because they hated heresy, or because of the penalties
which attached to those who harboured Huguenots.
There was the risk, moreover, that they might betray
me for the sake of the money. My old retainers were
not likely to turn their backs upon me because they
loved the new master more ; but so many things had
to be considered, and the people at Tour were human,
and the quality of self-preservation would not probably
be held more in abeyance by them than by others.

Had it been a fine day we should have found
shelter among the brushwood, but the rain poured
down mercilessly, and we were wet to the skin, as
well as hungry. Rousard spoke after due delibera-
tion.

" The only place I can think of is the hut yonder,
where old Margot Ducrot lives ; but one has to think
of the consequences to her, should it get abroad that
she sheltered you."

"She will never suspect that I am the Vicomte
when she sees me in such a garb as this," I suggested,
but doubtfully, looking at the drenched peasant's
clothing, and the boots clogged with mud and filled
with water, after the night's journey.

" Perhaps not, monsieur ; she is not too keen of
eyesight But she may know your voice, and what
then ? "

" She would betray me," I observed, and with good
reason; for the old woman had always been hard-
spoken when Huguenots were the topic of conversa-
tion. But Rousard had quite another opinion about
her, for he retorted quickly :

" I do not think so, but she might politely ask you

284 Zbc frown ot Hbaicsvs

to seek shelter elsewhere. As for betraying you, I
know her too well to suppose such a thing."

We were about to venture across the meadow to
reach the door, when we saw a woman emerge
from the place. She carried a basket in her hand,
and a serge chapeau in some degree protected her
head and shoulders from the storm. She walked
towards us quickly, but her head was so bent down
that I did not see her face until she was within
speaking distance. She looked up, somewhat startled
at finding men near to her, and we knew her
instantly.

" Isabel ! "

The name escaped our lips involuntarily, and the
sound of our voices fell upon her ear, for she halted,
as if inquiringly. Ignorant as to her possible attitude,
especially since she dwelt with the Cur6, I drew
somewhat behind the others; but her quick eyes
penetrated my disguise.

"Who is that, Rousard?" she asked, pointing at
me with a hand which was quickly wet with the
pelting rain.

" A friend," was the evasive reply.

" Nonsense ! " said the woman. " I know who it is,
and it is not well that he should be here. For God's
sake, take M. le Vicomte away. Whoever heard of
such madness ? Rousard, you deserve to be whipped
for bringing him here."

" Softly, Isabel," was the soothing rejoinder, for the
woman was genuinely alarmed for my safety. " I
will tell you what we want, if you can keep silent for
a couple of minutes."

"Say on," she snapped, as if pretending to be

XTbe Daunte^ Copse 285

severe in order to hide her real feeling. " But hark !
Monsieur, go and hide among the trees, for they may
be soldiers."

I needed no second bidding, for one could hear
plainly the thud of horses' feet upon the road which
ran within a few yards of the spot where we were
standing. I hurried into the brushwood, from whence
I could see without being seen, and had not long to
wait before I saw who the horsemen were. They
pulled up when they saw a woman and two men
talking together; then the leader rode to the little
group and asked a question which made me thankful
for having gone into hiding. It was M. de Biron who
spoke. I knew his face, although his hat, from which
the water poured, was drawn well over his head.
Had I not seen it, I had reason to know his voice,
and the sound of it made my heart beat the
quicker.

" Have you seen a red-jacketed Huguenot go by ? "
he cried, half-savagely, for this hunt in the rain was
not to his taste. " I am looking for M. le Vicomte,
who may have donned some other garb," he added.

" No, monsieur," came the answer from the woman,
who Ignored the latter words; "we have seen no
Huguenot."

God bless her for her loyalty. She said more in
answer to his questions, and so also did Rousard, but
I could not hear the words. Whatever they were,
they served to convince the Chief of Police that no
Vicomte had passed that way, and he must seek
elsewhere. He turned round his horse, whose feet
kicked up the mir^i^Iashing the little group.

"A hundred pistoles have been offered, but the

/ /

/

286 xcbe frown ot /Dajcsts

King will give two hundred now to the man who will
tell us where the Vicomte is," cried De Biron.

"Or to a woman, monsieur?" asked Isabel
innocently.

" To a woman ? Of course ! " was the somewhat
snappy reply, and the rider rode off at a canter,
followed by the soldiers who awaited him in the road.

The three watched the horsemen until they were
out of sight, oblivious to the rain which dripped from
every corner of their clothing. Each was deep in
thought, and not one spoke until Isabel's face turned
in my direction. Then she strode across the slippery
moss, stepping over such roots as were in her way.

" Monsieur, I can hide you for a while — say for a
few hours, if you will trust me," said she, standing
before me with deference.

In spite of my shabby garb, and the mud with
which I was bespattered, her old regard for rank
returned. I was to her the Vicomte to whom she
was wont to curtsey, and her kind-looking face bore
tokens of her deep concern for my adversity. If
others were ready to turn their backs upon me, she
was not. Her face was already splashed with the
rain, but the eyes were swimming with tears of
sympathy which before long fell down the cheeks.

" Trust you, Isabel ? " said I, taking her hand in
mine. ** God bless you for your loyalty, and offer of
help. But where will you take me ? " I added ; for
time was not to be trifled away in talk, since danger
was abroad.

" Follow me, monsieur, and you shall see," she
answered, hurrying forward, not now in the open,
but among the bushes.

TTbe tiaunteti Copee ^s?

Asking no further questions, and confident that she
would not betray us, we suffered her to lead us along
many a pathway we knew so well, always, and some-
what to our alarm, drawing nearer to the chateau.
My consternation became so great in time that I
halted and protested that Isabel was leading us
where discovery was certain.

" I do not wonder at your objection, monsieur ;
but will you not trust me ? " the woman asked, with
a wistful look on her comely face. " There are few
of the peasants about on such a day, and it is too
early for any of the retainers of the new lord to be
abroad. But let us not delay, for the moments are
precious. Half an hour hence may be too late."

She went on again, now leading us into the midst
of bushes which no eye could penetrate, and so tall
that our heads could rarely be seen when we stood
upright. Such a possibility we avoided by stooping
low when we came to places where the growth did
not reach so high. Whether Rousard knew the
place, I could not tell, but this part of the copse was
strange to me. Here and there we came across a
brook which twisted and turned, and now, after the
heavy rain of the night, was hurrying on in flood and
noise, eager to discharge its abnormal measure of
water into the distant river. Although the day was
an hour or two past the sunrise, it was deep twilight
here, and had the sun been blazing in the sky, there
would yet have been a sombre shadow over the
place.

Isabel halted. When she turned to us we saw that
her face was deathly pale.

" What place is this ? " I asked, wondering that I

288 xcbe frown ot HbaicBVs

could have dwelt the greater portion of my life in the
neighbourhood, and did not know of such a spot. I
glanced at Rousard, and a scared look was on his
face.

" It beats me quite," he observed. " I've been in
this neighbourhood for years, but I don't remember
this."

" Don't you ? " was Isabel's response. " Come here,
and see."

Going forward through the high bush, she drew
some dripping branches aside.

An exclamation almost of fear escaped my lips,
and a low whistle of consternation from the retainer.
As for Basselin, he had followed sullenly, and took no
interest in anything that was going on. He kept
close up to us, lest he should lose us, for here we were
in a maze from which there was no apparent outlet to
any but those who knew it well.

Before us was the Curb's house. Not a dozen
yards away was the tree under which Isabel had sat
while I perused the letter which the priest had taken
from the bureau. To the left was the same impene-
trable bush into which none had trespassed. No one
would venture by reason of a legend which pointed
to the place as haunted. One could understand —
when memory began to work — that Rousard, as man
or boy, had never plunged into the dark recesses of
the haunted copse. The old story ran from lip to lip
among the people of the countryside that long ago
in this lonely place a priest had kept one of his
brothers who was mad, and could never die. Night
after night the maniac walked to and fro in naked-
ness, so far as the chains would suffer him, and cries.

TTbe fiannteti Copse 3S9

and sobs, and screams of pain, and bursts of maniacal
laughter would be often heard, or the low and piteous
wailing of one whose life would never end, and whose
tale of misery was never complete. Some had said
that when they wandered by the place they could
bear the clanking of the chains, or at times a prayer
for a death that would not come. One curi after
another had gone to the edge of the bush, to exorcise
the spirit that possessed the copse, but there was only
a temporary hush, and the terror began again.

I remembered it all, and turned to look at Rousard.
His eyes had a frightened look in them, and his
natural manliness seemed to have deserted him.
But for the love he bore me he would have dashed
away into the open, risking discovery and its
consequences.

I Isabel was pale and trembling. I thought she
would fall to the ground with terror, but she
Controlled herself, making the sign of the cross
c6ntinually.

" I was constrained to bring you here. None other
would venture hither, monsieur, so that I knew you
would be safe," she said apologetically, her words
coming with a certain breathlessness, and her hands,
which she placed on her bosom, moving restlessly.

She was going on to say more, but her mouth was
dry, and her lips had a tremor about them which
served to show that she was struggling against an
inclination to scream aloud.

She had dared so much in coming here, and for
my sake. I had never known another pass through
the copse.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE MADMAN'S ROOM

There were two courses open to us now, and Isabel

told us what they were. One was to go to a dilapidated

hut close by, the existence of which we had never

heard, since none now living had seen it, buried as it

was under the rank growth of the copse, the other

was to enter the Curb's house, and hide in a spot

where, so the woman assured us, we should be secure

against discovery. Either alternative was undesirable,

but since the horrors of the haunted copse would be

beyond endurance when night closed in, we preferred

to incur the risk of entering the priest's dwelling, and

lying there in warmth, with only human foes to

think of.

There is a certain sense of shame within me while

I write down the fact that I dreaded my stay in that

man-forsaken spot where a mad spirit was reputed

to dwell. While one may pride himself on being

tolerably free from superstition, there is a remnant of

it in all who are human ; and when one is taken

unawares, it hurries out of the dark corner of one's

soul, and declares itself. I thought myself as free of

290

^Tbe fl>a&man's Voom 291

it as most, but I could well have run from the
haunted spot, if my pride had not controlled

There was do one stirring in the house, so far as
we could judge, and none outside, where the rain was
now pouring down in a perfect deluge. Nevertheless,
we did not venture across the lawn, but proceeded
cautiously among the trees and bushes which formed
the boundary to the Curb's gardeiL We were about
to enter Calvisson's home when Isabel opened the
woodfaouse door, and hurried us in, closing and
locking it after us. Wondering what this might
mean, we peered through the cobwebbed opening
which served as a window, and saw Brc^lie, the
young fellow who had been my page. He was
coming down the apple walk, but presently halted at
the open door, where the woman awaited him.

" Why, Isabel, you seem wet I " said he facetiously,
looking her up and down leisurely, while the water
poured from bis own cloak, and formed a pool on
the doorstep.

" I might well be wet when I have walked all the
way from Mai^rot Ducrot's home," was the good-
natured reply.

" So far as that, and so early? Hadst gone to see
Mai^t's handsome nephew P Fie on you I But
why do your courting so early in the morning, and
on such a morning, too ? Why not keep to courting
at night? Ha! that's the time, when the young
fellow could have walked at your side, with his arm
about that graceful waist ! "

The page laughed loudly, and Isabel, who was
good-nature itself, joined in, but stopped abruptly.

292 XCbe frown ot /Dajests

"Hist, Broglie! I forgot We shall wake the
priest."

" Holy Mary defend us ! " said the page, lowering
his voice, and crossing himself. " He would double
yesterday's penance, which he set for me because he
saw me kissing Susanne, and heard me tell her to
let the priest hang, when she declared that he was
coming. I did not know of his approach, but he
both saw me and heard me, and I've been at my
prayers ever since. But to business, Isabel. M. de
TEperon — confound the interloper ! — sent me to say
that he will come hither some time after noon with
one or two friends who want to talk business with
the Cur6. Now wilt give the message, and let me
have the answer, sweet Isabel ? "

" I dare not wake his reverence. Listen to him
now, snoring as though — "

" As though he would fright the devil from visiting
him," interposed Broglie, in a loud whisper. "But
what must I say to my master ? "

** Tell him that I will give the message to Father
Calvisson as soon as he wakes."

Broglie nodded, and turned away ; but he loitered
as if he had somewhat more to say.

" M. de Biron has been at the chateau again,
Isabel. He came this morning like a drowned rat,
and as mad as could be. He nearly killed me when
I asked his business, for he caught me a clout on my
cheek, and sent me spinning, bidding me not to stop up
the doorway when a gentleman wished to enter. He
has been telling the varlets that he will give two
hundred pistoles to any of them, and to the wenches
too, if they will help him to capture the runaway

JSbe Aatmum's ttoom 393

galtey-slave. God save him ! I mean the master,"
the young fellow added, lifting hts cap reverently,
showing that he put his heart into the prayer.

" Suppose they met with the Vicomte, would they
tell of him ? " asked the woman.

Broglie pushed out his lips, as if considedng the
matter, then answered emphatically :

" If they did, I would stick my knife into their
ribs, the beasts 1 "

There was no mistake as to his sincerity, judging
from the look upon his face.

" The master was a heretic," suggested Isabel.

" Not he ! It was a lie on the Curb's part, but why
he lied, I can't imagine ; and so say all the varlets at
the ch&teau when the priest is out of hearing, and M.
de I'Eperon is not at hand."

" But tell me, Broglie, would the men and women
be likely to earn the pistoles if they had the chance?"

" No. They were talking about it in the kitchen,
and some of them vowed that they would kill the
fellow who acted traitor to the master — for such we
call the Vicomte, even now. God bless him, and
save him, too I But I must go."

"Who are the visitors? "

" Don't know," answered the page, hurrying away,
and slamming the wicket after him.

Ten minutes later, we were in a room which lay
next to the priest's private chamber, where he
received those who wanted to see him quietly. A
fire soon roared on the hearth, and when Isabel had
tossed in some rough towels, and three old robes
which the Cut6 had cast aside, she closed the door
upon us, and lef^ us to strip and dry ourselves. A

294 Zbc frown of Obaicsts

large cage, some six feet square, with thick wooden
bars strapped with iron, and a door large enough for
a man to enter by, stood near the fireplace, and on it
we hung our sodden garments so that they might
dry.

Yet we were in considerable trepidation ; for while
we were safe enough so long as we could hear the
priest snoring in his room, what was there to hinder
him, on awaking, from wandering through the house,
and into the place where Isabel had lodged us ? We
began to think that we had chosen badly, and that in
the outhouse in the haunted copse we should have
been more secure from discovery. Basselin had no
great desire to be caught in our company, lest his
presence might have been construed into complicity
with an escaping prisoner, so that he, too, had his
reasons for hoping that Father Calvisson would not
intrude upon us — at all events, not until he had
received his money, and was gone.

We told Isabel our fears when she came to us with
some food, but she smiled. She went to the
door to assure herself that her master was asleep,
then returned, and standing at the fireside, explained
thar the Curd never passed the door without crossing
himself, and that nothing would induce him to enter.
She had never known him so much as peep into the
place ; he always hurried by, as if fearing lest some
awful hand might be stretched out to draw him in.

"But why?" I asked, puzzled to know the reason
for such fear on the part of the priest

"Tis the room where the poor madman lodged
before he was taken into the copse. Yonder is the
cage in which he was confined. It is said that he

Ubc Aa^man's IRoom 295

gnawed at the wcx>d just as a rat might have
done. See it for yourselves. It wanted but little
more time, and the bars would have snapped.
The priest who was brother to the maniac feared
lest he should break out some night and murder him.
It was of no avail to clothe the poor creature, for
he tore his garments into strips, laughing horribly
while he did so. He even crunched between his
teeth the plates and basins in which his food was
placed, so that at last those who waited on him in
the copse had to keep at chain-length, and thrust the
food at him with a long-handled shovel. Sometimes
he would catch this in his hands, and snapping it in
two, make of it a club, with which he lashed about
him furiously, beating down the saplings, and breaking
off tree branches.

" The Cur6 has a horror of madness," she went on
presently, " and has declared many a time that he
would spend a night out of doors, no matter how
cold or stormy, rather than enter here. I do not like
the thought of the room myself, and never come to
it ; but when I knew that you were in danger, M. le
Vicomte, I thought of it as the safest place I knew of.
You have no need to fear my master, so long as you
are quiet."

Her words seemed reasonable enough, for there
was nothing in the room to tempt the Cur^ to enter,
since it was absolutely empty on our coming in, save
for that madman's cage. The room was next to that
in which I had had many an interview with the priest.
The walls were in a filthy condition, mildewed, and
stained with the water which had found its way in
during the rains of the last hundred years, while the

396 XTbe frown ot Aajesti?

window was cobwebbed and grimy with so many
years' accumulation of dust and damp, and darkened
the room as effectually as though it had been shut-
tered. The wall which separated the chamber from
Calvisson's had on it a patch of wood some six inches
square. Examining it closely, I saw that it was
hinged to some woodwork, but the hinges were so
rusted that the iron was broken, while the wood
itself was worm-eaten. When I prised it open with
my dagger, the little door tumbled to the floor with
a noisy clatter. A light sleeper might have been
awakened anywhere in the house, but the priest slept
on.

" Noises do not often awake him," said Isabel com-
placently, but going to the door, nevertheless, to listen.
" Especially when he has supper at the chateau," she
added, with a meaning smile.

Rousard and I fully understood the allusion.

Turning my attention to this hole in the wall, I
saw that it was curtained on the other side, as if the
priest had no wish to be reminded of the maniac's
chamber. Putting my hand through, I held the
hanging aside, and saw the room which I had cause
to remember so well. There was little in the place
which I could not see, and now, with the wall door
removed, there would be little said which we should
not overhear.

CHAPTER XXXIV

"FOR THE FALL OF FRANCE"

The long night of tramping through forest and field,
and on soddened roads, when we were beaten with
the wind and drenched with the rain, followed by
the welcome warmth of a roaring fire, good food, and
dry clothing, caused a drowsiness which ended in
deep slumber.

When I awoke the day was declining, and rising
idly on my elbow, and indifferent to my companions,
who were sleeping soundly, I gazed into the fire
moodily. The blaze had died away, and there was
now the dull red glow which lightened the room, into
which the shadows of the departing day had crept
while we were oblivious to ail that was doing in the
outside world. Now and again one of the sleepers
moved restlessly. It was a sure indication that the
heaviness of their sleep was passing, and they might
soon be awake ; but that did not concern me. I was
gazing at the pictures which formed themselves
among the red and quivering heat of the logs —
pictures which told of the past, and, for aught that
I knwv, had something prophetic about them. I
shuddered more than once, for if scenes amid the
397

398 XTbe frown ot ObaicsVs

embers were faithful indicators of coming experience,
there was capture before me, and — God forbid ! — the
galleys after all !

The representation of coming disaster was so real
that I put my hand into my bosom, and drew forth the
dagger which Rousard had given to me. If it came
to capture, and the galleys were to be my lot, then I
would end all by that sharp, short blade of steel,
and forget Louise, the Cur^, my reverses, and my
pains.

I was roused from the unpleasant reverie by the
slamming of a door. Listening intently, half-fearing
for the moment to trust to that dread which Father
Calvisson had for the maniac's room, I started to my
feet and looked about me. There were some voices,
but I could not locate them. I had forgotten the
little opening in the wall, which would have served to
reassure me, just as the message which Broglie had
brought in the morning had slipped from my know-
ledge. But standing there, my whole soul alert,
memory brought back one thing after another, and
caused me to go on tiptoe to the opening, where
I could see what was transpiring in the Curb's
room.

The voices were now so distinct that I could hear
words, and I knew some of the speakers because of
the familiar tones. There was Father Calvisson, as a
matter of course, and in a deferential tone he was
requesting his visitors to be seated. The other voice
was De TEperon's. But who were the strangers ?
I gently drew back the curtain to satisfy my
curiosity.

There were four men in the room. The Cur^ was

"for tbc fall of francc" »99

standing with his back to the fire, all smiles and
suavity, causing those whom he sought to please to
forget his pimpled face and drunkard's nose. One
who did not know him might have almost pitied so
genial a man for having such an unprepossessing
appearance, wondering at the incongruities which
Nature sometimes permitted. He was nibbing his
hands together, and waiting for his visitors to be
seated.

De I'Eperon was not looking much the happier,
although he was richer by my whole estate since I
had last seen him. He had played his daring game,
and won, but there was the possibility that his
partner had been troublesome in the settlement.
I could quite believe it, and somewhat viciously
hoped that it had proved so. An avaricious man
like Calvisson was not likely to let his partner off"
with slack payment. He must have made demands
which rendered the coffers less full than they had
been in my own day.

The other two men I did not know. Judging
from their garb, they were Churchmen, but that
might mean little, since disguises were frequent
Of course, it was possible that the Cur£ was suave
because they were ecclesiastics of high rank; but
plausible as the explanation was to my mind, I had
the impression that he honoured them from some
ulterior motive. Before many minutes had gone, I
knew them to be genuine Churchmen, but not of
France. The first word which one of them uttered
betrayed him an Italian; the response of the second
to a question from Calvisson was German in its
accent

300 zbe frown ot Aajests

One long hour they talked, debating a topic which
meant the ruin of France. I could hear sufficiently
well with the curtain dropped, and with less risk of
discovery ; so that having satisfied myself as to the
persons who were in conclave, I was content to
listen without seeing the speakers. My only excuse
for eavesdropping was the natural wonder as to
whether I was in any danger because of their
presence in the house. Otherwise, such an act
would have been abhorrent. Hearing some move-
ment behind me, I looked round and saw Rousard.
He had noticed that I was standing against the
wall, and wondering whether any mischief was
stirring, came to my elbow to listen. The con-
versation absorbed him as it did me, so that we
became oblivious to everything save what was
transpiring in the Curb's room. We stood there,
face to face, almost taking each other's breath,
which came quickly, while we followed the topic
that engaged their attention.

Gradually the knowledge came as to the object
which the strangers had in coming to Tour. One
was an emissary direct from the Vatican ; the other
represented the princes of the German Empire.
They, as Churchmen, had been chosen, as being
less liable to arouse suspicion than if two noblemen
had undertaken the mission. They were Jesuits,
without doubt, and naturally more subtle in their
ways of dealing with those whom they had been
deputed to visit It had been recognised in the
courts of Europe that Louis the Fourteenth, a
monarch of a restless, grasping nature, had already
become the arbiter of Europe's destinies. His

"for tbc fall of ftancc" 3<"

preparations for war on a colossal scale alarmed
the statesmen outside of France, and since they
could never get anything from him but suave
assurances of friendship, they had more than once
formed strong coalitions against him. One of these
was the famous League of Augsburg, the design of
its promoters being to bring moral force to bear
upon 'Louis, so that by realising his isolation, he
might forego his plans.

Coalitions, however, which lacked a show of
force had proved ineffectual ; but now, as we
heard, while listening, the armies of the Great
Powers of Europe, equipped with secrecy, were
shortly to be set in motion, simultaneously invading
France at her most vulnerable points.

What this had to do with De I'Eperon and
Calvisson I soon discovered. The former had
been appointed to the command of a strong
frontier fortress which barred the progress of the
Italian army. The emissary from Rome promised
bim papal favour, and emoluments which seemed
to me almost beyond the dreams of avarice, if
he would betray the stronghold when the army
approached. The hatred for France, or fear of
her, must have been great to call forth such a
payment

Calvisson had no such opportunity, but lie pos-
sessed a persuasive power, which was known at
Rome to be irresistible, over a noble whose super-
stitious regard for the Church was common know-
ledge. This noble guarded the approaches from
the Rhine, and three fortresses which formed a line
of defence were within his jurisdiction. He was to

302 XCbe frown ot /Dajests

be amply rewarded, while Calvisson, who was
ambitious alike for position and wealth, was
promised gold, and a vacant see.

I drew the curtain back while the German was
telling the Cur^ this, for I wanted to look at the priest's
face. He had been sitting in his chair with folded
hands, as if ready to pretend certain objections ; but
the promise robbed him of his self-possession, and he
rose to his feet hastily.

" You mock me, monseigneur ! " he exclaimed.

" This is no time for mockery, father. His Holiness
himself has so decreed it, as this letter testifies. The
Pope promises the see and the Emperor the money."
Thereupon the ecclesiastic handed Calvisson an open
letter, which he read eagerly, his hands trembling
with excitement, and his face flushed with greed.

"I will do all that you desire,** said he, moving
restlessly ; " and I would to God I might start on
my errand at once."

" We must needs restrain you for a week," was the
response of the German, on whose face was a look of
satisfaction. *' We have to approach the Governor of
Rochelle— "

" Who is in Paris," interrupted De TEperon.

"That is well, if it be true," the other observed
doubtfully. " But we were told that he had returned
to Rochelle."

" I saw him in Paris less than a week since, and he
told me that he did not intend to leave the capital for
another fortnight"

The German nodded approval at De I'Eperon's
words. It would shorten their task considerably, he
observed.

"fot tbc fall of francc" 303

Having secured the co-operation of these two men
who were so ready to betray France, the emissaries
set forth the details. There was no need for haste.
The Italian army was ready to, advance at twenty-
four hours' notice, but England was not yet prepared
for a descent upon Rochclle, nor were the Germans
sufficiently near to make such an early dash across
the border. There was to be simultaneous action
four weeks from that day, and meanwhile the utmost
secrecy was to be observed, since so much depended
on taking Louis unawares.

When everything had been arranged to the satis-
faction of all who were plotting for the fall of France,
Father Calvisson summoned Isabel, and ordered
wine. She brought it, and the four, while drinking,
went again into such details as might prevent any-
thing like misunderstanding. So anxious was the
priest to make himself secure, that the emissaries,
at his desire, wrote and duly signed a paper, set-
ting forth the reward he was to obtain for his
services.

Not a word escaped us, and we were so anxious to
see what transpired that we held back the curtain,
and peered into the Curb's room with eyes that
scarcely blinked. We paid no attention to Basselin ;
indeed, he never so much as took our thought for a
moment, for here were matters engaging us of
transcendent importance. A nation's fate was hang-
ing in the balance. Five or six weeks hence, France,
famous and feared, would lie bleeding at the feet of
the conquerors, her farms and crops and vineyards
destroyed, and, judging from what the Italian de-
clared, the beautiful country would be converted into

304 xrbe frown ot Aajests

a smouldering wilderness. It roused one to a pitch
of madness to think that beloved France should be
plunged into such direful misery.

" I will wring the Curb's neck the first time I meet
him," said Rousard between his teeth, when the
priest carried the paper to the bureau, and placed it
in one of the drawers. I knew that it was no mere
threat on my companion's part. He meant it

As for De TEperon, my own unspoken resolution
was that if I met him in the chateau, sleeping or
waking, I would kill him ; for that would be so much
work done for the salvation of France. If any man
owed loyalty to Louis, it was he who had been
enriched by his King. I set aside the fact that he
had been so enriched at my expense, for my thoughts
were concentrated on his treachery, and the black
ingratitude he displayed.

Presently the Italian lifted a full glass, and looking
first at Calvisson, and then at De TEperon, he said,
smiling the while :

"Success to the Holy League, and confusion to
the Grand Monarque,**

Not a word was spoken by the others, but each one
raised his wine and drank. Then De TEperon, with
a sullen look upon his face, dashed his glass to the
ground. It splintered into a hundred pieces. His
companions looked at him in wonder, while he of
Rome smiled again, but said nothing.

" You are in earnest, my sdn ? " said the German.

" I am," was the almost fierce response.

Saying this, De TEperon rose to his feet, and going
to the door, opened it, and led the way in silence.

"for tbc fall ol f ranee"

305

The others, standing, followed, the C-ari going last
of all

" I will wring the Curb's neck the first time I meet
him," repeated Rousard, when the door slammed
behind Calvisson.

CHAPTER XXXV

A DIFFICULT PROBLEM

Savage at the thought of our helplessness, but
wondering whether it was possible to spoil this base
conspiracy, we turned away from the wall. We did
not pursue our thoughts, however, for Rousard cried
aloud :

" Where's Basselin ? "

I looked at the speaker, and then around the room
in amazement. There was no third man in the place,
for the woodman was gone. Going to the cage on
which his own garments were hanging, my com-
panion felt among them hastily, and an oath escaped
his lips.

" What is it ? *' I asked, but for a while I got no
answer, Rousard taking up one thing after another,
and searching them vigorously.

" The beast has gone off with the hundred and fifty
pistoles," he said at last, almost dancing with anger.
All sorts of declarations came tumbling over each
other as to what he would do if by any chance he
could lay hands on the fellow who had duped us.

The story needed no telling. While Rousard and

I were occupied in listening to the men in the Curb's

306

a 2»ifficult prob[em 307

room, Basselin, who had apparently been sleeping,
had used his opportunity. Quietly slipping off the
priestly garb, he clothed himself in his own garments,
sure that if we had seen him so doing we could say
nothing. Still, not wishing to draw attention to him-
self, he went to his work as silently as possible When
this was done, he secreted the bag of pistoles about
him, and carrying his heavy bcwts in his hand, had
slunk away. A feeling of intense mortification at
having been tricked by a countryman possessed us,
when we sat before the fire once more. How he must
have laughed in his sleeve at having escaped the two
men who had drawn him so far away from home, and
especially the ex-lord of Tour. I could fancy his
chuckle at the thought of having outwitted us when
we had considered ourselves masters of his movements.

There appeared to be no help for it, so that we sat
before the glowing fire to wait until it should be
sufficiently dark to venture into the chdteau. Strange
to say, I had no sense of fear as to the outcome of
Basselin's escape. I pictured him hastening to the
forest to get into hiding, in case we should follow in
pursuit. But in a few minutes 1 had put him out of
my thoughts, and busied myself with a problem of
greater moment.

A mental conflict b^an which seemed to shake my
very soul, now that I knew of the jeopardy of France.
Unless the King should be apprised of the intentions
of the League, and De I'Eperon's scandalous betrayal
of his trust, the country could scarcely escape the
terrible experiences that were to follow this cleverly
planned crusade. The crown of the haughty Grand
Monarque was likely to tie trampled in the dust, at a

3o8 XTbe frown ot Aajestp

time when the nations had apparently acquiesced in
Louis' supremacy, and granted all, or nearly all, his
claims. He was, however, living in a fool's paradise,
dallying with his mistresses while they strung diamonds
which his people had starved to pay for. With the
help of his second-rate statesmen, he was maturing
plans which he expected to end in making him
master of Europe. Instead of that the sluice-gates of
war were to be loosened. It wanted but the signal,
when they would be forced open, so that the terrible
flood would pour irresistibly upon city and village,
beating finally against the walls of the capital

The problem perplexed me sorely, and took shape
in the question : Should I think of my own liberty, or
of my country's weal ? I could not forget that I was
a fugitive, who had broken from the chain, and was
painfully striving to reach a safe refuge. The horrors
of the galleys were a nightmare to me. It was common
knowledge that those who once took their seats on
the galley bench would never quit it till they were
ready for the grave. The waist of the galley has been
called by one a hell of foul and disgusting utterance.
My bid for liberty meant escape from this hell, if pos-
sible. I almost cursed the unhappy chance that had
brought to me the fact of the nation's peril, because,
as a son of France, I must needs pause in my flight,
and solve the problem of duty. Ignorance would
have been happiness, for I should have toiled along
the roads by night, hiding by day, but always pressing
on to the sea to find safety, although it meant exile
and poverty.

I tried with all my soul to argue my right to go on
to liberty ; but there was always that thought of ruin

a BMHcnlt proMem 309

for France. If the King knew, he could hurry his
armies forward to the threatened points, and meet the
invaders; if he remained ignorant, there would be
the smoke of burning cities and ruined villages settling
over the land like a funereal pall.

It was not Louis of whom I thought — not the King,
but France. Nor could I say that it was the class to
which I belonged ; for the nobles were vicious and
self-seeking, careless of the woes which racked the
bosoms of the people. Who could suppose that I
would stay my flight for the sake of such a king as
Louis the Fourteenth? Knowing him as 1 did, I
could say of him what I once saw written concerning
the first Francis — that by harshness, by contempt of
law, by violation of justice, by aggravated taxation,
he became the true despot of France, a Richelieu
without his breadth of vision and singleness of
aim.

" No," thought I, as I lay upon the floor, and gazed
into the fire which Rousard had fed with fresh logs^
" Louis is not a man to inspire anything like self-
denial, for he is the personification of selfishness." I
was not prepared to say what some of those who
fawned and cringed would say at times : "Sire, you
command our service and our lives." Not 1 1

I remember hearing Racine say, when Comeille
and I were spending an evening with him : " The
King cares for no one, and thinks of no one but him-
self." It was a caustic thing to say, but it was none
the less true. Racine had been greatly annoyed that
day because of a dispute he had had with His
Majesty over a sentence which Louis wished the play-
writer to expunge from a play he had been rehearsing

3IO xrbe frown ot /Dajcatu

The actor demurred, but the King persisted, and in
the course of their talk His Majesty said :

** Self- aggrandisement, my dear Racine, is the
noblest as well as the most pleasant occupation of
kings.**

" He thinks naught of the starving poor," cried
Comeille bitterly ; " naught of the misery that can be
met with in the lower quarters of the city, but will
lavish fortunes on his mistresses, while a million are
longing for a meal ! "

I thought of all this, and shook my head.

" Not for the King."

But the problem still awaited solution. If not
ready to stay my flight for the King's sake, what was
I prepared to venture for my country? I loved
France with all the love which true patriotism can
inspire. I could not hold out against that subtle
influence which induces a man to endure so much for
his native land. I do not attempt to explain, for I
do not think it explainable. Liberty and personal
safety seemed so sweet — sweeter now than at any
moment when I was journeying with the chain in the
sweltering sun ; yet they were slackening their grip
upon me while I thought of the perils which
threatened France. Some spirit was working within
as if to withdraw me from the thought of my own
dangers, making me realise that I was a portion of
the nation's personality — if I may put it so. I had
laughed once when Masillon said, in one of his
glowing perorations, that if patriotism thrills a man,
drudgery becomes beautiful, and suflering noble,
and death sweet in the country's service. I had
laughed then, when there was no suggestion of

a S>itRcuIt problem iit

suffering for me, as did the others in the motley,
chattering crowd that hurried out of the church.
But now was the gravest moment of my life, when,
without any desire to be a martyr, I had to choose
between self and duty, between liberty and the
galleys, between my own ease and the comfort of
the nation.

I do not understand the logic of the thing, but
I was compelled against interest, and I know not
what besides, to risk everything to save France.

" I am going to see the King, Rousard."

I had supposed that my companion was in the
room with me, for being so absorbed with my
thoughts, I had not noticed his absence. He stood
in the doorway, however, while I spoke, with a paper
in his fingers, and my words so startled him that
it fell to the ground. Picking it up, he came in
quickly, and shutting the door behind him, exclaimed
incredulously :

" To see the King, monsieur ? "

He looked at me as if to assure himself that I
had not gone clean mad, and said again :

" To see the King ? "

" Yes," I responded presently. *' He ought to
know of the errand of those two Churchmen, and
of the agreement they have made with Calvisson
and De TEperon for the betrayal of France."

" True, monsieur ; but if you go to see the King,
he will send you to the galleys, and take precautions
against a second escape."

" He may," said I dubiously ; but in my own
heart I knew full well that Rousard spoke to the
fact, and not to mere supposition. The King would

312 XTbe #rown of Aa jests

hear what I had to say, but to him I was a mere
pawn on the great chessboard of the State, to be
played so long as I was of any value, but removed
when no longer needed. It was the natural course
a monarch would pursue who cared for no one, and
thought of no one but himself, and was all in ail
to himself. Favourites were thrown aside without
a thought, so that one who had brought upon himsdf
the frown of Majesty had little expectation of gener-
ous treatment, even while he rendered incalculable
service.

" He may," said I, knowing this ; and already I
could feel the cold circlet of iron about my wrist,
and had before me the hideous picture of the
galley, every victim in which was toiling as they
must toil in hell. But France had the right to
demand her salvation at my own cost, and if I
shrank from the payment, I was an unworthy son.

I put this before Rousard, and to it all he responded
simply :

" It sounds right, monsieur ; but it is all wrong. I
see no reason why you should serve a King who has
sent you to the galleys unheard, and at the instiga-
tion of a couple of rogues like the priest and De
TEperon. Let us get away into the Low Countries,
or to England — anywhere for safety, and let France
take her chance."

** Have you no patriotism, Rousard ? " I asked
reproachfully.

** No one has more, monsieur ; but I do not see
why you should run your head into the lion's jaws,"
the man answered doggedly. " Get out of France,
and let me go to the King."

a BHIlcuIt problem 313

I shook my head. I knew that none in his station
could approach the monarch. A noble was not
always sure of admission into the Presence Chamber,
so much depending on the royal whim on that
particular day ; anJ as for such an one as Rousard,
it was unlikely that the keeper of the door would
suffer him to enter without knowing his business,
or that he would have sufficient wit to influence those
who could carry his news to the royal ear if they
chose — Pfere la Chaise, for example.

It was very trying to one's resolution to hear what
the honest fellow had to say in order to dissuade me.
To sit quietly and hear the King's character analysed,
so far as one like him was capable of doing so ; to
listen to the galley horrors which he recounted with
an embellishment wrought out with unusual skill
because he had an absorbing care for my safety ;
to hear him say what a good thing it was to live,
even in exile, so long as one had liberty — it was
a difficult matter to hold to the determination that
the King must know of France's peril, and that I
must be content to take the risks.

Rousard gave up ai^ument at last, and ceased to
protest, standing at the fireside, and turning the
paper in his hands idly.

" What have you there ? " I asked, after a spell
of silence.

" 'Tis the written promise which one of the Church-
men gave to Father Calvisson," he answered, almost
sulkily, handing it to me. " I went into the Cuti's
room, and took it from the bureau, thinking you
might like to see it"

Here was damning evidence against the would-be

3M

XTbe frown of Aajests

betrayers. I saw at once that however incensed the
King might be against me personally, and indisposed
to believe my story as free from prejudice, he would
credit the written testimony. He would know that
the plot was absolutely existent, and not a freak of
the imagination. Seeing for himself what Calvisson
had engaged to do, he would realise the danger
threatening on the Italian border, and believe in
De TEperon's perfidy. Any hesitation I may have
had as to my course was removed instantly.

" This settles the matter, Rousard. I shall see the
King, and ask him to read it"

'* So be it," was the response, and the faithful
fellow proceeded at once to clothe himself in his
own garments, rolling up the priest's old robe, and
tossing it contemptuously into the corner behind the
cage.

CHAPTER XXXVI

BETRAYED

It was now quite dark, and consequently we pre-
pared to quit the Curb's house, to make the venture
into the chiteau, and seek for the much-needed
money. There was not a sound anywhere save in
the kitchen, the door of which was open. There was,
however, that inexplicable consciousness of some un-
seen presence — the feeling that someone was near,
although he could not be heard. That might be
attributed to the vagaries of fancy, or exaggerated
fear, now that we were bent on a dangerous errand.
The sound in the kitchen served as an attraction,
and walking along the passage, we heard what
seemed like a woman's sobs. Wondering what
trouble had come to Isabel, we looked into the
place.

" What ails you ? " I exclaimed, entering in-
cautiously, and walking to the table, on which the
woman had flung her arms in the abandonment of
grief.

Before she had time to raise her head, Rousard
cried out in alarm. Looking round quickly, I saw
him hurled headlong into the kitchen by two men

315

3i6 trbe I'rown of Aajesti?

who now stood in the doorway. Before he could
rise to his feet, these rien rushed in, followed by
half-a-dozen others, one of whom was M. de Biron.
We were so taken unawares that there was no
struggle, for while Rousard was knelt upon, I was
thrown to the floor, and like my man, bound hand
and foot. We were then dragged to the wall, and
our backs set against it.

Sitting thus, we could see what was transpiring.
Isabel, usually so gentle, w'ped her eyes ; then observ-
ing someone standing in the open doorway,and rubbing
his hands in glee, she snatched at a wine-jug, and
hurled it at the man. He saw it coming, and ducked
his head, but the vessel struck the doorpost against
which he had been leaning, and was shattered, the
contents scattering over him. The red wine covered
the man's head and face, dripping to the floor, while
one of the broken pieces tore a long wound across
the forehead.

It was Basselin, who, on escaping, and finding that
M. de Biron was at the chateau, had gone to him
with information as to our whereabouts. He had
counted on getting the two hundred pistoles which
were offered for aiding in my capture.

" You cruel beast ! " the woman cried passionately,
looking round for another missile.

At that moment the Cur6 entered the house, and
gazed upon the scene in astonishment

'* Who are those men ? " he asked, pointing to us
who were sitting on the floor, unable to move because
of our bonds.

" The Vicomte de la IJour," cried Basselin savagely,

Setrased 317

mopping his forehead, which was bleeding freely.
"The other is his man, Rousard."

An evil smile stole across the priest's face. He
had doubtless been told that I had escaped from the
chain, and he was so pleased to find that I had been
captured that his delight surprised the soldiers. His
language, expressive of his gratification, and inter-
spersed with words unworthy of clerical lips,
apparently disgusted De Biron, who, when Calvisson
asked how we got into his house, refused to answer,
and forbade his men to make the Cur6 any wiser.

As for Basselin, he took him into the priest's room,
and wrote out an order for the pistoles. The wood-
man, eager to finger the gold, and having nothing
further to wait for, hurried away. I saw him pass
the door, and heard the garden gate slam after
him.

My fear was that poor Isabel would have to pay a
heavy penalty for harbouring an escaped Huguenot,
but De Biron, content to have found me, whispered
a word or two of caution to her as to her further
dealings with heretics. Natural as was my dislike
for him, I conceded in my mind that there was a
certain generosity about the Chief of Police ; unless,
as I thought later, he had other things on hand, and
did not wish to be hampered with prisoners. He
looked at Rousard somewhat irresolutely, as if
considering what he ought to do with him.

" Why are you in M. le Vicomte's company ? " he
asked sharply.

" I sought to get him away," the man answered
doggedly. He concluded that escape was impossible,
and blurted out the truth, knowing that the punish-

3i8 xTbe frown of Aajest?

ment would be the same, whether he spoke or
remained silent

" That means the galleys," observed De Biron.

" Twas my master," was the fearless response.

" Well, I only want M. le Vicomte, so you can go.
If I find you loitering around, I will have you flogged,
and sent off to the nearest prison."

Rousard did not speak, but when the cords were
cut, and he was free, he bent over me, almost with a
woman's tenderness, and kissed my forehead.

" God help you, monsieur, for I cannot," he said
huskily.

I could not answer. The man's loyalty touched
me to the quick, and brought tears to my eyes, so
that I only saw his blurred figure when he turned
away, and walked out of the room.

" Come with me, monsieur,'* said M. de Biron
presently, and when I rose to my feet, with my hands
still bound, and walked at his side, he spoke ; but
not until we had passed into the lime-tree avenue
which led to the chateau.

" I am sorry for your fate, M. le Vicomte," said he,
and the harshness had gone out of his voice ; " but
I have to do my duty."

I did not reply.

** I cannot think how you can be a heretic, monsieur,
after pretending such loyalty to the Catholic faith,"
he observed, as we went through the wicket gate,
and paced the terrace I knew so well.

" I am no heretic, M. de Biron. I am as true a
Catholic as yourself. 'Tis that lying Cur6 who
betrayed me, so that he might share in the spoils,

Setraseb 3^9

after M. de I'Eperon had secured my estate. There
has been a base conspiracy against me."

I answered bim emphatically, causing him to turn
and look me in the face sharply.

" You astound me, monsieur."

" I speak the truth. I repeat, I am no heretic, but
the victim of a conspiracy."

De Biron said no more, but led me to my old room,
loosening my bonds with his own fingers.

" You will give me your word, M. le Vicomte, not
to attempt any escape ? "

" God knows I am an innocent man," I answered ;
" and since I have had no trial, I consider liberty my
right I therefore tell you, M. de Biron, that I shall
do my best to get away."

" That is plain speaking, monsieur."

" It expresses my intention."

"Then I must double the guard. You will find
four men on the terrace below, if you look from the
window. I shall put some men outside this room,
and they will receive orders to shoot you down if
you venture into the passage. 'Tis my necessity,
monsieur, and not my choice, since I have to account
for your body to the King."

I turned away and walked to the window,
where I saw the men already pacing to and fro.
While I gazed at them in the spirit of hopelessness,
I heard the door close, and looking round, found that
I was alone.

My thoughts that night were too many to be put
aside, and for hours I could not sleep. To be a
prisoner in my own home was the cruel extreme of
irony. It was exasperating to think of our careless-

S20 XTbe frown of Aajeets

ncss in allowing Basselin to slip through our fingers
as we had done, and I called myself a fool a dozen
times over for not seeing that since he was intent on
getting money, he would seek to betray me and
secure the larger reward. I was a fool — one beyond
all expression, deserving my fate for being so blind —
for supposing that the woodman would allow the
Chief of Police to cross his path, and not claim the
money he had the disposal of. Why had we not
thought of the possibility so soon as we discovered
his escape ? Then we might have got away.

After a time the remembrance of the jeopardy to
France returned, and I could not put it aside, even if
I would. There was De TEperon under this very
roof, possibly planning how best to trail the glory of
his country in the dust

And Calvission also !

I thought I should go mad. How I wished I had
whispered to Rousard to go to the King, to Racine,
to P^re la Chaise, to my cousin, the Comtesse du
Roure, to Louise — to anyone who would get at the
monarch's ear and tell him all. In the bewilderment
which followed my capture I had forgotten it, and I
cursed myself for my self-absorption and forget-
fulness, when I might well have mentioned it to
M. de Biron.

The moon rose, and when I gazed out of the
window, I could see the men below. Their armour
gleamed in the silver light, and their tread was steady
and monotonous — such an unwonted sound at Tour.
While gazing thus, the thought came that I would
tell M. de Biron at once. I went to the door that I
might ask one of the soldiers to fetch him, but it

Setraseb 32<

was locked No one answered my call, although I
beat upon the barrier with my fists and boots.

Failing there, I crossed again to the window, and
was relieved to find that it opened when I twisted
the hasp. Thrusting out my head, I challenged one
of the sentries, who asked surlily what my business
was.

" Tell M. de Biron that I must see him instantly."

" He is asleep, monsieur."

" My business is sufficiently important to warrant
your disturbing him."

" He would be angry," said the man impatiently,
as if he had no desire to exchange words with me.

" Nevertheless, 'tis a pressing matter,"' I insisted ;
" a matter of life and death."

The man hesitated. It was easy to see that he
was debating with himself as to whether he should
pursue his monotonous tramp, and ignore me and
my words, or send for M. de Biron. After a brief
interval he went along the terrace for a few yards,
then halted, and with his eyes fixed on the window,
as if fearing that I was trying to be rid of him so that
I m^ht drop out and effect my escape, he called to
one of the soldiers near, spoke some words to him,
and returned to his old station, handling his musket
somewhat ostentatiously, to assure me that he
was alert against any attempt on my part to get
away.

A quarter of an hour later the door of the chamber
opened, and M. de Biron entered, buttoning his
doublet while advancing.

" Why have you disturbed me in the middle of the
night, monsieur? "

322 XTbe frown of Aajests

" Because I have news of importance to impart"

" Why did you not impart it when I was with you
in the evening ? " came the question, in a tone which
showed that while the Chief of Police could be very
suave at times, he could be as surly as a bear if any-
thing displeased him. After the conciliatory attitude
he had assumed during our walk to the ch&teau, his
anger surprised me. He was clearly a man of moods,
and it was unfortunate that this was an ill-tempered
season with him.

"You gave me small opportunity," I responded,
resenting his sharpness. "And more than that, I
was too bewildered at my unexpected capture to
think of the matter. But let that pass. France is in
danger, monsieur, and it is necessary that I should see
the King without delay."

" You to see the King ? " he cried, in a tone which
made my blood boil.

He was speaking as if I had been one of M ongorge's
set, and that I was only fit to bandy words and
exchange opinions with such as belonged to the
All^e de Couv^e. Had I not been a prisoner, no one
should have spoken so to me without a challenge, or
the direct blow in the face. But here I was helpless,
and must needs take insult quietly, lest a worse
thing should come upon me.

" It is necessary that I should see His Majesty,
although I am a prisoner, and not in Court garb/'
was my answer. All my ire was aroused, but since I
did not wish to spoil my chances of easing myself of
this burden of knowledge, I did my utmost to control
my anger and be calm. " France is in peril, and His
Majesty should know."

Setnifie& 3'3

M. de Biron bad hitherto proved himself a gentle-
man, but now he swung round on his heel, with the
laughter of incredulity, and turning his back upon
me, stalked towards the door. When I hurried to
his side to entreat him to listen, he flung out his arm
and hurled me from him; then hastened away,
leaving me more desperate than before.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE CORN ROOM

I HAD fallen asleep upon my bed after long and dis-
couraging hours of fruitless thought, and when I
awoke it wanted no clock to assure me that the day
was far advanced. Apart from the position of the
sun, which cast the shortest shadows of an autumnal
day, the view from the window bore testimony to the
fact that the morning was growing old.

Before me were the familiar sights and sounds,
such as I had seen and heard from my infancy. The
women were standing as usual in the village street,
in little groups, chattering and gesticulating as
excitedly as ever, displaying as much feeling over
a trivial household misadventure as when a real
catastrophe had occurred. Such a thing as proportion
was never likely to trouble them, for to people who
had no great cares, and whose lot was tolerably even,
the present episode was always the most absorbing.
The stablemen nearer at hand were whistling, or
exchanging coarse compliments or criticisms, as of
old ; the husbandmen were in the sunny fields,
making the most of the day after such heavy rain ;

324

XTbe Corn IRoom 325

and close by were the humdrum details, just as they
had chanced when I was master of Tour.

I could not keep back the feeling of bitterness
when I thought how happily the world was able to
go on without me. It touches one's pride to think
that after all a man is of such little consequence, that
in spite of what he may have been, he is not indis-
pensable. He may be missed, but the world is not
wrecked because of his absence. One is apt to over-
rate himself until misfortune comes, and then a new
and humiliating estimate is formed.

But there was something near which made me
forget such things, and quickened my impatience.
Four men were pacing the terrace, speaking in tones
so low that the soldiers on guard could not overhear
them. They were the four who had conferred
together in the Curb's house. Not one of them
looked up to my window except Calvisson, and that
but once. The sun, however, was in his eyes, and he
neither saw me nor the look upon my face. Had he
seen me, he might not have been so self-satisfied as
he appeared to be.

They wandered away at last, and I saw no more
of them. Food was brought to me by one who
refused to speak in answer to my questions. The
man's stony stare was discouraging, so I turned my
attention instead to what he brought. It was meagre
in quality and quantity, as if to indicate that I was
to be brought into training in readiness for the coarse
and insufficient fare of the galleys. Being hungry, I
ate with eagerness, then turned away to gaze out of
the window again. One thing surprised me, and that
was to find myself where I was, instead of having been

326 XTbe frown ofAajeets

roused in the early morning to take my ride to Paris,
or to some prison on the road, to await the coming of
the next chain that was making its slow journey to
the sea. Although it was nearly noon, there were no
signs of departure.

An hour passed — perhaps more. The women went
to their homes, and the men came down the street for
the midday meal, or sat on tree trunks close by their
work, to eat their food. The leisure gave me the
unwelcome opportunity of turning my thoughts upon
myself and my future. Inevitably the chain claimed
my attention, and I pictured it going from stage to
stage, and fancied myself more frequently whipped
than in the first weary march. I rehearsed some of
the pathetic stories I had heard, and might hear
again — of people who at one period of their lives had
been fSted and caressed, now envying the very
beggars their liberty, and willing to exchange their
lot with theirs, if it were but possible. Who could
doubt it, when they knew that if the galley-slave left
his bench at any time during the day, it was to be
tied to the post, and whipped until he who wielded
the weapon of torture tired ? It was not an hour of
thought which one would care to have ; but the day
was coming when the thought would be exchanged
for experience. The anticipation served to thrill me
with horror.

Could I possibly buy my escape ? Some of those
men below, who paced the terrace for hours together,
looked as if a few pistoles would be acceptable. A
man may do much with money — another will do
much for it. One may escape from thraldom should
he possess it in sufficient quantity ; another may

xn>e Com IRoom 327

risk much and point out a possible way if gold is
offered.

It was only by money that I could purchase
freedom. The sense of torture was, in my case, the
more acute, because money was the only key to
escape, and I had none. Had I been a Huguenot,
there was the bare possibility that I should have but
to renounce my heresy, and get some of my friends
to advance me a great sum, the chains would be
broken, perhaps, and I should be a free man again,
restricted, it is true, and poor, and under the surveil-
• lance of the priests and M. de Biron. But for me
such liberty was not possible. I had no heresy to
renounce. Ostensibly, I was sent to the galleys for
being a Huguenot, but some deeper motive had been
assigned for obtaining the lettre de cachet from the
King.

Money was the only thing that would serve me,
but how should I get it? This was the room in
which I kept one of my treasure chests. Three
thousand pistoles ought to be in it— a sufficient sum
to buy every man in De Biron's company, and De
Biron himself, perhaps, whom I now saw riding
across a distant meadow with half a dozen of his
guards.

I went to the chest, wondering how I should open
it ; but when I knelt on the floor before it, and placed
my hand on the padlock, the heavy thing tumbled to
the floor ; the hasp was loose, and it was easy to raise
the lid. That was the end of my hope, for the chest
was as empty as when it had been in the hands of its
maker — empty, but for a solitary golden coin which
had escaped the eyes of the searcher before me, and

328 tTbe frown ot Aajesti?

now lay on its edge in the corner. I took that for
myself. It was my own in spite of the fact that
the King had been generous with another man's
wealth. It might serve to buy me a meal, or if it
should ever be my fate to be flogged, the man who
wielded the whip might strike less heavily if I could
slip the piece of gold into his hand unseen.

I must have been absorbed in thought for a long
time, for I was on my knees, gazing hopelessly into
the box, when the door opened, and the Chief of
Police entered. Perhaps the look of despair on my
face surprised him, for he stared at me strangely, and
his only greeting was :

" We start in half an hour, monsieur."

He seemed in no hurry to be gone, but strode
across the floor to the window, where he looked out
on as glorious a bit of country as he would see any-
where in France. The resolution came that I would
now compel him to hear what I had to say as to my
obligation to see the King. I rose to my feet, and
slammed the door together. He had left it open —
perhaps purposely — and I could see three or four of
his men outside. But at this unexpected noise he
swung round, doubtless thinking that I had made
a rush for liberty. Seeing me, he said with some
sarcasm :

" Your movements might be quieter, monsieur."

" I have something to say, M. de Biron, which is
for your ear alone,*' I retorted.

" That you must see the King ? " he asked sharply,
anticipating me.

'* I must needs see him, because I have news for
his ear which will startle His Majesty. France is in

Ube Corn IRoom 329

deadly peril, and the King should know it/* I added
earnestly.

He was watching me keenly, half suspiciously.
The look seemed to carry its interpretation with it,
and had it not, his words followed quickly, and I was
not long in doubt as to his thoughts.

" You have lost your reason, I fear, M. le Vicomte ! "
he exclaimed, and an expression swept across his
face, half of pity, half of worry, at the prospect of
having to play the part of keeper to one whom trouble
had driven mad.

'' I am as sane as you, M. de Biron. I wonder that
you, spoken of throughout Paris as so loyal to His
Majesty, should be slow to believe me when I tell
you that France may any day be brought to ruin ! "

I put out my hand to touch his arm, as if to
emphasise the words I was resolute to speak, but he
thrust me aside impatiently, saying something about
having matters of more importance to see to than to
listen to one whom anticipation of the galleys had
bereft of reason ; and with that he left me once more.

It was a full hour later when I was told to mount a
led horse which was set in the midst of a number of
troopers. There were none of the varlets about who
were wont, in the more fortunate days, to serve me;
but M. de TEperon stood on the terrace to watch me
ride away, and the Curd was with him. I did not look
in their direction after I had once seen them, but I
had in my mind's eye the sinister expression on each
face — the exultation of the courtier at having wrested
my possessions from me, the malignity of the priest
who had sworn away my character, and disgraced me
alike in the eyes of my dependents, of those who

330 Zbc frown ot Aajests

frequented the Court, and in the estimation of His
Majesty.

The Cur4 however, was not content to part with
me quietly. He came forward, and forced me to
look on his unwholesome face, for he held my horse's
bridle, and gazed at me insolently, as he had in my
own house, and when I withstood him in the tanner's
home at Gueche. On those occasions I held him in
wholesome fear, for he might do me harm ; now the
injury was done, and things could not be worse,
whether I pleased him or not He was about to
speak, but my anger hindered him. Bending forward
in the saddle suddenly, I hurled my fist into his face
with a force which might have killed him. He fell
without a groan upon the stones, and so incensed was
I at the moment, that I should have pressed my
horse forward to trample on him, had not the trooper
who gripped the rein turned the creature aside.

I glanced at M. de Biron, who was near, and
thought I saw a look of concern sweep across his
face. Far from being angry, and ordering me some
punishment, he bade the men close in about me and
proceed.

"The poor gentleman has lost his reason. God
pity him!" I heard him say to the troopers, who
gazed at him, surprised at his leniency ; for M. de
Biron had not the character for being over-gentle
with the prisoners in his charge.

Again and again I sought to have speech with him
while on the journey, but he would neither hear me nor
turn his eyes in my direction. He had formed his
opinion concerning me, and was resolved not to
waste his breath by talking.

Ubc Com Itoom 331

It was nearly dusk when we drew near to a
chateau, and the picturesque building, which stood
on the summit of a hill, was only reached by traversing
a beautiful avenue of elms, which ended in a fine old
gateway. We could not enter until one of the
retainers came out of the porter's lodge to know our
business. What De Biron said I did not hear, but
the man, with no great alacrity, swung open the
massive iron gate, and stood back somewhat sullenly
while our party entered the outer courtyard. There
we halted, the Chief of Police riding into the inner
quadrangle to have audience with the owner, and
doubtless to demand quarters for the night in the
King's name.

He was away several minutes, but came back
apparently well pleased. Bidding me dismount, he
led the way into the inner court, three soldiers
accompanying us; from thence we proceeded to the
great hall, whose immense window was facing the
quadrangle. When we had gone up the flight of semi-
circular steps and passed beneath a square-headed
arch, we turned into the hall itself.

I had no eyes for the noble, flat-ceilinged apart-
ment which stretched for more than sixty feet before
us, nor for its panelling and massive furniture, which
was all of polished oak. My attention was taken
instantly by a little group of women, two of whom, to
judge by their dark velvet and embroidered costumes,
were of the highest rank. They stood somewhat in
the shade, the huge copper lampholder throwing its
light, so that one saw their figures, and not their
faces.

Bidding us halt, M. de Biron advanced to the spot

332 Zbc frown ot ObaiCBVs

where the ladies were standing, and asked in what
place he might lodge the prisoner for the night One
of them responded in a sweet voice that brought back
strange memories, and the troopers standing round
gazed at me inquiringly because of the exclamation
which escaped my lips. The words I heard, without
regard to the voice itself, were sufficient to set my
heart beating more quickly.

"Coulon, show the way to the Corn Room.
Monsieur de Biron, I have no thought as yet as to
where your prisoner may stay, but that chamber will
serve for a little while, and we can change it
presently."

"Whatever place it is, mademoiselle, it will do.
My only desire is that this man should be safely
lodged, for I do not wish him to escape me."

" Then I will inquire of my varlets as to the best
place for him," was the response.

I knew the voice, although I could not see the
face, and I was overcome with a sense of shame at
the thought that this sweet-spoken lady should see
me in such a garb — in mud-stained, ragged, greasy
garments which even a peasant would think well
worn. But that was only a passing thought, for I
was curious to look upon the face of the mistress of
the chateau.

" Bring the prisoner forward ! " cried De Biron, and
not loath to advance, I almost led the way in my
eagerness. I should have preceded my keepers by
some paces had not one of the men laid a hand on
my shoulder, and said sternly :

" Steady, monsieur ! Be in no hurry."

It was difficult not to shake him off impa-

TTbe Com Koom 333

tiently, but I restrained myself, and walked more
slowly.

When I saw the faces of the women, I gasped.
Coulon I knew on the instant^the woman of the
cui de sac, no longer the disreputable and unwhole-
some creature who had rendered me such service, but
clean, well-dressed, and well-behaved. She stood a
little behind the ladies, one of whom was none other
than Marie, Marquise de Lauzun, whom I had last
seen when De Biron arrested me at the Chateau de
Neure.

It was the other, the sight of whom so agitated
me, that the great hall swam before my eyes, and my
knees almost failed me. Her name escaped my lips
involuntarily, although I was anxious that she should
not rec<^nise me in my pitiful estate. When she
knew me at Court, I was the wealthy and much-envied
master of Tour. Now — God help me ! — I was worse
than a beggar, an uncouthly-dressed peasant, bound
for a place which was likely to be hell to me.

" Louise 1 "

The fourth woman looked on indiiftrently. She
was a stranger, and took no interest in the mud-
bespattered man whose arm was held with a tight
grip by a stalwart trooper; but the other three
wondered, as if they had heard a familiar voice.
They looked at me keenly, but could not penetrate
my disguise, and suffered me to pass on without a
word.

Coulon left the group, and lifting a lamp from its
nail upon the wall, led the way along the richly-
decorated corridors, until we reached a chamber
which was in darkness. Throwing the door open.

334 TLtK ftovn Of Hbajcsts

she entered first, and bade me follow. Two of the
three troopers remained outside, but the other, whose
hand still held my arm, advanced with me. When I
walked into the apartment, he left me standing at
the woman's side, and taking the lamp from her
hand, passed round the walls, which were decorated
with purple silk, on which were embroidered the
golden ears of com that gave the room its name ;
smoothing the walls with his hand, tapping here and
there to be assured that there were no hollow places,
and no hidden door ; then looking to the floor and
to the window fastenings, even going so far as to
stand upon the brass dogs in the fire-place to gaze up
the chimney for a possible means of escape. He
expressed his approval.

" You will do here, monsieur. Come, my dear, and
leave the prisoner to enjoy a bit of solitude. He is
no good company for anyone, for I do not think he
has spoken a dozen words since he left Tour."

She turned with him and left me; but not before,
unseen of the trooper, she had brushed past me and
whispered :

" I will tell mademoisella"

While the man had been satisfying himself that I
should find no way of escape, Coulon had drawn
closer to me when she heard me whisper ber name.

" Coulon, do you not know me ? "

" The voice is familiar," she replied, in as low a
tone, keeping her eyes on the soldier.

" I am the Vicomte de la Tour on the way to the
galleys."

" Afon Dieu I " said the woman, laying a hand on
her bosom to control herself, " No wonder I knew

tOiC Corn Vtoom 33s

your voice. M. De Biron told mademoiselle that his
prisoner was a gentleman, although in peasant's garb,
and that is why you are lodged so well. He did not
mention your name, and we heard that you had
escaped."

" I got away, but was betrayed. Tell me, Coulon,
does Mademoiselle Louise care f "

" Care ? She wept day and night when she heard
of your arrest, and called you noble, and prayed for
your escape. Ah, monsieur, I cannot tell you all I
How she clapped her hands when news came that
you had broken the chain, and could not be found 1 "

" Will you tell her who I am, and that I pray God
to bless her for lodging me so well ?"

" Hist I " came the answer, for the soldier's search
was ended, and he was coming towards us. She
whispered those words to me before she went : " I
will tell mademoiselle ; " and in a few moments I was
alone in the Com Room.

CHAPTER XXXVII

love's achievement

I THINK that the knowledge of my nearness to
Louise was a pain rather than a pleasure, notwith-
standing that I had so longed to see her face again,
if only for a passing glance. That opportunity had
come, bringing me a certain relief, since I knew for
myself that she had recovered from her sickness,
although she looked very frail, and did not g^ve great
promise of fighting against the winter's cold, which
was approaching. To know that she was so near,
and in a sense my jailer, brought to me some of the
agony of Tantalus. It was almost as much of torment
as when the Eastern king, with the hunger of famine
and a quenchless thirst upon him, lay in the midst of
plenty, and with unstinted wine in sight, which he
could neither taste nor drink.

Yet there was something of gladness, because
Coulon had whispered that Louise had wept when
she knew of my arrest, and prayed for my escape.
If I had only known that I had something more than
mere sympathy, if I but knew she loved me, I felt
that I could bear the galley torment better. It would
be something to dream over during the monotonous

336

love's acbfevement 337

reach and pull at the oars for days, aad weeks, and
months ; something to carry with me into my sleep
when the toil was over for a brief season, and I should
be free for a few hours from the lash of the comite,
who loved to see the prisoners wince, and hear them
scream.

An hour had gone when the door opened, and
food was brought in by a trooper who, on entering,
had no word for me, neither pleasant nor uncivil.
He carried a lamp, with which he made a more
searching examination of the room, since it was
supposed that I should have to stay there the whole
night through. I ate while he was thus engaged,
because. If I had the opportunity, I was resolved to
effect my escape, and tell the King ; and in order
to do that I should need strength. The food, more-
over, was appetising. One could well have thought
that it had come from the mistress's table at her
desire, since there were dainties one could not
expect from the kitchen, for a ragged peasant
prisoner.

The man loitered, as if he waited to carry back
the fragments of the meal, but I bade him be gone
if he had naught to say ; for it was better to eat alone,
and in the dark, than have a surly fellow watching
every mouthful, and scuffling his feet impatiently on
the carpet

" Do you want the light to see the good things
you are eating, monsieur ? " he asked, and I answered
in the affirmative, civilly, thinking him willing to
leave it I was mistaken, for he laughed at his
clumsy joke, and turning on his heel, stalked out of
the room, shutting me up in darkness again. What

33S Ube frown oi amjests

he said to the men outside I do not know, but there
was loud laughter ; without a doubt, at my expense.

The window looked into the inner courtyard, and
the lanthorns hanging on the walls showed that M.
de Biron had set a watch, for armed men were
loitering there. Turning to look at other things,
one could see by the dim lights behind the curtained
windows of various chambers round the court, that
they were occupied, and I wondered in which of
these Louise might be. When some hours had
passed, the lights went out one by one, and but for
the assistance of a couple of lanthorns in the
quadrangle, there was nothing to be seen. The
occupants of the chiteau were evidently asleep.

Throughout that weary time I had walked up and
down unceasingly, tramping on the thick carpet and
the uncovered polished floor indiscriminately, careless
as to whether others were disturbed by the noise ;
to and fro, now to the window, back to the door,
then round the room, only halting to turn when I
reached the canopied bedstead, round the room
again, to get to the other side. There was always
this purpose in my mind — to get to the King's ear,
if it were possible. A hope began to form itself
that His Majesty was human, and would feel some
sort of gratitude — that he would be prepared to com-
promise, if not to pardon ; to banish me, perhaps,
and not to send me to the galleys. But that was
uncertain. Still, France was to be saved. If M.
de Biron should enter the room at all, I would
thrust the bolt into the door to prevent the men
outside from entering at his summons, and then I
would talk and talk until, against his will, he had

Xove's Hcblevement 339

heard the story. More than that, he should be
made to believe in my sanity, for he should read
the paper Rousard had found in the bureau — that
damning evidence against the priest

Then my mind swung round to other thoughts.
Was De Biron in the conspiracy, and was that the
reason why he would not hear me? Was it the
secret of his pretended belief in my insanity ? If so,
he would tear up the paper in order to screen the
Cur^, and the King would laugh at me, even should
I escape and see him. If De Biron thought me
mad, might not His Majesty come to the same con-
clusion, unless I had written proof? The King was
so erratic that I could not form any opinion.

The element of uncertainty wrought me to a
pitch of impatience. An impulse came to open
the window, grip the gargoyle, pull myself up to
the roof, and so escape ; but on the opposite side
of the courtyard, standing beneath a lanthorn, with
his back against the wall, was a soldier, whose
musket was in readiness, in case I thought of
making such a rash attempt

Tossing off my boots because my feet were tired,
I flung myself upon the bed. I thought that sleep
would be a respite from hopelessness, would bring
me some foigetfulness of the fate in store, and blot
out from my mind the hideous pictures of the
galleys. Even to think of Louise was misery, for
how could she help me, and how could I hope to
have a word with her? I went over all my past
experience with her — from that hour when she
came into my life, and fascinated me with her
beauty of face and spirit Those words which

340 Ube frown of Aajests

Coulon had spoken about her were my only
solace :

" She wept day and night when she heard of
ydur arrest, and called you noble, and prayed for
your escape."

Yes, and she had clapped her hands when the
news came that I had broken the chain. God bless
her for it ! But how I prayed that I might see her,
if only for a moment, just to kiss her hand I

I lay in silence after that vain wish. In the
courtyard could be heard the tramp of a soldier,
who sometimes called across to him who kept
watch beneath the lanthom. Outside the door of
the chamber was the sound of the steady breathing
of a sleeping guard. I had heard that sound before,
and thought it possible that I might open the door
softly, step over the sleeper, and get awayj but
when I had tried the handle, 1 found that the door
was fastened.

After a time my thoughts were broken in upon
by a slight noise, which appeared to come from
the great fire-place. Silence followed for a few
moments, and 1 attributed the sound to my fancy.
Notwithstanding that, however, I was in a half-
raised posture, my elbow supporting me while I
stared into the shadows.

There was still the heavy breathing of the guard
outside, and still the smothered laughter and talk of
men In the courtyard. Then that sound once more.
With my whole mind on the strain, my eyes wide
open until they ached with the intensity of my
gaze into darkness, my lips parted, and even the
pulsating sounds in my ears making themselves

Xove'0 acbfevement 341

heard, I listened. Presently came a long, upright
line of light, broadening swiftly, and where I had
been peering into blackness, I looked through an
open space into the lower portions of a handsome
chamber, with costly furniture in view.

That was not all. Furniture and chamber only
attracted notice for a moment or twa A woman's
figure blocked the way. She was bending low, one
hand held out before her, as if to feel for obstacles,
the other on the door, or panel, or whatever else it
was, which she had opened. As she moved towards
me she drew the door after her, and the broad light
narrowed down to nothing, and I was in darkness
again.

I was too surprised for speech, too full of wonder
to make a sound ; but my thought was active, and
my mind all inquiry. Was it Coulon come to bring
me a message? Or was she come to show me a way
of escape ?

In the darkness which followed, denser, if possible,
than before, because the sudden I^ht had somewhat
blinded me, there was a slight rustle of a woman's
dre^s, the faintest scream of metal at the hearth,
as if her skirt had caught one of the brass dc^s
and shifted it, and after that a nearer rustle of silk,
which showed that the woman was approaching the
bedside.

I did not speak. The whole thing appeared to me
so strange and ghostly that I was somewhat startled
and bewildered ; but a soft hand fell on my face, and
a warm breath followed on my cheek. And afler that
a whisper which almost made my heart stop its
beating, for the joy of hearing it

343 Ube frown of Aajests

" Monsieur de Belliot, do not speak. It is I, Louise
de St Andr^. Follow me in silence."

I did not say a word. I simply took the hand
that had been placed upon my face while it felt for
me, and putting it to my lips, kissed it passionately.

" Come, monsieur," she whispered again, evidently
standing to listen to the breathing of the soldier at
the door.

I slid softly to the floor, and stood at her side.
She held me by the hand, and led the way to the
fire-place. On reaching it she drew her hand away,
and I could hear the rustle of her garments, as if she
drew them up to avoid touching the metal dogs that
were in the way ; after that she moved noiselessly,
and slowly the line of light reappeared. While it was
growing broader with each moment, I could see her
bent form as she stepped before me through the open
space. In a moment or two she had passed, and
stood upright in the lighted chamber, dropping her
dress into its place with a deft shake, the secret of
which is only in a woman's knowledge. I was at her
side in an instant

" Thank God, you are safe, monsieur ! " she ex-
claimed, when she thrust a wall of brick that worked
upon a pivot into place, and then a great mirror
which served as a second barrier gainst intrusion
from what had been my prison.

I looked at her, and she was trembling. Her
beautiful face was flushed with the excitement of her
danger, and her eyes gleamed while, in a certain
ecstasy of relief, she put her hands together, and
clasped them nervously. I gazed into her face, not
able to speak — for what could I say 7 But my soul

Xovi's BcbfeDement 343

was alert, and I had discovered her secret What
need for words ? When M. de Biron had delivered
his Uttre de cachet, the Marquise had promised to tell
Louise how much I loved her, and she had not failed
me ; so that the woman before me knew what I felt ;
and now her own story was written on her face,
whether she would hide it or not The look of
gladness was not one which a friend, however intimate,
would have for another friend drawn out of jeopardy.
It was more than that, and seeing it, forgetful of my
b^gary and my garb, I put my arms about her.
kissing her lips with a passion I had no wish to
restrain.

There was no doubt in my heart as to whether I
had read her story aright, for, sobbing after her
brave venture — being unnerved by the strain — for-
getting my mean attire, and only thinking of my love
and hers, she flung her arms about my neck, and
gave me kiss for kiss.

"Thank GodI thank Godt " she murmured f^atn
and again, while we stood t<^ether thus. What need
to search for words with which to confess oar love^
when our hearts had spoken for us ?

I know not how long we had stood there, but
presently a tapping on the chamber door brought us
back to the realities of life, and out of the land of
love.

" Come here, beloved," whispered Louise ; and
taking my hand, she drew me to the curtains which
hung about her bedstead. Hiding me among them,
she hastened to the door, on which the tapping came
(^ain.

I watched her as she crossed the floor and stood in

344 XTbe frown of Aajests

the open doorway fearlessly, as if secure agaiast
intrusion on the part of any who might betray me.
It was a charming picture — Louise standing there,
with one soft hand upon her bosom, the other hold-
ing the handle of the door, her face aglow with
gladness, yet having a content I had never seen
upon it until now. As one might well be, in such
rank as hers, she was richly dressed in orange-
coloured silk, the bodice of which was trimmed with
French point lace, and about her waist was a belt of
pearls. There were orange ribbons in her hair, and
pearls among ^her curls, and about her white neck a
chain which held a diamond pendant

** Ah, Marie," said she joyously, " have you been
waiting long ? "

There was no answer, but a laughing woman
entered and closed the door after her, thrusting in
the, bolt to keep out intruders.

" No need, Louise, to ask how you have fared.
Where is the ragged prince?"

And the Marquise de Lauzun gazed round the
spacious chamber, her face all smiles.

" Find him ! " cried Louise, standing apart, and
wiping her cheeks, which were wet with tears.

She laughed gaily as her cousin moved from place
to place, and exclaimed :

** Oh, cold, madame I cold, madame ! Ah, colder
still ! There, now, you grow warmer ; ay, warmer !
nearly in a blaze! You will burn your dainty
fingers, Marie ! "

The curtain was swept aside, and I stood revealed.
The Marquise took my hands in hers, and kissed
them laughingly, looked into my face, and mis-

love's acbfevement 34s

chievously asked whether I had forgotten my lady-
love, and found another in my wanderings — bade
me speak out before Louise, and name the woman
who had the warmest place in all my heart, and
kissed my hand again.

Did ever one get such a welcome ?

" I suppose he was not glad to see you ? " said
Marie, turning to Louise.

" Was he not ? " cried the other, " Look at my
crumpled silk ! See where the clumsy peasant tore
my lace, and disarranged my hair. Was be not glad
to see me ? "

There was a loving defiance in her words, as if she
dared anyone to say that her love had been squandered.
Regardless of her cousin's presence, she flung her
arms about my neck, not ashamed to avow her love
before another woman, and kissed me again and
again. I do not need to wait for death to know
what bliss is, since Louise served me so.

" But, cousin, think! " said Marie, pretending severity
at the otlier's forwardness, " Fie on Louise de St
Andr^ for kissing a mud-bespattered peasant, and a
prisoner, too ! "

" A mud -bespattered peasant, Marie, and a
prisoner?" retorted Louise, half taking her in earnest
" Nay, I kiss the Vicomte, the man who did so much
for me when I was in danger, and whom I loved
throughout it all ; the man who sent his love to me
through you, when I never thought to see God's fair
world again ! Oh, cousin, the man I love from my
very soul ! Whom I love the more because he has
been in deadly trouble. Fulcran, if I could but have
saved you ! "

346

tTbe ftoxm of Aalests

She looked into my face, her own becoming wet
with tears, which sprang to her eyes and down her
cheeks at the thought of my sorrows, which she had
been helpless to lessen.

Those tears, and the love that prompted them, healed
my heart-wounds.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE CELLAR IN THE FOREST

Love may laugh at much, but it dare not laugh too
long at danger. There was the half hour of bliss to
which Marie left us, and when she returned, the
thought intruded, and asserted itself beyond repulse
— the thought that there was peril even now.

We sat a while and talked — these beautiful women
with their velvets, and silks, and precious stones,
which they had worn to do honour to M. de Biron, and
I, the ra^ed peasant ; ill-assorted company others
would have thought, had they peeped in upon us.
But there were things concerning which we had to
speak, that rendered Louise and Marie oblivious to
everything except the pressing necessity of finding for
me an exit from the chiteau without the knowledge
of the Chief of Police.

At first the difficulties did not appeal to either of
my companions, and they chatted away, indulging
in self-congratulations because they had contrived to
rob the captors of their prisoner. They were delighted
when they anticipated the dismay and anger of De
Biron on discovering that the Com Room was empty.
347

348 XTbe frown of Aajests

" Two hundred pistoles gone for naught," said the
Marquise, clapping her hands.

" And a stern reprimand for M. de Biron from His
Majesty," added Louise, her face all smiles.

Our talk turned upon what had chanced since the
day when the lettre de cachet had been placed in my
hands, and naturally, I made inquiries as to how Louise
had been decoyed. When she had quitted Paris in
haste on receiving the forged letter, she had no fear
of the haunted forest, and never having passed through
it, did not know she was approaching it She rode
on with her attendants until they neared the house
which I have already described, when some scoundrels
of the Mongorge set rushed upon her, killing her
lackeys. She and her maid were carried through the
mansion and the deserted garden to the cellar of the
forester's hut.

It was all as Coulon had told me. With such a
dreadful woman as Margot Cartier to act as warden,
the two prisoners expected the worst. The virago
would do nothing for them, but appropriated their
jewels, and money, and dresses, then left them in
darkness, locked in the cellar, trembling and clinging
to each other for comfort They would have fought
with her when she took their clothes and valuables,
but the woman had both pistol and sword, and swore
horribly as to the way in which she would use the
weapons, if they did not instantly strip themselves of
such things as she named, and lay them on the floor.

Cartier was absent for some four-and-twenty hours,
leaving them to the abominations, the darkness, and
the chill of that underground prison, and without
food. ^ When she came back, bringing with her a

ZMt Cellar fn tbe fotest 349

lanthorn, she flung them each a shabby cloak, then
gave them bread and wine, while she herself sat on
the lowest step and talked. She spoke the language in
vogue in the cul de sac — words so obscene and violent
that the prisoners shuddered. Out of her ample
vocabulary she drew the most terrible expressions it
contained, for the purpose of witnessing the looks of
disgust, and the distress of those who were in her
power.

Louise tried to bribe her, but she laughed derisively,

" Buy me ? Where would you get the money ? "

" I am rich," was the answer. " A hundred pistoles
shall be yours,"

Cartier had a wine-cup in her hand, and was raising
it to her lips ; but the sum which Louise offered
aroused her contempt — so much, indeed, that she
became angry, and tossed cup and wine at Louise's
head. Cartier failed to do her any mischief, however,
for she avoided the missile, which, whirling past her,
dashed against the wall, and fell to the floor.

" That for having offered me such a paltry sum ! "
the virago cried ; and Louise understood that she must
bid high if she would be free.

" A thousand pistoles," she said, although it was, in
her judgment, an unreasonable bid for liberty.

" Nay, nor ten thousand," was the answer. " Have
you the thousand pistoles here ? "

"How could you think it possible when you
know that you have robbed me and my maid of
everything?" was the indignant answer.

" And how do you suppose I should get the
thousand pistoles, mademoiselle? As soon as you
got to Paris, you would have me arrested and sent to

350 Vbe frown of Aaiest^

the Conciei^rie. Ha, I know the tricks of Court
ladies!" the woman added, striding past Louise to
pick up the pewter wine-cup.

After a time the virago left them in darkness, not
returning for many hours. When she descended the
stairs again she had someone with her ; to judge by
his dress and bearing, a man of rank, but not
recognisable, since he hid his face in his scarf.

" Take that girl away," said he roughly, pointing to
Marguerite.

" If I take her up the steps, monsieur, she may
elude me," the woman asserted, " and then there will
be the devil to pay."

"You have some string," the stranger answered
impatiently. " Tie her hands, and get her out of
this. If she attempts to run, shoot her down, or run
that rusty sword into her ribs — do anything, so that
you take her away."

Poor Mai^uerite held out her hands to be bound,
for it would have been madness to stru^le, especially
with such a woman as she who had the twisted
mouth — a creature in whom there was nothing of
gentleness, and a superabundance of cruelty. She
stooped to kiss her mistress, fearing that this was but
a ruse to separate them, then went up the steps
slowly, goaded on the way with words and blows by
the woman of the AI16e de Couv^

The trap-door fell with a noisy bang when she
reached the top, and Louise found herself alone with
the stranger. She could not decide on his identity.
There was something familiar in the voice, but his
face was so covered, and the light so dim, that she
could barely see.

trbe Cellar in tbe forest 35 ^

He looked around for a seat, and finding none,
chose the bottom step, as Margot Cartier had done
before him. For a little while he appeared to be
undecided whether to state his business boldly, and
declare his personality, but Louise would not help
in the matter of conversation. She peered at him
without reserve, as if she would discover who this
stranger was.

" I will have nothing to say to you, monsieur, until
I know your name and see your face I " she exclaimed
decisively, when he had vainly tried to get her to
talk.

" You have seen me often, mademoiselle," was the
suave retort, " and we have been good friends."

Louise remained silent, and question after question
put by him went unanswered. She contented herself
with words like those she had already spoken :

" I have told you, monsieur, that I will have nothing
to say to you unless I know your name and see your
face. If your visit here boded good for me you would
speak. Since you are silent, and remain unknown, I
can think that you purpose things which do not
count for my own honour."

The man responded evasively. Seeing the resolute
woman before him, her pure face and clear eyes,
which seemed to look through him, his courage for
speech evaporated. Conscience, apparently, made a
coward of him, and robbed him of the words best
suited to his mission.

" I told you I would have nothing to say to you,"
said Louise, when for a long time she had persistently
remained silent ; " but it were well, periiaps, that I
should ask one questioiL It may serve to show you

35> tCbe frown of tfbHit&tg

what I owe to you. Did you, monsieur, employ that
woman who is keeping watch over my maid to bring
me here ? "

He sat in silence for a few moments, an elbow on
his knee, and his chin resting on his fist He was
revolving in his mind whether he should reply or not
He had set himself a task, easy, perhaps, with some
women, who were as pretty as paint and furbelows,
and lace and pearls, could make them, and were pre-
pared to let themselves go at a good price. But he
saw that the woman before him was not one of their
kind. With the other women there was a wild reck-
lessness, Bohemian in its nature ; but Louise was of
a different stamp, and he knew it — knew it before the
abduction, but hoped to rise to the occasion. Here,
however, face to face with her, he felt himself unable
to do other than sink immeasurably below it

" Come, monsieur ! " she cried courageously, " I
want my answer 1 " She was going to make a bold
fight for herself. " Am I here because ^oa had me
brought hither?"

"Yes, mademoiselle," said the other, movir^
uncomfortably.

" And who are you ? " asked Louise sharply. " No
gentleman, I am assured, since you employed that
strumpet to do your work for you."

Her whole spirit was aroused. She saw that she
was as safe with bold measures as with timidity, and
rising to her feet, she went to where the lanthom
stood upon the floor. Taking it into her left hand, she
walked to the foot of the steps and held the light
close to the stranger's face. She bent low to look at
him, her breath coming quickly, half with fear and

TCbe CeUax in tbe forest sss

half with anger, and for a time was puzzled. There
was so little of the face showing, and the other would
not allow her to look into his eyes. Libertine he might
be, who had bad his way before, since he had chosen
women of his own stamp, but he realised that he had
now set himself a task beyond his powers. The
brazen impudence with which he had pressed himself
upon other women failed him absolutely.

" I have come to make you an honourable offer," he
said, not looking at her.

" Then tell me your name, monsieur, unless, as I
believe, you are a coward 1 "

Suddenly she took him by surprise. She put out
her right hand swiftly, and striking his feathered hat
from his head, tore away the scarf, so that his identity
was revealed. She dropped the lanthom to the floor,
and clasped her hands upon her bosom, while a little
scream of dismay escaped her lips:

" The Dauphin 1 "

" Yes, mademoiselle," cried the man, regaining his
courage now that the truth was known, and rising to
his feet. While she stood, startled and trembling, he
flung his arms about her, and drew her to himself, and
before she could hold him back, he was coverii^ her
lips and face with kisses.

" Ah, monseigneur, I pray you desist I " she panted.
" Oh, do not dishonour me I Tis cruet and wicked I "

She held back his face, and would not have any
more of his kisses, until, with a laugh, he brushed her
delicate hands aside.

" I have loved you so long, mademoi^le, that you
must be mine. You sha/i be mine I "

" Nay, monseigneur, I will not," answered Louise

354 ttbc frown of AaJcetB

resolutely, struggling vainly to get away from his
embrace. " Monseigneur, how dare you serve me
so?"

" Nay, my beautiful one, 'tis you who should
answer such a question," replied this hdr-apparent to
the throne of France. " I asked you once, nay, twice,
to love me, and you refused. I do not forget your
scorn. And since I could not have you by persuasion,
I must needs make you mine by force."

"I will never be yours, monseigneur!" cried
Louise.

" Never ? " said the Prince, drawing back some-
what to look at her, his face betraying his astonish-
ment when he realised her unwillingness to yield to
him — nay, her positive anger, which caused her to
stand there with clenched hands and heaving
bosom.

The beauties of Paris, high and low, were generally
eager to get a smile from the Dauphin, and ready to
sell their virtue to him. When he chose one of them
as his mistress, there was jealousy at once. But here
was one who would not welcome his advances, who
repelled them indignantly ; and he could not under-
stand it Possibly the curt refusals he had had from
her before were spoken so that she should not be
deemed too cheaply bought ; and he put down those
rejections to a natural pride on the part of one whom
even the King might be pleased to win. But he was
undeceived, for she answered his inquiry instantly :

" Never, monseigneur ! Never 1 How could I be
yours while your royal wife lives ? "

He was so amazed that he dropped his hands, and
watched her keenly. He fancioj that he saw the

llbe Cellar In tbe forest 355

spots or colour on her cheeks, marked the curl of the
lips which she wiped as though she would not allow
his kisses to remain there. She had wilfully taken
him so differently to what he had intended, for he
had no thought of marriage. Her conduct was a
rebuke which brought the blood to his own face, and
the old inability to speak returned. He could only
stand and look at her.

" Leave me, monseigneur," exclaimed Louise pre-
sently, when she had stepped back, so as to keep
htm at arm's length, if he should again approach
her.

" Nay, mademoiselle," the Dauphin answered, re-
covering somewhat, and not caring to be beaten. " I
had you brought here — "

" It was a cowardly resort," interrupted she, antici-
pating his words. " A cowardly resort to lure me
here, so that you might have advant^e of my
helplessness."

" But I loved you, Louise, passionately ; and since
you would not listen to me in Paris, I brought you
here, where I might have you to myself, and so plead
my cause."

Louise feared for herself, for she was growing some-
what hysterical with the strain of this encounter, and
found herself laughing derisively. It was only by a
strong effort that she controlled herself. Had she
fainted, or in any way succumbed, she knew that the
man before her would have the advantage:

" You loved me ? " she cried. " Me ? Made-
moiselle de SL Andr£? What honour is there in
such love as yours 7 I do not forget, monseigneur,
how you have loved the fishwives of the market ; how

35^ ^Sbe frown of Sbajcsts

you preferred their company and their manners to that
of the pure-minded women who are sometimes found
at Court. You insult me, monseigneur, to offer me
the same honours which you confer on grisettes and
strumpets, and I pray you leave me."

The Dauphin's face turned livid with anger.
Knowing her high spirit, he bad been prepared for
difficulty, but not for anything like this, Lxiuise
thought for a moment that be would strike her for
daring to speak so to one of royal blood, and she held
up her hands as if to ward off the anticipated blow ;
but he controlled himself, and declaring savagely that
he would starve her into surrender, he mounted the
steps and disappeared. She heard him bid Cartler
send Marguerite into the cellar while he spoke to the
woman, and the maid, eager to know how her mistress
had fared, hurried down to her.

When Cartier descended half an hour later, she
began taunts and insults which lasted on into the
night Throughout that time she drank copiously of
the wine which had been brought for herself and the
prisoners. She sat on the step, as before, and asked
Louise how the Dauphin loved. Was he gentle ?
Were his kisses sweet ? Were they the same as those
which the grisettes received ? Did he promise to kill
the Princess in order to take the chaste mademoiselle
to his palace ?

The night was all like this. The virago neither
slept herself, nor would she suffer her prisoners to
rest If they dropped into a slumber, she reeled
across the floor and kicked them till they woke, or
pinched their arms or necks. When hunger began
to tell on them, she opened the basket ostentatiously,

XEbe dellar fn tbe forest 3S7

and ate the dainties deliberately, although she de-
clared that food was not like wine. Still, there was
the food, and it had to be eaten by someone ; con-
sequently, she would eat it rather than it should be
wasted. Coarse laughter and abominable words
followed, which added to the torment of the
night

At last Cartier, overcome by wine, fell asleep.
The two prisoners watched her, crouching together,
as if nearness to each other might lend them courage.
The woman's sword was clutched firmly in her hand.
Gradually the idea of escape framed itself. The
virago had tumbled off the bottom step, and lay on
the floor, leaving the ladder free. Why not mount
it stealthily, and get away into the forest ? It took
them a long time to decide their course, and, as it
proved, the delay was fatal. It wanted courage to
make the attempt, and while Louise was wiUing, and
more than once placed her foot on the step. Mar-
guerite shuddered and shook her head, declaring in a
frightened whisper her terror lest the woman should
awake as she was passing.

Louise persuaded her at last, and they faced the
ladder. Looking upwards, they could see through
the chink in the floor that it was broad daylight, and
they realised then how much precious time they had
lost. But they mounted, opened the trap<door,
hurried across the floor, and out of the hut Going
blindly through the forest, they found themselves at
a doorway, and thrusting it open, hoping they might
meet with someone who would succour them, entered
a tangled garden. They did not know it to be that
through which they had been carried some time

3ss Vbc frown of Aajests

before, but it offered hiding for them, and they gladly
availed themselves of it.

Before the door slammed together, however, they
looked at each other in dismay. They heard the
virago screaming to them to stop, and ere they could
decide upon their course, Cartier had kicked the door
wide open with her foot, and stood before them with
her sword held threateningly.

" Now, my pretty, walk back, if you please, the way
you came, and quickly too, or I will drive this into
your bosom."

It was useless to resist, madness to refuse, for the
woman was inflamed with wine and passion. The
foam was on her lips, and it appeared to Louise that
it was only the thought of the money she would lose
which kept her from killing them both. Cartier
placed herself between the defenceless women, and
having thrust her sword into the belt at her waist,
she gripped an arm of each, and regardless of the
pain her tight grasp caused, she compelled them to
return. More than once her stumbling threw them
all to the ground, bruising their bodies on the tree
roots and stumps ; but notwithstanding that she was
full of wine, Cartier was quickly on her feet, to stay
them in their flight, if they attempted it.

When they reached the hut, the woman ordered
Louise to descend, and with a hopeless sob she
went down into the darkness. It had been so bright
up there, where the sun was shining, and where the
birds sang such glorious songs because they revelled
in their liberty. To go into that lanthorn-lit cellar
was like entering the doleful shades, where hope and
mercy would never come. But there was no altema-

Zbe dellar tn tbe f otedt 359

tive. The woman had her sword drawn, and the
look upon her face precluded resistance. When the
feet of Louise touched the floor she turned in wonder,
for Marguerite had uttered a long, shrill cry, a call
for help, in the hope that someone might be near and
hear her.

" You she-devil I " shouted Cartier ; then, to Louise's
horror, the woman plui^ed her sword into the maid's
bosom, and the poor creature, falling backward,
tumbled into the blackness, and lay still, without so
much as a moan.

She was dead.

The virago looked down and laughed cruelly when
she saw Louise take the lanthom, and gaze at the
face of her companion.

" The pretty dear ! " she cried mockingly. " Shell
want no nursing."

Louise could only think of the girl whose fate was
so terrible. How long she knelt beside her, trying
to arouse her, hoping that the stillness did not mean
death, she could not tell. It might have been minutes;
it might have been hours. But always there came
the drunken scream of the woman above, taunting
her, and cursing the dead one.

Louise at last drew back, and sitting on the floor,
away from Mai^uerite, she sobbed, compelled the
while to hear what the woman cried down to her.

" So, my pretty, she is dead ? Now I have you
alone to care for. You alone to keep for the Dauphin.
Fool 1 A thousand as good as you, as beautiful,
almost as rich, would have thrown their arms wide
open to welcome the Prince who will some day be
King. Even La D^ote would have taken the

36o Zbc frown ot Aajestp

Dauphin, if she could not have had His Majesty I
Madame de Maintenon is no fool, not she I But you
are a thousand times a fool to spurn the Dauphin."

The woman, in drunken merriment, began to wave
her sword, and dance about the opening at the top
of the steps. How it chanced Louise could not tell,
although she was watching the gyrations of the jailer.
The virago stumbled in her whirling, and with a
scream of fear, came down headlong into the cellar,
falling with a crash which was sickening, at the feet
of the shuddering prisoner. The sword fell from her
hand, and for a few moments she lay helpless.
Louise thought she would never move, and was
thinking of ilight ; but Cartier rose slowly to her feet,
bleeding and bruised. Her arms hung helpless at
her sides, she limped, and groaned, and reeled, but
was now completely sobered. Turning to Louise
with an oath, she spat at her, then climbed the steps
painfully, moaning as she went When she got to
the top she threw the trap-door into its place with
her foot, and shut Louise in the darkness with the
dead.

I knew the other portion of the story, since I had
seen Mai^t Cartier fall and die in the forest

CHAPTER XL
love's boldness

When I told my own story, and of my fixed deter-
mination to see the King, Louise was filled with
consternation. She took my hand in hers, and
looked into my face, as if she wished to say words
which were likely to be deemed unworthy, because
they would work ^^inst my loyalty.

" Fulcran," she almost whispered, and so falteringly
that the word was little more than a sob.

" My darling, what is it ? "

" It will be fatal to go to the King. I know him
so well. He will be angry and unreasonable. Do
you not know him 7 — a man of petty soul beneath an
imposing exterior. He will be so provoked to think
that you have escaped after he had ordered your-
deportation to the galleys. Beloved, suppose he
promised that you should not suffer, do we not know
that he rarely scruples to falsify his word ? Do not
trust him. Let me contrive your escape to the coast,
and suffer Louis to look after himself."

She was fondling my hand while she spoke, and

drew so closely to me that her soft cheek rested

against my mud-stained garb. Her eyes gazed into

361

36a tCbc frown of Aajedts

mine with loving entreaty, as if she were prepared to
barter loyalty, and run the risk of loss of worldly
goods, which was more than possible if France were
overrun ; and all for my sake. Her longpng was to
see me safe, away from the tyranny of this monarch,
away from the almost certain journey to the galleys.

"Fulcran, think of yourself."

" T do," said I, bending down to kiss her lips, while
my arm encircled her, as if to hold her tightly for the
short time that might remain. While I held her, and
saw that dear face pleading lovingly, more by its
plaintive beauty than by all the words she said, I
began to waver in my resolution. Thought after
thought came to me, bearing upon the King's un-
certain temper. It was a common saying at Court —
but behind the hand, and never openly — that the
King's policy was not governed by the maxims of
Christianity, and I felt that the monarch would spurn
me from his path without compunction, or any
thought of gratitude for the service I had rendered.
He would take the information and act upon it ; but,
still believing in my heresy, send me to the galleys
without a word of thanks, and without making any
allowance.

" Do not go," whispered Louise. " Go to England,
where heretics are safe with the Protestant William.
I will come to you, dearest, whether as a wealthy
woman or impoverished. Yes, Fulcran, I will come
to you, for weal or woe."

" But I must go — / mtisl I 'Tis not for Louis that
I care," said I, glancing round as if to be sure that
none could hear this treason but herself and Marie,
who was with us in the chamber. "'Tis not for

XOVC'S XOlMieSS 3^3

Louis. 'Tis for France. The King may see fit to
measure my service against his prejudice."

" He will not, Fulcran. I have little faith in our
Most Christian King. Marie, persuade this obstinate
man to consider himself first"

The Marquise had been sitting with folded hands
and pale face, watching us in this strife betwixt love
and loyalty. It was easy to see that her soul was
like ours, tempest-tossed. She measured love's clajms,
and loyalty's demands. She spoke falteringly, for
the issue was a great one.

" I do not know what to say, Louise. God knows,
I should like the Vicomte to escape; but what if
France should be prostrate ? Think of it, my child.
M. le Vicomte, my heart says, ' Go to England, and
leave Louts to his fate.' But since it is not the King
only who must suffer, but France and all her children,
my head dictates the acceptance of the risk. Like
Louise, I do not trust the King, but who knows?
May we not work upon his counsellers, who will
represent your service as meriting reward?"

Louise was lying heavily on my breast, weeping
silently, and one by one the tears fell down her
cheeks.

" Darling, would you love a traitor?" I whispered,
when Marie had spoken.

" I ? Nay, I should despise such a man. But get
away, Fulcran, and when you are safely landed in
England, write to the King and tell him all."

"Time is too precious. It may take weeks to get
to the coast, and in a month from now De I'Eperon
is to throw open the fortress gate, and Calvisson will
have done his work. I must go, Louise I Yes, I

364 TTbe frown ol Aajesti?

must go I God help me, but it is terrible to run the
risk of losing you for ever ! "

The thought of such a possibility was more than
I could bear, and drawing my arm away from the
woman at my side, I buried my face in my hands.
There were no tears, no sobs, no outward signs of
weeping; but it was with me as though my heart
wept out every hope, and left me lonely and despair-
ing. I thought of her who was now upon her feet,
with her arms about me, trying to console me. Was
not her own heart breaking? I should have the
physical pain, and the lashes of the cmnite at the
galleys ; but hers was as hard a lot as mine. The
sadness would be as great, the agony of mind as
poignant Great God 1 why was it that one should
have to run such risk, and have such a fight to wage
'twixt love and duty ?

A lor^ time passed, and not a word was spoken.
Now and again the soft lips were on my forehead, as
if to give me token of her nearness. Louise was the
first to break the silence.

"Fulcran, I am sorry to have intruded on your
resolution. I think it a very noble one, but it seems
terribly hard that it should be followed up. If the
King is cruel, and sends you to the galleys, be brave.
I will move heaven and earth to secure your liberty.
You shall know what obstacles love can remove.
We will see what can be done among those who are
close to the throne. There is Madame de Maintenon.
She is friendly to me, and Marie may induce her to
use her influence. I have heard it said that the King
is so brought under the girdle of his mistress— or his
wife, as some declare — that he can deny her nothing

Xove'e Xolbness 3^5

in the world. But suppose she will not trouble
herself? Oh, Fulcran, it is so bard 1 " She put her
arms about me once more, her jewelled bosom against
the peasant's garb ! " You will know how I loved
you, Fulcran I " she cried.

Marie, whose face was wet with tears, came and
stood by me also.

" Fulcran de Belliot, it shall go hard if the King —
should he prove obdurate — stands against the en-
deavours of two women. Let us all be brave, and as
for you, go like a true man and do your duty."

I spent the remainder of the night in the inner
chamber, while Louise and Marie vainly sought to
sleep in the apartment where we had talked ti^ether
for so many hours. Their presence there was that of
wardens. None would dream of my being hidden
where I was. M. de Biron would not dare to think
evil of Mademoiselle de St Andri, whose character
was stainless, and acknowledged such by those who
frequented the corrupt Court of France. I was as
safe in that little room as if a cordon of soldiers had
surrounded me for protection. So far as security
went, I was content

When morning came, there was an outcry in the
chateau. My escape bad been discovered, and M. de
Biron was moving hither and thither like one who
had lost all self-control. Hiding among the hangings
at the window, I saw him pacing the terrace,
questioning this one and that among the guards, then
hurrying back into the chSteau. His rage was such
that those to whom he spoke cowered, and one who
answered slowly, st^^ered because of a blow from
the 6st of his impatient master. I opened the door

36« xcbe frown ot Aajestt

slightly, which shut me away from Louise, and
presently heard her speaking.

"We must search closely, monsieur. He may have
crawled out of the window on to the roof. It would
be easy for him to reach the ground in such a case,
and make for the forest"

" I have searched, mademoiselle. Not one room
has been passed, save your own and that of the
Marquise. I suppose he will not be here?"

" Monsieur ! " cried Louise, with well-pretended
indignation, as if protesting against the insinuation
that she would venture to harbour a gentleman in
her own sleeping chamber.

She told me afterwards that M. de Biron peered
into her face, as if to discover for himself whether her
apparent innocence of my whereabouts was assumed
or not. One thing was in my favour — her name and
mine had never been associated in any of the petty
gossip and scandal of the Court, so that the Chief of
Police would not think of her as likely to display
unusual interest in me, or run the risks of an attempt
to cover my escape.

" Pardon me, mademoiselle," said De Biron, after a
pause. "You would not, perhaps, object to my
searching the room, simply for my satisfaction 7 I
should like to be able to tell the King that there was
not a corner unexamined."

" Monsieur ! " cried Louise, and this time angrily,
" I tell you this is my bed-chamber."

It was sufficient, and M. de Biron went away,
Louise, however, came to nie, and bidding me follow
her, led me to the mirror, and hid me in the space at
the back of the fire-place of the Com Room.

Xove's XolOness 3^7

" If I refuse him the opportunity to search my
rooms he will be suspicious, Fulcran," she said, and
shutting me into the darkness, she hurried away.

I could hear her voice very faintly a few minutes
later.

"M. de Biron, if I do not allow you to search my
chamber, you may begin to suspect me," she said,
somewhat sharply. " Come in and satisfy yourself."

" I thank you, mademoiselle," said the Chief, when
he had made a thorough search. "M. le Vicomtehas
evidently got away, but how, I cannot imagine."

An hour after that I was in the inner chamber once
more, and looking out of the window, saw De Biron
ride off with some of his men, the others remaining
behind to watch for me, and examine the outbuildings
afresh, on the chance that although I had vanished
from the Corn Room so mysteriously, f might not
have succeeded in getting away into the country.

After M. de Biron had gone, Louise tapped at my
door, and when I opened it, I saw her with Coulon,
whose face was all smiles. The woman carried food
on a tray, and setting it on the table, went on an
errand. Marie was in the outer chamber, acting as
sentinel, to spare us from surprise. Before the meal
was over, Coulon returned, bringing with her a bundle
which, when she opened it on the carpet, proved to
be a change of clothing more in keeping with my
station.

"Call to me when you have discarded that dis-
reputable peasant garb," said Louise, quitting the
room, and leaving me to myselE

When next she entered, in answer to my summons,
her face beamed.

368 Ube frown ot Aafests

" Hal 'tis my handsome cavalier, clean and whole-
some, and in a dress that beRts him. Oh, 'tis a
thousand pities that such a man should go to the
galleys I" she added piteously, and her blue eyes
filled with tears. " Must you really go to the
King?"

" I must, Louise," I answered quietly, but
emphatically.

She left me after a time, and an hour later, while
looking through the window of my hiding-place, I
saw her in the courtyard. Half-a-dozen horsemen
were there, and the Marquise, in travelling costume,
stood beside a beautiful bay. The women kissed
each other fondly, then Marie was lifted into the
saddle, and rode away. Louise followed the horses
to the gateway, and standing there, watched the
riders until they were nearly out of sight She waved
her lace-bordered handkerchief, and so did Marie,
who had turned to have a last look. Then the
travellers disappeared among the trees, and I saw
them no more.

I thought it strange that the Marquise should leave
the ch&teau while Louise required companionship.

I heard voices in the outer chamber when noon was
approaching, but I dared not peep out to sec who was
there. One, I knew, was Louise. Who could mis-
take her tones? She was talking seriously, and the
answers given were not a woman's ; they were full-
voiced and manly. Who was the man ? De Biron ?
No ; that I was certain of. I had a hope that it
might be Rousard, who, perhaps, had contrived to

XoDe'6 JSolbness 3^

pass into the ch&teau, unknown to those who kept
guard.

After a time the man crossed the floor and quitted
the outer chamber, and the door closed after him.
Then Louise came to me.

"Where is the Marquise gone?" I asked immedi-
ately.

" Did you see her go away ? " replied she, trying
to look gay, but betraying the fact that she had
something on her mind which was opposed to
laughter.

« Yes."

" She has ui^ent business, and must be away for a
day or two. She says you will be safe enough
without her, Fulcran,"

Louise was restless. More than once she went to
the window, then returned as if she would speak, but
did not know how to begin.

" Has anything gone wrong ? " I asked anxiously,
for now her hands clasped, then loosened. She laid
them on her bosom, or wiped her face with her dainty
kerchief, her breath caught with half a sob, and partly
a s^h.

" No, Fulcran, nothing has gone wrong that you do
not know of. You will have to stay here a while, for
Rousard, your retainer — "

" Is he here ? " I cried.

" Yes. He came just now, having crept in slily,
while De Biron's men were searching the outhouses
afresh, hoping to find you."

" And what about him ? Can I see him ? "

" It would not be safe at present ; but he says that
De Biron is scouring the country, and has offered

370 ^be f town ot Aajest^

another two hundred pistoles to any peasant who
may find you. They are to bring word to the
chateau, so that this is evidently to be his head-
quarters for a few days. That means, Fulcran," said
she, drawing nearer, and laying her plump white arm
about my neck lovingly — " that means that you must
stay here until we can think of a safe exit for you."

" I should not mind, darling, if it were only to get
away to England," I said falteringly ; for that loving
face wrought tremendously against my resolution.
To have her in an alien land, willing to share my
exile — it would be bliss indeed, for wealth is not the
only good of life. A loving heart like hers would
make the roughest path pleasant There was a
certain joy even now in her presence, although one
knew not what might be before us, since so much
depended on the whim of an erratic, selfish, aod

bigoted monarch.
" If I could only go to the galleys with you I " she

exclaimed passionately. " Oh, I would comfort you

day and night, and share your sorrows I What would

I not do ? "
Was the old struggle coming again ? I thought it

best to end it by taking her hands in mine, and,

holding her away a little, suffer her to see my face.
" Louise, the thing is settled. We must not alter

it. I must tell the King — /must I And I must take

the consequences ; and you, alas, poor little darling 1 "
She looked at me. She had something to say

which she half-feared to give utterance to, but after a

further hesitation she spoke.
"Then, Fulcran, the King, I fear, will be unkind,

and will send you to the galleys ; and because of that,

Xove'0 £oI^ne0s 371

there is something I want to ask. Do not think it
bold of me, or unmaidenly. My heart will break if
you say ' No ' to it."

" What is it ? " I asked, drawing her to myself, so
that she could nestle against me.

" I want you to be my husband now, so that when
you go, I may know that you are mine ; so that you
may know that your wife is here, in this ch&teau,
thinking of you, loving you, praying for her husband
night and day, doing what a wife only may do to
effect your deliverance, if possible. I have brought
Father Barnard here, and told him all. He will
marry us now, if you do not think your Louise too
bold."

God bless her ten thousand times 1 Her love was
great to take me, an outlaw, with all the pains and
penalties, and only Gtod knew what besides.

CHAPTER XLI

THE king's warrant

Three days passed — days of bliss and pain com-
bined, bliss in having the love of Louise, and that
tenderness which made me wonder, for I did not
know till then how deep a woman's love can go. If
the fate that promised came, she was resolved that I
should have such memories of my wife that it should
be a consolation to me while I plied at the oar in
sunshine, storm, heat, cold, stripes, and brutality. I
should have the thought of a woman's love, a wife's
unspeakable devotion.

If the hardest task in life were to be set for me, it
would be to write the story of those three days, and
let the world know of the love of Louise. I have
tried to do it, and chapter after chapter has been
written — poor, worthless things, declaring on every
page my impotence, my inability to tell of her who
became my wife for weal or woe.

Fattier Barnard had blessed us tenderly when he
made us husband and wife. There were tears in the
old man's eyes when he saw Louise draw down my
face to her lips, and heard her say :

"My husband!"

37a

Zfx fcftifl's Marrant 373

" The Lord bless you both and keep you, and send
you happiness, and soften the heart of the King ! "
said he, before he left us. One could not but feel
that such a benediction would be availing.

At noon on the third day, Louise and I, looking
out on the country, saw two bodies of horsemen
approaching the chiteau. One company came
leisurely, led by De Biron, who was riding in to
rest his animals, before he set out afresh for another
search.

The other company came along furiously. Ope
horse fell, and the rider was hurled into the stream
near by, but none waited to see how he fared.
They were bent on reaching their journey's end
without delay, their errand being ui^ent. When
the strangers drew up in the courtyard, the tired
creatures they rode were covered with foam, while
the men themselves were worn out with their
journey.

" I must go and see what their business may be,
Fulcran," said my wife. "They must be from the
King, for yonder is De Beure, His Majesty's
messenger."

A few minutes passed before she returned.

" The King wants you, darling. De Beure has
brought a warrant for your instant attendance upon
him, and the message is so urgent that 1 have to
find horses for the journey."

" But how did he know I was here ? " I asked,
astonished.

" That was my secret, Fulcran," she faltered
" When I saw that you were resolved to go to
His Majesty, we thought it best to prepare the

374 TTbe frown of ta&ieets

way, and mollify the King, if it were possible.
Marie went to Paris to tell the story to His
Majesty. She bribed De Beure to bring me this,"
and she drew a letter from her bosom.
It was short, but it served to fill us with hope:

"Cousin, — The King frowned when I told him
of the Vicomte's escape ; but when I went on to
tell him of De Belliot's determination to come to
him, so soon as he felt that he could elude M. de
Biron — who would not believe that he had stirring
news for His Majesty, but thought him mad — he
said that the fugitive was a brave man, and should
be treated fairly, if the story proved true. M. de
Beure has a warrant to bring De Belliot to Paris,
that the King may question him.

"His Majesty is angry; but Madame de Main-
tenon, who was present when I told the King the
nature of the news De Belliot has for his ear, has
told me she will use her influence for the Vicomte's
weal, provided his news is genuine; I assured her
that it was.

"Do you come, also, if you think you can bear
the fatigue of the journey.

" My love to you. Bid the brave Vicomte take
courage. " Marie."

I was speechless when I thought of the bold
scheme those two women had framed ; but Louise
lovingly rallied me, and bade me go with her to
meet the King's messenger.

I have never seen a man so astonished as M. de

TTbe ftfn0'8 TKIlarrant 37s

Biron, when he saw me step into the courtyard.
He had ridden in, and found De Beure talking
with Rousard. He came forward, however, in-
stantly, and laying his hand upon my shoulder,
cried:

" I arrest you, M. le Vicomte, in the King's
name ! "

" Nay, monsieur," interposed De Beure, with pro-
voking easiness. "The Vicomte is in my hands,
and I have to take him to His Majesty at
once."

" How came he here?" exclaimed De Biron
angrily. " I have searched for him high and low.
Mademoiselle, I understood from you that he was
not here."

" I did not tell you so, monsieur," said Louise
quietly. " But that does not concern us now. 'Tis
enough to know that M. le Vicomte has been found,
and has to appear before the King at once. You
will find refreshment awaiting you in the banqueting
chamber. And you also, M. de Beure. When will
you start?"

" An hour from now, mademoiselle. My men are
hungry, and the horses unfit for travel. As I have
told you, I shall trouble you to find mc fresh
animals for the return journey."

I need not stay to tell of all that chanced on the
journey to the capital, of Rousard's gladness in
finding me, of the alternating hopes and fears as to
the outcome of my summons before the King. Wc

376 zbc frown of tt&itste

got into the road along which I had travelled
so painfully when in the chain. There was the
stream into which poor Helotse and her babe had
been tossed by the callous soldiers ; then Gueche,
and later we were clattering along the streets of
Paris, towards the Louvre, where the King was
staying.

We had ridden hard, but Louise kept up bravely.
Love had lent her strength, and while she was full of
hope, she had her fears ; for who could rely upon the
moods of His Majesty ? If he were angry, then it
was farewell forever. She would never see me unless
she journeyed to the sea, and from afar watched me
toiling at the oar. That could be no consolation,
and she dreaded its possibility.

The King was apprised of our coming. De Beure
had sent forward one of his men when we were
three or four miles away from the capital to tell of
our approach, so that I entered the presence without
delay.

Madame de Maintenon was with His Majesty.
She was seated in the window, busy with her
embroidery, her favourite occupation, but she did not
greet me with any words. She rose and bowed, then
sat down and went on with her work, only glancing
occasionally at the King, and then at me.

Louis was standing before a table on which lay
the golden-knobbed stick which he usually carried —
a gift from the woman who was present with
him. His face was proud and stern when I
approached, but it was evident that he — usually so
calm and indifferent to tidings, bad or good — was
now disturbed and anxious.

TTbe IRing's Warcant 377

He began angrily :

"M. de Belliot, why did you escape from the
chain ? "

" I was condemned unheard, sire, and was
innocent"

My bold answer took him by surprise, and I saw
Madame look up quickly. Her work fell into her
lap, and she folded her hands, her gaze no longer one
of indifference, but of keen attention.

" But you were a Huguenot, monsieur, and that
was sufficient I " exclaimed the King, his assumed
nonchalance somewhat shaken by my unexpected
boldness.

"I am as loyal to your Majesty, and as true a
Catholic, sire, as any in your realm. None know
that better than those who dared to accuse me."

Was I doing myself harm by speaking thus?
Usually men cringed in the presence of Louis, and
sought the King's favour by bartering their manliness.
I was too much in earnest just then to cringe.
Surely the monarch could discern between honest
declaration and servility f He was annoyed, however,
for he spoke petulantly.

" I have reason to think otherwise, monsieur. But
let that pass," he added, with an imperative wave of
the hand, which was habitual. " What is this that I
have heard as to the intended betrayal of France ?
Is it true or false f "

" It is too true, sire."

1 told what I knew. As my story went on,
Madame quitted her seat in the window, and drew
near to the table about which the King and I were
standing.

378 Zbe frown of Aajestv

" But where is your proof, M. le Vicomte ? " cried
Louis, his face white with anger at the perfidy of
those who owed all^iance to htm and to the
Stat&

" It is here, sire," I answered, drawing forth the
paper which Rousard had taken out of Calvisson's
bureau.

" Read that, madame," said the King, handing the
paper, when he had carefully perused it, to the lady
at his elbow. " Tell me what course I ought to
pursue."

She read it eagerly.

" 'Tis all too true, sire, and you must act upon the
knowledge M. de Belliot has imparted, 'Tis not too
late to save France."

"I will act to*day, madame," said Louis signi-
ficantly.

Then tumii^ to me, he asked a question :

" On your honour as a gentleman, M. le Vicomte,
are you a heretic ? "

" I am not, your Majesty. It was a plot on the
part of M. de I'Eperon and the Cur^ of Tour —
the former to obtain my estate, the priest to get his
share of the spoils."

" And as for your loyalty ? "

" I am ready for anything the King may ask — I am
ready to serve France. I came hither to tell of the
country's danger, sire, when I might have secured my
own safety."

The King looked at me keenly, then picking up
his gold stick, and taking Madame de Maintenon's
arm, he turned away, and walked up and down the
chamber in eager conversation with her.

Ztx 'King's Warrant 379

They came to me presently, the King extending
his hand for me to kiss.

" I crave your pardon for dealing with you unjustly,
M. le Vicomte," said he frankly. " I have been duped,
and I regret that I treated one lightly who was ready
to risk so much on behalf of France. The Marquise
de Lauzun told me of your resolution in spite of the
danger you incurred, and I honour you for it''

The thought of all that this meant for me — ^yes, and
for Louise, who had braved everything by marrying
me when I was an outlaw, seemed to overwhelm me.
I was robbed of speech, and all that I could do was to
bow low, and keep silence. His Majesty understood
it, and left me to myself a little space.

Next day Louise and I were riding to Tour, and
Rousard bore us company. When we reached my
home, we found that the King's messengers, already
there, had missed De I'Eperon and the Cur^. The
news of the King's anger had travelled fast ; so also
had the news of my restoration to favour. Whither
the would-be betrayers of France had gone, none
knew. Their whereabouts were never known.

France was spared the horrors of invasion ; for the
King, whose armies were fully equipped, carried the
war into the lands of his enemies. When the war was
over, there was a service of thank^iving in the Church
of Notre Dame. The great cathedral was crowded
to the doors, but near to the royal pew were they
whom His Majesfy delighted to honour. Of those
who were within the chosen circle, none was more
happy than my wife, who throughout the service sat
in sweet content, listening to Bourda]oue,who preached

38o XTbe frown ot Aajestg

the sermon, but holding my hand in a lovii^ clasp
unseen of those who were about us.

It was pleasant to me, and God knows how welcome
the knowledge was to her, to have exchanged the
frown of Majesty for the royal smile.

u> A* Ca, Limiltd, Pirti.

SBy George JiauMbv StuueU

On

Commando i„ ,„^^ a,^ ^„^ ^^ ^^

Readers of the author's previous work, " Under
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His Dainty

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■ Mrs. Stepney Stawion

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